#You say you care for Chat and then find every reason in the book to keep him in the dark

[jennrypan]

Personally I will NEVER get behind Marinette not telling Chat SHIT.

Like..at first it made sense but it keeps fucking happening and she needs to learn the same lesson of maybe dont keep important info from your PARTNER cuz thats a shitty thing to do??

And ESPECIALLY if that info involves his damn father. You cant say you care about someone and then coddle them and think for them, thats a shit thing to do to assume you know how theyll react and then never give them a chance to do so?? It puts Marinette in a very silly light and she should know by now Chat hates being excluded from important info!! Its them against the world.

But no its HER that fights the main battle, its HER that decides to give Gabriel his stupid damn wish for??? What reason?? She decides to give him a second chance he doesnt deserve?? (Despite Chloe and Lila repeatedly being mentioned to not deserve a second chance, but nah, this terrorist grown man deserves a second chance cuz his ridiculous wife did something stupid) and SHE DOESNT TELL ADRIEN/CHAT WHO HIS FATHER WAS, DOESNT TELL HIM HES A SENTI?

Thats not a good choice!! Itd be cool if this is used as a character flaw and its used to point out that Marinette is wrong to even think this!! But knowing this show, itll give her a pat on the back for continuously not thinking about how Adrien ACTUALLY feels but how she THINKS he'll feel, and its just..not great, like literally..you love him but then?? Do this?? Girl cmon now.

This stupid plot point better be changed, retconned or something cus it makes Marinette seem..dumb, impractical and selfish.

Like its easier to not tell your boyfriend his father was an abusive terrorist?? Easier to let the world know this asshole as a hero?? Give him a second chance after hes traumatized and injured and killed countless people every time hes akumatized people, after hes neglected his son and controlled him?? Really now?

Who thought this was a GOOD ending??

[jaysgirlx]

"Need help sweetheart?" Bookstore Customer!Jason Todd helps you reach the books on the higher shelves. You were his favorite employee and he wanted to make your day easier. He'd been coming here for a while but you always forgot how tall he was and how good his body felt pressed against yours. You only knew how to mumble out a couple words because you didn't know what else to say to a man like that. "Uh sir, you don't need to-"

"Please call me anything but sir sweetheart, you know I'm not new here"

Bookstore Customer!Jason enjoyed teasing his favorite employee aka you of course. He teases you about working at the bookstore even though he's constantly there and he'll always be flirting with you even if you're working the counter that day. He knows he's holding up the line but he's a paying customer so he doesn't care.

"How's my favorite pretty girl doing?"

"M'tired today Jay, I can't handle your nonsense right now"

"Okay that was mean- wait, Jay? that's a first"

"Buy a book or get out Jason"

You could easily tell Jason liked classics and poetry but for some reason he was willing to read your favorites even if they were a smut-filled mess. One time, he backed you up into a corner, after reading one of those books you liked, "Hmm, you like this kind of shit baby? cause I can do all that to you and so much more"

Over time, you learned that Jason also likes to follow you to the store, whispering to you about all the things he could do to you if you'd let him. His hand is always on your hips, pressing his body fully into you. He knows you like it especially when you roll your hips into his when nobody's looking. He wishes you'd use your words and just say you were his but he knew he wasn't even close to getting that, at least not yet.

Jason tried to buy a new book every week, sometimes not even to read. He needed an excuse to be there since your boss has never been fond of him ever since he had caught him feeling you up near the back shelves once. He learned his lesso so now he purposefully buys the books you like, just so he can watch you ramble on and on about them without getting kicked out of the store.

Bookstore Customer!Jason thrived on the feeling he got from watching you go from being so nonchalant around him to the most talkative girl in the world. he wants you comfortable if he's going to fuck you. You find yourself shutting up one time because you thought you had bored him but he quickly gets rid of that thought for you, "Keep talking sweetheart, I'm just wondering how pretty your mouth would look with my cock stuffed down your throat"

"Jay I don't- I can't- I haven't-"

"Don't worry, you will and I'm sure you're a fast learner"

It wasn't that hard for you to notice that Jason got a little jealous when his brother Dick hits on you the first and last time he brings him to the bookstore. Dick easily chats you up and Jason watches the two become a bit too friendly for his liking but it wasn't his place to speak, "Now I see why my little brother brings home so many books"

"It's good he does, I like guys who read"

"I actually quite the fan of classic literature-"

"Oh shut up Dick"

Bookstore Customer!Jason had all your coworkers wondering if you'll ever let the poor guy hit. They weren't sure if Jason was interested in you or your body, regardless they couldn't ignore the smile you got whenever he walk in. Or the way you'd laugh at his dumb jokes. You had him on a leash and you didn't even know what to do with him. He's begging to take you out or just even spent a night with you. He didn't just want you, he needed you. "C'mon I promise to take care of you princess, I'll even take you to that little coffee shop in Bludhaven"

"Who told you about that?!"

"…Dick"

When he finally manages to convince you to let him kiss you, you're nervous as fuck. You thought this was just another one of his antics but no, this was real. He'd promised to stop hitting on you if you felt nothing and you should've know it was bad idea when you could hear your own heartbeat still your let his lips touch yours. It was such a bad idea because before you knew it, he's got you pushed up against the wall, leg parting your thighs with your hands gripping at his shirt. "Jay, more please" Suddenly after all this time, you're pleading for him. Oh how the tables have turned. You're begging for all he's got, and you know he has so much more to give.

"Just give me a moment baby, got be patient" Within a matter of minutes your pants are discarded on the floor, and your panties are still on but being pushed aside while two fingers are being pumped in and out of your pussy. He's got one hand on your hips holding you down while one of your legs is wrapped around his waist. "Didn't I tell you I could do some much for you baby?"

You nod quickly while he's sucking on your poor neck, that would definitely be red all tomorrow. you feel his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard but rough enough to leave a mark. "Now keep quiet, I don't want any of your coworkers hearing us back here" The next thing you know you're cumming on the boy's fingers and he wants you to do it again. and again. and possibly 50 more times if you're willing.

The next time Jason comes, he's holding what you think is flowers and you know he'll be your victim today.

"So I thought real flowers would be cheesy and you'd probably not want to take care of em, so my brothers taught me how to make these paper flowers and…here just take them"

"Wow, I'm getting hand-crafted flowers from THE Jason Todd? Someone must have a really big crush on me huh? Are those bandaids on your fingers? Want me to kiss your boo-boos? "

"Are you going to finally go out with me or do I have to make you cum-"

"Yes yes! Just do not finish that sentence out loud"

"You are soooooooooo in love me"

"Jay, get out"

[luvfy0dor]

Heyy, I was thinking about a concept with Fyodor (or whoever from BSD) having a streamer bf, but like, one of -those- streamers where every word they say can be quite questionable (in a “good” way/ironically). For some reason it amuses me to imagine it with Fyodor and Reader occasionally teasing him, calling him their ‘discord kitten’ or streaming for 5 hours (or more lol) saying nonsenses or playing video games instead of paying attention to Fyodor. What do you think?

“Get Off The Game ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu

Warnings;

Description; BSD men with a streamer!reader

A/n; these are in headcannon form, I hope that's alright!!! I think Dazai or Nikolai would be a better person to have this occupation w so I also did headcannons for one of them

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor thinks it's stupid at first, but when he realized you made money from it he learned to tolerate it. He wasn't too fond of the noise, though.

• I don't think he was too fond of the nickname 'discord kitten', always raising an eyebrow when he's called that, he also strongly dislikes brainrot cause what do you mean you're so sigma? No you're not, you're y/n. That's unrelated, but I thought I'd add that in there.

• "A discord what? Kitten? What even is that? I am nothing of the such."

• Catch him dead before he makes an appearance on camera, he much prefers to keep his business private. He doesn't mind you talking about him though, he loves that. He loves that people know you're already taken by him and that all those losers in your chat don't have a chance with you.

• Sometimes he'll watch your streams from a different room in attempt to understand your work and the art of gaming. He enjoys when you play horror games, especially the ones that get you thinking. He sometimes finds your facial expressions when you get jumpscared funnier than anything else in the stream.

• When it comes to the duration of your streams, Fyodor can entertain himself for as long as you need him to, but he can't help but feel like he'd rather be spending that time with you every now and again.

• He usually just takes the time to work on his DOA stuff, and occasionally he'll get so lost in it that he doesn't even realized you've finished with your stream and on whenever that happens, you make some tea and go to fetch him to spend some quality time together, whether it's you laying in his lap while you both read a book or having a conversation about whatever comes to mind

Dazai Osamu ★

• Dazai is your #1 supporter since day one. There's a conversation going on about content creators? He's immediately bringing you up. You need new items for your set up? He's manifesting that said items go on sale ASAP!

• Oh my god, and he LOVES it when you get recognized in public. He's very prideful of you and likes that it's only him and a select group of people that get to see the real you outside of the camera frame.

• He, unlike Fyodor, does have an issue with the long hours, so he busies himself with the ADA and otherwise to keep himself from walking in and talking your ear off while you play your games for umpteen thousand people.

• He doesn't despise being called a discord kitten, but it does confuse him a little bit. But whatever, as long as you have 'my' in front of any name he doesn't care.

• Dazai watches your old streams when he's bored and can't help but giggle at the out of pocket or questionable things you say. He likes to watch the compilations of you on YouTube, too.

• Sometimes he'll quote you out of the blue.

• He doesn't like people trying to flirt with you or talk to you on the Internet as any partner wouldn't, so he is in the comment section of every post reading through individual comments. Type guy to see '❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥' comments on your posts and reply '🧯🧯🧯'

• All in all, Dazai is well received by your fanbase, especially the ones who don't try to romance you and are normal. They think he's funny and a good match for you.

A/n; I hope it wasn't to short!!! I thought it was a cutsey idea, I think Nikolai would be pretty similar to Dazai in this scemario.

[cozage]

Helloooo! Congratulations on 2k! Every time I see you update my day instantly is made 🥰 I love the way you write and how you portray the characters! For the event prompts (if you’re still accepting!), would it be possible to write how you think Law would propose to his s/o? Thank you for your hard work! 🥰

A/N: Law is my weak point you guys do not understand. Pls enjoy <3 Characters: gn reader x Trafalgar Law Total word count: 660

Proposal

Law would put careful thought into a proposal. He would spend months thinking about any possible situation and how to make it flawless. You are perfect, and you deserve nothing less than a perfect proposal. 

It would get to the point where you might even start to think “is this guy ever going to propose?” because any time you bring up thoughts of marriage or the future, he gets very dodgy. Not because he doesn’t want to marry you, but because he’s afraid you’ve figured out his plans and he’s trying to throw you off his trail. 

You don’t even realize he’s planned it. Everything kind of falls into place randomly in your eyes. Here’s how the day goes:

You arrive at a spring island. Not just any spring island though, an island full of cherry blossoms in full bloom. These islands are rare to come across, and you beg Law to go explore with you. He “reluctantly” agrees.

The two of you grab a picnic basket and stroll off to find the perfect place, and strangely enough, it doesn’t take long! There’s a beautiful isolated spot next to a stream, with cherry blossoms gently cascading all around you whenever the wind blows. “Law!” you cry. “This is perfect! Can we eat here?!” He only smiles. He knew you would pick this spot. That's why he paid people to stay away from it.

The two of you eat and lay around for a while, and then you explore the small little town. 

It has an old bookshop you could spend hours in, and you do. Law doesn’t rush you as you roam the books, and he doesn’t say no to the ones you want to buy. He needed to expand his library, coincidentally. 

The next place you stop is a tea shop, and the two of you sip tea and chat for at least an hour, trying an arrangement of teas to stock up for the ship. Law watches you with amusement, happy to see you in such a good mood and enjoying the island. He picks all of your favorites, knowing you’ll want to remember the flavors of this day for a long time. He will too. 

It’s almost sunset, so the two of you grab little desserts at a bakery and walk up the hill to watch the sun sink behind the cherry blossoms. “I can’t believe there’s nobody else up here,” you whispered. “It’s the perfect place to see the sun go down.” Law just chuckles, and hands you your cake. 

“Today really has been the perfect day,” you said, looking at him with tears in your eyes. “I know sometimes I demand a lot, and I’m sure you would’ve rather been on the ship today. So thank you for exploring with me.”

“Nonsense.” He wiped your tears away and gave you a few soft kisses across your face. “I love spending time with you. You’re the best part of my day, no matter when or where we are.”

You open the box to find a small cake with the words “Will you marry me?” across it, with a beautiful, one-of-a-kind ring in the middle. You’re about to tell Law you got the wrong dessert, but the glimmer of hope and the hint of nervousness makes you realize with sudden clearness that this was all a part of his plan. Everything today was orchestrated by him. 

Now you’re crying for a whole other reason, and you sob out the words “yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” as you hold his face. He’s laughing at you, relieved you said yes, but holding back tears of his own. Because he finally gets to be with you forever. And he gets to have the best part of his day every day for the rest of his life.

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Assorted Batkid Headcanons

During the middle days of Damian being Dick’s Robin, he was still figuring out how to show affection in a nonviolent way, so he just kept getting Dick fish. His logic was ‘Grayson has issues taking care of himself, so I will get him a pet that even he will find easy to care for’.

As a result Dick has an entire tank of various fish, all named Jim after Jim Gordon.

Dick finds this hilarious. Babs finds this hilarious. She’ll casually mention something ‘Jim’ did in conversation with her dad and watch as he bluescreens.

Tim has the pallet of a five year old. All he likes are exceedingly sugary sweet foods everyone else wants to puke while eating.

As a result, all he drinks are those stupidly sugary energy drinks that leave you seeing god after a few minutes. Is this unhealthy? No, it’s a liquid, therefor water, therefor good - Tim Drake.

Duke has purposefully broken his wrist to see if he would light up like a glowstick before. It didn’t work.

Cass shows her affection through objects, so a Batkid will often walk into their residence to find something like a metal bottle cap or a feather neatly placed on their table, without any security triggered or any other indication anyone was ever here. They all know to treasure these, no matter what they are.

Jason, given he’s built like a tank, will often hold things out of reach from people just to Be An Asshole. He loves it.

Damian used the same method of affection on Steph when she was his Batgirl, but had a bit more faith in her ability to not let something die, so he kept getting her small rodents, like hamsters and rats. She named them all after characters from Supernatural.

Stephanie had a huge Supernatural phase when she was 13 and never really grew out of it. She’s tried out summoning rituals from the show before.

Every single Batkid had a Warriors phase. Every. Single. One.

Dick was SO FUCKING HAPPY when Duke showed up because he finally had a brother who would happily give him a hug without having a panic attack due to TouchFuckery.

Steph has referred to the Batfam as “Furry Touchfucked McNuggets” before. No one questions it because she’s right.

Babs has designated snacks for every occasion. Program Taking Too Long To Load is Cheetos. Bruce Being a Bitchass On the Comms is popcorn. Done With This Bullshit For Good, I Swear is Twix.

Tim’s Notes app on this phone is entirely filled with sleep deprived 4am rants about why Star Trek is the superior franchise. He’s very passionate about it.

One time Bart was bored so decided to raid the pantry and he found Damian crouched on one of the top shelves, hissing like a cat and clutching a box of Weetabix. He took a picture and now it’s the YJ discord group icon.

Not exactly Batfam but the YJ Core Four + Cissie have a discord group chat and Tim’s the mod.

Damian loves Weetabix. Idk if anyone else knows what that is but that shit was my fucking childhood so he loves it.

Duke has tried and is currently trying to unionize all the kid sidekicks. They’re getting there.

Jason’s favorite authors are Mary Shelley and Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice is his comfort book that he often reads after patrolling as way to wind down. He fucking hates Edgar Allan Poe with a passion for reasons he refuses to explain.

Cass will sometimes teach some dance moves to little kids while on patrol. Sure, she knows it’s not stopping violence, but when she sees another little girl with scars on her palms and wary eyes light up as she twirls in the air and laugh as she leaps, she thinks it’s worth it. More than worth it.

Jason’s found her doing this sometimes. Neither of them say anything.

The Batkids all love Jon. Yeah, move over Damian, don’t keep him all to yourself. They may have their own supers/alien besties, but Jon is just adorable, and they all want to smoosh the cheeks of a kid who won’t attempt to stab them for it. Look, he’s so cute. The day anyone bullies Jon beware, because the entirety of Gotham’s vigilante force will be there to wreak havoc upon you.

[jmcgirl]

Since some people don't know why we believe Agent 18 has a crush on qFoolish I will list the reasons.

Firstly, when Agent 18 renovated Foolish's office, he made a pin board with all the information they found about the case and some funny one liners along with it. He also put a doodle of him and qFoolish holding hands. That alone could be excused as platonic but there was also blush on their faces. Which tends to indicate romantic attraction.

The next point is the one most people use when citing Agent 18's romantic interest for qFoolish. Is when Foolish was afk and Agent 18 set up a table and chairs next to qFoolish, even lighting a candle and handing a rose to him. Agent 18 then shakes his hand and puts it all way before CC Foolish comes back. This one is debatable because this gesture could have been for chat, not qFoolish. So it's up to interpretation!

Photo taken from: foolishfilmz

Then it's Agent 18's constant care for qFoolish. His first appearance he was shown to mourn the loss of qFoolish. In the QSMP streams Agent 18 was shown pacing around, he mentioned qFoolish in every report he made to Cucurucho, even when the worker killings stopped during Purgatory. It is alluded to that Agent 18 went to Elena to talk about his worries (including qFoolish.) Agent 18 has also decorating Foolish's room several times, entertaining Foolish's whims (playing Minecraft Suika, getting him a new Federation outfit) and has given him heartfelt books.

This is the book that everyone thought was a love confession at first:

Sorry couldn't put all the pages. I didn't have enough space but I put some more important parts.

Here is Agent 18's most recent talk about trust.

Agent 18 was seen putting up mistletoe in front of Foolish's (and his) office. This alone wouldn't be romantic as he did decorate the rest of their office festivally but Elena sees this action and says, "I see." With the knowledge that Agent 18 has confided in Elena before we know she isn't a stranger to how he acts. She is not simply saying that for any random actions she observes, this is deliberate.

And I haven't even mentioned Agent 18 questioning other people calling qFoolish "JabberJaw" (his nickname for Foolish) when talking with him and qBBH. BBH was saying "they" as in only referring to Agent 18 but Agent 18 took it as they plural, not singular. (Easy mistake, plus Agent 18's admin speaks Portuguese, not just English.) Agent 18 was jealous. That's his nickname for qFoolish afterall.

In Foolish's recent VOD, when the eye workers attack Agent 18 comes out of the Federation office with Agent 22 to help Foolish out. After the fight Agent 18 makes sure to ask if Foolish was okay. He also addressed Leo as "your egg" when he made it clear the stream before he was not too familiar with other eggs like Dapper, Pomme and Pepito.

There is also the difference in which he treats qFoolish compared to pretty much everyone else. He isn't completely rude to others but he is definitely more sarcastic to other islanders and outright hostile to some (qBBH and qTubbo.)

Those are all the reasons I could find/remember on why we believe Agent 18's feelings for qFoolish are romantic and not just friendly. If you have more to add, feel free to do so! :D

IT IS PROVEN, JUST NOW ON FIT'S STREAM!!!

qFit plans to confess to qPac and tried practicing yesterday with the help of Ramón (it was very bad), so Ramón found Agent 18 and tried to do romance practice with him and Ramón told qFit about it!

Here are Ramón's signs from that conversation:

It was very obvious Agent 18 had a crush on qFoolish from the beginning but crumbs are crumbs. I think this is the second time Agent 18 has asked an egg for help. He asked Sunny too.

[strangesthirdeye]

Human dating Aziraphale would include:

•he knows you when you go to his bookshop to do research about your work and notices that you look lost then decides to help you.

•He helps you by finding some relevant books about what you are researching and offers to help you. Seeing that you seem tired of working. So, it's not wrong to help.

•later you always come to his bookshop either to look for material or to chat with Aziraphale. Always with Aziraphale seeing that the interests you both like are the same. (books obviously)

•offer you hot cocoa if you look stressed and tired. And also chat with you about books you are both interested in. Sometimes current issues.

•Introduce you to Crowley seeing that you were engrossed in coming to the bookshop so Aziraphale decided to introduce you to the serpent. Crowley just waved lazily and sprawled onto the couch at the end of the bookshop. You just nodded understanding.

•Surprisingly, you and Crowley are getting along well because well Aziraphale wants you and Crowley to be friends so he gives you both time to get to know each other and he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable with Crowley if you always go to the bookshop

•OMG you love talking about books with Aziraphale so much that Crowley got fed up and left the bookshop to get some air. and that way he wants you and Aziraphale together.. uhuk 👀

•Aziraphale began to notice Crowley always leaving the bookshop and asked Crowley why. Crowley just waved his hand and said:

"I just need some fresh air"

•Aziraphale being innocent just said yes.

•But over time it happened often and Aziraphale started to notice what Crowley did to you and Aziraphale.

•Since then, every time you and him are together at the bookshop after Crowley goes out to 'get some fresh air' he will stutter and be nervous and even his face will turn red. Suddenly he became shy with you.

•You will look at Aziraphale and ask: "are you ok?" "Are you sick?" "Do you want medicine? I have some"

•And Aziraphale will say: "I'm fine" that's all.

•You just nodded.

•Aziraphale being nervous to confess his feeling about you so he needs Crowley to give advice.

•Crowley being a demon who likes to tempt should know a little about love but he doesn't.

•"If you like her, you confess to her"

"Crowley, I really like her and I really want to confess to her that's why I need your advice and you just repeat what I said"

"buy her flowers"

"she doesn't like flowers"

"Ngk.. take her to the Ritz.. simple"

"well, that's pretty good too"

•Aziraphale didn't know how to confess his feelings to you at first but after several times he got up the courage to finally confess. And you happy together.

•And now he is your boyfriend so of course he will take care of you gently and perfectly.

•Will always be with you wherever you are. He's the clingy type but not always for good reason, he has a customers to settle, right?

•A material boyfriend, because he takes care of you and gives you hot cocoa when you have a bad day or it's just 'women's month'.

•Likes to cuddle with you and him being chubby and cute makes you a small spoon and he a big spoon when lying together.

•Will always rubs your hand when he's nervous and uncomfortable with a situation.

•Always call you Angel, Dear, Love, sweetheart.

•Give you a kiss on the forehead if you need it or just miss him.

•He is the first person to support you when you do the assigned work and help you until it is finished.

•will always believe in you and you believe him.

•"I.. am not human but I am an angel"

"well you are an angel in my eyes"

"no, that's not what I meant.. I'm really an angel and Crowley is a demon.. although he's a demon but at the same time it's like he's not"

"Wow"

•After Aziraphale confesses that he is Angel, everything returns to normal as if nothing happened.

•No matter if he has to settle things like with heaven or bookshop, he must have time to spend time with you. He's the one person who will take care, treat and give you enough love in his own way.

[drdemonprince]

I think I remember you saying you were writing something for autistic adults having trouble meeting people? Actually I just remember the ask you got about someone who found a lot of social spaces being for youths. I have a similar problem. I've lived in the same city my whole life, but I don't have friends here because I don't know how to keep in touch with people after the situation we had in common (school, job) ended. And currently I'm unemployed, so I don't have coworkers, and I'm suffering a lot from the lack of a social context. There are some kind-of-niche social events I can go to, trans brunch once a month, queer board game nights every friday (and I don't even like board games). But even once I'm there I struggle to reach out and talk to anyone. For the former event, most people go with friends, so I assume I'm imposing if I make more than very brief small talk. For the latter one, we do often end up a group of polite strangers sitting around talking about random stuff, but I find I don't care about the interaction and I just want to go home. I have friends online that I'd rather spend time with, but it also feels so miserable when I don't have anyone to just grab coffee with. I tried tinder briefly, but I can't stand chatting with strangers, I react to it like an obligation and just ghost them. I'm not curious enough about strangers. I don't want to make friends, I want to already have them. It's rough.

The good thing here is you have 100% already articulated what the root of the problem here is: you're not taking an interest in any of the people you're spending time with, and the people you are meeting are not interesting to you.

People like us when they can feel that we like them, care about them, and find them interesting. People want to spend more time with people who make them feel heard, and who have genuine enthusiasm for their existence. The people you're meeting are almost certainly picking up on your lack of curiosity about them, and your sense that spending time with them is some grueling obligation, and so nothing deeper is taking root.

The solution is to have a genuine interest and curiosity for people. If you can't access that, you won't be able to make new friends. Having close friends that you can meet with for coffee at the drop of the hat isn't a status you can simply arrive at, it's a relationship dynamic that you build, painstakingly, interaction by interaction, invite by invite, one open-hearted, presence conversation after another. And you won't now who will become a lifelong, cherished friend to you if you don't start by trying to find what's worthy of cherishing within other people first.

Now, you mentioned that some of the social groups you take part in aren't even all that interesting to you -- and that's certainly part of the issue. If you don't like board games, you're not going to have fun at board game night, you're not going to like talking about board games, and you're going to feel a palpable disconnect between yourself and all the people who are present because they really like board games. You can either try to find something about the activity interesting, and really put your mind to learning about it and taking an active interest in it, for the sake of your own enrichment, or you should stop going, because there's no reason to drag yourself to regular obligation you don't like and aren't putting any investment in.

I would recommend that you find other social gatherings in town that line up more with your interests. Meetups, book clubs, volunteer shifts, video gaming leagues, sports teams, community theater, whatever it might be. This article has more advice about how to find new social groups and to make friends there:

But I'd also encourage you to practice being curious about the great diversity of humanity. There are so many wonderful subcultures out there to learn more about, so many creative and industrious practices to be awed by and to learn about, and so many funny, bizarre people out there worth making a study of. Even if you don't get along with the vast majority of humans or don't want most of them within your close social circle, you should, I think, be able to find something worth learning about in within nearly every human community, and within every person.

I firmly believe that the purpose of life is to grow, experience new things, and learn -- and if you're seeking new friends, you do want your world to be a bit larger than it is, right? So why not try to enjoy learning more about the broader social world? That doesn't mean committing to a regular hobby that bores you to tears (I hate tabletop games, for instance), but it does mean dipping your toe into new waters with some genuine receptiveness to it (I tried tabletop games for the hell of it, learned I didn't playing them, but now I do love hearing about my friends' campaigns).

I wasn't a furry when I first started going to Furfest; I just thought it was interesting and I was awe-struck by the dedication and creativity of people practicing the craft of making fursuits and drawing anthro art. The passion of that community was addictive, and the joy and friendliness of the space opened me up, and within a matter of two convention visits, Midwest Furfest had become one of the absolute social highlights of my entire annual calendar.

I've also gone to a lot of anime conventions, and they didn't grab me quite the same way, but I still sat in on some panels where I learned new things, and I still met people who were lovely and got to take in a bunch of beautiful cosplays. I've tried out all kinds of things, from betting on horse races to performing in sketch comedy troupes to attending naked yoga, and I didn't love or feel good about all of it -- but every single one of those things was worth trying out, because it helped me make contact with a broader spread of the human experience and learn a bit more about myself and other people. it broadened my knowledge base and expanded my social skills -- even if yes, i did absolutely sit in on some conversations that bored me to absolute tears.

If you don't have the energy to be curious about new things and new people at this stage of your life, anon, that is completely fine. When I was in the throes of deep masking and Autistic burnout I didn't always have it in me to make polite small talk or to endure overstimulating new situations. It's difficult to be open when one is traumatized or overwhelmed, and so if you find you really cannot feel anything for any people that you meet right now, working on soothing that internal vigilance and treating that trauma might be the first step. Even trauma recovery requires making contact with other traumatized people, listening to their stories, and being able to recognize yourself within them to some extent, tho.

There are periods of life that are for growth and there are periods that are for dormancy. If you don't have it in you to make new friends right now, that's fine. However, if you do want to have new friends in your life, you do have to be able to like people and care about them.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt IX good omens on livestream, i'm not ok: S1E4

You did it, Good Omens fandom, my dear maggots. You broke me in every way. Now I'm here, and where I once spent my day peacefully being sad about normal things, I'm now sad about a random fact about nightingales I learned on a British ornithology site and this is just... the brainrot. It's real. Raise brainrot awareness. Prevention is better than the nonexistent cure.

Well, I've procrastinated this post by like 48 hours by drawing fanart and being mopey over Crowley and generally being asleep because I'm still on antibiotics and ill. So let us not procrastinate further. First, episode 4. Tally, hoes!

In preparation for the stream, I gathered two emotional support oranges, only one of which was gaseous, and an apple. This was so that rather than waste an orange on being gay for Crowley I'd use the apple for that, symbolic of his temptation in the Garden of Eden etc. I didn't know how badly this plan would go.

On Discord, our collective loins girded, I noticed with no small suspicion that everyone was muttering about the bookshop and whether I'd be okay. When I demanded frantically what happened to the bookshop (I THOUGHT EVERYTHING WAS IN S2) everyone shut up and told me the bookshop was in tiptop shape and it was all tickety-boo and nothing would happen at all in episode 5.

Spoiler alert it is not all tickety-boo.

We start with Aziraphale going for a jog to keep uh fit for exercising with Crowley, and he is interrupted by Gabriel, who is not Jimbriel, and is not naked, that is, we cannot see his arse yet, but we can see that he is an arse.

We then see not-Newt the deliveryman with his wife Maude and they are the only straight couple that the people on the chat care about. Calling him not-Newt is going to pose problems for me.

Crowley is being a smart baby, and researching astronomy. Poor Crowley. I love Crowley. Do you understand? I LOVE CROWLEY.

There is a lot of talk of spoons and forks and such innuendos. I make a joke about scissors being missing. The chat does not notice. I am disappointed in the gays.

I am so engrossed in the way Death says "deeAaaAAthHHhh" that I fail to notice Not-Newt get killed delivering a message to Death. This is going to pose problems for me.

I forgot about the apocalypse plotline till the horsepeople arrive. This is understandable. I care not for this 'world' ending, my new world is Crowley. I love Crowley.

Duck aliens fucking descend. This is not a joke. There are duck aliens, and they are supportive of trans people. Newt does not count their nipples.

The Shad guy doesn't care Newt found aliens. He is upset that Newt didn't find witches. If Shad was mowing his lawn and found gold, he would toss it aside because he is focused on mowing. I can respect that. People make jokes about Newt eventually finding a witch.

It is suddenly a Christopher Nolan movie. Someone corrects me and says it's more like Jerry Bruckheimer. I do not know what that is.

Someone says Crowley destroys the Bentley but for whatever reason, like a lot of people before, makes it a black box that you have to click to read. I don't mind that, I like clicking.

Aziraphale bought out a theatre for Crowley, like a Kdrama where the rich CEO buys out an entire theatre for his working class girl.

Adam goes through what I went through with OCD. It is not fun.

It is now a horror movie. Adam floats in the air. That was not a symptom I had with OCD.

Crowley asks Aziraphale to run away with him to the stars. Aziraphale says no. Crowley is upset and my baby Azi looks so sad and confused about everything he believes in. Great. I'm totally fine, I think as I start stuffing my emotional support orange into my mouth.

It is now a Home Alone movie. Crowley in gloves is sexy. Mmmmmmm yes. Crowley does great advertising for plant spray bottles as he murders and threatens demons.

I point out that the GO book says Crowley can do "weird things with his tongue" as I learned from the GO scent guide company page. It was after all the most relevant take-away from that page.

Disco Tony arrives. This is not a safe space.

AZIRAPHALE KEEPS TRYING TO DO THE RIGHT THING AND IS FAILED BY HEAVEN LEAVE MY BABY AZI ALONE WTF GO AWAY. THE ANGELS WALL SLAM HIM TOO. THAT'S CROWLEY'S THING YOU BASTARDS.

Newt and Anathema are cute. I DON'T NOTICE BECAUSE IM SO UPSET HE'S CHEATING ON MAUDE AND WONDERING WHY THE CHAT IS OKAY WITH IT BECAUSE I AM A FOOL WHO CONTINUES TO MIX UP NEWT WITH NOT-NEWT AND THEN THE CHAT TELLS ME NOT-NEWT DIED AND I'M CONFUSED.

Newt and Anathema are having sex. As an aspec person, I am very alarmed at the visuals.

Azi is failed by heaven and the metatron. Shocker. Fucking get away from Azi. Azi is miserable and looks like he wants to cry.

AZI IS EXORCISED AND THE FUCKING FLAME CATCHES IN THE BOOKSHOP AND THE EPISODE ENDS.

TAKE MY PAIN MOTHERFUCKERS. I WILL POST THIS AND THEN WRITE THE EP5 PART.

[magicalbats]

Day 14: Orgasm Denial

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7925

Warnings: Afab!reader, (lots of) gendered language, social power dynamics, boss/employee, upperclass/lowerclass, tbh I’m not entirely sure how to tag some of this xmdkxkdnd, manual masturbation, dacryphilia, I wanted reader to be a bit of a bimbo in this one so if she seems stupid that’s why lol

A/N: sorry this one is late! I am officially behind on my prompts now but regardless of how long it takes I WILL be completing this Kinktober challenge! Unfortunately the real world demands attention sometimes but I’m not giving up 😤

⭐

Stamping down the urge to nervously fiddle with your hands, you clutch at the front of your arpon to keep them still and try very hard to focus on what the man in front of you is saying. The Palais Mermonia housed a great many regular faces, some of which you only saw from time to time and could not seem to commit to memory, and yet you’d been seeing mister Danon’s more and more often than anyone else’s recently. You didn’t understand why that would be though, and had at first written it off as mere coincidence. A simple matter of happenstance and nothing more. 

But then it kept happening at an ever increasing frequency until it seemed like you were running into him almost every day now. Only then had it occurred to you, in a far off, distant sort of way, that he must have been making a concerted effort to talk with you like this. That was the only reasonable explanation for it that you could glean, because the one person you saw at the Palais with any amount of real regularity was the honorable Iudex himself and certainly not the man who’s job description you could not seem to recall. But that didn’t exactly explain why. 

You wanted to understand what would make him seek you out like this, so you attentively listen to mister Danon when he speaks even though you sometimes find him a bit difficult to follow. He seemed like he was probably a good person and respectable enough, but he had a strange habit of jumping from topic to topic without much rhyme or reason that you could discern. One moment he would be talking to you about matters of work, about documents he needed to have signed or the latest gossip that had everyone all in a buzz, and the next … why, he would suddenly say something off hand about recreational activities to do in the city or places to dine, a book he’d read recently and even the types of food he fancied. 

It was all very strange, and listening to him talk does not help in the slightest. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse. 

You didn’t have the slightest idea why he would want to discuss upcoming stageplays with you nor why he should feel the need to announce that his favorite dish was aspic as if it was something that should be of great interest to you. It was all really quite strange. 

“You see, if you take a few fish when they’re still flopping around and fresh,” He tells you, eagerly gesturing his way through an explanation you hadn’t asked for. “That will guarantee their taste and ensure your aspic comes out just divine. Like something straight from the Gods themselves, if you want the honest truth of it. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything more sumptuous!” 

“A - ah,” You make a valid attempt to smile politely but it was difficult to keep up with him like this. What did you care for the precise steps to make such an unappetizing sounding dish? 

“You know, if you were interested, cherie … I could make it for you to try, if you would like. Ah, what I mean is ��� it might be nice if we can sit down together and chat over a meal at my residence. Just the two of us.”

Your brows slowly crawl straight up to your hairline. “Oh.” 

Before you can think to say anything else, an attention grabbing thud against the marble floor makes you spin around and a smile quickly overtakes your face. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It is a pleasure to see you today.”

The kindly man sends you a slow, vaguely bemused half-smile. “Good afternoon, mademoiselle. Mister Danon. You looked like you were having a rather lively conversation just now. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?” 

“Of course not, monsieur. It was nothing important at all.” You beam up at him, eager and happy to hang on his every word no matter how benign or minuscule. Much to your surprise, though, he sends another unreadable look over your shoulder and when you turn back to Danon you’re more than a little surprised to find him slouched as if in defeat. Your eyebrows quickly make the climb up to your hairline again. “Mister Danon, are you alright? Goodness, you suddenly look quite unwell.” 

“Yes, everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.” He waves off your concern, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he makes a concerted effort not to look directly at you now and instead turns his attention towards monsieur Neuvillette. “Forgive me, your honor. I’m afraid I must be going now. My break is almost over and my presence will be sorely missed if I fail to show up on time.”

The stately Iudex inclines his chin in a brief nod of acknowledgment. “You needn’t apologize, mister Danon. On behalf of all of Fontaine, thank you for the hard work you do.” 

Giving monsieur Neuvillette a stiff bow, he turns to do the same to you. “Mademoiselle.” 

You quickly bob a perplexed curtsy back. “Monsieur?” 

Ignoring or perhaps not hearing the question in your voice, Danon pivots on his heel and makes a hasty retreat down the long corridor without so much as a backwards glance. You can’t seem to shake the feeling you’ve said or done something wrong though, and you watch him go with a tiny flutter of anxiety in your chest until another soft thud of monsieur Neuvillette’s cane on the marble floor pulls you around again. 

With a small frown in place, you tip your head back to look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Monsieur Neuvillette?” 

He offers you a small, gentle smile, no doubt meant to placate and soothe, though it does little in the way of good. “Please do not look so put out, mademoiselle. Would you like to accompany me to my office?” 

Nodding, you fall into step beside him. You find yourself listlessly fiddling with your hands now, unable to stop it when it felt like you'd made some horrible faux pas, and they anxiously flit over your front to smooth out invisible wrinkles. What a strange and confusing situation to end up in, and with no idea how to navigate it either. It seemed like you’d done the exact opposite of what you’d initially set out to do … you didn’t understand it in the slightest. 

“Forgive me for asking you such a strange question so suddenly, but … did I say something to offend mister Danon just now?” 

Noising a quiet sound of consideration, monsieur Neuvillette thinks on that for a brief moment. “I am certainly no expert on the topic, mademoiselle, but if I am not mistaken I do believe mister Danon harbors a romantic interest in you. I believe he may have felt slighted when you said what you were discussing was of no importance, and he took it as a sign of rejection.” 

You jerk to a sudden halt with an inelegant scuffle of your heels. “Romantic?” Eyes widening in mute horror, you feel your cheeks start to grow uncomfortably warm. That did make sense, you were more than just a little stunned to realize. The way he made the effort to find you wherever you were working, stop you and talk to you; the way he would casually sprinkle in bits and pieces of his personal life and subtly suggest food, diners, places to go and things to do … had he really been laying out suggestions this whole time hoping you would show an interest in him back? But — “But he never said … oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I had no idea!” 

He looks at you with a soft, sympathetic smile where he’d stopped half a pace in front of you. “It is alright if you didn’t know. Situations like these can be difficult to — parse sometimes, and I do not think you acted with malicious intent. Come, let us continue this over a cup of tea.” 

Embarrassed and roiling with a crushing sense of guilt, you slowly trail after the Iudex to his large, exquisitely furnished office where you quickly fall into your usual habit of preparing the chinaware while he situates himself on the ornate lounge. It is muscle memory alone that sees you through your task, motions practiced and subconscious after working at the Palais for so long, which comes as a great relief in that moment. You were far too preoccupied with this startling revelation to give the pouring of the tea much thought. Mister Danon’s intentions were shocking enough but, perhaps even more so, you’re surprised at your own lack of awareness on the matter. 

You felt rather bad now, for listening to him so attentively and humoring the conversations he was always keen to share with you. Had he mistaken it for budding affection on your part? Have you unknowingly encouraged him to keep trying or, somehow worse, made him believe you were merely toying with his feelings this whole time? What a terrible thing to do to another person, intentionally or not. 

Monsieur Neuvillette silently regards you when you bring the tea over on a silver tray but you can’t bring yourself to look at him while you set everything down on the low table in front of him. He was always nothing but kind to you despite your lower station of housekeeper, just as he was with all of the staff that kept the Palais functioning as it should. Everyone from the notarizers and the title clerks right down to even the janitors were treated with nothing but respect and dignity, and that very much included you. But you were a bit too ashamed, too guilty to meet his gaze right now, and you quickly shuffle back a polite distance once everything is laid out so you can further avoid his eyes. 

A stretch of quiet settles over the room, and you have to try very hard not to start fiddling with your uniform again. 

“Won’t you make yourself a cup and join me?” He ventures at last. 

“I couldn’t, monsieur Neuvillette. But thank you.” 

He seems to deliberate over something for a short beat before half turning his body on the lounge to look up at you. “I must apologize for prying like this but what about the situation with mister Danon has you so upset? If you didn’t know what his intentions were then you certainly cannot be held responsible for not acting accordingly.” 

You hesitate to discuss this matter with him, well aware that it was improper and impolite to talk over such things with not only the aristocracy but also the man who was effectively your employer. It felt very much like an unspoken boundary that should not, under any circumstances, be crossed but … when you take in monsieur Neuvillette’s imploring expression your resolve starts to crumble. He was a wise and exceptionally astute figurehead who always treated every case laid out before him no matter how small or insignificant with the utmost care and consideration. Perhaps he would have some insight to share with you, or at least some advice. 

“Well,” You finally relent, tipping your chin down to shyly regard your buckled shoes. “I’m aware that this might sound a little odd but I just feel so guilty about everything … I should have realized sooner why he kept seeking me out like he did. As silly as it is, I can’t help but feel like I tricked him somehow.” 

“That is a silly thing, isn’t it?” He agrees in a soft, endlessly patient tone. “How could you have tricked someone if you weren’t aware of what they wanted from you? In the unlikely event that a case such as this were presented to me, I wouldn’t even be able to rule in favor of misrepresentation on the defendant’s part. You have to act with knowing and intention to be held accountable for trickery.” 

You despondently mull that over for a long stretch. Logically, you knew what he was saying to be true and you, as everyone else in Fontaine, trusted his judgment implicitly. It wasn’t so much that you doubted him but, rather, your guilt was so great that it couldn’t accept this answer. The thought alone that you might have broken mister Danon’s heart after stringing him along for months almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“Does that mean you wouldn’t deign to punish me for it?” It’s barely more than a whisper. 

“No, not unconscionably. No one in their right mind would.” 

It feels like you're withering on the spot. You didn’t understand it yourself, why you were so upset to hear this rather than relieved at finding you hadn’t broken any laws or regulations that would hold you accountable. Even if mister Danon were to try to file a suit against you to mend some of his bruised ego it sounded like he wouldn’t even have a case to stand on — and that was good. 

So why did it feel as if you were skating by without making proper amends for the transgression?

“Mademoiselle?” 

You finally bring your head up to look at him. “Do you think mister Danon will forgive me if I apologize?” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression softens, taking on a truly remorseful edge. “I don’t know, little one. He might. I can’t see into the future any more than you can, but I think if it’s something that bothers you so much then it certainly wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it.” 

Blinking back a sudden deluge of tears, you take an impulsive step towards him with the tray clutched to your chest. “Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I don’t know what to do! How can I possibly ameliorate my actions if he might not even accept my apology? I — I didn’t mean to lead him on!” 

Very neatly, calmly, monsieur Neuvillette folds his gloved hands on his lap and studies you for an indeterminable amount of time with that closed and shuttered expression. You aren’t sure how many minutes pass when you’re a right mess inside, all your emotions kicked up into such a veritable whirlwind that it’s all you can do just to hold it together. But, at length, he eventually draws a careful breath. 

“What I’m hearing is that your guilt over this matter will not be dissuaded until you feel appropriate action has been taken against you to right what is, in your mind, a very serious wrong, intentional or not. Is that correct?” 

You blink, more than a little surprised at how concisely he’s grasped your thoughts on the matter. It almost sounds foolish when he puts it like that, in such blunt terms, but there is no denying the pang that resonates within you. “Yes, monsieur. I feel terrible for what I’ve done …” 

He seems to hesitate, his brows drawing inward almost imperceptibly. “Guilt can function as its own form of punishment as well, and a very effective one at that. But you must understand something, mademoiselle. The law simply is not applicable here. There is no legal recourse and, therefore, no system in place to enforce any sort of repercussions against you.” 

You take another step closer, feeling fervent and hot. “Then will you punish me, monsieur Neuvillette?” 

Abruptly, he goes very still. “I am hardly in any position to mete out such discipline,” He says slowly, carefully. “And, far more importantly, I’m not quite sure what you would have me do. I don’t believe this situation would call for a monetary fine or even any corrective action on an employment level … and I’m certainly not going to spank you over my knee like a child.” 

Flustered heat crawls up your neck to settle in your cheeks. You hate the way your knees grow weak and knobby at the thought of that, but you were decidedly in agreement with him. It would have been inappropriate for him to strike you in any capacity, least of all over something like this. Still, though … 

“Isn’t there something to be done?” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression settles back into that somber mask again, eyeing you for a drawn out beat before he finally issues a clipped sigh. Leaning back to recline against the lounge, he stiffly crosses his legs and once more settles his folded hands atop the bent knee. “Come here, little one. Stand next to me.” 

Your feet almost don’t want to move from the spot but you force them to uproot so you can cautiously shuffle forward. You aren’t sure what to expect when your cotton stuffed head was such a mess, but all he does when you come up beside him is hold out an expectant hand. It takes you a moment to realize what he wants and you flush even hotter as you pass him the tray. Taking it from you, he sedately sets it aside on the cushion before fixing his attention on you once again. 

“This is another topic in which I lack expertise but I might have something in mind that could satisfy your need for penance. However, I will not force or otherwise coerce you into it, and you will likewise be free to walk away at any time. Once you have decided you’ve made the appropriate dues for leading mister Danon on, as you put it, then this arrangement will end immediately. Is that agreeable to you?” 

You bob your head in a quick nod. “Yes, monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you.” 

Squaring his broad shoulders, the usually kindly disposition with which he carried himself outside of the courtroom fades and is replaced by the stern set of his mouth, the slight tension along his brow, to indicate that it is the Chief Justice sitting before you now. A chill runs up your spine at the change in him, so subtle yet unavoidably obvious, and a sharp look from pale lavender eyes stops you from saying anything. You’d never before been subjected to such a hard expression from him and you can’t quite stop yourself from sympathizing with whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves standing before him in court. It really wasn’t any wonder why he held the title of supreme judge in all of Fontaine when you saw him like this. 

“Do not thank me yet, mademoiselle. If you would be so kind, please lift your skirt for me.” 

Your spine stiffens with a tremor so powerful it very nearly bowls you over on the spot. Obediently, though, you reach down with numb hands to gather the full, flouncy material of your uniform and shyly hike it up along with the lace petticoat underneath. 

“Higher.” He commands, intently observing the slow ascension of your skirts. “That’s it, up around your waist. Good.” 

Sucking in a faltering breath, you sway unsteadily on your feet and try not to lose your nerve. The thought that you would be able to alleviate your guilt with this steels your resolve though, and your hands start to shake as your stockinged upper thighs are revealed to him, the simple garters holding them in place and, finally, your lace panties. Your face is on fire while you nudge everything up a little further to make sure it was satisfactory and to his liking despite still harboring some very real doubts about this in the back of your mind. 

He did say he wasn’t going to spank you … didn’t he? 

Casually, monsieur Neuvillette reaches out a hand to slip long, elegantly poised fingers into the space between your thighs and you suck in a sharp gasp when he nudges them up against your cunt just so. The touch is featherlight and barely there, but it makes more blood rush into your face to leave you rattled and a bit dizzy. But you don’t pull away from him as he takes his time petting over the apex of your fleshy mound and the slit running along your body, determined to see this through. Somehow having him touch you like this was not nearly as embarrassing as the way his expression doesn’t change while he does it, you’re quite ashamed to realize. 

“Are you sensitive here?” He asks you softly, prompting you to swallow. Hard. 

“I … I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 

Quietly clicking his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette presses up against you a little more firmly, gloved fingertips digging into your defenseless clit to make you jolt and give a startled yelp. “You seem responsive enough to me. I only know of this particular activity in theory but … well, it doesn’t really matter. I believe we should have no problem at all using this method for your penance.” 

“W - which is, monsieur?” 

“I believe I’ve heard the people call this ‘edging’ before. It sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it? Like some sort of barbaric torture technique.” Carefully observing your face, he pushes up even harder to grind tight, mean little circles against that sensitive pleasure button, and your eyes grow big as you stiltedly rock forward on your toes. “I suppose it could still be called that, depending on who you asked. The instigator or the receptee. I’m sure they would have drastically different opinions on the matter.”

Whimpering, you numbly readjust your hold on your skirt to make sure it stays up and out of his way while he’s doing this. Not that you were entirely sure you liked this specific method in terms of punishments when it was so obvious your body was eagerly responding to it – from the way your pussy clenches around nothing and starts to slick for him and even to the way your nipples stiffen against the inside of your shirt – but perhaps that was a good thing. Would you have really been able to say your penance was paid in full if this trial were not appropriately challenging?

“Wh … where?” 

Blinking at the little mouse squeak noise, monsieur Neuvillette just keeps rubbing over you with that steady motion of his hand. “I beg your pardon?” 

Trying valiantly to keep the fluster off of your face and failing miserably at it, you shyly avert your gaze. “I was just curious … where did you hear of this?”

“A reasonable question.” He relents, allowing the smallest note of humor to color his voice. “While it is true I don’t often partake in such crude conversations, it can be a little hard to avoid at times. Even here, in the Palais Mermonia. I believe they refer to it as ‘water cooler talk’.”

“Oh.” You’d overhead such things before too, now that you thought of it. The other women who worked at the Palais were more prone to gossip, joint complaints about their husbands or beaus, fawning over babies and first days of school, and academic achievements, while the men … they would sometimes change topics when they saw you coming but more than once you’d caught snippets of inappropriate conversations. A recent visit they’d had to a brothel or perhaps how they fantasized about doing certain things to their partners. You always felt mildly scandalized whenever it would happen, shocked that such discussions were being entertained at the Palais, and yet — 

Letting out a slow, stuttering breath, you carefully glance down at yourself to look at monsieur Neuvillette’s hand disappearing between the soft pudge of your thighs. This was vastly more inappropriate than any ‘water cooler talk’ and that realization embarrasses you a great deal. Your cheeks feel a little hotter, your blood pumping harder, and you whine, very low in your throat. Was this really an acceptable form of punishment? 

You think it probably is, because the shame that comes with it is potent and cloying, especially when your hips give a weak judder at what he’s doing. To think that the Iudex himself was touching you like this … 

“Does that feel good, little one?” 

Twitching at the sound of his voice, you give a stilted nod. “Yes, monsieur, thank you … but — but I don’t think I quite understand. Are punishments supposed to feel good?” 

“Not necessarily, no. But this is only a part of it. Relax, sweet girl. I will ensure your guilt is appropriately mitigated in due time.” 

You still don’t truly understand it, but you allow yourself to ease into it anyway. Relax into his touch. Slipping your eyes closed, you just take a moment to feel the sensation of him rubbing over your cunt. The press of his firm fingers pudges your lips to highlight how soft and pliable they are, the blunt tips of his gloves sinking into the slit. Even the thin layer of your panties is not enough to lessen the drag in any meaningful way, and it doesn’t seem to take long at all for you to start feeling sticky with arousal. It’s copious and excessive, almost implausibly so considering that he’d only touched you in this one specific spot thus far. Hardly at all. 

You hadn’t thought you would be so easily excitable and yet the proof of it is in the way you tremble for him, the way your breathing gradually picks up to make your breasts heave under your blouse, and it quickly becomes difficult just to stay standing in place. You wanted to twist and pull away, give your drooling cunt even a moment's reprieve, but you don’t give in to the urge. That wasn’t what he’d agreed to, and you trusted his judgment … 

So you stand there, trembling, while your stiff nipples cut up into your shirt in search of the same friction, and you try not to cry out. Your pussy tingles against his hand, the pressure it exerts so constant and steady that it rapidly starts to feel like the building pressure in you is reaching critical mass. Much sooner than you could have anticipated or guessed, it was as if your body was particularly weak for monsieur Neuvillette’s dutiful attention. 

Softly wheezing when your legs buckle and threaten to give out, you subtly tip your pelvis further into his hand and it becomes that much more apparent how wet you really are. How stiff and engorged your clit had gotten. A violent shudder tears through you at the meaty, swollen drag of it under his fingers, head tipping back and. - - 

He retracts his hand so suddenly it leaves you lurching in place. Raggedly gasping at the sudden loss, you turn wide, wild eyes on monsieur Neuvillette but he merely gives you that same somber expression as he interlaces his fingers on top of his bent knee once again, unfalteringly casual about it. 

“That will be all for right now, mademoiselle. Thank you.” 

You just gape at him, stunned and confused, with your skirts still hiked up around your waist like a shameless fool. “Wh - wha —“ 

A look of sympathy flashes across monsieur Neuvillette’s face. “This is the penance you wanted so badly. As many times as you like, I will bring you close to orgasm but I will not let you actually reach climax. It is the only suitable punishment I could think of for your specific … transgression.” 

It takes a great deal of effort for you to do it, but you suck in a slow, shuddering breath to steady yourself. “I … I see. Thank you, monsieur. I understand now.” 

“Very good. Now, run along. I’m sure you’ve got work to do elsewhere.” 

He offers you a small smile that you think is meant to be reassuring but it does very little to distract from the throbbing ache in your cunt or calm your pounding heartbeat. Numbly, you drop your skirt and petticoat back into place and run your hands over it to smooth out the (now real, not imagined) wrinkles as you slowly make your way towards the door. It was like you were in a trance. 

“And mademoiselle?”

You pause, turning to look back at him. “Yes, monsieur?” 

“I would like to see you in my office again around noontime. Please do not forget and don’t be late.” 

~*~

It hadn’t taken you long to realize just how insidious and cruel this strange brand of punishment truly was. You left his office such a sticky mess between the legs that even trying to clean yourself in the powder room did little good against the slick oozing out of you to stain your panties and make them stick to you, moulding against your cunt. It serves as a near constant reminder of how close you’d been to climax, how monsieur Neuvillette’s fingers had felt touching such an intimate part of your body, and how torturous it had felt to have that friction taken away so suddenly. 

The wisdom of the Iudex impresses you even now though, for you did indeed see why he’d deemed this the only appropriate corrective measure that would fit the crime. You had unknowingly strung mister Danon along with your feminine charm and wiles, so it did indeed make sense to turn that back around on you in some way. 

And although it does take a while, the distracting pulse in your cunt slowly fades into an afterthought in the back of your mind while you flit about the Palais tending to various tasks and seeing that everything was as it should be. At some point you even start to forget how your damp panties cling to you and that makes it much easier to view this trial as an easy obstacle to overcome. You would simply allow monsieur Neuvillette to carry out this task a handful of times, consider your self flagellation completed and then move on with your life. 

Yes, this really was the best method of making your peace with the situation. 

Comforted in your conviction, you return to monsieur Neuvillette’s office at the appointed time and issue a gentle rap at the door. His voice filters through without missing a beat, calling for you to come in, and you enter without reservation. 

Perhaps you should have been more wary of underestimating him or this game you were playing but you think nothing of it as you make your way across the room to stand in front of his stately desk. He looks up at you with a brief smile that inexplicably makes your pulse thrum a little faster, and that surprises you slightly. Catches you off guard. 

“Thank you for your punctuality, little one. I have a meeting scheduled after lunch is over so I wanted to tend to you before I got too busy.” 

Self consciously, you avert your gaze. “Are you sure this is alright, monsieur? I don’t want you to go hungry because of me.” 

“Nonsense. I planned accordingly and already ate before you came by.” Not lingering on the thought for very long, he takes a moment to straighten a stack of papers and neatly set them aside, out of the way. Nudging his high backed chair out from under the desk, he half turns and situates himself first before reclining against the backrest and finally looking up at you again. “Come. No need to feel shy.” 

His words have the opposite effect of making you feel ten times more shy than you originally did, and you can feel yourself starting to blush again as you slowly round the desk to come up beside him. Standing just a scant few inches from him like this it occurs to you, suddenly, that you probably should have been a bit more apprehensive about returning to his chamber like this. He was going to touch you again … oh, perhaps you had not thought this through all the way.

“Here.” He says, drawing you back into the moment with a gentle pat against his leg. “Sit on my lap, little one. This should make things a bit easier for both of us.” 

The flush that crawls up your face is an intense and overwhelming one. “M - monsieur, I — I couldn’t possibly be so presumptuous!” 

“Is it presumptuous if I’m telling you to do it?” 

Your spine stiffens at the slightly hardened tone in his voice, the edge that seems to cut across any of your weak excuses, and you quickly realize it is once again the Chief Justice sitting before you now, not the kindly monsieur Neuvillette. And he was looking at you very expectantly. 

Swallowing your nerves, you reluctantly shuffle closer and turn to lower yourself onto his leg with a slow, stiff motion of your body. The firm pressure and warmth of him underneath you is almost enough to send you running from the room in hysterics, but before you can even think to change your mind his arm comes forward to secure itself around your middle. A surprised little yelp bursts out of you when he hauls you back against him to settle more firmly on his lap, completely disregarding how you tense up and shudder on top of him. 

“There. Isn’t that much better?” He softly coos at you, tugging you back to lean against his front. Your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t fight it, only whimpering quietly when he at last has you situated how he wants. 

“M - monsieur …” You mewl into the suddenly statically charged office, unable to stop it, but he just quietly tuts at you as he turns his head to press his mouth against your hair. 

“Now, now, you’re alright. I’ve got you. There isn’t any reason to be so nervous.” A violent tremor tears through you when you feel his lips purse against the side of your head in what you think must be a brief kiss — but you don’t get the chance to fully process the significance of that as he bends a little closer to put his mouth near your ear now. “Spread your legs for me, little one. Let me see you.” 

Dizzy with the surge of white hot arousal that abruptly crashes into you with all the force of a sack of bricks, you give a weak, twitchy roll of your body against him and reach down with trembling hands to grab at your skirt. Slowly inching it up, you tip your chin down to watch with him as more and more of your thighs are revealed. The soft pudge around the tops of your stockings embarrasses you somewhat but not nearly as much as your panties do. Even from this angle you can see a dark, wet spot staining the crotch when you ease your legs open and you whimper softly at the sight of it. 

“Goodness, you certainly soaked yourself earlier didn’t you? Poor thing,” With a quiet click of his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette reaches down past cotton and lace, and voluminous frills to slide his hand over your mound. Your breath hitches as you watch him do it, cupping your pussy with an almost apologetic squeeze, and you quickly turn your head away before you can say or do something else you’ll regret today. 

You had to admit, it was very naive and shortsighted of you to consider this an easy penance just because it was not a constant, pressing concern at the forefront of your mind. How very foolish you had been. 

“I was thinking about it earlier and I found myself quite curious,” He admits, still just holding your cunt in the palm of his hand. “Would it be too impolite of me to ask how often you usually pleasure yourself?” 

Your chest dramatically heaves with the ragged gasp you suck in. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that’s … why would you ask me something like that?” 

“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you. That was not my intention, little one. Please forgive me.” A pause, while he turns his head to press his lips against your hair again. “It is just that you are so shy and your body is so sensitive. I wondered if perhaps you were too ashamed to take care of your own needs in this manner, that’s all. I’ve heard some women are.” 

Lungs painfully constricting inside your chest, you stiffly lift your hands up to cover your face. Having the Iudex pet you so intimately was one thing, but discussing such matters with him was something else entirely! 

“P - please forgive me, monsieur … you haven’t offended me it’s just — I have no experience with this sort of thing. I do it, sometimes. Pleasure myself like that. But I’ve never had anyone else t - touch me in that way before …” 

“I see.” 

Silence settles over the room for a long, drawn out stretch that soon starts to ride the line of being uncomfortable. You can just start to feel the sting of hot tears creeping through at the corners of your eyes when he gently pats your cunt with the flats of his fingers, startling a surprised noise out of you. Lowering your hands enough to see, you gape down at yourself as he somewhat possessively cups his hand around you again and gives the pudge of your labia a light squeeze. 

“Such a silly thing you are.” He says against your head, displacing some of the little flyways there to send them dancing at your peripheral. You barely even notice it though, trembling at the faintest hint of a growl in his voice when it sets your guts to vibrate and seems to reverberate inside your chest cavity. You’d never heard him sound like that before but don’t get the chance to linger on that thought or question it, because he nuzzles further into you until it feels like he’s speaking directly into your ear now. “In the future you should try not to be so forthcoming with your body when it comes to men. Had I been any less honorable I could have all too easily taken advantage of you earlier and I could still do it now had I wanted to. I understand your desire for wrongs to be appropriately righted as that is the very foundation Fontaine was built on but this is not the way to go about it, mademoiselle.” 

Your mouth warbles open but nothing comes out. All you can do is sit there, quaking on monsieur Neuvillette’s lap, while his fingers slip into one side of your panties and tugs them aside. The sight of your own cunt lips, puffy and flushed with arousal, surprises a faltering animal noise out of you that seems to echo endlessly inside the room. He pays it little mind though and simply curls his thumb to brush over your slit and the clitoris hiding within, smearing sticky slick with that fine leather glove and nudging your body into opening up to him. Legs twitching, you jerk your hands down to latch onto the arm locked around your middle, clutching at him even as you fitfully writhe against the sensation. 

All at once your earlier arousal comes crashing back with a vengeance, temporarily forgotten but not near as snuffed out as you would have liked it to be. Your clit thrums under his stilted caress as if the climax you’d been close enough to taste but not able to experience had lain dormant this entire time while you ensured the water pitchers were filled, the snack tables stocked and the fireplaces were appropriately stoked wherever they were needed. It shocks you a great deal to realize how powerful your arousal truly is, and you buck your hips with a whiny moan that would have embarrassed you under better circumstances. 

But better circumstances would not have found your cunt absolutely flooding with a deluge of fresh slick, nor would your clit have been swelling as eagerly as it does. You can feel the meaty, engorged drag of it under the soft petting of his thumb, almost idly drawing it back and forth with a total lack of urgency that makes your head spin perhaps even more so than the sharp stabs of pleasure do. You wanted to cum, and the knowledge that he would not permit you to just makes you want it even more. 

“Please, monsieur —!” 

Softly humming, he presses his thumb down a bit more firmly. “Are you already getting close, little one?” 

You tip your head back to rest on his broad shoulder, panting up at the ceiling while shuddering waves of yet unrealized ecstasy crash over you, each somehow more powerful than the last. Instinctively, you inch your legs further apart even as they tremble fiercely for him and you think, idly, you probably would have vibrated right off him had he not been keeping you pinned against his front. You’re helpless to do anything except sensitively quake like this, and you do so with great enthusiasm. 

“It is too much … I - I can’t take it!” 

“You will.” He assures you, his voice soft again but it still carries that subtle hint of an edge underneath the surface. You didn’t understand it, why he would sound like that. What had brought it on. Was he even more displeased with you than he’d suggested? 

The thought alone brings tears to your eyes almost as much as the cresting pleasure making you writhe on his lap, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to make him feel bad for causing you to cry when you were the one who had asked for this … but oh, it was so very hard not to give voice to the sobs threatening to wrack your body when it was all so much. The firm, weighty pressure of his thumb petting over your cunt, his other fingers idly teasing along your slit where they were still holding your panties aside. The smell of him, the taste of him lingering on the back of your tongue, his sturdy weight underneath you. It was all too much, and it felt like you were drowning in him. 

“Let this be a lesson to you,” He continues, unconcerned with the way you twist against him and choke on stuttering gasps. “Even more pressing than the matter with mister Danon, I’m far more concerned about how easily you gave yourself up to a man to do with however he pleased for the sake of penance. Needless self sacrifice is not justice, sweet girl. I do hope you’ll remember that.” 

Bending his head close once more, monsieur Neuvillette presses his mouth to your hammering pulse, and you mewl at the contact. It is not so much a kiss, you abruptly realize, as it is a not very subtle threat. Like there was a beast lurking beneath that kindly gentleman facade … 

“Oh, monsieur, I — I’m going to —“ 

“No, you are not.” He cuts across you, practically hisses it against your jugular, and you nearly jolt right off him when the arm around your middle slides up to lock across your front at an angle. Suddenly he pinches your nipple through your shirt where it’s stiff and straining against cotton, giving it a mean little tweak to make your back bow. Trying to twist away proves futile and you yelp at the pleasure laced pain even as your cunt drools even more obscenely in response. 

You felt like you were going crazy. Truly wild with potent, cloying arousal so powerful, so overwhelming, you can’t even process what’s happening to you while you shake right to the edge of your release. 

And just like that, the hand on your pussy retreats, pulling away altogether to leave your panties shamelessly askew in favor of latching onto the swell of your inner thigh and keeping them spread when you frantically buck your hips in search of that fleeting touch. You heave and groan, reeling at the total loss of friction, but it is useless. Monsieur Neuvillette is an unyielding presence at your back no matter how earnestly you squirm against him, and his gloved fingers give your aching teat another cruel tug to further stave off your release. 

You’re more than a bit horrified, in a delirious, hazy sort of way, to find that the pain serves its purpose in chasing away your climax enough to leave your pussy absolutely throbbing in the wake of this denial. No longer teetering right on the precipice, it seems to force you back a pace or two and all you can do is look on longingly at the promise of oblivion beyond with yearning and desperation. Wanting, but not allowed to have. 

You truly had underestimated just how tortuous this punishment technique could really be … 

Through the murky fever you feel monsieur Neuvillette brush his mouth across your cheek to press at the corner of your eye, effectively drawing you out of your groaning stupor. Sucking in a ragged gasp, you clutch at his arm all the tighter and try in vain to lean away. 

“M - monsieur?” 

“You’re crying.” 

Noising a soft sound of confusion, you blearily blink your eyes open to realize that they were in fact clouded with a swimming sheen of tears making them burn. Sniffling sadly, you start to reach up to swipe them away in shame but the hand on your breast comes up quicker and locks under your jaw, physically turning your face towards him. 

Laying spread out on top of him with your head forced back against his shoulder, you look up at monsieur Neuvillette from just a scant few millimeters away. His expression is still somber and unreadable but … the glint in his pale lilac eyes makes your chest hitch. It wasn’t hunger the same way you’d on occasion caught other men looking at you — men like mister Danon, you realize in retrospect — but it is a hunger all the same. Something old and primal, from a long forgotten dark age that inspires a slow curling tendril of uncertainty low in your gut. You don’t think it’s lust per se, not in the usual sense, but a kind of lust,  perhaps. One you didn’t have a name for. 

One you weren’t sure if you wanted to learn the true nature of. 

After silently studying you for a long moment, he finally drags his gaze from your face to regard the tall, stately clock standing sentry in the office, the only witness to this lurid state of affairs. “I still have some time before my meeting. I think we should be able to squeeze in one more session before I have to go.” 

You very nearly give voice to a hysterical, broken sob, just barely managing to choke it back with a frazzled whine instead. “Monsieur —“ 

“Hush, little one.” He murmurs and leans close again, stunned surprise washing over you when his tongue flicks out to lick up a wet tear from under your eye. You gape at him in shocked disbelief when he pulls back enough to look at you again, leaving behind residual moisture on your skin, but he doesn’t even look the least bit put out or sorry for it. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to be doing. Perhaps it was. You had no idea – and if he recognizes your surprised reaction for what it is, he certainly doesn’t show it. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will ensure your punishment is properly administered and then we shall further discuss your other behaviors in greater detail. Rest assured, you will be appropriately corrected in time. I will personally see to that myself.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

If Yves is willing to just be a friend (and a monster in law by extension) what opinion would he has on your others oc

Part 1/???

part 2

Tw: yves being really condescending and subtly bringing down monty, catty Yves

He thinks Montgomery incapable of taking care of you, Yves is coming over every other day to do the chores and meal prep. He would also prepare containers of healthy, nutritious food for Montgomery, but obviously, your husband is suspicious of it and refuses to eat. Monty wouldn't let you eat it either, fearing that Yves might have poisoned it. In actuality, he didn't. He's just acting nice to stress Montgomery and make him look like a crazy, jealous guy to you.

Yves would have some private talks with him, always about better ways to take care of you. Berating Montgomery for being neglectful for not being two minutes away from you at any given time, unobservant for not knowing how many times you blink in a minute when you're relaxed versus when you're tensed, inept for not doing the house chores good enough to meet Yves's insane standards.

Not to say all Yves does is bash Montgomery. He would praise him if he improved in some aspects (eg., noticing how many times you used the bathroom in a day, Yves would quiz him on that.), albeit condescending or backhanded. But Yves appreciates genuine effort being put into ensuring you're taken care of.

However, after that, he would go on to say that Montgomery could really use some moisturizer on his face and especially hands. Despite having nasty scars himself, Yves would insinuate Montgomery's facial scars are so hideous, that he should consider cosmetic surgery. He offered to pay for it because a friend of his darling, is a "friend" of Yves.

You better hope Montgomery wouldn't explode for his sake, Yves would try to paint him as an unreasonable and mentally unstable man that you shouldn't be associating with (if you're still not that deep in love with him), or should be drugged to be kept pliant (if your love for Montgomery is unwavering).

Yves is extremely shady, he watches your every move and now, Montgomery's every move. He does as much research on your husband as he does on you, just so he could effectively predict him all the time and take the spotlight.

Montgomery is going to buy you a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates on Valentine's day. So Yves decided that 14th of February is the perfect day to invite you and him over to his house, for Yves's birthday dinner. You will be gifted an exquisite gift hamper with all your favourite things and favourite brands, including roses and chocolates.

Montgomery wanted to surprise you with your favourite drink after work. He made the effort to queue up, pay for a ridiculously overpriced beverage and drive back home without spilling it in his cup holder, only to find out Yves has taken you out to that same shop to give you your fix.

Montgomery saved up enough to buy you that brand new phone. Only to come home empty handed because it was sold out everywhere. Yves conveniently managed to snag the last two units for you and Montgomery. The latter knew that rich bastard must have pre-ordered it.

Your husband made the right call opting to use his older phone instead, or else Yves would have gotten access to all his chat logs, call records and any other digital information on Montgomery. Well, it's not like Yves needed him to use the tampered phone anyways, he already has his means to find all of that out.

Montgomery made a reservation at a fancy restaurant for a date night? Aw, how sweet of him. Such a shame that the system mysteriously lost his records and it's now fully booked out. Your husband was about to get physical with the server for telling him that he didn't make that call, when in fact he did.

Surprise, surprise. Yves showed up to calm the situation down.

Yves coincidentally made a reservation for three so he could meet his associates due to work related reasons. Sadly, something came up for both of them, they couldn't make it. You and Montgomery wouldn't want that reservation to go to waste, would you? You've been dying to try the food at this place.

Montgomery would shoot him a nasty look while Yves would only smile at him ominously.

Your husband tried giving you allowance? It pales in comparison to Yves's monthly $10k deposits into your bank account. You're the breadwinner in this relationship and the cash isn't even from your job.

But he isn't a menace to Montgomery all the time. Yves does throw a bone for him occasionally.

Perhaps he's feeling extra insecure and down about himself for being this imperfect, ugly nobody compared to Yves. There is no use trying to hide his inferiority to Yves, he can smell the fragility in him.

So he would state nothing but facts. You chose Montgomery over Yves. That definitely says something about his immense worth to you despite not being notable compared to the dark haired male. If you really thought very little about Montgomery, you would already be calling Yves your husband instead.

Of course, this would give him an ego boost. Feeling proud that he still won, since you're his partner.

Yves wouldn't allow him to be too cocky, though. So he brought Montgomery back down to earth by telling him he should do something about his body odor.

Maybe he's getting bullied in his workplace, a country bumpkin with no friends nor family aside from you in the city would paint a massive target on his back.

Yves would pull some strings to stop the demeaning comments and pranks happening to Montgomery. Hell, he might even get a raise out of the blue. He would now work in peace and be a lot more chipper before heading to the construction site.

Sometimes, he would be too caught up with work to remember your anniversary. Montgomery would have nothing planned and he would panic, spiraling out of control. He fully planned to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, but he would be met with your happy face instead. You would thank Montgomery for the lovely gift he allegedly prepared for you.

He would hold you in his arms, confused. When did he get you a luxury watch? He hasn't saved up enough yet to get anything close to this, but it is something Montgomery would have gotten you. Did the dust and toxic fumes from working on the field all day finally condemned his brain?

Only when he took a look at his text messages did he understand.

A text from Yves reads:

"Your smartphone has a feature that reminds you of important dates. Use it."

Montgomery would be grateful, even contemplating paying Yves back. But he decided to keep the money because his monster-in-law became ten times more insufferable than usual, rubbing it in Montgomery's face that he, a third person not (legally) included in the marriage, remembered the anniversary date.

Your husband could be having a stomach ache one day and thought nothing of it. Since it came as quickly as it left, it must be insignificant, so he didn't do anything nor did he tell you.

You could only imagine the surprise when Yves, two days later, marched up to him while he was on his break, and demanded that he head to the hospital. Of course, Montgomery would refuse and think Yves was up to something.

But Yves immediately shuts him up by showing him results of Montgomery's blood and stool sample. He had a viral infection that could have been devastating to his life if it wasn't treated promptly.

He was stunned, frozen on the spot, wracking his brain for how Yves could have possibly obtained these samples when Montgomery wasn't even remotely close to a medical center. The long haired male seized the chance to lead your husband into his car, zooming straight to the emergency department.

As expected, Montgomery would freak out in the car upon realizing what the report implies, he knows Yves is stalking you and him, but he didn't know it was to this extent. How, when, why and where did he snatch a vial of his blood and faeces? The results showed that the samples were taken on the same day he felt that strange pain in his abdomen.

Your "best friend" is fucking insane!

Before Montgomery could strangle Yves out of impulse, he stabbed a syringe filled with a strong sedative onto his neck, knocking him out immediately. It's amazing how he could do that while driving flawlessly.

Montgomery would wake up to see you by his side, holding his hand with a worried look. He smiles and beckons you closer for a kiss. He felt relief from having you here, in the cold and clinical setting of his hospital room.

But that bliss was instantly washed away when Yves walked into the room with a clipboard and his hair tied up with a stethoscope around his neck.

The heart monitor immediately began beeping frantically as Montgomery hyperventilates at the sight of that psychopath pretending to be his doctor.

But Yves is his doctor, you assured him that your good friend is the best one there is. He seems to always know what is happening and Yves has treated you back to health many times.

Montgomery tried to rip out the wires and the IV drip connecting to his cannula, but Yves just sternly called his name. He gave the man a look of warning, which intimidated Montgomery enough to settle down.

Yves explained everything to you, exaggerating his symptoms and telling a lie: Montgomery didn't want to worry you, so he sought medical help in secret. Yves happened to hear about this and decided to take over.

You didn't question the ethics or legality of his story. You would want your beloved husband to be taken care of by someone you wholeheartedly trust.

You hugged Yves out of gratitude. He smiled and savoured what little physical contact he gets with you.

Montgomery was silent the entire time as Yves's discrete, bruising, claw-like grip on his shin sent a loud message that he should play along if he wanted to live.

You then watched Yves listen for any other unusual activity in Montgomery's abdomen using a stethoscope. Your husband is clearly uncomfortable, due to the freezing metal touching his bare skin and his arch nemesis is invading his... everything at this point.

Finding the process boring, you told the men that you will be grabbing something from the vending machine for the three of you.

Yves told you Montgomery's current food restrictions before letting you go. He thanks you for thinking about him too.

Your husband didn't want to be alone with this... demon, he tried grabbing you by the arm. But Yves only dug his nails deeper into his flesh, making him wince in pain.

Once you leave the room, the area suddenly feels so cold. So eerie.

Yves dropped his warm smile and stared at Montgomery blankly.

"W-what the fuck are you?!" Montgomery felt genuine fear rattling his bones.

Yves sat on the freshly unoccupied chair. He crossed his legs and set the clipboard on his lap.

"You stole my beloved away from me." He narrowed his eyes at Montgomery. "But..."

The dark haired man sighed in defeat. "You make them happy."

Your husband cautiously watched him, noticing that Yves's lower eyelid twitched a few times.

"I appreciate the effort you put into loving them. It is a very respectable trait among... your other ones."

There was a beat of silence before Montgomery opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Yves again.

"I care about you, Yeller." Yves's emerald eyes stared straight into Montgomery's brown ones, but there wasn't a hint of fondness directed towards him.

"...and I have my ways of ensuring their safety and yours." He stood up, now towering over him and casting a menacing shadow over Montgomery's vulnerable self.

"Not everyone agrees with my methods. Certainly not you, certainly not (name)."

Montgomery watched him with eyes wide as saucers.

"I trust that you understand not to say a word to them about it." His words were laced with a potent poison, it sent the worst shivers down Montgomery's spine.

"You're fuckin' crazy!" Exclaimed your husband. Yves didn't appreciate the comment as he brought his manicured fingers to the IV tubing, making sure that his rival felt the threat.

"I know what hurts you, Yeller. Don't test my patience."

He could tell that Yves was using those words as a euphemism for death.

Montgomery sealed his lips and Yves's hand returned to his side.

The two men watched each other like hawks, neither of them moving a muscle. One is definitely much more anxious than the other.

In the end, Yves took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You stupid boy. If it wasn't for your excessive drinking..." Yves trailed off, seemingly complaining to no one in particular. Montgomery doesn't know if he is having a headache over his infection or the fact that he's married to you.

"They could have chosen a better man, at least someone who takes care of himself, is in a prestigious line of work and has some common sense. But... they chose you." He crossed his arms and glared at Montgomery.

"Congratulations." Yves continued bitterly. "They chose you, and you are nothing like me." He spat harshly, turning his back to Montgomery, and sighing frustratedly before burying his face in a hand.

"You are nothing like me..." He repeated softly, his voice was wavering and cracked. A strong sense of melancholy could be felt in the air.

Montgomery turned his attention to the door, wondering what is taking you so long. He fears that Yves would eventually kill him and make it seem like he died due to natural causes.

Yves wiped a stray tear away before turning around to face Montgomery again.

"You are such a disgrace." He whispered. "Yet, they still chose you."

Montgomery opened his mouth to say something, but was again, interrupted by your arrival.

Like a switch being flipped, Yves donned a charming, motherly smile as you offered him a salad bowl you got from the vending machine. He now exudes a caring and inviting vibe that was a complete 180⁰ from what your husband witnessed.

"Why, thank you, my dear." Yves would give you a totally platonic peck on the head.

You froze and looked at Montgomery. He would usually lose his temper over touches like these, you wouldn't want him to start a fight with his doctor.

But instead,

"Thanks, sweetheart." He took the fresh apple meant for him, out of your hands. Montgomery kissed you on the cheek before smoothing your hair with a large hand. He appeared not to care about what Yves did, which made you release a breath of relief. Perhaps they talked their feelings out and built some trust between each other?

Yves excused himself, saying he has somewhere to be. He opened his arms, wanting a hug from you. You gladly comply seeing Montgomery nodded in agreement.

He held you tight for a few seconds before reluctantly letting you go. Yves bid you and Montgomery goodbye before leaving the room.

You didn't catch the scowl directed towards the short haired man.

You climbed onto his hospital bed and snuggled under your husband's arm, resting your head on his chest.

Montgomery pressed a couple of kisses onto the crown of it while absentmindedly rubbing your back up and down.

There are a lot of things for him to process today. He's just glad that you're here to ease the pain

[t0rturedangel]

hiii!!! i'm the same person who sent the ask regarding jekyll and i LOVED it! im honored to be the first asker and i might fill more - so if it's alright, may i request jekyll and/or hyde with an innocent yet motherly!darling who worries for their wellbeing, even going as far as gently scolding them and making them feel relaxed every once in a while.

take your time and take care!! xoxo

╭ . . . 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 ੭

𝐃𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 / 𝐌𝐑. 𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ♰ ৎ﹕𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘯 (𝘩𝘤𝘴)

YAYYY ANOTHER JEKYLL & HYDE REQUEST, I'm honestly in love with the book and game so I'm sooooo happy you came and requested more!! :D I hope you like this

𝘩𝘤𝘴 ~ 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋

✧⠀⨾ Despite never saying it, Jekyll adores you and values you a lot- like more than he cares for Utterson and Lanyon- and thats saying a lot since he knows the two very close

✧⠀⨾ he loves it whenever you visit, because you take the time out of your day to make sure he is doing well, even helping the servants make some tea for him and clean up a bit after- for some reason Jekyll loves your tea more than anyone else's, you make it so perfectly

✧⠀⨾ he also tends to try and not cause as many mistakes as he usually would while you're there- whether it be via experiments that he maybe burnt himself with or just casually bumping into things, you'll always be at his side right after and be scolding him while patching him up as well

Currently, you were sitting by the side of Jekyll- who has managed to mix up the wrong amount of chemicals needed for one of his recent experiments which caused it to overflow and accidently got on his hand- which burned... a lot. ❝ how could you be so careless Jekyll? look you've hurt yourself again.... Please be more careful around your chemicals, you know first hand how dangerous they can be! ❞ you patched Jekyll's hand up, holding with with delicacy which made it seem as if he'd break if you were careful enough which was true to an extent, Jekyll was feeling weaker lately- he's been more careless with himself and how he acted leading to this mess. However, he couldn't help himself from smiling at you with a fondness- you were always there for him, out of the kindness of your heart and that made him adore you more than anyone else could. You were truly a miracle to him

✧⠀⨾ Jekyll doesnt understand how he managed to meet you and befriend you, but he thanks god everyday for it.

✧⠀⨾ As a thank you, he always buys you gifts that he knows will make you overjoyed, he pays attention to what you like and dont like so when it comes to thank you's, you're never disappointed or sad

✧⠀⨾ All of his servants, cooks and Poole love you since you're sort of keeping their master together while also keeping them happy- whenever you visit they're always chatting with you about anything but this isnt about them

✧⠀⨾ Jekyll find your innocence adorable, and questions on if you are the completely moral person you make yourself out to be- or do you also indulge in your vices? do you have your own Hyde? though he'll never ask, no never, he just loves this perfect image of you- sweet moral you who wouldn't hurt anyone ever

𝘩𝘤𝘴 ~ 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

✧⠀⨾ the first time you met Hyde, it was probably an accident- Jekyll has though of something so horrid that Hyde couldn't help but take over, it was never Infront of you (Jekyll is so grateful for that you don't even realize)

✧⠀⨾ Though when Hyde did see you, all of his rage and anger suddenly just went away?? it left him so confused and almost made him angry and vicious again until you began to talk to him- normally??

✧⠀⨾ you weren't disgusted with him? you didn't find him hideous? you didnt run away, screaming in horror? no, you didnt do that, oddly enough you walked over to him- smiling happily, and introduced yourself leaving the creature so confused and baffled he almost completely ignored you (he didnt though- you were too intruging to him)

You smiled at Hyde, grinning from ear to ear as you held out a hand for him to take and shake. ❝ hello! I'm [name] it's so lovely to meet you ❞ you didnt run away, or looked at him grossed out which almost irked the monster but he stayed out of pure curiosity. ❝ I'm Hyde.❞ he replied almost coldly, though you didnt get angry with him- instead fascinated ❝ oh! yes i have heard of you- you're a good friend of my dear Jekyll's! i dont understand why everyone is so sacred of you ❞ you smiled even more- leaving Hyde to question you and your intentions, yet he made no move to hurt you. Everyone was shocked, sorry- correction- everyone outside, in the beauty of the moon was shocked to see Hyde, the murderer, the man who trampled a girl to near death, the one who smites women down for simply looking his way- walking down the street with the sweet little thing like you latched by his side, smiling from ear to ear as you chatted about something while Hyde listened. You has done the impossible, yet only you could do it

✧⠀⨾ he secretly love having you around, you're the only person who gives him the light of day at the minimum and at the maximum you care for him.

✧⠀⨾ once he returned to his home after getting into a fight with a man who was capable of fighting back- the man obviously was killed as Hyde had overpowered him with sheer brutality and died bleeding out, though he did manage to get a few hits on the deformed man (Hyde) leaving him bruised.

✧⠀⨾ you were waiting for him- happily with a knitted scarf for him (you felt bad for him as it was always cold in the night time of London and Hyde barely wore anything warm) but when you saw him, bruised and beaten you didnt even care about the scarf or how he even got hurt

✧⠀⨾ you sat there, much like how you were with jekyll, scolding him and patching him up carefully- despite him stating MULTIPLE times he can handle it and wont die.

✧⠀⨾ Much like Jekyll- Hyde questions your innocence but enjoys it none the less- the two of you acting as the opposites attract trope

✧⠀⨾ Overall, the two of them adore you so much- you're the sweetest and kindest person to the two of them and they're grateful, in their own ways (Jekyll buys you stuff and Hydes beats people up for you)

[swords-of-a-soilder]

I've sleep on it here's my beef

If you wanna log in to participate in a event that fine, I get for some CC's purgatory 2 isn't lore (I mean it clearly is, but some players are choosing not to involve it in their lore.) But when you've made the discussion not to take part in the lore you can't ask about it on screen.

I literally got confused when someone told me bad had a reason and to check there lastest reblog, thinking the book gave them the reason and apologising, this fully left me thinking that the residents where told to return home until I was discussing with someone else and realized I fully misread that (I need to wear my glasses more TBh)

But this play apart of the problem because what I except was a lore reason and I went looking for it, just to find out later there is no lore reason bad just calls himself vactionbadboy halo when he wants to log in.

Look I get playing purgatory for fun, I get wanting to log in to see your friends, Tubbo did it, and Pac did it; but the difference with them being they made up a reason to be there (the boat didn't leave) is a completely valid reason.

I can see them going home and then later being drag back to the boat by the incompetent egg Island workers, but jumping back and forth to the island in the middle of purgatory is problematic.

If you don't want to take part in the lore then don't, don't ask questions about what's happening lore wise (on stream he can always inquire in dms ) , don't do things on the Island that messes with other people's lore or breaks the immersion make it easy for the actual people who care about the lore; Ie: fan fiction writers, artists, role players (I am all these things) to pretend you're not there!

This sounds dumb but I genuinely, when lore is happening take note of every little the to go "how can I explain this in lore, how could I enhance this in lore" to help with my fan art or fan works.

Genuinely I have a list of game mechanics,(chat, tabs list, death messages) and have written ways to explain them in lore, so you can imagine my annoyance when someone who isn't supposed to be involved ask questions fresh of a lore event.

I think the confusion to add to it is that Phil has been trying to do more improv on the spot right now rp; like leaving cuucurhoo the notice of the eye guy and keeping his webcam on until a big event ( and I love him for that, genuinely I love lore so much because it feeds art and fan fiction)

But I feel like im being taken a fool when someone who isn't technically supposed to be there asks questions about something they're not supposed to be awear of and even bounces of it like they're in lore "yeah it looks like we're going to war with you guys." we who? You're supposed to be Vacation halo, you aren't in purgatory right, if so how did you get home?!

Get what I'm saying? It sucks because everyone else so far seemed to-do A decent job of staying out of lore if they want to visit some committing to not coming back to the island at all (cough* bolas *cough ) .

If you don't wanna take part in the lore don't complicate the already existing lore, it annoynes me greatly.

I don't mind the attenting events so much, it's the fail rping of discussing something you shouldn't know not long after it happened. (Metagaming)

[misted-buttercup-enjoyer]

Fionna and Cake: Simon and Marcy So Far: Analysis Part 1

INTRO:

The first two episodes of Fionna and Cake have been released, capturing the hearts of fans, and with it, some new Simon and Marcy content has dropped. Ever since the father/daughter duo made their debut in Adventure Time’s tearjerker episode “I Remember You” (season 4, episode 25) they have smote the hearts of fans everywhere. With the first two episodes, here is my analysis on which direction their relationship is going in this spinoff series.

FLASHBACK:

Fionna and Cake Episode 2 “Simon Petrikov” opens with the two running away from some oozers. They take shelter in a sewer. Simon considers putting on the crown, but Marcy pulls his hand away and glares at him. The oozers leave the two to chat. The button of Marcy’s overall dress pops off and Simon begins sewing it back on. Marcy asks him what she’d do without him. Simon assures her that “you’re so great, Marceline, someone else would definitely find you and take care of you. Maybe even someone rich!” Simon continues this fantasy, telling Marceline that she’d live in a castle with “food, medicine, and trained squirrels to tend to your every need. And as for me, I’d uh…um…” Simon directs this at Marceline, but he seems to be saying what he wants for Marceline. In Stakes Episode 2 “Everything Stays,” when Simon is officially leaving Marceline and barely holding onto his sanity, he promises he’ll send someone to take care of her. (On a related note, we see in season 7 episode 10, “Marcy and Hunson,” that Simon summoned Hunson to take care of Marceline until she left his care after the fries incident.) Simon wants Marcy to be safe, and he’d want to believe if something happened to him Marceline would be okay and someone would come take care of her. For food, obviously in the apocalypse, food would be hard to find. In season 5 episode 14 “Simon and Marcy,” Marceline tries to make Simon breakfast and resorts to pine needles and deer guts. For medicine, we can see Simon worries a lot about Marceline when she gets sick. We see when Marcy gets a fever in “Simon and Marcy,” he dedicates the whole day to finding chicken soup for her. He’d want her in an environment where she can access healthcare easily. For trained squirrels, well, it’s a funny way to put it, in classic Adventure Time style, but I think it ties back to Simon wanting Marceline to be well taken care of. But we can see he doesn’t really have any plans for himself. He’s lost his home, his books, his fiancee, and his entire life’s structure at this point. Marcy and whatever he carries in his backpack is his entire world now, and he can’t imagine what his world would be without her to take care of.

THE FUTURE:

Simon trails off when he talks about a life without Marceline. And now we’re in a future where this…kind of came to pass. Don’t get me wrong, Marcy and Simon are still close. Simon calls Marcy, Marcy is happy to hear from him even though she’s busy–more on this phone conversation later–and Marcy mentions hanging out soon. But Marceline can longer be Simon’s whole world like she used to be. She’s grown up, she’s been taking care of herself for about a thousand years and she has a girlfriend and lots of friends and acquaintances. Heck, she hasn’t just been taking care of herself, she kept Ice King company and took care of him in a way too. She’s delighted that Simon’s back, but she’s no longer dependent on Simon’s protection like she used to be. She’s also no longer right there to observe Simon’s behavior and remind him to take care of himself, like we see her doing in the flashback when he almost puts on the crown. Not only does Simon not have Marcy to take care of, he doesn’t have any reason not to spiral into this depressive state he’s in at this point (Fionna and Cake Episode 2 “Simon Petrikov,") and he doesn't have her little reminders.

Which brings me back to the subject of their call. Marcy immediately asks Simon how he’s doing, and how’s work. Simon responds by saying it was fine, skimming over how bad it actually was. But why? Why is he doing this?

CHILDCARE IN THE APOCALYPSE 101:

A big part of parenting in the apocalypse would’ve been keeping Marceline calm so she doesn’t panic. When Marceline gets a fever in “Simon and Marcy,” the first thing Simon says after waking up, feeling her forehead when she's sick and mentioning the fever got worse is “I mean, don’t freak out or anything.” We can see through what glimpses we get of his travels with Marceline that he’s very optimistic and playful. He makes up a song for Marceline (Marceline mentions him making up more silly songs), plays games with her, makes a lot of jokes (humor is one hell of a coping mechanism), and in the flashback we see him telling Marceline that this is one of the nicest sewer’s they’ve hidden in. I think it’s important for us to remember how quickly Marceline grew up to Simon. Not even in the usual “they grow up so fast” way, but as in, when he left her, she was about ten years old. The next time he saw her in any fit state to recognize her, she was a thousand years old with the mindset and body of a young adult. The timeskip would’ve been jarring for him, to say the least. It’s been about twelve years since that sudden change, but old habits die hard. Simon hasn’t stopped trying to keep Marceline from freaking out over a lesser problem. Not just because he’s used to keeping her calm in the apocalypse and can’t help but view her as his little girl still, but no one likes admitting to a loved one they’re experiencing a mental health crisis* in the first place. Along with this, while in his state of magical madness, Ice King’s condition doubtless caused Marceline a lot of anxiety and unhappiness. On top of his habits of not freaking her out and the usual desire not to explain what you’re going through, he wouldn’t want to cause Marceline any more grief than she’s already been through. Don’t worry, Simon, Marcy’s already super traumatized. Helping you out won’t hold a candle to everything she’s been through.

THE PHONE CALL:

I feel like what really drives home the difference in how Simon still sees her vs. how she is now is the phone call. Don’t get me wrong, Simon loves Marceline and is doubtless happy for her that she has a girlfriend, a career in music, and a life.

But when he calls Marceline, he’s been reminded of her by watching little girl’s caretaker help her reach a watermelon. A little child. When Simon calls her up, she is getting matching tattoos with Princess Bubblegum (or, trying to, anyway, but her skin keeps instahealing and PB is made of literal gum). Getting matching tattoos with the person you plan on spending your life with is a much more grown-up activity. The music also serves as an immediate contrast between the atmospheric quiet of the forest and gentle strumming and singing of Rebecca Sugar, compared to the rock music blasting in the background of Marceline’s antics. The contrast between the future and the past. The contrast between what their relationship used to be like, something that gave Simon’s life structure and hope, and what it is now–still loving, but not something he can model his whole life around.

ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK:

Their dynamic has changed. Simon used to be the one keeping Marceline from despair and taking care of her. Now not only is Marceline living her best life with her girlfriend (Simon has neither of those), but Simon’s the one in danger of despair. Simon is used to taking care of Marceline, but they can’t be that way anymore, since Marcy is grown up and took care of him at one point. A good visual metaphor for this is at the beginning clip of Simon and Little Marcy. When they’re running from the oozers, at first, Marcy is behind Simon, and Simon, also running for his life, pants “C’mon” to her. A few seconds later, Marceline is the one in front of Simon, holding his hand and trying to get him to go faster. It’s a real blink-and-you-miss-it detail, but I think this was definitely intentional.

FIONNA AND CAKE AS A METAPHOR FOR MARCELINE AND THE ICE KING:

This feels like a crack theory or overanalyzing, but I still want to mention this. One of the main plot points of Episode 1 “Fionna and Cake” is Cake’s mysterious health issue. Cake is obsessed with the cold, only able to recognize her own name and “food.” Cake runs to open the ice dispenser of Fionna’s fridge and ends up staining Fionna’s work clothes, at which Fionna says, “Stop acting crazy!” This wouldn’t be particularly noticeable, but in “I Remember You,” Marceline says this exact phrase to Simon with the exact same cadence, and shortly after, Simon runs to the fridge, just like Cake just did. Cake is Fionna’s cat, and Fionna tries to take care of Cake and take her to the vet. Which I think again could refer to Marceline taking care of Simon while he was the Ice King (Ice King and Cake not understanding what’s going on, the ice motifs that Simon rejects so vehemently in “Simon Petrikov,” etc.) Which, again, refers to how different their dynamic is today, since Marceline has taken care of Ice King and gained so much independence, so different from what Simon remembers.

PREDICTIONS FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP GOING FORWARD:

It’s hard to imagine all of this is being set up just to be dropped, so this all begs the question, what will their relationship be going forward? What does the series have in mind for their future?

There’s no way Marceline will be happy Simon’s been keeping his problems from her. But she may be able to relate. In “Obsidian,” Marcy tells Princess Bubblegum, “My mom and I didn’t talk about bad stuff. When she got really sick, she didn’t even tell me. She meant well, but I think it messed me up about being honest about my feelings.” We can see this in action, too. She isn’t very communicative in her relationship with Bonnibel before the events of “Obsidian,” she doesn’t talk much about how she’s feeling, and she has a habit of talking about what someone else did rather than how it made her feel. So Simon’s difficulty in honest communication might resonate with her.

Either way, I’m excited to see what the Adventure Time crew is going to come up with for them, especially if Rebecca Sugar is involved!

CONCLUSION:

In conclusion, while the pair are still close, Simon is kind of lost without Marceline to care for and protect every minute of the day. Their relationship dynamic has changed, and, for Simon, the change was very abrupt. He still hasn’t stopped thinking of Marceline as someone he needs to keep feeling positive and calm, and he doesn’t want to tell her about his issues. This can only go one way: angsty. 

Thank you for reading my analysis! My plan is to continue analyzing their relationships as new episodes release, since nothing gets me feeling motivated like new episodes, but I’m also starting up the school year, and it depends on how much Simon and Marcy content we get in the new upcoming episodes, so I can’t make promises. Sorry for the current lack of screenshots, I have an event to go to but when I get back I’ll add some pictures. I hope this at least was some food for the thought. Leave your thoughts about their relationship in the tags, reblogs, or comment section. Also, if this analysis seems all over the place, don’t worry, I’m going back to English class soon, so hopefully things will feel more professional as I brush up on my writing skills.

*I would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone to take care of their mental health and talk to loved ones if they’re experiencing mental unwellness. The themes of Fionna and Cake seem to center a lot around misery and depression, so don’t forget that you are not alone, and there is help available.

Hotline Numbers:

Mental Health or Suicide Crisis Hotline: 988 (you can also text with them using this number.)

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Hiii

Do you have more Ginny headcanon ?

Do you have fifteen hours?

I'd say most of my headcanons are more like deductions from canon to be honest. You can find some of them in my one-shots. Anyway, I'll try to make a list of strictly Ginny headcanons.

her favourite colour is green (which between Harry's eyes and the Harpies is basically canon, it's like saying that red being Harry's favourite colour is a headcanon)

as we all know Ginny loves cats, but seeing that her family could never afford to buy her one, she always had in mind that with her first paycheck, she would buy her first cat, and she does

when she was little she wrote adventure stories about her and The Boy Who Lived

writing was a part of her healing process after the Chamber

in her second year, Dumbledore invited her many times to play chess and it was a subtle way to bring her to open up about the diary (this is technically not canon but it's way more canon complaint that Dumbledore did this than the idea that he didn't, both from the perspective of him being a good loving man despite it all, and the cynical perspective of him wanting to know more about Riddle)

I'm a strong supporter of the universally accepted headcanon of Ginny and Sirius having late-night chats at Grimmauld Place

Ginny jokingly promised Sirius that if she and Harry would've actually ended up together (like Sirius seemed to believe) she would've called her first boy after him

as the years go by, she and Rita Skeeter develop a sort of frenemies situation (this is actually something I've been thinking of writing about for a long time)

with tpfy @takearisk-ao3 made me fall in love with the idea that Smith would remain an annoying presence in her life

she was arrested at least once while Harry was already Head Auror, it was very embarrassing for the Aurors involved

McGonagall asked her to become Head Girl but she turned it down

she was the first woman to become sports editor for the Daily Prophet (for who doesn't know this: sports journalism is an exetremely sexist field)

I can't imagine Ginny as anything but the coolest of mothers

every young Quidditch player dreams of the stamp of approval from Ginny Potter, if she says a player is going to be great then that player is going to be great, she very much has the power of influencing the players' market with her opinions

in general, I imagine Ginny as eventually a very revolutionary, iconic, and borderline intimidating figure of sports journalism, someone people would aspire to work with and become like (a sort of way less workaholic and good version of Miranda Priestly)

obviously, she published books, but I totally see her publishing also novels and I think that Ginny specifically writing children's novels in her last years would be a very full circle moment seeing that she started the story in love with The Boy Who Lived

I'm kind of into the idea of Ginny eventually starting her own newspaper (with Albus, because I headcanon him as a journalist too)

she is extremely careful in making sure Lily Luna never thinks she can't do something because she is a girl and she makes sure James and Albus never shove her aside

she loves Harry's smile (this is kind of canon, to be honest, fourth book) and she absolutely adores the sound of his laugh

she rescues animals like it's her job, the Potter house is filled with rescues (Harry is always grumpy at first about it, more because he feels like someone should be the reasonable one but secretly it's just one of the many things he loves about her)

the animals obviously have the weirdest names

she kind of likes Slughorn, in the way you like a weird uncle you see once a year

she absolutely can cook, she is the only daughter of Molly Weasley, of course she can cook, she just doesn't like doing it most of the time

even after she stops playing she still keeps doing regular physical exercise

absolutely accidental fashion icon

Ginevra was the name of her half-Italian maternal grandmother who died of a broken heart after Gideon and Fabian's deaths

she passes on to her kids her arts and crafts love, but especially to Teddy

All is well is something she started saying to Harry after he had nightmares, eventually, Harry started doing it with her too, and it sort of became their mantra

she was a bit disturbed by the fact that she would never be able to know if James and Lily would have approved of her, she went alone to their graves the day before her wedding to talk with them

this is substantially canon, but according to JKR, when yew wands (like Ginny's) get buried with their owner, a yew tree is born from the grave and I adore that image (the tree protects Harry's grave too)

I'm pretty sure I could go on for an eternity but let's stop here.

[whimsylace]

tim headcanons? 🥺

TIM SHEPARD HEADCANONS ⋆♱✮♱⋆

jay. jay you evil mf. ilysm😈 okay so i only have 17 rn but i’ll def write like fifty more . hope u enjoy pookie !! (also u weren’t expecting this very aesthetic very awesome very high level format were you. yeahf. ive become COOL.)

— he has unnecessarily loud footsteps.

— he appreciates his gang but never shows it. one day he said “hey fellas,, youve been doin’ a good job durin’ rumbles lately. im proud to have yall as my gang🙏”. and everyone stared at him wide eyed cause they honestly thought he hated them💀💀

— when he was a kid he used to pray every night that curly would get kidnapped n shit because he hated his ass☠️☠️curly was one of those really annoying toddlers

— he loses his jacket ALL THE DAMN TIME. (its mostly cause curly always steals it to look cool and dal just takes it for fun whenever)

— tim and darry understand each other. they both have dead parents/a dead parent and both had to take care of their kid siblings

— tim and darry also frequently talk to eachother🔥 sometimes darry finds tim asleep on the curtis couch™️ or its the opposite, & they end up chatting.

— ^they talk about parents, taking care of their siblings, and dally. (will elaborate further one day.)

— i think like. tims responsible and more mature compared to the others, right? BUT HES STILL 18. PLEAHS. HE ISNT A DAD. HE HASNT ACCEPTED HIS FATE LIKE DARRY (😭im sorry ily dar) HE IS STILL A HOOD WHO HAS FUN N SHIT DAWG!!!!!!!

— ^like ok imagine how curly always thinks tims like boring n old and all but after the rumble everyone in the reformatorys talking ab it and he hears how tim like crushed 5 guys’ skulls so hes just like 😨😨 (he then proceeds to show off the fact that THATS HIS BROTJER🔥🔥🔥)

— ^like guys even in the book pony says hes “constantly reckless” LIKE CMON. ((okay the main reason i wrote thsi was because i read this fic thingy and tim called dal “kid” even though theyre a year apart.wtf!! tim is not that boys old man!!!!))

— he steals angelas hair conditioners n other stuff because they smell good and make his hair soft🗣️

— he knows how to cook a few recipes, since his mom was never really there and he had to feed curly and angela somehow.

— ^curly calls his cooking ass but devours it every time (he would eat anything tbh)

— he lights fireworks n firecrackers n shit with dal

— was a demon as a middle schooler.

— hes really overprotective of his car. will not let anyone get near it or drive it. dal knows this; which is why he makes sure to slash his tires every 2-3 business days😇

— his nose used to be really straight but now its crooked as fuck cause hes broken it three fucking times😭😭

FOLLOW ME FOR MORE BANGERS LIKE THIS🔥🔥🗣️🗣️💯💯🙏🙏