#This story got me back into reading actually

[olivianott]

BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words 

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere. 

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all. 

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe. 

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack. 

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar. 

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar. 

Theodore Nott. 

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him. 

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear. 

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“ 

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you. 

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?” 

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air. 

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home. 

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.” 

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight. 

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement. 

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous. 

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.” 

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips. 

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever. 

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his. 

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head. 

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations. 

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point. 

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face. 

Fuuuuck. 

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it. 

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock. 

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head. 

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep,  as he spills himself inside you. 

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor. 

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder. 

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion. 

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all. 

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though 🤭.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

[the-last-teabender]

I've seen (and heard about) a lot of Oxventure posts that are talking about how Oxventurers Guild was bad but Wyrdwood is good.

One - I hate to see two bad bitches pitted against each other.

Two - Speaking from experience, you can't be a table like Wyrdwood without having been a table like the Oxventurers Guild.

Did people not know the rules? Yes. Did people play suboptimally? Yes. Did Johnny bend rules and consequences to move things along? Yes. But people seem to forget that the first Oxventure campaign started with basically zero previous experience. We were watching people learning.

Yesterday I was talking with @randomthunk about this, and I compared watching Oxventure from beginning to present like reading The Dark Tower. Reading The Gunslinger and watching that story progress over seven books gave me confidence as a writer. You can start imperfect. You can make mistakes. You can be less than your best as you're getting your feet under you, and a willingness and enthusiasm to do that will take you to greatness. Plus, it's a story of an author evolving as much as it's a story of Roland Deschain going to the Tower.

I think many many other actual plays have given people unrealistic expectations, where Oxventure (as I've said before) brought me back to gaming. And as much as I think a person could come to Wyrdwood new and love it, the Oxventurers Guild campaign makes what comes next so much more meaningful. We've seen what each player does well across the original and side campaigns, and we got to see that because of the freedom the first campaign gave them. Now we get to see those natural talents paired with an understanding of the system (which we were already seeing in Blades and Deadlands, but now we have a 1 to 1 comparison).

In my first stint in gaming 20 years ago, I didn't have the freedom at my original table to learn and make mistakes. You got it right or you got mocked. I have good tables I love now because I began seeking out tables that reminded me of Oxventure: willing to go on tangents, willing to help each other, okay with fudging things on the fly if it preserved our good time. I'm a better player now because I had those experiences.

tl;dr your taste is your taste and some things are naturally gonna hit you better than others, but writing off the Oxventurers Guild because the mechanics weren't as tight is missing the entire point of how this group has evolved.

[dolliethv]

One Of The Girls.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! Hiii, this is a pretty TO long story, I wanted to write something with a lot of sexual tension and a lot of smut, read it calmly and I hope you enjoy it xoxo!!

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 6k

You weren't sure if attending Jude's party was a good idea, but something inside you—maybe the excitement of Halloween and the thought of celebrating with your group of friends, or perhaps the hope of seeing him—convinced you. Jude's huge, new house in Madrid, decorated with lit pumpkins and fake cobwebs, gleamed in the distance, full of people already enjoying the night.

You stepped inside, and strobe lights danced on the walls, while laughter and music filled the air. You grabbed a drink as you passed by the improvised bar, trying to relax. You hadn’t taken more than two steps when you felt that familiar gaze tracing your body. You slowly turned, and there he was, Jude, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed solely on you.

You wished the ground would swallow you because your damn group of friends was headed straight toward Jude Bellingham’s group. Of course, they all knew each other.

After your friends had chatted enough with the other group, you decided to take the lead.

"Couldn’t you put a little more effort into your costume?" That was the first thing you asked when you finally looked him in the eyes for the first time that night.

Curious about what he was actually dressed as?

Seriously? A simple cop uniform? You could bet your life on the fact that men have zero originality—they always go for the easy option. Lord, give me patience.

You absolutely hated basic Halloween costumes. Anything that took less than ten minutes and minimal effort didn’t deserve attention. It might seem a bit over the top, but given the number of creative ideas this particular holiday offered, you just couldn’t stand it.

Not when you even designed and made your own costume for the occasion.

But it was funny how quickly Jude changed your mind.

Basic is good. Basic is great. Damn it.

"What’s your costume supposed to be, anyway?" Jude continued, his voice calm but his body still a bit tense.

"It’s Suki from Fast and Furious!" Drew, one of Jude’s friends, shouted loud enough that the music barely muffled it.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his blatant staring, but truthfully, neither of you cared. You turned and headed off with your friends to who knows where.

You knew you looked good. You’d worked particularly hard on your outfit for tonight, so you had no reason to hide. Everything was perfectly planned, from head to toe.

Minutes passed, and you tried to convince yourself there was no reason to panic, but there were a lot of people, and your outfit was a bit too revealing. So, when you felt hands around your waist, you were ready to scream for whoever it was to back off.

"It's me."

Oh my God, you almost had a heart attack.

Jude pulled you against him, your back pressed to his chest, his left hand settling on your hip while his right extended around your shoulder to not-so-gently push people aside. The tall, dark-haired boy didn’t take long to start moving you both, making space with his prominent frame when people were too slow to get out of the way, shoving them until he cleared a path for both of you.

Stupid party, stupid Jude Bellingham. It was his fault you ended up there anyway. Jude may not have seen your face, but he definitely felt how tense you were in his arms.

"Why the bad attitude?"

Bad attitude? You didn’t know much about attitudes, but all your limited knowledge vanished when he pulled you even closer.

You cleared your throat briefly, your words followed by a slight shake of your head.

"Am I the one with the bad attitude?" you replied.

Because truthfully, you’d been on your best behavior since you got to that house. Or at least trying.

Jude loved driving you crazy; he thought you looked damn adorable acting tough at barely 5'1".

"By the way, you look amazing."

It was a great move, saying something so flattering to ease the tension.

"Thanks," you murmured, not caring whether he heard, your eyes glued to the back of the guy Jude was elbowing out of the way.

Two stomped-on feet and a "Are you gonna move or what the hell are you waiting for?" later, you were finally out of the chaos.

Well, as far out of danger as you could be at a party and in a house full of mostly strangers.

However, Jude didn’t stop there. He guided you to what you vaguely recognized as the first hallway on the right, his hands never leaving your body. It wasn’t unpleasant for you, not at all, but you both drew more than a few curious stares. It didn’t bother you much now that your closest friends knew. Other people’s opinions of you were never the most positive anyway, but you were surprised at how little Jude seemed to care, considering it was his house.

When you finally stopped, you found yourselves where you’d suspected a few moments earlier, slightly sheltered from the loud music. There were a few other people around, but they were far enough away not to intrude on your conversation.

Jude released you a few seconds before turning you around and wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close as he leaned against the wall.

"I like your hairstyle; it’s cute," he said, grabbing a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Scratch that. Actually, I love how sexy you look with your hair down."

You were starting to seriously regret the day you told Jude you wouldn’t mind being complimented daily because it was getting out of hand.

How were you supposed to function properly when Jude kept looking at you with dark eyes?

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze to the side of his face to avoid dealing with the intensity of his stare. You needed to say something and had to do it now.

"People were staring at us."

Of course, your voice trembled, and of course, out of all the things you could’ve said, you picked the one with the most potential to ruin the moment.

Jude was being very open tonight, and while you didn’t dislike it, it was new and somehow made him even more intimidating. All you could focus on was trying to stay afloat, despite involuntarily melting into the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his voice.

"When you look like that, baby, of course, people are going to stare."

You were getting nervous so quickly that it was unreasonable. Your breathing was already picking up, and butterflies were fluttering, one by one, to the point that you could no longer distinguish between those in your heart and those in your stomach.

This was exactly why you shouldn’t stay away from Jude for too long.

"News travels fast, Bellingham. Especially when you’re the footballer of the moment."

But with Jude, you didn’t have to worry. Jude could take care of both of you, and maybe you shouldn’t trust him, but God, it felt so good to be protected.

You desperately wanted to kiss him. Every brush of his thumb against your skin was electrifying. You needed to be closer, needed more, and this time, it had nothing to do with lust.

It was the kind of need you hadn’t felt before, the kind that demanded an exchange of feelings, even if not through words. Even if you tore off your clothes and pressed skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, it wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to be inside Jude’s mind, to share all his thoughts, to experience the unknown, to finally understand each other, but you were too scared.

You couldn’t get there just yet.

"Your costume is stupid," you finally said, your voice coming out a bit more determined.

Jude’s lips curled into a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh that disappeared just as fast, but it was definitely something worth remembering.

"You’re so good at flirting," he purred sarcastically. "Tell me more."

You thought you might be able to keep a straight face, but as soon as you saw him smile, you followed. There was something so addictive about it, maybe the fact that you didn’t see it often, but it definitely made Jude ten times more attractive.

And he was already too attractive to begin with. God.

"It really is stupid," you confirmed your own thoughts, your fingers trailing up to fix the collar of Jude’s cop uniform. "But you look so sexy. I don’t know why I’m so into this kind of stuff."

You knew you weren’t the only one. It’s not for nothing that women love men in uniform.

"You don’t like the uniforms; you like the authority behind them. Or should I say, you’re afraid of it?"

Even though you had the same smile, Jude looked completely different, but he was right. You always felt uneasy around any kind of authority figure.

Watching Jude—with the quite noticeable height and body size difference compared to you, with the sleeves of his uniform stretching around his biceps every time he moved—you couldn’t blame yourself for feeling a bit nervous.

And to top it all off, a pair of very real-looking handcuffs hung from his belt.

So yeah, you gave up your principles about liking the basic for one night, but Jude had chosen a really good costume to spark your imagination.

"Honestly..." Jude grabbed your chin and pulled you even closer, his eyes fixed on your lips. "I wouldn’t mind being a cop if it meant I could make pretty things like you tremble."

As if he needed to be a cop to do that. Idiot.

As if you didn’t already find him intimidating enough without the costume. As if your knees didn’t buckle and your body didn’t heat up every time Jude looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds.

"I think that’d be an abuse of power."

Very socially aware of you, but it might be more believable if you stopped looking at him like you wanted him to take advantage of you. You know it's wrong to think that.

Jude hummed, sliding his thumb over your lower lip before pressing it and pulling it down. The movement was so sudden it made you hiss. It was almost embarrassing how willing you were for Jude to do whatever he wanted, to play with your body however he pleased, without questioning the reason.

"It isn’t if you enjoy it."

Their heads tilted to opposite sides, moving closer with lips tingling from the desire to kiss. You could feel Jude exhale before gently pressing his body against yours and brushing his mouth against yours when—

"Bellingham!"

Both grimaced, and you quickly jumped back, your hands starting to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes. You didn’t turn around or look at Jude; you didn’t want to know if someone had really seen you and didn’t want to deal with it.

Jude’s friends weren’t the type of people he enjoyed talking to, so it would be weird to find yourself in a situation where you had to pretend to be a bit interested in what they had to say.

"Oh, hey," Jude responded with much less enthusiasm as the sound of footsteps grew louder.

"Good party, man."

You recognized the characteristically deep voice and immediately tried to move a little further from the sound. You opted to take the empty space next to Jude, and to avoid seeming rude, you looked up, meeting Trent Alexander’s eyes before giving a small nod in his direction. The man nodded back with a shy smile resting on your lips.

"Hey y/n, you look great!!" He said.

"Thanks."

You knew him, or at least you knew who Alexander was. In your defense, you knew all the people in your circle of unfortunately extroverted friends. You knew he was a guy with too much money, another footballer, not surprisingly—very attractive—and also much kinder than many other rich and attractive people.

However, you started to feel anxious.

Alexander didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, even after greeting you. But then the guy lowered his gaze, not going below the level of your skirt, but enough to make you wonder— is this guy checking me out?—God, men are all so bold.

Suddenly, Bellingham cleared his throat, subtly but enough to move you a little out of Trent’s view.

Oh, okay.

"Sorry to bother you, but my friend here won’t stop saying she wants to meet the great Jude Bellingham."

Unaware of the presence of someone else before, you moved your gaze to Trent, where a model-like tall girl was giving all her attention to Jude.

You were annoyed by how attractive she was. You couldn’t imagine how she looked in Jude’s eyes. You weren’t a fan of the cliché thought of hating other women over men, but damn, this feeling was hard to handle.

"Can you blame me? He looks even better than I imagined," she said loudly.

Then you looked at how that girl was dressed.

She was obviously someone very bold, and you were all for female empowerment, but if she came any closer to Jude, you’d have to break her neck.

If Jude hadn’t noticed her before, he definitely was now, shamelessly scanning her figure until stopping on her chest a bit longer than necessary. When he looked back at her face, he gave her a playful smile.

"She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. My kind of girl."

Sorry, what? His type of what? Is he really giving me a hint?

A fake and shy smile spread across the unknown girl’s face as she tilted her head slightly and flipped her hair back, exposing more of her neck and collarbones.

"Oh, yeah?" She asked, her voice interrupted by laughter. "What else is your type?"

Me?

The girl started tracing circles with her index finger over the lower part of her collarbone before dragging it down, outlining the beginning of her breasts. They were quite exposed; it was hard not to notice them, but there was no worse way Jude could handle it than staring at them, his expression not hiding what he was thinking.

Bellingham took a step towards her, immediately placing his right hand on her hip without gripping it, just touching a bit, while moving to whisper something in her ear.

There was absolutely no damn way Jude was doing this in front of you, there must be some kind of reality error. No fucking way, you were really holding yourself back from pulling him away from her and giving him a beating.

Once the brunette straightened up, they were both smiling, and you couldn’t hear it, but you read it from the girl’s lips.

"I got lucky tonight."

Well, you had never considered yourself a crazy person, or at least not one who acted out of her mind with no regard for social norms.

Nevertheless, at that moment, you could barely stand.

You had no doubt about it anymore; it was too strong not to recognize, too powerful to ignore. You were jealous, so jealous that all you could think about was violence and all you could see was red.

"I’m leaving," Alexander suddenly said, visibly uncomfortable with the looks being exchanged.

You didn’t even have time to thank him mentally before the girl grabbed his arm as if her life depended on it, sweetly smiling at Jungkook and saying:

"I’ll be waiting."

And with that, they left.

The crowd made them disappear in less than a minute, leaving no trace. All you could focus on now was the unshakable smile on Jude’s face.

You despised him.

None of this was part of the plan.

Jude’s plan was to keep you without sex for a while, make you show how much you missed him, make you feel so needy that you’d give in to anything in seconds. Bellingham thought nothing could compare to the feeling he’d have once he saw your desperation, the ease with which he’d let you go, giving him the upper hand in the situation.

He was wrong.

Something better than a proud version of you was a version willing to admit, to admit that you were jealous, and he made you realize it after this little outburst.

"Where were we?" He asked as if nothing had happened, his attention slowly returning to you, clearly displeased at his side.

-I might have overstepped a bit- you thought. Relax.

Since Jude did everything he could to avoid giving you more than a glance while talking to that girl, wanting to make it as real as possible, he was enjoying watching your reaction.

You stared defiantly at the wall opposite them, obviously trying to transfer all your anger to her instead of Jude.

Seeing you cute probably wasn’t what you was looking for, but Jude found it absolutely adorable.

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" He gently brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his voice laced with false concern.

"No."

It wasn’t a very convincing lie with your teeth clenched and a blank expression on your face.

"Mm, I think it is."

"Good for you."

Jude had to stifle a satisfied smile. The way you responded with the first thing that came to your mind showed you weren’t thinking much before speaking.

"Not in the mood for a conversation anymore?"

You closed your eyes.

But you couldn’t do that, not when it was exactly what you wanted to do. He couldn’t be the first to break, admit his lust, show that he wanted to be with you so much that he’d trample his pride.

Not again.

“You know, I never took you for a jerk who got jealous so easily.”

If it were physically possible, your jaw would be hitting the floor. The air caught in your throat and your lips hung oddly open as you looked at Jude and found the lack of concern on his features.

Being honest was the easiest way to get through to him.

“How dare you?” You asked offended, pushing Jude away as hard as you could.

His balance seemed to falter as you failed to move him an inch, but he did successfully sway on his two feet, before Jude grabbed your wrists.

“How dare I what?” He asked you with an amused smirk. “Does she make you jealous? I was just having a conversation, babe.”

“No, not that.” You finished your statement with an irritated groan, violently breaking free from his hold. “You’re an idiot. Go have a conversation then.”

“Should I?”

The look you gave him only said one thing. “I fucking dare you.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find her?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You didn’t look at her face even once.”

Well, if it wasn’t obvious, you screwed up. The chances of her living without Bellingham mentioning what you wanted him to not notice were now basically non-existent.

“She didn’t put that on so I would look at her face.”

You had never looked so angry, your head shaking in disbelief and fists clenched on either side of your body. You looked like you were really struggling not to slap him and Jude couldn’t blame you. That was the point, after all.

“Oh, wow.”

He was already on his way to calming her down, his hands reaching for your waist, when you raised his in defense.

“Don’t touch me.”

You even pointed with your index finger in warning, wagging it when Jude didn’t stop.

“I’m not joking, I’ll slap you, don’t touch me- mhppm-”

With one hand around your waist and the other pressing against your jaw, Jude had you backed up against the wall in no time. Despite your earlier threats and your bad mood, you surrendered into his arms quickly, melting into the touch, your soft moans being muffled by Jude’s mouth. The longer it went on, the more eager you became, tugging at his uniform, trying to pull him closer despite your bodies already being together.

When he pulled away, you were a mess. It was being a fight for him to refuse your touch.

“We can go to my room…”

He whispered against you, before moving lower.

“Talk…”

He pressed a kiss against your chin

“I’ll make you laugh…”

And then one on the side of your jaw

“I can make you cum…”

You shuddered at the proposal.

You both knew he wanted it, that was not in doubt. The question was how far he would go to get it.

“You will have my full attention.” With sarcasm.

Another kiss, just below your ear.

“All you need to do is ask.” He made sure you were looking at each other when he spoke, eager to see your reaction. “Tell me you don’t want to see me with someone else.”

You noticed how your body completely gave out, all hope in your eyes. Your excitement was replaced with panic as your pupils dilated and your mouth opened and closed without saying a word.

The offer was so tempting, the promise so real, so possible. I hate it.

You wanted it so badly, but it was a matter of pride and even though you were the prouder of the two of you, it was clear that you still had a hard time taking a step back from him.

“If I need to ask for attention, then I don’t want it.” You replied with a dry tone.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your jaw clenched at the implication. You knew it.

With the girl dressed in a bad porn nurse costume.

(...)

“Can you stop looking at him? I’m talking to you.”

The words of Odessa, your best friend, barely reached your ears, your thoughts overwhelming you in an almost pleasurable way.

You watched as Jude’s hand wrapped around an unfamiliar waist for the umpteenth time that night, causing your own fingers to grip your knee tightly.

This time it was a redhead, dressed in something that was more meant to cover the most private parts of her body than disguise, but who were you to judge? Right?

There was clearly a set pattern that you noticed during the time you spent sitting, gaping and staring in Bellingham’s direction. People would come up to say hello, most often women, their hands touching as much as they could without being inappropriate and a few minutes after sharing a few words they would come over with eyes fluttering in a way that could only mean one thing.

The first few times it happened, your heart nearly stopped beating. You were sure you knew what was about to happen next- Jude would take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom.

But it didn’t happen. Not with the curly-haired brunette, not with the six-foot-eight leggy blonde, not with the one he was feasting on now.

Is he not interested? You asked yourself.

A raspy growl rumbled somewhere deep in your throat before you grabbed your glass and clumsily emptied it down your throat, not caring how the liquid spilled from the corners of your lips and down your chin.

You called out to your friends, as you abruptly stood up, almost tripping over someone sitting between them.

“Let’s dance.”

Your lips formed a smile at the thought of Jude seeing you with someone else. It was childish, yes, but you didn't really care.

You were about to execute your plan, but when you turned around, you found nothing worth your attention. The spot Jude was occupying all this time now had other people in it, no sign of the brunette in sight.

You wished you could say that it didn’t affect you.

So you turned your back on your friends and walked in the opposite direction, your newly gained good mood now ruined. You thought maybe if Jude admitted to being jealous, you could too. It would make it less embarrassing.

If Jude was here, surely he could get something better.

Yes, if Jude was here. If he wasn't fucking someone else.

"Having fun?"

A familiar voice reached your ears, close enough to feel the vibration of the sound, making you shiver, thanking God the place was too dark for anyone to notice as Bellingham's proximity made your entire body shake.

You kept your eyes on the empty glass in front of you not quite sure how you were going to respond with his mood.

Any words or actions from you from now on could be detrimental.

"Don't you want to talk to me?"

Silence.

"Okay, I'll go then."

Jude didn't even move. He didn't pull away, nor did he lean back. He stood right where he was five seconds ago, the same annoyed, mocking smile on his features.

"You're still not jealous?"

You weren't just jealous, you were seething with it.

"I am, actually. Tell anyone and I'll make sure it's the last thing that comes out of your mouth."

Admitting jealousy was a big deal for you, especially since you didn't know if Jude felt the same way. Also knowing what was coming after this.

"There's not much that can brighten my mood right now."you entered the room, "I just needed courage for what I'm about to do." locking it once the door was closed.

When you turned around, your eyes met and Jude felt something he hadn't felt in a while, it felt like he didn't really know anything about you.

He wasn't blind to the progress you'd made in the different areas of your relationship, but there was still a lot left to say, explain, discover, and - in a situation like this, when you seemed to be a completely different person - he was surprised at how much he still had to get to know you.

"Yeah? And can I know what it is?"

He longed to feel you again on other parts of his body and even more so when your hot mouth landed on his mouth as you said-

"Punish you."

It wasn't that it hadn't crossed Jude's mind that you might do something like this all night, but still, hearing you out loud was enough to bring a smug smile to his lips.

"Oh, really?"

It would be a lie to say you didn't find it fun.

Things were definitely taking a different turn than he had planned, but then again, ever since the party started, all of his plans were ruined, so he was surprisingly not opposed to the idea.

He was actually very intrigued.

You hummed in agreement and within seconds your hands were back on Jude's body, this time being bolder and freer with your movements.

It was the first proper touch that night and Bellingham thought he was ready, but he really had no idea how much he had missed this until he experienced it again. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the feel of your palms and the heaviness of your fingers prevented him from doing so.

Your hands moved in opposite directions, one sliding down his abdomen and the other circling the side of his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you traced circles on his skin, massaging and releasing some of the tension.

He had a hard time trying to keep from getting an erection from the moment he laid eyes on you when you arrived. Now... now it was impossible.

"You know..." you started saying.

Jude heard your whisper, but could barely register it due to the heat that was beginning to creep steadily down his body, fading only for a moment when his belt got in the way, but then coming back stronger, with a grip more powerful than before. Bellingham would be ashamed to admit that his breath hitched as soon as he felt you where he wanted it most.

“I’d rather have these for myself, but you left me no choice.”

It all clicked, both metaphorically and literally, in his brain and out loud, but Jude couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.

The handcuffs were already dangling from the tip of your index finger as you swung them teasingly back and forth in front of his face.

Oh. Interesting.

The way you could overpower Jude in a mere second was wonderful.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you do that?”

You pursed your lips briefly as if contemplating his answer.

“And what makes you think I’m going to ask for your permission?” You replied.

“Maybe that drink was too much after all,” he looked at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re confusing roles.”

Judging by his expression, you didn’t share the same opinion.

You pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

Jude didn’t stop you or object, instead sitting on the edge as he was pushed down, curious to see how things would play out.

“Are you threatening me, baby?” He asked, leaning back on his forearms.

You looked perfect from every angle, she was so sure of it now.

Your free hand gripping Jude’s jaw and squeezing it a little in annoyance.

“My name isn't ‘baby’.”

You slid your fingers down the side of Bellingham's throat where the smear of a lipstick still rested on his skin.

As you stared into each other's eyes, you looked so angry that Jude couldn't help the heat spreading throughout his insides.

"Wouldn't that make you even more angry, baby?" He emphasized on the nickname on purpose, arching an eyebrow mockingly.

The sound that came out of your throat was quiet, but he didn't miss it.

-Even her grunts are cute.-

"Shut the fuck up."

It was clear that you weren't usually the type to get angry to that extent, and even if you had been, you were the type to never act on it.

"Keep your hands behind your back if you don't want to lose your most prized possession."

You felt it before you understood it - a pressure of something hard and unfamiliar against your crotch. Something unwanted.

And it came, a sign. Not too big, not too flashy, not too obvious, but painful and threatening.

Your foot moved so abruptly that the tip of your shoe met the tip of Jude's cock and hit dangerously close to his balls.

You did it. I got you.

"Good choice."

With one swift movement, his crotch was free again, but his hands were bound at the wrists by the steel rings.

You pushed him down onto the bed and pulled his shirt open, leaving his chest completely bare.

“Shit,” you muttered at the sight. “You’re lucky to be attractive.”

“And you’re lucky to be able to see me like this.”

You sent him a questioning look. “Oh, I am? Who hasn’t gotten to see you like this? Because from what I’ve witnessed, you don’t exactly have a criterion when it comes to who you let undress you.”

“You seem really upset by that thought, sweetheart. Are you scared of having a little competition?”

“And what makes them my competition? They’re not as pretty as me.”

“But they’re a lot more obedient.” He replied.

Pure shit.

There’s nothing Jude likes more than how disobedient you are.

“You know my legs are always open for you.”

"Baby..."

"You know you can take anything you want from me, anywhere you want... any way you want..."

Every syllable that came out of your mouth was filled with confidence. Your fingers caressed his jaw as if he was teasing, barely grazing the skin before pulling away and touching another part.

"You have such a dirty mouth." The boy said.

"You want it around your cock?"

Holy shit, did you really say that?

"Yeah."

You hummed, acting like you were considering it.

"But I think you acted like shit, I don't think you deserve it."

"You're lucky that I'm tied up right now, otherwise I'd fuck you until you were ruined."

You seemed to take it as a compliment, your thighs clenching tightly around Bellingham's hips to feel him better.

"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me?"

As if his massive erection wasn't proof enough already.

“Yes, baby. So bad.”

His confession brought a satisfied smile to your face.

“You wanna see what I got under there?”

“Show me how pretty you are.”

But you didn’t take off any clothes.

You just started riding one of his thighs, your movements teasing and slow.

“Shit. Take this off me.” The dark-skinned one said.

“And why would I do that?”

God, this was getting so frustrating. Jude wanted nothing more to do than watch you choke on his cock until you remembered how to talk to him properly. You shifted a little on his lap, creating a small but effective friction.

“Baby…”

“Suck.” You claimed.

Shit. Usually, Jude was the one giving the orders. Usually, you were the one with Jude’s fingers inside your mouth, too. He opened his mouth obligingly and you immediately pushed two of your fingers in, letting them rest on the tip of his tongue before pushing them fully into his mouth.

“You like having my fingers in your mouth?”

Jude couldn’t help but like the mess he was turning you into.

You withdrew your fingers without warning and brought them to your own mouth, sucking and moaning lewdly as you looked directly into Bellingham’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand trailed until it was just above your breasts, eyes still on Jude’s as you squeezed your tits.

Jude didn’t even have time to react before he saw you move up your own body and rub through the material covering your pussy, touching up and down a bit teasing the boy in front of you, leaving a wet spot when you pulled your hand away.

“Move your hips for me. Can you do that for me?” That innocent tone you set made Jude explode. And he didn't need to be told twice.

He put all of his weight on his arms, his palms and heels sinking deep into the mattress, and he lifted his hips so hard that you jumped a little on his lap.

Without further ado, he thrust up, fast at first, to give you a taste of his desire, but then slower, nicer, dragging his length over your underwear-covered clit.

You decided to go a little further and freed Jude's cock, so damn big and veiny. You pulled off your underwear and started rubbing yourself. It was so damn delicious the difference in size and how the head of Jude's cock rubbed against your clit.

But what kind of punishment would it be, giving him something he so craved? You knew. You had prepared better.

So when you forgot about everything except the repetitive motion you were supposed to follow, when your moans were finally released loud and clear in the way only he had heard them before, when he could already feel the pleasure, you lifted your hips.

Bellingham groaned in frustration, closing his eyes as he fucked into the air, unable to stop his body from seeking the orgasm he had just been denied.

“Untie me this very instant.”

He may not have sounded angry at his ragged breathing, his body still recovering from the denial, but he was and he would gladly show you how terrifying he could be if he gave him the chance.

You smiled sweetly, dropping your weight onto his lap, a movement so sudden it left him breathless.

“No.”

"I wasn't-" He trailed off, a small sound escaping his mouth from another roll of your hips on his axis. "I wasn't asking."

"Fuck, did I tell you how big you are?" You replied, your small body shaking as you pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. "You should learn not to play with me Bellingham, I'm not one of those girls, don't get wrong with me."

You pulled up your underwear and pulled back up the shorts that barely covered your ass and the small miniskirt accompanied by a pink belt that was hooked with straps to the leggings that reached just above your knee.

"Shit, shit, shit..." He replied frustrated.

"I'm sorry but now you'll have to fix this on your own." You turned around and walked away.

Jude Bellingham is totally lost.

[sierrale8ne]

Azzi with the lil horny chocolates perchance???

azzi fudd x fem!reader

nsfw // no use of y/n (ur welcome), bratty!switch!azzi, switch!reader, use of an aphrodisiac, dry humping, nipple play, fingering, oral, mirror sex, mommy kink, squirting, dirty talk.

“It’s been 15 minutes. Relax, Az.” You mumbled, your attention being on the homework assignment you had started hours ago.

Azzi had never been bratty, never one to steer your attention away from your job or schoolwork; because she too was a vey focused and driven individual. But these last couple days had been a completely different story.

She had, out of character of course, fell down an online rabbit hole, and came across some aphrodisiac chocolates. She’d never trust the words of an ad on TikTok, but seeing the reviews made her even more desperate to try it. You were also very welcome to the idea, brushing her off and telling her to do whatever she pleased. Whatever to make your girl happy.

When the chocolates arrived 15 minutes ago, Azzi was quick to head over to where you sat on her bed, plopping one dark chocolate square into her mouth and handing you the other, before splitting the third and final one.

“Did you even read how much we’re supposed to take.” You asked, eyes briefly leaving your computer to meet your girlfriend’s eager brown eyes.

“Yes.”

You gave her a look, a tilt of your head that told her you didn’t believe her.

“Okay no. But it doesn’t really matter, it’s supposed to be fun, and here you are worrying about instructions.” She rolled her eyes, telling you she would be going to take a quick shower before walking into the hallway and leaving you to continue on your school project.

That was 15 minutes ago, and though the package insinuated that it would take quite a while for the effects to hit in full, your girlfriend was already breathing heavy and desperate for your attention. Even more so than before.

She sat on her knees in front of you, an old P.E shirt covering her body that rode up at mid thigh. Azzi stared at you like she would die at any given moment without your attention. She called your name and your eyes briefly drifted towards her.

“I need you.” She responded to your earlier statement, “I don’t care how long it’s been. Touch me.”

“You’re sounding a bit bratty.” You teased, shutting the computer screen, moving it to her desk, and giving her a cunning smile. It was amusing to you, to see her like this. A look on her face that could really only be described as a pout, her recently trimmed hair framing her face in beautiful curls. She smelled of vanilla and sandalwood. “Those chocolates got you goin’?”

“I think you’re actually a sadist.” Azzi huffed, her shoulders slouching in mild disappointment.

What she didn’t know was just how much the chocolate was effecting you too. You were lucky that the clothes you wore concealed your arousal because underneath your sweatpants, your panties were completely soaked and your nipples were so hard underneath your tank top.

She pushed you back by your shoulders, forcing you to get comfortable against the headboard. Her legs swung over your body and she straddled you, softly grinding her hips against yours.

“You don’t want me?” Azzi pouted as she cupped your cheek, “not even a little bit?”

“I’m teaching you patience.” You pointed out, simultaneously contradicting that statement by grabbing her hips and forcing her down closer to you. Azzi’s scent was intoxicating, the active ingredients of the chocolate enhanced it too.

Your eyes dropped to her thighs, thick and muscular, that caged you in place. She reached out to grab your wrists, dragging your hands away from her waist as she pinned them to your sides. Her hips pressed downwards on you some more, grinding onto you with a feverous desire.

“That’s a shame, because I really want you, baby.” She started, looking into your eyes. “I want your to fuck me so bad.”

“Az—”

“There’s so much I want you to do to me, and you wanna talk to me about patience?” Azzi’s head tilted to the left, looking down at you with teasing doe eyes. “Can you please make me feel good, Mommy?”

Your hands instantly fought out of her grip, fingers reaching out to pull on her t-shirt hem; playing with the fabric between your fingers. “Take this off.” You instructed and immediately, Azzi began shedding the shirt. Your jaw dropped and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you got a look at her tits staring right back at you. Her tanned stomach toned even more with the weight lifting she’d been doing.

She brought her hands to her tits, gripping them in her hands. She let out a teasing moan, much to your amusement. “I need you.”

“I know.” You nodded, reaching to peel her hands away from herself. You moved your lips to the center of her chest, littering soft kisses before cupping one of her breasts. “Prettiest fucking titties. You look so good, baby.”

Your lips attached to her nipple, tongue swirling around it as you looked up into her eyes. Her lip found its way between her teeth, desperately rutting her hips against you some more. Her clit was throbbing against you, leaving a slight wet patch on the material of your sweats.

You detached yourself from her chest, paying attention to her other nipple. Your tongue lolled out, swirling around it nastily. Her chest was covered in your saliva, her nipples even more swollen than they were before. You tugged on the front of her panties the lace immediately getting caught between her folds, making her moan out.

“Shit, gimme more. More, baby, please.”

“Mmm take these off and sit back against me.” You instructed, pulling back from her nipple with a bite. “Hurry up.” To left her with a slight slap to her thigh watching as she hopped off of the bed and slid her panties down her long legs.

Azzi pulled her hair into a low ponytail, before sitting back onto the bed and pressing her back up against your bra clad chest. Your bodies were glued together as you sat on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed daintily. You leaned into her neck, pressing needy kisses against her neck as your own pussy throbbed from her warmth.

“Tell me what you want.” You spoke into her ear, looking at her through the mirror in front of her bed. Your hands pried her legs apart draping them each over your own thighs.

“Fingers.” She responded. Her head frustratingly fell back onto your shoulder. “Wanna feel ‘em inside me. Please.” She begged, her hips circling in place.

You brought your middle and ring finger to your mouth, they sat heavy on your tongue as you wet them with saliva. You were genuinely salivating at the sight of her spread out for you in such a manner. You could easily see her through the mirror, legs spread as wide as they could go but her folds were what caught your attention.

Azzi was so wet, the slick that accumulated slipped past her enterance and onto the sheets. You’d never seen her like this before. Those chocolates might have to be purchased again.

You let out a chuckle around your fingers before slipping them out of your mouth. Your wet fingers trailed down her body, stopping to briefly circle her nipples before they finally reached her clit. You could feel the way Azzi’s body trembled against your own, heating up against your exposed stomach.

Your fingers spread her open before dipping into her warmth. Azzi’s jaw fell just slightly, eyes closed. A deep guttural moan left her lips while you slowly pumped your fingers in and out of her.

“So tight, Az.” You teased, knowing that the vulgarity of your words would bring a blush to her face. “Just wanted me in this pussy so bad, huh?” You cooed into her ear.

“Yes, so bad— fuck!” She moaned. Her legs subconsciously spread wider, allowing you more room to push your fingers into her. Azzi’s pretty painted nails dug into your thigh, her chest rapidly rising and falling as you sped up.

“You look so perfect, baby. Look.” You instructed, a hand griping her chin and forcing her head back down to meet the mirror.

Her eyes attempted to look anywhere but at herself, but the grip you had on her face stopped that from happening. “Such a desperate fuckin’ slut for it. You wanna cum don’t you, baby?”

“‘M gonna cum. Please, mommy, let me.” She whined, her hips slightly humping up against your hand.

Your fingers curled, Azzi let out a loud moan in response. Your fingers hit that one spot over and over again before slipping out and coating her clit in her own slick. They pushed back in harshly, your eyes glued to the sight in front of you.

“Aww, already?” You teased. “But I just started with you.”

“Mommy, I’m— uh fuck! Fuck, let me cum!” She hiccuped.

“Do it, Az. Let me have it, baby.” You nodded eagerly, agreeing to her request.

She whimpered and cried out your name as her orgasm washed over her. Her juices squirting out of her fast and hot against your hand and the mirror in front of you both. Your eyes damn near glazed over. Azzi’s body trembled against you and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Good girl. So good for me, princess.” You whispered, kissing her temple as she recovered. You pulled your fingers out before bringing them to her parted lips. She eagerly opened her mouth more, groaning at her own taste as her lips clamped around your fingers. “Dirty girl.”

Her head bobbed submissively as she sucked them clean. Saliva dripped down your hand when you pulled it away. You were so enthralled by it you didn’t even notice how she shakily stood up and pushed you back against the bed. Her hands eagerly grabbed at your sweats, pulling them down along with your underwear.

“Jesus, Az. Is this payback?” You wondered, referring to her sudden shift in energy.

“Not yet.” She replied. Her hands roughly gripped your hips and put you on your hands and knees, back arched perfectly for her. “I just wanna make you feel good, mommy.” Azzi admitted.

Her hands palmed your ass in her hands, she spread you apart and licked her lips when she got a look at how wet you were. “Tryna pretend like you don’t feel anything. Just look at that.” She giggled, shaking her head.

“Azzi, I gave you what you want. So use your mouth, or back u— ah!” You squealed when she cut you off with her lips attacking your cunt. The wetness pooling on her tongue as she collected it and spat it back onto your pussy.

The mixture ran through your pussy, compiling at your clit before dropping on the bed. It was sinful. Her thumb felt through your folds as she collected the sticky substance on it.

“Such a pretty pussy, mommy. And you taste so fuckin’ good.” Azzi praised. Her face dived back in, nearly suffocating herself in your cunt as she nose prodded against your other hole.

You didn’t even notice how you began to push back onto her, forcing her tongue deeper and deeper into you. She ate you like a last meal, like she’s been dreaming about it for days; and she really has.

“Azzi. Uh fuck, baby. Don’t stop.” You groaned, your sounds muffled by the sheets which you gripped harshly.

By now you were practically fucking her face, pushing back and suffocating between your legs. She pulled back breathlessly and pushed her thumb back to your clit to keep you stimulated.

“Azzi.” You pouted, missing the feel of her tongue already.

She smirked behind you. Her eyes watched as your cunt pleaded for more, more anything that she was obviously neglecting. “You gotta tell me how bad you want it.”

“You said this wasn’t payback.”

“I said not yet, sweetheart.” Azzi cooed. Her hand dropped from your pussy, sinfully smiling at your whining. “I’m not asking. I’ll take care of you, you just gotta beg for it, mommy.”

Your breath hitched. “Please.”

“Aww you can do better than that, baby.” Her hand caressed your ass, distracting you before she gave it a harsh slap. “I don’t have all day.”

“Fuck— please, please touch me. I want your tongue, Az. Wanna cum on your face.” You begged, legs slightly trembling as you looked back at her.

She nodded. Her hands spread your ass again, leaving a quick and surprising kiss on your other hole before making her way back to your cunt. “See it wasn’t so hard.”

Her mouth attached to your clit again. She sucking it into her mouth violently, her tongue flicking it over and over and over again until without warning your cum spilled out of you and coated her tongue. She groaned happily, licking it all up and swallowing everything you gave her.

“Azzi, shit!” You cried, pulling away from her mouth and collapsing face first onto the bed. You could hear her laughter behind you as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her body pressed against your back, mouth approaching you ear.

“You tired?” She teased.

And within seconds your exhaustion faded and you pulled Azzi back into the bed, switching spots with you while you looked in the nearby dresser drawer for the next toy you would use to break her apart.

author’s note gf azzi fudd 😍😍 ugh someone tell paige to come off of this one please!! yes it’s unedited, yes there are grammar and spelling mistakes, no idgaf <3

[thebramblewood]

I got a very nice ask from @charsimsalot asking about my process for taking screenshots, but before I get to that I wanted to share some of my favorite pre-Simblr screenies. These were stories I was making solely for myself, and I feel like I owe a lot to them. I didn't know it at the time, but they were my practice runs for everything I'm doing now! I'm very glad I can always look back at them. Yes, there are things I would have done differently, but they mostly fill me with warm and fuzzy memories. I love all these pixels very much and would like to return to their legacy eventually. 🥰

I'm always reluctant to share links because I feel like it's a little embarrassing I was doing so much for almost no one to see. But it's an important little piece of me, so if you're curious, here's where you can actually read their stories. You can even see how dodgy my graphic design skills were in the banners, lol!

Stranger Than Fiction A Place to Call Home The Future of Sulani A Magical Bond

More rambling on my current process and how I feel like it's evolved to come, but give me a couple days to put it together! ❤️

[dyaz-stories]

Yuta, Gojo, Geto, and does the end justify the means?

[spoilers up until JJK 269]

I've seen a post floating around about what the point of Yuta overtaking Gojo's body was, and since I haven't seen many people interpret it the way I have, I wanted to take a minute to talk about it.

First of all, I do think Gege had several reasons to do it, one of them being to give the answer to the "are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest or are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru". However, while many people tend to center that idea, it's only one aspect of it for me.

I'm also of the mind that part of it was telling the fans that nah, he really really wasn't coming back (don't necessarily assign malice to it, but yeah I think it was part of the point). That being said, there is an argument to be made that it was foreshadowed in chapter 90 by Kenjaku, so I don't think that was solely the point and Gege might have had this planned for a lot longer.

However, for me, it's not so much about the battle or about the plot, but rather about the themes it sets in place for the story, and these themes have been present for a while in Jujutsu Kaisen.

At the heart of it is, essentially, "does the end justify the means?"

That's a big theme in the manga as a whole, I'd argue. It's at the heart of the Geto thing ("does saving the lives of sorcerers justify killing every single non-sorcerer") in particular. It's behind most of the higher-ups' actions, though their 'ends' don't appear to be altruistic. It's also a question Gojo usually refuses to answer, or tentatively says "no" to — in refusing to kill Yuuji, Yuta, in protecting Hakari, and probably plenty of people before them. He does end up playing in that game, though, when he kills the higher-ups — deciding that the end might justify the means, a gamble he hadn't always thought worth taking until then. [This is my read on Gojo, but it's open to interpretation]

(I can't be brief to save my life so I'm putting the rest of this Very Long Post under the cut)

We see this not so much with the fight, but mostly in the conversations we see Yuta having in chapter 261, before taking Gojo's body. That's the whole point of the debate they're all having. Yuta is arguing that you have to do whatever to win against Sukuna,

while others, Kusakabe and Maki in particular, have their reservations. [Which is interesting considering Kusakabe does think that killing Yuuji to kill Sukuna was warranted, shows that values are complicated things]

Yuta's whole speech is about, really, the fact that you have to do whatever you can do, no matter what that is, to win. No matter whether or not you destroy yourself as a person, no matter how heinous it is, if it gets a win, it needs to be done.

There's something a little self-sacrificial, self-martyrdom, lowkey suicidal about it too imo but that's besides the point (not necessarily a criticism of Yuta btw, think it makes him more interesting and gives him a lot of depth).

Anyway, back to the point: Yuta is emphatically saying, yes, the end justifies the means. That was also what the fandom was saying when the chapter was coming out, actually. I saw a lot of the argument that it was 'not realistic' for them not to do that, and that 'this was a war and yes, it's horrible, but war is horrible', etc, etc.

Now at that point, I was seething in my small corner of the Internet because from the moment that conversation was had, I needed Yuta to lose, because I fucking hated the message it would give if he won. This is, admittedly, a deeply subjective thing — it's a personal and political opinion, and everyone's going to have their own, but as far as I'm concerned, it would have been awful. At that point I was still really worried that the story was going to go full grimdark and I would have hated it if the last message we got was that renouncing all your values is justified in war if it gets you a win.

Anyway, we all know this by now, but that's not what happened.

Geto, who ended up renouncing even his own values by attacking sorcerers in the name of building his perfect world, loses to the love that Yuta has for Maki and Rika in particular, two non-sorcerers.

And Sukuna loses, not to a Kamo, a Zen'in or a Gojo, not even to the descendant of the big three vengeful spirits, all of whom have sacrificed so much of their values to get to the level of power they have, but to a no-name kid who doesn't even have a cursed technique armed with the power of love and friendship. (Not mocking this btw, thrilled about it) Just as importantly, Yuuji has done the very opposite of abandoning his values: he's fought to keep them until the very end. Even at the very end, he offers Sukuna a hand, because his main value is not to kill people, unless absolutely necessary.

Meanwhile, Yuta going into Gojo's body gets him nothing. He's committed the abominable, and it's not a decisive move against Sukuna. He's gone against some very general human values — anyone can see why what he's done is fucked up (and I can't pinpoint it precisely but I'd argue that there's a parallel between that and him cursing Rika) — and it gets him nothing. Even if it had gotten him somewhere, there was another way. A way that didn't involve that.

So that, to me, is the point of Yuta taking over Gojo's body: no, you can't just do anything to win a battle, and yes, you can refuse to do certain sacrifices and succeed. Don't abandon the things you hold dear. You can lose, but you can also still prevail, Jujutsu Kaisen says in the end.

Now for the more critical part of this broadcast, while I do think this aspect is why Gege chose to have that happen, I 100% find that chapter 269 and the complete lack of consequences the action ends up carrying really really cheapens it. Everyone was up in arms about it at first, and then Yuta comes back and we act like nothing's happened? I mean it's a theme of the chapter for sure, acting like nothing's happened that is, but it still sucks.

I think that's partly why Maki is mad at Yuta in chapter 269, considering she was the one who was most strongly against the idea, but it's not brought up explicitly. It's completely incomprehensible to me that Gege thought the chapter would be better used talking about how they could have acted differently and that whole New Shadow Style school thing than dealing with the consequences of the characters' actions that he'd prepared earlier, but whatever.

So in the end, while it was an interesting point to bring to the story, it was not used to its full potential. In a story that's all about breaking cycles, it's a shame that there wasn't more light shed on how people kept repeating the same mistake.

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[genericpuff]

Are there any comics you were into around when LO was first coming out that you still adore and highly recommend? Any comics you wish got far more attention they they have?

There are several artists I used to love the comics of that went on hiatus years back/the artist doesn't make content anymore and I still look at them fondly (Snakes and Ladders by Mulattafury guts me. I would've loved to see it continue 😔)

So LO was kind of one of the first "webtoons" I got into, and by that I mean I was reading tons of webcomics for years prior to it, but the whole vertical format thing was still very new at the time and I wasn't accustomed to it. I spent a lot of the early to mid 2010's reading manga scanlations and indie webcomics, some of which are still ongoing today (though others unfortunately were never completed):

City of Blank (which is now an Originals series and it's in its final season, please check it out!!!)

Monster Pop (this one is actually really similar in art vibes to LO, it's very pastel and fun! idk if the creator still makes comics but she DOES make eco-friendly plus-sized skirts with POCKETS now!)

The GamerCat

AwkwardZombie (i stg this is one of those comics that will probably live to see the heat death of the universe LOL)

A BETTER PLACE (this one was REALLY fun to experience at the time because it pulled off some time travel shenanigans that you literally had to be there to read, you deadass can't read the original pages that got overwritten in the timeline near the end of the story, it doesn't affect the overall narrative at all but it's fun knowing that I was there LOL)

Grassblades

An Exercise in Futility

A Tale of Two Rulers

Theodd1sout (yep, before they were big on Youtube, it was a webcomic!)

Fail by Error (unfortunately it seems the creator of this comic has removed it from Tapas entirely, I'll see what I can dig up through Wayback but until then you might be stuck with Pinterest on finding strips from this one)

A Matter of Life and Death (this one is pretty much cancelled indefinitely BUT the creator is still an active comic creator and just recently started up a new original project! they also make super cool Jojo fanart and AU stuff if you're into that haha)

Two Guys and Guy (same as Fail by Error, its site seems to be long gone now but some of the strips can be found online)

Happle Tea (^^^)

And of course there was all the manga that I used to binge like fucking crack LOL Soul Eater, Death Note, Naruto, Bleach, Full Metal Alchemist, Yotsubato, Sailor Moon, One Piece, Deadman Wonderland, and those were just like, the well-known popular ones, there were a ton others across varying degrees of popularity that I don't even fully remember the names of now.

On the whole, there was a LOOOOT of stuff I read prior to LO, I used to practically live on sites like Tapas. Some of it's still as good as ever, others haven't aged quite so well, but for the most part, I look back on it all very fondly as it's what made up a lot of my formative years as a webcomic creator :'3 If you haven't read any of these, feel free to check them out, maybe you'll find a new favorite! <3

[chevvy-yates]

Sending out kudos to everyone who has shown their love towards Ryder for the past two years.

I love u all very much and every engagement, be it even just a like, means a lot to me.

I've intended to sorta make a cool post of some older vp of him as of today, September 17th, exactly 2 years ago I have created Ryder,— back then as a supposed supportive character for Vijay, very unsure if I would like him as Ry didn't visually turn out as I wanted him to be in the first place and he never went that way either afterwards — yet I find myself writing those lines instead.

I've accepted his look and his imperfection started to grow on me with each picture I took of him. Unlike my other ocs he went his own way leading me along to discover his personality. That's what makes him so different compared to my other blorbos and has me so attached to him.

I did not plan to make him a raver (he was supposed to become an 80s goth punk, a total different style than he's got now) neither that he would end up with a rogue AI controlling him. Only his name, basic info and the toxic family story was planned right from the beginning but that's pretty much it – Ryder showed me the rest of it.

Within the year 2023 I noticed more and more that Ryder has slowly but surly turned out to be my main character.

He turned out to be the most expressive and photogenic one of them all. I don't see him as the prettiest looking either yet he's my most precious and I love every pixel about him.

He's the one thing in my life I am actually truly 100% proud of.

Almost all my ocs exist because of him. They are his support characters. Without him half of them would not even exist. There would be no Thyjs. Even Garnet exists so Ry can live out his passion (that was not really put into the game but exists as lore: Technoise).

I am beyond happy to have created him.

He helps me in a lot of rather personal ways too I do not need to address here.

I got so much to tell about him (also about my other ocs) yet idk if I should continue or not as I find myself stuck with overthinking about it bc of lack of public response literally everywhere (this excludes private chat talks with close friends). Maybe Ryder's too intimidating (not the first time I would read that), his lore gets overlooked easily, or it's to much (confusing) text.

I cannot make anyone force-like him. Tastes are different. Minority is into others oc lore. Less time to read it all. The list is long. I'm aware of it all.

But I cannot underline it enough: do never hesitate to ask me questions about him. He's on my mind 24/7 and my biggest wish is to get this story out and done some day (whenever it will be) and receive some actual feedback on it what was liked.

Just a tiny detail is enough. <3

Another wish I have ever since I joined the CP77 fandom: that people would go back to comment each other more. We all do have little time for it, we all think "oh no so much text to read", we all are in our own bubbles rarley coming out to explore another bubble within this universe. It takes a lot of effort to do. people do seem scared on top to write anything at all for numerous reasons. I have all those problems as well. But I try to sit down and read the one or other lore chunk others wrote down and give a tiny comment as best as I can to make the creator have a smile on their lips. I truly wish we all would do this at least once a week to one person. once a month would be also fine. But if we don't this fandom will be dead soon enough and all thats left is just liking vp with characters on it we know almost nothing about. And maybe even those characters won't have lore anymore bc people stop creating it.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

No bc imagine being Auron

And you meet this cute person. Then after a while you research everything about them. And then you realize you got a crush, your fucked bc you never really had one so you don't know if your doing the right signals.

Reading into every look that went your way. It's their like first week/month (idk timeline shit who cares) and you give them a task to get them comfortable working for the company.

You go to check up on them, the cute person might like someone else. Fuck. Still need to check up on their story of being sent the wrong file.

YOU SENT THEM THE WRONG FUCKING FILE??? Jesus fuck they think your probably a clutz now-.....Did they just call you nice?!,!? Holy fuck you might have a chance??

Their staying behind, this is your chance so u say you'll stay behind too. While waiting for the end of the day your wondering how the actual FUCK was ur shit not update??

They said it was fine and you began small talking, somehow your so open to them?? The word anal makes them laugh, their laugh is really cute. You ask them about the looks after work to stay with them bc maybe you can bond? Score it went really well and you two began talking.

Slowly, you put down your guard. Why is it so easy to be with them? Why is it kinda scary for it to be easy? Fuck what if they're only getting close bc of some enemy he has?

Barring your heart and soul to them, you ask if they want to stay or leave. Your giving them an out if they want it, their smart and connected dots people didn't know were there.

.....they chose to stay? Suddenly you feel really happy. That someone finally saw the real you, the you your stepfather had broken down and formed the way HE wanted. Your crying, they tell you it's okay.

You know it's okay, but hearing it from them one more time made it nice. Bringing them back to your oenthouse they look amazed at it. Making a Cribs joke and you entertain the idea, your having fun buy they don't need to know that.

You have a fun shower together and talk some more. You want to tell them things, but, knowledge is a double edged sword. You don't want the cute person you got attached to getting hurt. You promised to protect them and your going to do just that.

Showing your room your curious about their thoughts, they call you goth and you just sigh. Of course they'd say that, going into the bed you lay next to them and feel joy. This is something that you'd love to get use too.

Waking up there not there, your too sore for me to be a dream. Going to the living room you see decorations and in awe at how quickly they got it together. There's presents from Trish and you ask them if there was someone else.

Telling the cute person about her and smiling, showing your favorite cereal that has a cute deer on it. Then you ask if they were scared of his reaction to this. You say how your happy they did this, even telling them how they're basically a safe space for you.

They got you a present? Oh, how nice I wonder what....Cool so you gets a traumatic flashback. Shaking it off you thank them, then decided to eat the cereal and eatchteashy tv.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Iced Tea and Writing

Day 17 - Hobby @rowaelinscourt

just some more fluff lol with a lil mention of sex at the end.

cw: none words: 900+

enjoy!! xx

{ also, there's a tiny easter egg in this fic if you've looked at rowan's wiki page ;) }

Aelin was hiding something, and Rowan was determined to figure it out.

She wasn't scheming anything, he was confident in that, and it wasn't a policy that she was hiding from him because while he was busy rebuilding Orynth and Terrasen's army and navy, councilmen and women still managed to find him and rattled off about their plans that they wanted his support on.

He listened, because it was his duty as king-consort to do so, but he always told Aelin about it before they unwound from their day.

That very thing happened yesterday, and as Rowan walked into his shared study with his mate, Aelin slammed shut a drawer in her desk and turned to face him fully.

He could have sworn that there was a faint blush on her cheeks. He had asked her if she was alright and she said she was, but he sensed the white lie.

And that was when his curiosity was born.

So, with a rare day off for both of them, he told Aelin that he would soon join her in the Queen's Garden but for now, he was pretending to be busy when in actuality, he was going to shift and fly into the garden to see what his wife was up to, as he saw that bundle of paper under her arms this morning, with an ink-pot and glass pen in the other.

Using his magic, he made sure to send his scent the other way as he perched within an orange tree, the branches bursting with fresh, ripe fruit.

He heard the scribble of the glass pen against the paper, her beautiful face scrunched in concentration. She was lying on a thick picnic blanket, a tray full of fresh fruits, cheeses and iced tea laid on top of it.

A pitcher of iced tea that was now empty and Aelin realised it. Huffing, she got up, holding the empty pitcher as she left to refill it.

When he heard the garden door close, Rowan swooped down and read what his mate was hiding.

And became so engrossed in it that he didn't hear Aelin's approach until she hissed in surprised several minutes later.

“Buzzard, put that down!” Rowan didn't and kept on reading. Aelin rushed forward, putting the iced tea away before she extended her hand towards him, silently asking for the papers.

Childishly, Rowan didn't and even extended it into the air where she couldn't reach. His smile was wide enough that Aelin could count nearly all his teeth, his canines gleaming in the sun.

“You're writing a romance story, based on us?”

Aelin scoffed. “It isn't based on us, you territorial beast.”

Rowan's smile grew. “The Fae male is called Raonn, and the half-fae female is called Ayla, how else am I meant to interpret it?”

“It's just a coincidence, Rowan.”

“Raonn is an inch shorter than me, with white hair and hazel eyes and powers of water and invisibility and Ayla—”

“I'm aware of their powers buzzard, as I wrote them.” Her hand was still stretched out, flexing her fingers to hand the papers over.

“Why did you hide it from me?”

“I didn't hide it, I just...kept it locked up from prying eyes. And it's just some stupid scribbles—”

“It's not stupid,” Rowan said, interrupting her. “It's good Aelin.”

“You're just saying that.”

“I'm not,” he insisted, meaning it. “It's descriptive without droning on, the imagery is clear. It's good,” he promised her.

Aelin smiled sweetly at the truth she sensed in Rowan's words. “It's still not based on us.”

Rowan hummed and handed her the papers. “Whatever you say, Fireheart.”

Rowan joined her on the picnic blanket, leaning against the same orange tree he used to hide in. Aelin leaned against his shoulder, handing over the tray of fruits and cheeses. Rowan picked out what he wanted, which he ended up just giving to Aelin as she kept stealing them-pay back for not handing over the papers straight away, most likely.

“I just wanted to do something different,” Aelin said eventually. “After dealing with demon hordes and politics, I just needed to do something that didn't involve the world being at stake.”

“I understand,” Rowan said, “it's good to have a hobby.”

Aelin looked up at her mate, his eyes thoughtful as he stared at her. “You should take up a hobby, too, like drawing. You're good at that.” And he was, her tattooed back was proof of his skills.

His smile from before returned. “Maybe I'll draw Raonn and Ayla, give you some more inspiration. Or,” he begun to say as Aelin opened her mouth to again deny any similarities, “I could draw you in your gold nightgown.”

“I have other colours, you know,” she said, now running a lazy hand up and down his thigh and her mates dark eyes zeroed in on her hand. She had a whole closest full of nightgowns, all different colours and cuts and fabrics. She kept them locked away, however, as she liked to surprise him.

“I know, but it's my favourite.” Which was an understatement, because whenever she wore metallic gold, Rowan fucked her so hard that afterwards she saw stars. “And maybe, right now, I can give you inspiration in the physical sense.”

Aelin snorted as Rowan softly placed her on her back and did give her ideas for her story for later—although she would still deny that it wasn't based on her and Rowan.

Having a hobby was indeed a very good use of her time.

[caffichai]

Pudding!

This was inspired by @fishing-lesbian-catgirl's lovely story, Sweet Like Pudding!

[coquelicoq]

as a huge unreliable narrator enjoyer i love the fact that the raven tower is narrated by someone who cannot lie. so the narration is not unreliable, and any kind of uncertainty is always couched in "here is a story i have heard" or "i imagine", but it scratches the same itch as unreliable narration because the evidentiality of the narration is still so central, just in the opposite way. stories that don't care about where the narrator is getting their information or what biases are present in the way that information is shared with us are on one end of a spectrum, and stories that do care about those things are on the other end, and the raven tower is firmly situated alongside the unreliably narrated stories even though the whole point is that the narrator is as motivated as it is possible to be to never say something that is untrue. and it's fascinating to see how ann leckie manages to build suspense and subvert expectations without really at any point deliberately misleading the reader. every time i reread one of her books, the bouncing of the dvd screensaver in my brain gets a little more frenetic. how does she do what she does. ann leckie what is your secret.

[feroluce]

So I went to the wiki page for the henghill Bullet & Brain mission of 2.2 looking for some dialogue I had missed and

a) I found something incredibly tasty that slotted into some other thoughts I'd been having, more on that on another day, and

b) I saw this super fun little trivia at the bottom, which!

I knew Penacony characters like Boothill took a lot of inspirations from old movies, but I didn't realize it was even in his and Dan Heng's relationship, that's so cool!!

It fits them very well, it's such a fun reference. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" was an old buddy Western film (from 1969- nice) about a pair of outlaws. Butch Cassidy was the leader of a gang, and described as clever, affable, and talkative. Meanwhile, his closest companion, the Sundance Kid, was known as a man of few words.

Cassidy's original birth name was much more plain, but similar to Boothill, he took on a new moniker when he became an outlaw. "Cassidy" had been the last name of his beloved mentor, who taught him how to shoot and ride. And Sundance Kid was known as he was because Sundance was the name of his hometown, and it was the only place that had ever managed to catch and jail him, back when he'd been younger (also similar to Dan Heng, but ouch).

These two stick together like glue throughout the length of the film- through Cassidy's leadership of the gang being challenged, through a train robbery gone wrong, through being pursued by mercenaries, and even through fleeing to Bolivia and trying to start over together.

I don't want to say too much more, since the mission title is referencing one specific movie that I've never seen. I kinda wanna watch it now, though, just to see the inspiration that went into Boothill and Dan Heng and how they get along. I just think it's really sweet that these two were literally made to be the best of bros, how lovely is that. 💕

[measurelessdreamer]

Part III of my musings of my scogan kid fic idea - How they tell Kayla

Part I | Part II

They need to tell her somehow. They need to tell all of them, obviously, but judging by the situation, telling her takes precedence over the rest, at least in some way. Logan and Scott might not agree on many things, but they have to agree on this.

Naturally, they have no idea how, though. Even if they put aside the fact she is only four, Logan doesn’t know her, and as for Scott, despite the endless list of contingencies he has up his sleeve, this is a situation anyone would be running short on.

It’s another one of these things that show just how different they are. Scott wants to settle on the exact words they’ll say, Logan thinks it’s ridiculous and that no words, no matter how carefully scripted and rehearsed, could make it any easier on her or them. Scott wants to rip the band aid off, Logan wants to avoid shattering that little girl’s world for as long as possible.

“She’s gonna know, Logan,” Scott says through gritted teeth and Logan knows he shouldn’t doubt that when out of the two of them, it’s no competition who is more fluent in her needs and feelings, but it doesn’t really occur to him how much out of the loop he can be about this until it happens and it’s so sudden, heightened senses or not, he doesn’t know he misstepped until it’s too late.

I imagine it’s not his fault, though. He and Scott are wired differently and as much as they both have it in them to easily love this little girl, they go about it in different ways. Scott needed time to become confident and comfortable in the role of a father to such a young child. Logan followed his gut because there was little else he could do when Kayla would thrash in someone else’s arms to the point bones would start breaking and he has at least adamantium to support him. There wasn’t much time to second-guess back then.

But she is older now and as much she has no way of knowing the full extent of her powers, she is much less prone to losing her control. She knows her limits with Logan, she knows her limits with Scott. She can see when they happen not to return the favour.

Logan’s as much to blame for it as a person who has never held a baby in their arms would be for holding them the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting to see her smile one second and then look at him with something akin to fear glinting in her eyes for long enough that Logan sees the red beams that are threatening to be let out. It’s not that she wants to hurt him, but something is wrong and worst of all, something is wrong with Logan and she’s scared and she doesn’t know what’s happening until Scott makes his way into her field of vision and gets her to calm down.

I imagine she originally meant to tease Logan. With her teleporting ability, she would sometimes appear out of thin air where he could see her and she would scream “boo!” And laugh halfway through it because she could never catch him off-guard as her teleporting radius is small enough for him to catch her scent or hear her footsteps before she makes her move. But this Logan isn’t as in tune with her and, not only that, he happens to be deeply in thought when it happens and instead of maintaining his composure and greeting her with a smile, she sees him flinch for the first time and waits for the grin to come and for the sense of accomplishment to greet her, but it never comes and it’s terrifying.

Alternatively, I imagine it could have something to do with Logan having memories of drowning. I originally meant for one version to be sort of subtle to the point that no one else would notice Logan’s mistake aside from Kayla, and the other one would have to do with flinching, but it turns out they both are about flinching. But this other time would be scarier in a way. Let’s say that Kayla is playing with a watergun and she finds Logan and Scott and sneaks up on them and shoots and it’s bad luck she chooses Logan as her first target and that she hits him in the face. The Logan from this timeline would glare and groan and, in worst cases, tell her he’s not in the mood right now, but this Logan has no such memories to guide him. Instead, another memory of water resurfaces and it’s the last thing he remembers and he knows he’s no longer there, but he just forgets for a moment and the flinch comes along with the familiar sound of his claws coming out and as if scaring the shit out of Kayla is not enough, he now has Scott staring at him with something he can’t place. He wants it to be judgment but he has a feeling it’s not.

She doesn’t run away, but he thinks that has much more to do with Scott than it does with him. He wishes he could run away the moment Scott tries to explain things to her. It doesn’t sound rehearsed because he is taking cues from her which is so rarely what he does that Logan can’t help noticing.

She has questions because of course she does and as much as Scott could answer all of them to some degree, Logan is best suited for it and it’s damn time he actually looks at her.

“So… you travelled in time? Like Marty?” she asks.

“Marty McFly. From Back to the Future,” Scott supplies, making the math and realising the intricacies of Logan’s time travel far too late and so does not escape the look Logan sends him.

“I got that much. Nice to see something that didn’t change.” Even if it’s just a movie. Even if he has no idea why she could reference it.

She asks where he comes from and he tells her. She asks why he would want to change the future, he says it wasn’t the future anyone would want. He doesn’t see the trap door until it’s too late, doesn’t realise that she is too young to comprehend that her sheer existence is his doing and that everyone in this school would be dead by now if it weren’t for him. She only sees a man who looks like her father and isn’t and his being here means her dad is gone.

“I don’t like this. I don’t want it. I want my dad,” she says and neither Scott or Logan can come up with what to say. They both try, but she doesn’t listen and she runs away before they can try again and Logan feels dread unlike any other. The future was fixed, he’d done the impossible, but he can’t fix this.

“Give her time. She’ll come around,” Scott says, ever the diplomat, but there is an undercurrent to his voice that is the only reason Logan isn’t telling him to go fuck himself because the words sound empty but aren’t a jab and Logan knows he doesn’t know this Scott and how they possibly found themselves being fathers to a little girl, but everyone else seems similar to people he’d come to know and care about, and so things cannot be so different-

“Would you come around?” he asks and it is a jab because he remembers what it was like to see Scott after Jean’s death and even if it no longer applies to this Scott, it is in his head and he cannot unsee it. “Sometimes you just can’t come around, Slim.”

“Clearly,” Scott says and Logan doesn’t know what that means but before he can question it, Scott is walking away and Logan doesn’t stop him and then faces having Scott avoid him the following days.

[wayward-wren]

Thought too long about Hermoine daughter of Meneleus and Helen and got sad