#another-clive-blog

[darklight-owl]

Ever since you made that comment about being so influential I have been drawing Clive and Dimitri non-stop, what have you done to me- /j

HDJSJSJS tis but a taste of the wisdom and inspiration I bless my fandoms with

[darklight-owl]

YAYYY YAYAYAYAYAY SHE IS SO PRECIOUS

Trick or treat :D

You get a treat, as in 'Level-5 treat her well or say goodbye to your kneecaps' <3

[captainpirateface]

Free Horror Clipart!!!

[pinkkittysaw]

CHAPTER II

- MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

← chapter one

series master-list can be found here!

summary: the night of your brother’s annual birthday ball takes an unexpected turn

paring: knight! clive rosfield x princess! reader

word count: 9,613

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI! you will be BLOCKED!) heavy plot, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving) handjob, power imbalance, dirty talk, spit, slight humiliation kink, parental loss.

disclaimer(s): although this series is inspired by the medieval and regency time periods, they are not 1:1 representations. although i will always do my best to represent both as accurately as possible, there may be some minor changes.

some of the plot points in the original game story have been altered or taken out to fit this au better. there are no eikons

a/n: i want to dedicate this chapter to my AMAZING friend, and fellow writer, jordy (@cryptictongues) who not only let me bounce ideas off her constantly, but also beta read some of this chapter as well. thank you for everything!!!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and art is by edmund blair leighton

A month or so passed since your last tryst with Clive, leaving the relationship between the two of you to be strained with pent-up tension. In light of the momentary heat of passion, you both agreed that such conduct would be better kept private, in places where no wandering eyes could intrude, so as to not arouse any more suspicion. There were to be absolutely no dubious behaviors in public, which proved to be undoubtedly difficult.

With every promenade you'd take around the castle grounds, you'd see him training, all sweaty and flush in his fit form, and all you'd be able to think about was mounting him then and there, riding him until you were both run ragged.

Your confidants and lady's maid have caught your prolonged glances during your strolls in the sunshine, but you've always met their accusations with a dismissive flap of your hand fan, stating that you were "simply curious about the training regiment that the knights were conducting," even if your eyes always lingered on one knight in particular. Baddies

There was talk around the palace for a while about the sudden disappearance of a certain scullery maid, but seeing as the crown had more pressing matters to deal with than the loss of a single maid, one who could easily be replaced, any investigation resulted in the conclusion that she had simply "fleed her duties," and it was left at that.

In reality, though, you had visited her late in the night after your passionate affair with Clive many moons ago, offering to pay off her debts and then some if she swore to secrecy that nothing she saw that night would make its way into the ears of the public.

The amount of gil being offered was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Seeing as your father amassed insurmountable fortunes during his reign, idle gossip wasn't worth the consequences if she were to be found out as the source of the rumor, so she took the small fortune and fled the palace walls that very same night.

Now you find yourself sitting in another store room, one that's presumed to be in less use than the previous one, perched upon an old barrel.

A royal ball was in attendance, and all nobility within the realm were invited. The occasion? Your younger brother and future heir to the throne's birthday. He reached the tender age of one and twenty, which just so happens to be the legal age of marriage in your country, so, of course, your father invited all the reputable debutantes in the realm in hopes that your brother would secure a future queen, though he'd never admit to such schemes out loud.

You were hoping that tonight would be another secret rendezvous with your lover, but you haven't so much as gotten a single word with him all evening.

All you had thought about during the preparation was how you were going to tease him throughout the night. The gown you had selected to wear was chosen with him in mind. The silhouette hugged your figure to perfection, and your cleavage was heavily accentuated in the lavender muslin. The hem was detailed with a layer of tulle tulips, and crystals of various sizes decorated the bustline. Put simply, you looked ravishing—the epitome of the most elegantly cut diamond.

Your father would spare no expense when it came to his son's birthday ball, so you were in luck to some degree, but the only man whose eyes you wanted on you was nowhere to be found.

The ball was supposed to provide perfect cover. All the orderly staff would be at your father's beck and call all evening, and he'd be too busy showing off your brother like a prized chocobo to notice your disappearance, leaving you to your own devices after a certain amount of time.

You and Clive would be able to sneak off without a trace or care in the world, but for some reason, every man of nobility just happened to be extremely insistent upon getting in at least one dance with you, all whilst having meaningless conversations regarding topics you couldn't bother yourself with caring about.

The ball started off well enough. You knew you couldn't immediately disappear into the shadows; you owed both your father and brother a dance to start the evening, as was tradition for the royal balls in your country.

The three of you walked out into the ballroom together. Your father went first, then you and your brother in succession.

The room was lavish, as it often was whenever such events were hosted in your kingdom. Multiple chandeliers holding long wax candles filled the ceiling, and the light reflecting off the gems on your gown made you shine beautifully. A golden hue encapsulates the entire room, casting wispy shadows and twinkling shapes on the hardwood floor. Your family emblem was painted in stark white chalk at the center of it. Various flowers from the royal gardens hung in sconces around the perimeter of the room, with vines filling out the empty space in between. Fine fabric in your kingdom's colors was draped over the windows in high arch shapes.

Scanning the room, you look for where to make your grand escape. After a few dances and perhaps some intermingling at the refreshments table, you'd be skittering along the ballroom walls, hiding in the shadows, before making your exit.

There was still a short amount of time before the guests started to file in, so after the final touches were made to the decorations, you took your place on the dais next to your family, with your father in the center and your brother to your right.

The royal knights line up in front of the small stage, and though Clive is always the pinnacle of orderliness while on duty—excellent posture and great form—you swear that you catch his eye as he files inside the room. He's not so careless as to let his emotions wear on his face while in the presence of others, especially your father and the Lord Commander, but you're certain that the slightest tinge of pink floods his cheeks at the sight of you.

As the knights continue to get into position, your gaze falls upon Clive's shaggy hair, reminiscing about how the thick yet soft tendrils felt between the length of your fingers as he made his presence known between your legs moons prior.

Your father's voice reels you back from your fantasies as you clear your throat slightly and hope that the bright lights of the chandelier won't give way to your previous thoughts.

Nobles from all across the realm begin to file in and make their greetings, some familiar and some new. A part of you is surprised that all these people traveled from their home countries just to visit your brother, but you supposed that none of the nations wanted bad blood between your kingdom and theirs.

After all the introductions were made, your father began his long-winded speech about your brother, the future of the country, and how proud he is of how far his children have come. The smile plastered on your face feels stiff, and your thighs feel as though they're about to collapse from the amount of curtsying you've been forced to do.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you're granted some relief from the spotlight while the band sets up on the stage where you and your family previously resided.

You make your way over to the refreshment table, nodding and curtseying to the fellow noble ladies as you make your way over to procure yourself a glass of iced lemonade.

It was not even three seconds later that your father was introducing you to some nobleman.

"Dearest daughter," he starts. You take a deep breath and settle your princessly smile on your face once more before turning around.

"I'd be pleased to introduce you to the Archduke of Rosaria and his mother." You gaze upon the both of them; this is the first meeting you've had with the current Archduke of Rosaria. You met the previous archduke, Elwin, when you were still of tender age, before your brother was born. You scantly recall the details of the meeting, only that he gifted both you and your mother bouquets of Rosarian wildflowers and that he had a penchant for making you laugh (as later on confirmed by your mother).

It's clear, though, that the man standing before you bears no resemblance to his father, sharing the same icy eyes and pale hair as his mother.

"His Imperial and Royal Highness, Joshua, the Archduke of Rosaria, and her Imperial and Royal Highness, Annabella, the Dowager Archduchess of Rosaria," your father continues, giving you room to make your formal introductions.

"It is an honor, your Highness," you state, giving a swift curtsey to the both of them, and although Annabella merely nods to you in acknowledgment, her son gives a full bow in return.

"Come now, Joshua. There's no need for that," she chastises, as if her son were still a child and not a grown man.

"But mother, how could I not marvel at the beauty bestowed upon me?" He responds in full. At your astonishment at his bold declaration, he takes your gloved hand into his own and presses a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Might I say that your gown looks exquisite tonight, my lady? You shine bright like a diamond." Both you and the Dowager Archduchess share a similar look of shock on your faces, and even though you can't see your father's expression from behind you, you're sure that he mirrors both of yours.

Heat floods your face as your eyes meet Joshua's, then his mother's, and although their eyes bear the same shade of cerulean, her gaze pierces through you like daggers of ice, whereas the strawberry blonde beside her carries a lot more warmth.

Time stands still, and you wonder if such flirtations were a product of his father, seeing as his mother held very little kindness or regard in her heart.

You feel your father's hands on your shoulders and realize you've spent the last minute or so gawking at Joshua and his display.

"Please forgive my daughter; she isn't used to such blatant declarations of affection from esteemed gentlemen." It's at your father's statement that your brain kicks back into gear. Your hand is withdrawn, and an immediate curtsey follows in its place.

"My sincerest apologies, Your Highness." As you raise your head, your eyes meet Clive's just across the way from behind Joshua, but he's quick to refocus and march forward in front of him.

"No apology is necessary," the Archduke smiles, "though if you truly wish to win my forgiveness, you'll allow me your hand in a dance."

Before you even get the chance to respond, Annabella interrupts, "Joshua, you mustn't. Think of your health."

"Mother," a domineering smile plasters itself on Joshua's face, "certainly I have enough energy to last me at least one dance with the most elegant princess in all of Valisthea."

Annabella sends another harsh glance toward her son before muttering, "Of course," and  taking her leave elsewhere.

Joshua heaves a heavy sigh before extending his hand, silently asking for your dance card. You raise your wrist and allow him to pencil himself in before he gives one final bow, and retreats toward his inconsolable mother.

Your father exhales the breath you were unaware he was holding when the band gets in position for their first song. Both you and your father take place in the center of the ballroom as the first dance of the evening.

You couldn't help but notice as you scanned the faces in the surrounding audience that someone was missing. As the starting notes boomed from the instruments, you whisper to your father, "Papa, where's Dion?"

Prince Dion, next in line to be the Emperor of Sanbreque, had grown to be one of your close friends—well, as close of a friend as a princess could have when confined to castle walls for most of her life. You were close in age, and given that there weren't as many young heirs throughout the realm at the time of your childhood, it was only natural that the two of you would become fast friends.

Rumors quickly spread that you and Dion would become betrothed when you were older, securing an indisputable alliance between both nations, but as the years trickled on and both of you came of age, no such proposals were made. After he became leader of the dragoons, it was apparent that one such proposal would never come, but you weren't deterred; if anything, you were relieved.

You held love for Dion in your heart; you'd known each other since you were children, but the love you held wasn't the type of love fostered between two individuals who were passionate about each other romantically.

Your father's face held a quick grimace before lowering his voice as the two of you prepared to take your first steps in tune together. "Dion is busy preparing for a war effort; he sends his regards."

"What?" You mutter, trying to keep the look of shock from developing on your face.

Though you and Dion couldn't frequently meet in person, the two of you penned missives back and forth. In none of your most recent correspondence with each other, had he mentioned anything in regards to an oncoming war.

Your father wasn't a gossip, but being the ruler of an entire kingdom, one must be well knowledgeable about the state of other nations.

He lowers his voice even further: "It seems that the King of Waloed is insistent on reclaiming his territory from Sanbreque."

"Dion never mentioned anything of the sort in his letters."

Your father gives you a lopsided smile in an attempt to reassure you: "He probably didn't want to worry you unnecessarily, especially with the ball coming up."

Your father was more than likely correct in his assumptions, but you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach.

"I'm sure Dion will be alright," he adds, brushing his thumb over your hand after noticing the newfound stiffness in your movements.

You nod. Dion was and is strong; he turned the tides for Sanbreque in battle many a time before. This was a fact, but something about him having to go against Waloed's army shakes you to your core.

Your father and the king of Waloed, Barnabas Tharmr, were amiable allies for the most part, but you've heard stories, many in particular when he visited your kingdom after the death of your mother. You were still young then, so you couldn't quite grasp the weight and meaning of the whispers your handmaidens had shared in secrecy upon his arrival.

He visited annually for some years after his initial visit before they died down altogether, though you could never ascertain what the meetings were for besides the first one.

Barnabas was kind enough, as one of his nature could be on his trip, but you could never help the feeling that something more sinister lingered beneath the surface when your young eyes met his.

You did your best to quell the unease in your heart and continued to dance with your father. Although he had gotten up there in years, he still moved swiftly across the ballroom floor, even if you had to slow your steps a bit.

It seemed that just as soon as the dance with your father began, it was over, and you were anxiously anticipating the next dance with your brother. You go hand in hand with him while the band begins to play.

"So, Crown Prince," you begin, filling the air in an attempt to quell your nerves. "Future heir to the throne, how does it feel to be Papa's favorite?" You smile, albeit teasingly.

"Surely you jest, dear sister. For without you, I'd be hopeless."

"Now who's jesting?" Your grin graces your face once more as the two of you glide across the ballroom before a somber expression soon replaces your previous jubilant one. "It pains me to think that this ball may be the last time we see each other like this."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Look at all the people here," you whisper to him, "surely you don't think Father is just merely celebrating your birthday. You're twenty-one years of age now, dear brother; officially legal to be wed."

"You don't truly think he'd see to it that I'd be married right away, do you?

You both twirl around, and your father comes into view, standing next to the royal guard.

"Maybe not right away, but you know how he is. Ever since Mama died, all he's wanted is to see our futures secured, and in your case, our bloodline. If that means marrying us off early, then so be it, I suppose. At least you have the luxury of choices in who you'll marry."

"Then how come you weren't married off as soon as you came of age?"

"Because you still needed me. You had no mother to set an example, so I needed to be in your life to show you how proper noble ladies should act," you snirk as he rolls his eyes. "If I'm speaking honestly, I feel the answer is more sentimental than logical. I don't think Father wanted to lose another member of our family before we were both of breeding age."

"I suppose you're right. It's more than what most fathers would do. Now that I'm able to be wed, do you suppose that'll hasten his plans for your marriage?"

You sigh, the thought has lingered in the back of your mind since your brother grew out of being a child. "I'm not sure, but who knows?"

"Don't look so down," he smirks. "If you reach spinsterdom, you'll always have a place here with me."

You smile kindly. "Thank you."

As the instruments die down, signaling the dance coming to a close, you once again find yourself on the outskirts of the ballroom. You snag a look at your dance card to check where Joshua has penciled himself in. A waltz, of course. He'd undoubtedly use this opportunity of close quarters to flirt with you some more.

His name was listed far enough down the line that you could make a break for the storeroom now, and...

"Your Royal Highness!"

The next hour and a half was filled with nothing but dancing, with only a few minutes of rest provided in between.

You had been skirting along the edges of the ballroom when you just so happened to catch the eyes of an old presiding duke who resides in your kingdom, and it was all downhill from there.

What was supposed to have been a "romantic" evening was turning into a disaster. At every turn, you were swept into the arms of yet another elderly gentleman looking for a younger and more agreeable wife.

As you twirled and spun around the hardwood flooring, you were afforded only mere glances at your lover from afar. Every time you laid your eyes on him, he always appeared to be preoccupied with something else. Not that any of your concurrent dance partners would've noticed your wandering eye, as theirs were doing much of the same.

If there was one thing that all these men had in common, it was the ogling. Some of them "tried" to be more polite about it than others, going for glances at your cleavage in between the minimal required time they had to actually look you in the eye instead of blatantly staring at your chest the whole time.

It was clear, though, that all of them were oblivious to just how obvious they were being with their gaping looks, not realizing that you could tell when people were talking to your chest instead of your face.

Though you're certain that a drink limit was set for this ball, it was becoming quite clear that a majority of the "gentlemen" had imbibed to their pleasure, the smell of port lingering on their breath whenever they'd lean in close. 

After a while, you had managed to escape all your suitors and camouflage yourself in a nearby group of gossiping noble ladies, the majority of them being mothers, who were well-equipped with an onslaught of questions about your brother and the future of the kingdom.

After quelling their curiosity, you nestled yourself in a corner, facing the wall of the ballroom, and let out an exasperated sigh, taking a few moments to collect yourself.

You were beyond frustrated, both sexually and mentally. All you desired was to climb between the sheets with your lover and have him pleasure your body until your thoughts were reduced to a mindless fog. To say you were having intense urges was an understatement.

It'd be easier to deal with if Clive wasn't a member of staff that you saw often, like a cook or a coachman, but being your sworn shield, he was in your presence a majority of the time. So close, yet so far.

His touch was often the source of your fantasies at night. Your mind wanders, flitting between thoughts of his scruff against your neck, his breath on your skin, and how his strong hands would grip your body.

You were never able to help but wonder what your first time together would be like. What does he look like when he comes? What does he sound like? Does he moan, grunt, or whimper? Would he be gentle with you? Similar to how he grasps your hand when helping you step down from a carriage, slow, languid thrusts into your heat as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, both of your bodies clinging onto each other for purchase. Or would he be rough? Similar to how he fights: powerful, unrelenting thrusts into your cunt, overwhelming as he batters into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You were often unable to decide which scenario you liked better as you reached your climax, whispering his name as you came down.

You know you shouldn't have such intense lust for someone who's working in your service, but knowing that just excites you more.

"Princess!"

You release another deep exhale as you turn around. You're really starting to get irritated at the word "princess."

"Your Highness!" you exclaim with a half gasp. Apparently, Joshua was set on keeping his promise of a dance.

"My sincerest apologies," you curtsey.

He gives a dismissive wave of his hand before extending it toward you. "You owe me no such things, my lady. Are you still willing to accept my dance proposal?"

"Of course, Your Highness," you place your gloved hand in his as he walks you to the dance floor, and you can't help the smile that rises on your face as you take your place together.

"I know it's against propriety for you to deny me a dance, but I'm not so cruel to force a lady when she doesn't want to."

"It's a pleasure, Your Highness. I assure you. You're perhaps the most polite man I've danced with thus far, besides my father and brother, of course."

His hand makes its way to the small of your back as more couples fall in toe behind you and the Archduke. Your conversation lulls until the music picks up, your hand delicately resting on his shoulder.

"Although I am most disappointed to hear that these gentlemen would treat a beautiful woman such as yourself with little regard, I can't deny that I'm pleased to be the only one who's seemed to win your affections."

This man.

As much as you try not to fawn over the attention, his words are like silk in your ears, as if they're the most natural sound you've ever heard.

It doesn't register that you're smiling so brightly until he comments on it: "You have one of the most radiant smiles, my lady."

You shake your head from side to side as if trying to regain your composure. Despite all the time you shared with Clive over a month ago, you weren't used to such blatant flirtations in front of so many people at once. Even if they couldn't hear your conversation, the smiles on both your faces single you out from the other couples on the floor. It leaves you feeling exposed, as if a bright light has been shone on both of you.

"Forgive me if I speak out of line, Your Highness," you inhale, "but where on Valisthea did you learn to become so charming?"

He offers a chuckle and a swoop of his strawberry-blonde hair. "I'm quite a fan of the written word. It was often one of the few escapes I truly had as a child, so I may have picked up a few techniques after reading a romance or two."

"Perhaps you could lend your novels to some of the other gentlemen here so they can learn how to properly woo a lady."

"And risk losing being the sole recipient of your affections?"

"Feeling insecure over your abilities?" You cock your head to the side, a small smirk appearing on your lips.

Joshua ponders the question for a moment, putting on a good face of deep thought as if he's truly rolling the question around in his head before responding, "More so like...I don't want to give the poor blokes false hope when I'm sure to come out on top anyway."

"It seems that you're very confident indeed."

The two of you chuckle as he twirls you around, only to be met with the scorn of Annabella's icy gaze after locking eyes with her from the other side of the ballroom. The joy in your expression quickly dies off, and the figurative noose tightens itself around your neck, suffocating the life from your lungs.

With your newfound stillness, Joshua has to guide you back into his arms. He looks off in the direction of your eye line and sighs before speaking once more, "I apologize on behalf of my mother."

"You needn't do so for my sake," you're quick to respond, attempting to reassure him that you were unaffected by Annabella's glare.

"Do you think I can't sense the dread in your eyes?" He smirks, and you offer a strained half-laugh in response while waiting for him to continue.

"I was frequently ill as a child, thus it was very rare to step foot outside the archduchy," he clears his throat, "after my father had passed, it seems that her protective nature only grew."

"I'm sorry about the loss of your father. I've only met him a handful of times, but he was always very kind. My mother once told me that I frequently laughed in his presence." You understood Joshua's pain well, having lost your mother during the birth of your brother years before the former Archduke passed. 

A solemn look graces his features before he relaxes once more. "He was a good man, from what I can recall from my memories of him," he pauses, "I can only hope that I can be half the man he was when it comes to ruling the archduchy."

You take a moment to mull over your words before voicing them. "It seems like you've managed to capture his kind and generous spirit. I'm sure you're already well on your way to living up to his name."

"You're very kind," he nods, and a genuine smile fixes itself on his face, unlike the charming one he's graced you with before.

The music slows to a stop, indicating the end of the waltz, and Joshua walks you back to the fray of the ballroom as slowly as possible. "Perhaps this is inappropriate to say given the present company, but I'd love to call upon you some time."

A part of you is surprised, not expecting a courting proposal from someone you could actually tolerate. Being thoroughly charmed, you agree.

"There's a jousting tournament within the next fortnight. It's always an invigorating time. You should attend if you're able."

He takes your gloved hand in his, raising it until your knuckles graze his lips. "I'd be most delighted to attend. Until then, my lady." He releases your hand and turns off in the direction of his mother, who looks all too unhappy with him, and you, by extension.

You sigh, ready to be completely done with the evening. You move toward your father, ready to meander around where he sits near the dais, hoping that any lingering suitors would see him situated nearby and turn the other direction.

Once you've raised your head and made your way toward your father, Clive comes into view. He's moving toward you at a fast pace, and before you can stop yourself, your feet turn to guide you in his direction instead. Momentarily forgetting your place, you call out his name, though it's difficult to hear over the chatter of the ballroom.

At the same time, two overlapping voices call out to you. One is Clive's; the sound of his voice is more familiar to you, but there's another that cuts through the air.

A gruff "princess" is all you're afforded in terms of a greeting.

Both you and Clive come to a halt and turn in the direction of the unknown voice.

The man has a familiar face, though you can't exactly place from where you know him. He's around your father's age, with wrinkles lining his eyes and forehead as well as dashes of grey in his facial hair, so you conclude that your father must be how you've made his acquaintance before.

The man is decently handsome, more so than the other creeps you've had the displeasure of dancing with. He has stark eyes, almost crystalline in nature, which are a sharp contrast to his raven-colored hair.

These traits prove to be startlingly similar to those of your current lover, but you decide it's best to dissect that later.

Clive is the one who breaks the silence. "My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty."

Your majesty?

You offer the man a curtsey in apology while Clive bows, but the stranger pays you no mind, choosing to focus on the knight instead. 

"Is something the matter?" Though it's merely a question, his voice carries a wealth of command behind it.

"Nothing that can't wait," Clive begins, his eyes flitting between you and the unknown—at least unknown to you. "Please pardon my intrusion." He bows to the both of you before stalking off toward your father.

You suppose you'll be informed later if it's truly so important.

The silence fills between you and the man again before he asks, "May I have this dance?" His mouth quirks up in a smirk.

“It's only a country dance; nothing too intimate,” you think to yourself.

If you were being honest, the last thing you wanted to do was begrudgingly endure a dance with this gentleman after having more than your fair share of imbeciles indulge themselves in your assets, but propriety comes first. So instead of telling this man to kindly fuck off, you put on your best princessly smile and place your hand in his.

"Of course," you reply, and he leads you toward the floor.

You stand next to each other in between other couples before the band begins to pick up once again. The melody starts slow enough, so you take this time to ask the man exactly who he is, keeping your tone light and polite.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty; it seems that I remember the face but not the name.”

He must've made his entrance later on in the evening after the formal introductions, because you certainly would've remembered him during the greetings.

He offers a light chuckle before muttering, "Barnabas, King of Waloed."

King of Waloed. The very same king who's planning to go toe to toe with one of your closest confidants. He's aged quite a bit in the fifteen-odd years it's been since you've seen him last; it's no wonder you didn't recognize him. 

Your body language gives you away despite your best efforts, and his laugh pierces through you. "It seems my reputation proceeds me."

The disdain is thinly veiled in your voice. "Don't you have a battle to prepare for?" you grit, and he laughs again as if the prospect were beneath him.

"I'm not worried," is all he offers in response. His presence must've been what Clive was trying to warn you about.

You take a deep breath, seeing it best not to stir anything up in the public eye.

You get a better look at him when the succession of people in the line with you turns around. He certainly doesn't dress like a king—definitely not one like your father. There are no bells and whistles to his outfit, no ornate capes lined with exotic furs, or gilded crowns.

If anything, it seemed like he'd dressed down for this event, and you can't tell what pisses you off more: his pompous attitude toward heading into battle that may surely send Dion to an all too early grave or his nonchalance in showing up to a royal ball in only a blue tunic and black leathers. It felt like a jab. Though his pompousness in battle may be deserved, this blatant display of disrespect was not.

He gave the impression of a venomous snake, intriguing to look at but ultimately best viewed from a faraway distance.

It takes everything in you not to grind your teeth together and overemphasize the stiffness in your movements.

As if sensing your irritation with him, Barnabas probes, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

No, you're quite simply NOT!

"I've gotten to the age where these sorts of gatherings lose their luster."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. As you got older and balls became more about finding matches, you started to dread them. You were hoping that it being your brother's birthday would be enough to spare you from marriage prospects, but alas, you were clearly wrong.

"A shame," he mutters, his words lacking enthusiasm.

The group moves along to the beat of the tune when Clive comes into your view, talking to your father.

"Who's that brooding fellow you're staring at?" Barnabas asks, trying to cut off whatever is taking your attention away from him.

The two of you move in succession toward the back of the group when it registers just how much you've been gawking at Clive in Barnabas' presence.

"Him? He's my first shield," you answer nonchalantly, letting no indication of fondness slip into your voice.

Barnabas snickers, "I had no idea noble ladies were so heavily invested in the lives of their shields."

"I know naught of what you mean," you scoff, acting like the princess you are.

His voice rises in volume as he declares, "Why don't you let a real man take care of you?"

Heat floods your body at his words, and you do little to hide your disgust.

"Excuse me?"

"He's nothing but filth," he continues to say, and the rage inside you reaches a boiling point.

"You speak of him as if he's nothing but a lowly street rat."

"He might as well be, compared to us. You could have an entire kingdom of knights protecting you as well as one of the most powerful men in the realm, instead of just one lowly feeble knight."

"Are you always so incorrigible toward those who are beneath you? It's a miracle that your kingdom still stands."

He laughs out loud, beside himself. You were sure he'd have your head. Instead, his volume just gets louder, so those dancing alongside you can hear.

"I've heard rumors that your precious first shield is actually a royal bastard, but from whom he's a descendant, I've no idea. A man of his standing is simply not fit to be in the position of protecting a princess. I'm just looking out for you."

If you were feeling rage before, now you're furious. As much as the people in your dance group tried to be respectful, heads couldn't help but turn at Barnabas' accusations.

Whether Clive being a bastard was true or not didn't matter; you refused for someone who valiantly defended your life to be made a mockery of over such trivial matters in your eyes.

"I was the one who held the sword that knighted Clive!" You start off loud, similar to him, but your voice gets lower as you draw near.

"My father gave him a title under his tutelage. Clive's been protecting me since I was the tender age of twelve years old and is the only man I'd trust with my life outside of my father and brother."

There's a pause before you continue.

"If you wish to win my favor, it'd be wise to watch what you say in regards to him," you grit.

You're not sure when the rest of the group stopped dancing alongside you, but by the time you realize it, all their eyes are on you. Though the people outside of the circle couldn't hear your conversation, the crowd caused those on the fray of the ballroom to turn their attention toward you.

Barnabas only snirks, scanning your face plainly when you turn back to face him. Your glare is prominent as he escorts you back off the dance floor once  the music dies down.

He speaks in a low voice, right in your ear, "You're a feisty one, but don't worry, I enjoy a challenge." He smiles menacingly before releasing you.

All the wandering heads seem to return to their original activities upon the group's dispersal. You don't want to cause any more disturbance, something you're sure you'll get a lecture for later on, so you give a curtsey to Barnabas, lowering your head.

"I shall bid you adieu, Your Majesty." The words are choked out, and not a moment later you're turning on your heels and making your exit out of the ballroom.

Which is how you ended up in an old store room, with nothing but your various frustrations and the ebbs n flows of silence to keep you company.

You're not sure how long you've been sitting there, but by the time you hear the door open, you're convinced that it was a servant sent to escort you back to the ballroom, but instead, it's Clive.

There's no hesitation in his movements as he steps toward you, catching your face in his gloved hands as he reads your expression.

"Are you alright?" He asks. Even if there's no threat of physical danger, that doesn't mean emotional scars weren't left after your interaction with the king.

"I tried to warn you...I tried to-"

You cut him off, "I'm okay, Clive. A little embarrassed, but it's nothing I couldn't handle." You smiled softly at him, which he returned in full.

"What were you two talking about?"

Warmth flows throughout your body once more, and you don't want to admit that the cause of the outburst you had was because of him, so you act nonchalant.

"Nothing of importance."

He raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe what you're saying at all, but he doesn't press you on it, not now at least, and you won't give him the chance to when you ask, "Jealous?"

He smirks, shaking his head back and forth slightly. "Do you enjoy tormenting me, my lady?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Do you enjoy watching my torment? Does it give you pleasure?"

"I'm afraid I know naught of what you mean. Have you perhaps forgotten your place, knight?" You put extra emphasis on the word as you toss a smirk his way.

He backs up from where you're sitting on the barrel. "All those men, dancing with you, ogling you. All the while, I'm forced to stand by and watch them all make a pass at you."

You offer a faux pout. "Aw, come on. They're not all bad."

"Enough of them are."

"Are you truly so jealous of those who're above your peerage?" You can't help but snirk in amusement. This was the first time you'd seen him act like this.

"Yes, no!" He takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts: "The Archduke and that bastard king."

Your eyebrows rise at his declaration. "You hate them so much that you've forgone proper titles?"

He rolls his eyes at your statement, and you're unable to hold back your giggles. You hop off the barrel and take his face into your hands.

"There is absolutely no affection for that king in my heart, I assure you. As for the Archduke, though he is roguishly charming, I happen to prefer meaner mugs to delicate pretty features like his," you move to press a kiss to his cheek.

His head hangs low in shame. "I cannot deny that jealousy and resentment burn in my heart at the thought of you with another."

"Believe me," you say, stroking his cheek, "I'd much rather spend my time with you than with stiff men who smell of port. I've been looking for an escape practically all evening.“

"They don’t deserve you at all, my lady. Those men don’t deserve to know the softness of your skin,” he lowers his mouth to place delicate kisses on your neck, then moves toward the exposed flesh of your bosom above your gown.

"Clive," you gasp, tangling your fingers in his thick locks.

“They don't deserve to know the sweetness in your voice when you cry out in pleasure," he whispers, pulling away from your skin to trace his thumb along the frame of your face.

“I’ve missed you," he states.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He pulls you into him for a kiss, one full of hunger and desperation, eager to taste each other once more. The kiss is sticky; the clear gloss painted on your lips transfers onto his. He’s licking into your mouth as your lips brush against each other, tongues wrestling each other for dominance.

You're moved backward until you're pressed against the storeroom wall. Clive reaches down, grazing your bum with his palms over the fabric of your skirts before lifting your legs in the air. The back wall holds you steady as he wraps your legs around his waist.

Desperate to get close to him once more, not even wanting to separate for a second, you pull him back into you and kiss him fervently, not wanting to be parted from each other. He angles his hips toward you, teasingly grinding himself into your heat, causing you to whine into the kiss.

“Looks like you did miss me, hm?” He separates from your lips, moving to kiss down your neck once more.

“Let me make it up to you for being so neglectful of your needs.” He continues kissing down your neck, moving over to your décolleté, and then finally down the swell of your breasts.

“Founder, how I wish I could mark these tits,” he murmurs, dropping your legs back down onto the floor so that he can skim your torso and squeeze at your chest through the fabric of your gown.

“You have an intense infatuation with my breasts, don't you?” You giggle, laughing at his awestruck countenance while he continues to knead the fat in his hands.

“You've no idea." He smirks at you, then suddenly kneels before you.

“What are you doing?” You pet his hair softly as he looks up at you.

“I’m just being a good knight, my lady. On my knees for you, like I should be.”

"Oh, really now?"

"Mhm," he mumbles, taking your gloved hand in his. “I truly did miss you, and I plan on showing you just how much.” He reaches towards the hem of your gown, bunching it up over your navel.

"If you'd be so kind as to help hold up your skirts, my lady."

"I suppose I should be so kind." You lift the hem of your dress over your hips as Clive places your leg over his shoulder.

“Now this is how I shall swear fealty to you,” he leans towards your bare mound, planting a few kisses upon your mons before blowing cool air onto your cunt.

“I’ve missed your taste. I dreamt about it for so many nights." His thumbs trace slow circles into the skin near your pelvis as he continues teasing. He trails his tongue where your thigh meets the stark white stocking covering the majority of your leg.

"Fuck." He leans his face into your pussy once more, inhaling the rich scent before finally dipping his tongue into your wetness. He groans into your cunt.

Holding up the skirts of your gown the best you can in one hand, you snake the other into his shaggy locks, taking hold of his roots. Your chest heaves in anticipation.

“Please, please, Clive, don’t tease me," you whine, "it’s been too long.”

“Aw, did my sweet princess miss me?” He goads, sticking his tongue in your entrance and greedily sucking up your arousal on his wet muscle.

“Did her princess pussy miss how good I made her feel?” He kisses up the seam of your cunt until he reaches your clit.

"Did she miss how I made love to her with my mouth?” He spits on your pussy, the glob of saliva sticking to the hairs that cover your mound, some of it dripping to the ground.

He's quick to remove his gloves, tossing them aside before he takes his thumbs and spreads your folds apart, watching as your quivering hole twitches in anticipation.

“She must have missed me, with how much she’s leaking just for me."

All you're able to do is bite your lip and nod, feeling embarrassed as his words generate heat in both your cheeks and core.

He plugs your warm hole with his tongue, not wanting a single morsel of your essence to be wasted.

“It’s alright, princess; I’m right here.” He speaks directly into your cunt, looking at you with a deeply enamored gaze.

"I’ve missed her too, you know," he says, sliding his tongue all around your sopping pussy.

“I’ve missed her wetness, her sweetness, and her warmth. I missed how she clenched around me as I gave her pleasure," he groans.

Making his way to your clit, he gives it sweet kisses and drags the length of his tongue along the entirety of the bundle of nerves before pulling it into his mouth. His teeth graze the nub, causing your hips to jump forward, pressing more of yourself into his face.

Your fingers curl into his shaggy locks, struggling to keep your dress in your hold as you lose yourself in the feeling of pleasure, his pretty face proving to be useful for more than just gazing upon.

His teeth nip at your inner thigh, “getting greedy now, aren’t we princess?” He traces the divots of your thighs with his fingers, enjoying the feeling of your skin.

You don’t say anything, choosing to instead respond with an angry huff and pull his face back into your cunt by his hair.

“Point taken,” he smirks against you before pulling your clit back into his mouth again.

He moves his hand from your thigh and down to your pussy, sliding his middle finger back and forth between your folds, coating it in your slick. He slips to your entrance, circling the quivering hole and waiting, drawing out a whine from you.

“Please,” you exhale, your head rolling back against the wall, desperate to have him deep inside you. Though you’d much prefer squeezing down on his cock, that’d have to wait for another day.

He chuckles, the vibration from his voice moving through you, causing you to keel over slightly. Clive breeches your warm hole, slowly, letting you enjoy the feeling of his thick finger stretching you out.

“Fuck yes,” you whimper.

“That’s it, princess; you’re so wound up. Just take what you need," he coos, murmuring against you, his breath hot on your skin.

He curls his finger into you, the pad of his digit hitting the spongey spot along your walls.

“Looking for another audience? Was the poor maid not enough the first time?” He’s smirking against you now as he begins to pump his finger in and out of your cunt.

“What if your father were to catch you with me, hm? How do you think he’d react to his little girl stuffing her cunt in the face of someone he deigned worthy enough to protect her?"

Your breath is ragged, unable to form words due to the sound of his voice, deep and gravelly as he spews more filth at you.

“Keep moaning like that, and we’ll soon know the answer yet.”

He moves to your clit once more, slurping and sucking at your swollen pussy, desperate to push you over the edge. He fucks his finger into you at a rapid pace now, and his tongue is quick to catch whatever dribbles out onto his fingers, dining on your essence like it’s the finest ambrosia known to man, and to him, it might as well be.

Your head is lulled back against the wall as heat creeps onto your face and into your core. You don’t dare look down at Clive, who's nestling his face further in the hair that covers your cunt, knowing that you’ll surely come undone at the sight.

After the night you’ve had, you more than deserve this a thousand times over, and if it were up to him, he would happily oblige in all your desires.

The tips of your fingers cinch into his scalp, tugging him impossibly closer to your core, your orgasm building rapidly.

Clive pulls no punches, suctioning his lips around your clit and sucking it like a piece of hard candy. His index finger has joined the middle digit, fucking in and out of your cunt.

With practiced strokes, he contorts his fingers until your climax is upon you. Your lips part with a silent scream as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

Your thighs shake as they try to close around his head, and his steady palms hold them apart as he removes his fingers from your pussy. Every drop of arousal that leaks from your womanhood is lapped up by his tongue til your hands are pushing his face away.

Clive gets the hint, removing your thigh from his shoulder and setting it back down on the floor. You attempt to move away from the wall, but he holds you in position until the jitter in your leg ceases.

He wipes the remnants of your spend from his face onto your inner thighs, and the roughness of his facial hair sends a shiver up your spine.

Once you've settled, he moves to help with fixing the skirts of your gown.

"Do you like it?" You smile brightly. "I wore it with you in mind."

You twirl slowly, your dress billowing slightly, wanting to show off all the detailing. His face warms at the gesture, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I think lavender may be my new favorite color."

You allow yourself a moment to indulge in the blissful feeling before Clive speaks up once more.

"We should get moving. The break for supper will be happening soon, and we don't want any whispers of our whereabouts if we're not in attendance."

He moves to make a break for the storeroom door when you grab his forearm.

"Surely you're not going to go out there with your... predisposition," you flit your eyes down to the front of his trousers, where a prominent erection has made itself known.

"I'll take care of it myself, later."

"Let me help you..." There wasn't much time for you to return the favor with your mouth, and any other activities would leave you disheveled in a way that everyone would know of what happened between the two of you, but you could provide relief with your hand.

Despite the time restraint, you wanted to tease Clive a little, putting the tips of your silk gloves into your mouth and pulling them off of each hand slowly with your teeth before setting them aside nearby, so as to not be sullied with bodily fluids.

You wanted to get a good look at what you'd be working with, so you sink to your knees and pull his trousers down to his thighs. You give him a wide-eyed expression as the appendage bobs free, hitting his stomach gently.

His cock looked a lot different than those pictured in the medical texts that you've snuck from the royal library. He had extra skin and hair and garnered a much bigger girth as well.  

As tempted as you are to swallow the whole of him into your mouth, you settle for a simple kiss right on the tip, and his cock twitches back at you cutely in appreciation.

You rise to your feet once more with his aid and grasp him in your hand. His fingers are quick to cover your own, the size of them dwarfing yours.

"Are you positive that you want to go through with this? I truly don't mind taking care of myself," he asks.

"And not return the favor?" You chuckle. "I promise, I am doing this out of my own desire." You move to the column of his throat, placing soft and delicate kisses on the skin before moving toward the junction of his jaw.

"Now just relax," you coo, running your fingers delicately up and down his shaft.

He's so pent-up that it won't take long for him to climax, but you do your best to be as teasing as possible. His head lulls back as muffled sounds are delivered from his throat, and you can't help but admire how pretty he looks like this.

Not only does he have an impressive amount of girth, but his length is nothing to scoff at either, with a protruding vein running along the underside of him. The sheer size of him fills up your entire palm as you continue to pump slowly, the softness of your skin akin to silk upon his cock.

"So tell me, Clive, how many nights have you been fucking your fist to the thought of me?" You whisper in his ear, and his eyes shoot wide open as he takes in a gulp of air.

His hips buck lightly against you in response, giving you all the permission you need to continue your questioning.

"Come on, tell me. It can't be that bad." Your kisses continue on his neck as his hips continue to rock.

He takes in another gulp of air before answering.

"E-every night.”

"Every night? How cute," you tease, speeding up your movements on his cock. He bites his lip in an attempt to hide his noises while the rhythm of his hips meets your hand every time.

"I touch myself thinking of you too. Except my fingers are nowhere near as filling as yours," you chuckle to yourself as he groans out.

"Founder, above."

His cock is fully slick now, and at any moment, he looks like he's ready to burst, taking to wrapping his fist around yours and creating a vice-like grip with your fingers. All his movements are hurried and rushed as he chases his release.

For the final blow, you mutter to him, "Fuck my fist like you would fuck my pussy."

Clive full body shudders, tightening his grip once more before thrusting wildly. It's only a few short moments later that he's removing your hand from himself and laying his seed on the floor below, groaning your name in the process.

Afterward, the two of you take a few moments to collect yourselves and tidy your appearance. Old rags were used to wipe off the remnants of Clive from the floor, and you were just about to make your exit when the melody from one of your favorite songs played through the door.

"Clive, may I have this dance?" You extend your hand toward him, giggling to yourself.

From looking at your dance card earlier, this song was the second-to-last song to be played before the break for supper.

"And don't give me the excuse of not having enough time. We'll make it back to the ballroom before everyone's filed out for the evening."

"Even if that is true, my lady, I assure you that I know nothing of ballroom dancing."

"Did I ask you if you knew how?"

There's a momentary pause, one that he fills with a shake of his head. You nod in return.

"No, I did not. I simply asked you to dance with me. I'd still wish to so even if you had two left feet."

There's another pause as you extend your hand toward him again.

"I even saved you a spot on my dance card," you smile, shaking the parchment in front of his face, where the line for this dance is indeed left blank.

In his indecisiveness, you take his hand in your own and press yourselves close together.

"It's just you and me," you whisper, resting your head against his frame, the sound of the music filling the silence. His opposite hand moves to the small of your back, and the two of you end the evening in each other's arms, swaying to the sound of muffled music. 

[dazedpill]

BEFORE WE START

Minors/ageless blogs/terfs do not interact.

I am a man with horny thoughts and tits who has never actually fucked irl. I proudly represent loserboy failures everywhere. Call me Clive, I have other names but Clive is the one for here.

Again, minors, leave.

WHAT I LIKE

Puppyplay, biting, bruising, overstim, praise, degrading, playing with hair, fucking as friends, I'll think of more later. Being called a good boy, that I sound pretty. BDSM test results 💻

> fantasies is my tag for all my own, well, fantasies and writing

Personal favorite fantasies, fucking another virgin tboy, teaching one how to give head, teasing and touching just enough to make someone needy.

WHAT I PERSONALLY DON'T LIKE

Detrans, faux/incest, ageplay, choking (more specifically being choked,) being misgendered, piss/scat.

BODY TERMS

Guycunt, man tits, chest, hole, tdick

OTHER

Feel free to poke around my inbox. I don't regularly answer dm's and prefer asks, but a hello is fine.

I have a Cashapp account if you enjoy my blog enough or want to request writing. No pressure to chip in though my sweethearts.

[ficsforgaza]

for June 23 to June 29

Hi all—please check out this week’s Creator Spotlight! For anyone who doesn't know what this is: every week we highlight one creator with WIPs to sponsor, one creator with open requests, and one fundraiser that is in desperate need of funding. If this is your first time seeing our blog, welcome! Please check out our pinned post for more information about what we are doing to help the people of Gaza!

˗ˏˋ SPONSOR A WIP SPOTLIGHT ˎˊ˗

↳ @pinkkittysaw / Link to all WIPs

Angel writes for Red Dead Redemption 2 and Final Fantasy XVI. Here are a couple of their WIPs up for sponsorship:

“Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” - John Marston x Reader

Being a wealthy woman from Saint Denis has a LOT of upsides, but being recognized by most high society whenever you step outside your door is certainly not one of them. When your father leaves for an extended work trip you take the railway into valentine to catch up with your “favorite” outlaw.

“As You Wish” (series) - Clive Rosfield x Reader

A jousting tournament has commenced, but as you try to steady your focus on a certain knight in particular, your attention is split in three different directions.

˗ˏˋ ACCEPTING REQUESTS SPOTLIGHT ˎˊ˗

↳ @another-lost-mc / Rules for requests

Jes is currently taking requests for Obey Me. Please check out their rules page more info!

˗ˏˋ FUNDRAISER SPOTLIGHT ˎˊ˗

↳ Help Mayess and her family evacuate Gaza and rebuild their lives ($552 raised out of $45,000 goal)

Mayess was a prominent cake decorator in Gaza, living out her dream and providing for her family. But their lives were disrupted when their house was bombed; now, they live in tents in harsh conditions and need any help they can get. Donations will go toward helping Mayess and her family leave Gaza and start fresh somewhere safe, where she hopes to once again do what she loves: support her family through a cake business.

[jillsandwhichs]

Valenfield OneShots/AUs Collection, Chapter 25, Miracle

Masterlist

Pairing: Chris Redfield & Jill Valentine

Summary: Chris gets lost whilst on a mission and it seriously worries Jill. She spends her time at HQ searching for him and attempting to locate. She is successful, reuniting with him once again

Status of their relationship in this one shot: Friends with clear feelings for one another

WC: 2.8k

Type: SFW

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

It is currently around noon. Jill has been at work since earlier this morning. It's been a busy day, especially for her. It has been non stop paperwork and physical labor. She spent a good chunk of her morning training in the gymnasium and ever since she finished, she's been working on paperwork that's been overdue. It's dreadful. What makes it even more dreadful is that she knows she'll be here practically all day. Just great.

It's been a rather quiet day though-at least she has that. She hates when everyone in the office is loud and rowdy. Especially the men, they always feel the need to attempt to grasp the attention of the women in the BSAA. Jill always ignores their advances. The only men she cares to speak to are Chris & Parker. Sure there are others but they're the main friends she has. The rest tend to be annoying.

Jill began to tap her pen against the paper, feeling bored as ever. She's struggling to find the motivation to continue her work. She's extremely out of it today. It's probably just her worries. Chris has been gone longer than expected. Clive said it's most likely an issue with transportation but still, Jill wants Chris and the others to be safe and sound. Chris left before Jill even got to work so it's definitely been awhile since they've seen one another.

He's out on a mission. For whatever reason is a mystery to Jill; It isn't her business to know. She wasn't included in the mission which was a bit odd but she wasn't going to stir the pot by asking why. In a way she's glad she wasn't put on it. She'd rather be at the HQ then out in this cold weather. At the same time however, being with Chris and the others would've been nice. It's safer here though. She just prays Chris is okay. It's not often they're sent out on separate expeditions.

Jill figures she'll just continue her work in attempts to distract herself. Chris should be back soon anyways, then she'll be able to actually focus and have a purpose in doing her tasks.

-

Only ten minutes had passed before Jill overheard Clive and some of the others speaking. Within that time, she had gotten quite a bit done. Although, it was a lot easier considering she was alone for a bit with no distractions. Of course that didn't last long though. Jill stood up when she heard Chris's name being spoken. A look of confusion infused onto her face. Is he back? Is he okay?

Jill ambled towards Clive and some of the others. With her arms crossed, she stood beside Parker and whispered to him. "Is Chris back? Is he safe?" Clive overheard her and answered Jill's question for her. "He isn't back. We're trying to track him-he's lost. That's just according to the radar though." Lost? How? Jill scoffed and glanced over at the radar. The red dots on it weren't visible anymore. What the hell?

She walked over to it and reset it numerous times but nothing changed. Parker stood beside her and sighed deeply. "I'm sure he's fine. It's probably just a lag in the system." "Yeah, you're right." Jill whispered, turning the radar off and back on again. Still, nothing. Clive stood between the two of them and hummed. "We'll try contacting each of them again. Parker, I want you to keep watch outside to see if they show up." "Do you need me to do anything?" Jill asked Clive. "Just finish your work and we'll go from there."

How can Jill possibly do her work when Chris is potentially in danger? Jill scoffed and threw her hands down in rebel. "Finish my work?" "You heard me." Clive said sternly. No point in arguing. She knows she won't be able to convince him worth of shit. Jill just slowly unballed her fists and calmy went back to where she was originally sitting. There's absolutely no way she'll get any work done. Chris and the people he was with are possibly missing. Jill hated how calmly the BSAA deals with these situations, despite it being protocol.

After she sat down, Jill would occasionally look up at the radar. Parker has to be right. It's a glitch. Chris and the others would've contacted the BSAA instantly if they were getting into some sort of danger. Besides, it's not as if they're out of range. They're in the same state, only towns away. Clive could even send out a search party and it'd make sense. Right now it wouldn't, but eventually. Jill's just extremely worried. She has to maintain a positive headspace.

Jill started to write on the paper. She was writing like a mad man. It's the only thing that could possibly distract her from all that's going on. Clive is smart. He can figure out where Chris is and that's all that matters. Not just Chris, but the others too. Chris is also intelligent and Jill is sure he knows what he's doing. Chris would want Jill to focus on herself rather than him. He's always saying that.

They always worry for each other though, more than they should honestly. The first person on Jill's mind when she wakes up is Chris and vice versa. Everyone teases the two of them about how it's so clear they like one another. Jill always brushes it off and Chris tells him to knock it off. Deep down, Jill feels her stomach warm up and her cheeks get all rosey. Jill has a difficult time handling her emotions so at the end of the day, she hardly knows how she really feels.

Maybe it is true. Maybe Jill does have some sort of love for Chris that's more than a friendly one. Ever since their time in the S.T.A.R.S unit, she's taken a liking to him. He's just... Different. Jill loves that about him. He isn't like the rest of the soldiers she's worked with. Chris is one of a kind. Chris feels the same way about Jill. She's the best woman he's ever met. They just have amazing chemistry and work very well together.

Her eyes kept glancing up at the radar. At one point it was working but that only lasted a few seconds. That's just Jill's luck though. Chris should be here anytime now. Parker is outside keeping watch. If they are hurt or in any danger whatsoever, Jill will be furious. Not at them but rather with herself for not doing more to help. Then again, it isn't really her fault. She was given orders to just do her work and that's what she's doing.

Sighing softly, Jill finished the last page on her first packet but there's still two more to go. She highly doubts these'll be finished by today. She'll just do them at home. Standing up, Jill ambled towards Keith and kneeled down beside him. "What do you think happened to Chris and the others?" "No clue. If I had to guess, they might've lost their trackers or are just right out of range. Who knows." His theory could be right. The connection is strong but they could be in just the right place to have lost connection to HQ.

Giving him a nod, Jill stood up and smiled. "Yeah, I hope you're right Keith." "I usually am." He snickered and began to finish whatever he was doing on his laptop.

Clive entered the room again and groaned. "Any sign of him yet?" Jill questioned him. "No. Not yet. He's going to be fine, relax." Clive stated. Clive is just sick of everything always going wrong. It's stressful. Last week it was a malfunction with a squad car and this week it's been both the electricity going out throughout HQ and now Chris and his team going missing. What a month it's been for the BSAA. Clive just wants things to run smoothly for once.

"Let me help, please." Jill pleaded with him. "I can try to get into contact with them or I can keep watch with Parker." "Didn't I already tell you to just do you work?" "Yes Sir, you did. However, I simply cannot focus when my friend's lives are in danger." "As if you care about the others... Chris is your primary worry." Jill just stuttered and stood there. Well... She can't really argue with that... She let out a breathless laugh before shaking her head. "I do worry for them all but I won't argue that Chris isn't in the front of my mind. Anywho, please?" She said softly.

Clive rolled his eyes as he turned the radar off and back on again. Now it was suddenly working. Jill gasped and sat down in front of it. "Keep watch and track them. Try to get into contact with them." "On it." Clive has a magic touch apparently. There were four red dots, each one representing each person on the prowl. Chris and the three others. This means they're all okay. This means Chris is safe. Jill smiled and clicked on her headset, hoping to gain some sort of a connection with one of them.

"Hello? This is HQ to Chris, hello? It's Jill."

"HQ to Chris and the others, hello?"

"Answer please. If you can hear me or the others, reply."

Not a single reply was given.

All Jill has is that they're active on the radar. They must be out of range perfectly. Jill gandered over at Keith and urged for him to come over to her. Once he did, he whistled. "Yep, they're just out of range." "Yeah." "Should I go let the director know?" "Yeah, sure." Jill nodded before beginning to attempt to get in contact with them again. Keith patted her shoulder in a friendly manner before heading out of the stale office.

Jill never even got a beep in reply. This is beyond frustrating. She's really just going to have to wait this out, but it's hard. At any given moment they could come face to face with danger and no one will be able to do anything because they're far from a service tower, therefore there's no way to get in contact with HQ or anyone else. "C'mon." Jill plugged her headset back in after unplugging it in hopes for some clarity yet she received nothing.

"Ugh!" She tossed her head back and rubbed her temples.

She has to just wait this situation out, despite it being a shitty one.

-

About an hour later after immense tracking and watching, Jill was finally given an update.

She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed deeply but quickly paused as Parker busted into the room. "They're all back! Chris is back!" Jill immediately turned around and stood up. "Really? The radar quit working so I wasn't sure!" Jill said softly before beginning to run out of the office. Jill is on the second floor of the HQ so this'll be one helluva a run to get to Chris.

Jill flew past all of the others until she got to the staircase. There's also an elevator but that'll only take longer. She began to jog down the stairs carefully but with haste. It suddenly seems there are more stairs than there ever were before. It feels like it's been a lifetime since she last seen Chris. Her feet moved down the stairs at a fast rate. Behind Jill, she could hear some of the others behind her but they were moving much slower than her.

Once she reached the bottom, she pushed the white door open, entering the lobby. Chris wasn't there and neither was anyone from his squad. "But where-" "Outside." The receptionist stated, pointing to the front double doors. Jill's eyes shot to the main exit. "Thanks." She strolled over to the doors and pushed them open. As she did, she saw Chris and the others. They seemed a bit roughened up and tired.

"Chris!" Jill yelled, running up to him. "Jill." He sighed softly. Jill immediately encased her arms around his neck and hugged him lovingly. Chris chuckled and hugged her back. Chris ran his hand up and down her back as he embraced her. All these emotions built up inside of Jill made her feel as though she could have a mental breakdown. She was insanely worried about Chris. It's such a relief that he is okay.

He caressed the back of her head and sighed softly. "I was so worried about you Chris." "I know." He whispered in response. Eventually, they let each other go. Jill greeted the others and hugged them as well; Though the hug was short, nothing compared to her and Chris's hug. Chris said hi and hello to the others. Everyone was just so grateful they're all back and safe.

Once they were all in the office, nurses checked them for open wounds and of course, Chris had one. It was on his waist. Jill kneeled down beside it and seethed. "Oh Chris... Are you alright?" "Yes. It just stings." Jill opened the drawer to her desk and pulled out rubbing alcohol along with a swab. "Here, let me." "This is a job for us nurses-" Before the nurse could finish her sentence, Jill was gently rubbing the swab on the wound.

The nurse scoffed and backed away. Chris winced and gripped his pantleg. The sting of it was so extra. "Sorry, I know." Jill gently cleansed his wound. "It's fine. I understand." Chris nodded. This is the price you have to pay sometimes. Chris hates getting his wounds cleaned but having them cleansed by Jill isn't so bad. "How did you even get this?" "I fell on this weird pathing-it got me good." "I can see that." Jill giggled, getting another swab out to clean the dirt around his scrape.

"I was very worried about you." "I was worried about you." Chris admitted. Jill made a puzzled face. "How come?" She began to clean off the dirt and dust around his cut. "I just couldn't get you off of my mind, that's all." "Me either." Jill whispered with a small smile. Chris returned the sweet look. "I'm very happy you and the others are alright." "Me too. I was nervous when we couldn't get into contact with HQ." "I tried contacting you all so much." Chris nodded, "We know. We could see the signal but we couldn't answer it." "I see."

That's such an annoyance. At least they knew. It's good that they know people do care and people were worrying. Jill was probably the primary person worrying but the others were too. Once the wound and the area around it were clean, Jill threw the used supplies away and placed a small bandage on his wound. It isn't a deep scrape-it will heal itself. She pulled his shirt down and helped him up. "There we go." She hummed.

Chris smiled and patted Jill's head. "Thank you." "You're welcome." Chris was happy that Jill cared so much. It means a lot. He worries that people here only view him as a replaceable soldier but he knows Jill doesn't-she has expressed that. Chris is a lot more than that to her. "I'm starving." Chris admitted, sitting down in his chair. Jill smirked and took his hands in hers. "Well, why don't we go and get some lunch? I'll pay for us!" Jill said in a smiley way. Chris snickered and stood up.

"I will take us out to lunch. No way would I ever let you pay for me." Jill scoffed. He always says that. Anytime Jill offers, she gets her offer declined and instead he or the other person pays. Even if it's another woman, he'll let her pay, but never Jill. "You let Tracy pay last week, why not me?" Chris went to open his mouth but didn't. "Exactly." "You're different." Chris admitted as he picked up his wallet. "Different?" "Yeah."

Jill was a bit confused by what he meant but she brushed it off. "I'm paying." "No you aren't." Chris cackled, wrapping arm around her shoulder as they began to walk out together. "But Chris!" They began to playfully bicker back and fourth.

Parker and Clive were watching that entire time. "They're definitely going to either hookup or end up dating here soon." "They've already hooked up for sure." Keith added to Parker's statement. "I'd pay to see that." Someone else said. They all laughed amongst themselves knowing Chris & Jill are evidently soulmates.

[robo-writing]

Masterlist

(Updated as of 10/6/2024) I always post under the Robo Writes tag on my blog, and specific drabbles/asks can be found using the character tag or the ask tag! Requests are currently open! Feel free to send an idea over ❤️

Marvel Comics/MCU ♡ Logan Howlett NSFW Alphabet (18+) Cowboy!Logan (suggestive) How different Logan’s would go down on you (18+) Happy trail appreciation (18+) it’s sooner or later that you’ll be alone (angst) Kinktober Masterlist (18+)

Final Fantasy XVI

All Thigh Riding with the FFXVI Boys (18+) ♡ Clive Rosfield Words Unspoken, Actions Taken (18+) Summary: After Clive returns from another mission battered and bruised you finally give him a piece of your mind. He doesn’t take too kindly to your words. Spoken Beneath the Stars Summary: After sleeping with Clive things become tense, and you want answers, even if he doesn't want to give them. NSFW Alphabet (18+)

Sweet Longing (18+)

Summary: Clive’s hopelessly in love with you, but you’re already in love with someone else.

Clive pegging ask (18+) ♡ Cidolfus Telamon NSFW Alphabet (18+) Lady-in-waiting ask (18+) A Commander and His Second (18+)

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Cid for years, little did you know he felt the same.

Cid jerking off to his crush (18+)

Sweet Knowing (18+)

Summary: Cid becomes aware of the attention you seem to draw from a certain Rosfield, and uses it to his advantage. ♡ Barnabas Tharmr NSFW Alphabet (18+)

Vampire! Reader ask (tw//bloodplay)

Bladesmith! Reader ask

♡ Joshua Rosfield NSFW Alphabet (18+) What happens after the fight with Ultima Call of Duty ♡ Captain Price

Soldiers With Benefits (18+)

Summary: You’re interested in the Captain, and he’s interested in you.

Unhinged Sex with Price (18+) tbh not even sure I should put this here

Domestic thoughts (suggestive)

♡ Simon “Ghost” Riley

Domestic thoughts (suggestive)

Sex Tape (18+)

Toxic!ex boyfriend Simon

♡ Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Untitled Ask ♡ John "Soap" MacTavish Thanksgiving Celebrations (18+) John and his pretty neck (18+)

Pro!wrestler soap

Body Worship

Body Worship Pt. 2 (suggestive)

Chubby Johnny Appreciation 1 2

Summary: Johnny comes back from deployment, and you help him find peace.

So close, and yet so far (18+)

Summary: Johnny’s got a new obsession, in the form of a pretty camgirl.

♡ All

Teaching you how to ride (18+) Resident Evil ♡ Carlos Oliveira Under Cover of Night Summary: A midnight rendezvouz leaves Carlos with more than he bargained for.

Resident Evil Headcanons (18+)

Resident Evil men and their favorite acts with their S/O (18+) Mortal Kombat 1 Baker AU- Kuai Liang, Smoke, Bi-Han, and Liu Kang

♡ Bi-Han One Year Later (18+) Summary: You decide to surprise your boyfriend for your first year anniversary, needless to say he enjoys your gift very much.

NSFW Alphabet (18+)

♡ All

Cockwarming with the MK1 Boys (18+)

Summary: You tell the boys your newest idea for the bedroom.

Overwatch

♡ Cole Cassidy

Shaving his beard (13+)

Peacemaker (Discontinued) ♡ Adrian Chase Sick Leave (18+)

[mechanicoyote]

“I’ve lived, died, loved and lost. I’ve betrayed and been betrayed, killed and was killed. I was dead inside a long time before my corpse hit the dirt.”

“So forgive me if I’m past givin’ a shit.”

(Rules under the cut!)

Multiship/Multiverse/OC friendly rp sideblog to my main, @dunaskmenuthin, run by TNTpig(25+, she/her, ASD/OCD/anxiety haver) I’ve got 14+ years of writing experience, and I’m excited to get further into the HH/HB writing community! (Discord rping is preferred, but not necessarily required!) -Semi-selective, though not mutuals only. -I usually do multi-paragraph to novella length threads, but I can do shorter form if that’s what we both wanna do. And I don’t need replies to match length, just please give me something to work with. -I don’t do exclusives, I feel it limits the fun I have writing. -General roleplay/thread etiquette apply here- no spamming, no anon hate (unless I do an ask specifically requesting it or our characters are like that with one another), no stalking, no badgering, all that good stuff. This is supposed to be fun, so let’s keep it that way!

-Pretty obvious here, but no P*dos, MAPs, zoophiles, racists, trans/homo/ace-aro/etc-phobics allowed. I don’t have time or energy for creeps(full offense intended there.)

-Mun is 25+, so please don’t interact or follow if you’re under 21- Hazbin Hotel is a show for adults, and I’d feel more comfortable writing with people closer to my own age. Minors and those without their age somewhere easy to read on their blog will be blocked. -I typically will not do sexually NSFW/NSFT/whatever you wanna call it on this blog. If we get to know each other well enough, I may (and thats a BIG may) be open to writing that on my discord, but I make no promises about it. That being said, some suggestive content is just fine. -This blog WILL be dealing with some dark and potentially triggering content, such as murder, cannibalism, death of loved ones, mental instabilities, historical wars, internalized homophobia/bipobia, and Johnny having a bit of a Boomer mindset in general. If any of that is a deal breaker for you, I will not be at all offended if you choose not to interact, we all gotta protect ourselves.

-I don’t have a ton of triggers, though I will not personally write anything graphic about SA or rape, and detailed torture of animals is also something I won’t be writing. And anything to do with: underage/pedophilia, grooming/uncomfortable or illegal age gaps, incest, bestiality or CSA, is a humongous and firm NO. If it’s something mentioned briefly in a characters background/bio to add to their backstory I can probably manage, but I refuse to read or write it PERIOD.

-(updated 3-3-2025) I will NOT interact with Spork/Patch/Shiloh, Loke/Clive/Wards, Curio, Boomsta, or anyone else with a history of consistent abuse/grooming/harassment/defending people who abuse others/other behaviors that affect IRL people negatively. If you heavily interact with the people mentioned here/other people who engage in such behavior, OR if you have the mindset of ‘I’m just here to write and don’t care about the genuine harm people do so long as I can write with them’, then I also think you and I aren’t going to mesh and I honestly don’t want to interact with you.

-I also will NOT write or follow anyone depicting Jesus Christ or God as a muse. I’m a Christian IRL, and those depictions make me extremely uncomfortable and anxious. I don’t want to see it on my dash, and will block/blacklist/unfollow as necessary to curate my own space.

-If you have any triggers in your rules or that you bring up while we write, I will do my utmost to tag them. And if I forget, do not hesitate at all to tell me, and I’ll fix it ASAP!

-With all that being said, feel free to hit me up with an ask or an DM- I’m honestly pretty chill, and I’d love to get to know ya!

[snekatiemainy]

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I was tagged by @another-clive-blog <3333

Okay so uhhhh I don't think I can go through ALL wips, so I'll just list recent/relevant ones

Assassin au bit lol

Noraa

Wa

Bill Hawks Die (not really a wip but it has unused writing bits so I'm adding it for the bit)

Haunting Past (it counts ;))

Eva Anniversary Writing

Leslie Kaira hurt comfort

As for tagging um uh. @pastel-player @themiserymarquis @sinnamonbunannon @sockth and whoever else. This doesnt meet the number but yeah

[eelgraytea]

Type Theory: Jill Warrick

As a person who thoroughly enjoys taking online personality quizzes and using them to develop OCs/write characters in fanfic I felt compelled to analyze Clive and Jill. Here is my take on Jill!

Disclaimers:

This is 100% not serious and just for fun. Please do not take it seriously.

I am not an expert at all.

Shout-out to the blog @mbti-notes which has so much information! If you are at all interested in type theory I highly recommend checking it out!

Jill is REALLY hard to type, IMO, because her environment has never fully allowed her to express herself to the fullest/live her best life. But there are still some clues that can help guide us.

1. Joshua’s inner voices

“She always makes me feel better” (child)

“She is the same gentle soul I remember” (adult)

This is significant because it’s speaking to her nature across a large span of time, so we can be confident that this is more intrinsic to her personality.

2. “You never were one to hide from the truth, even when we were young. And you haven’t changed a bit.”

This is another line that speaks to consistent & long-term personality traits. What might “someone who never hides from the truth” be like?

Doesn’t necessarily let feelings/biases cloud their judgement in the face of facts

Curious, inquisitive

It doesn’t matter here that Jill disagrees. Her disagreement is more likely a result of her trauma/poor self image. Clive is offering a more objective assessment, recalling what she was like as a child and still seeing these qualities in her.

3. The “date” in Northreach

Jill has the initial goal of trying the pies Molly recommended to her. And then she saw some bread, and it made her remember the bread she liked in Rosalith, which made her think maybe she should get some soup, but then she saw the butcher’s stand…

Jill seems like a pretty controlled and disciplined person, and this example is not really controlled or disciplined at all! It’s the equivalent of going to Target for mascara and toilet paper, and leaving with an entire bag full of things you didn’t intend to pick up. A really important point to remember here is that it’s one of the rare scenes in the game where she is fairly relaxed and happy, and in this state her mind is bouncing from idea to idea rather than having a specific plan and executing it.

4. “Where do you see us when this is over?”

In the “Priceless” sidequest Jill expresses her desire to travel the world and “spread her wings”. It’s a pretty open-ended and vague answer, but the sentiment of “spreading your wings” suggests a desire to explore, learn, experience new things, and get out of a situation that feels stifling and constricting.

It’s poignant here that she wants to go out and interact with the world rather than turn inward. She doesn’t want to settle down and lean into the things she already knows bring her comfort/happiness; she wants to explore.

5. Dynamic with Clive

My assessment of Clive is that he’s an INFP, and I think we can glean some insight about Jill from the way her and Clive support each other and pull each other out of their respective ruts.

Both when we meet Clive and when we see him at the Shadow Coast I believe that he is in an inferior Te grip. From @mbti-notes:

Fi dominants in an inferior Te grip will lose their natural caring and tolerant nature and instead obsess about truth or accuracy, becoming moody, irritable, combative, accusatory, or legalistic in their thinking. Focusing in on logical consequences, they might feel an urgent need to take action to correct perceived mistakes or prevent negative outcomes but ultimately fail because of hasty ill-conceived plans/actions. As a result, they might eventually turn this negativity or condemnation inwards and criticize themselves for being inadequate, incompetent, worthless, insensitive, or out of touch with their own core values. They might feel as though their entire life has amounted to nothing and all things might suddenly seem impossible/doubtful as they lose faith in their ability to stay true to themselves while still participating in the world.

(https://mbti-notes.tumblr.com/post/128803785927/how-functions-work-inferior-te-isfpinfp)

Sound familiar? Yep.

The antidote to Te grip is via the auxiliary function, which for an INFP will be Ne (extroverted intuition). Ne tends to be exploratory, adventurous, optimistic, and open to possibilities. It is more interested in what could be than what is.

After King’s Falls, both Cid and Jill challenge Clive when he is lost in Te grip by encouraging him to explore and keep an open mind. And at the Shadow Coast, when Clive intimates he is losing his humanity through the use of his powers and the things he has done, Jill challenges him with optimism and by looking at what his power could be rather than what it is (or what he thinks it is).

This suggests that Jill–who seems to be open, exploratory, and adventurous–could have a strong tendency toward Ne.

Conversely, we see Clive help Jill out of her rut when she reveals how she feels she has become a monster and what she must do to atone.

If we consider Jill to be Ne dominant and exhibiting signs of being in a Si grip (which I think we do), we see (again from @mbti-notes):

They tend to lose touch with the world of possibilities and, instead, become pessimistic, withdrawn, inflexible, or obsessed about insignificant details. They might: suffer depression or despair, feel emotionally vulnerable and isolated and unappreciated, become unable to verbalize their thoughts or feelings, have difficulty finding pleasure in any activity, get highly irritable or pedantic or finicky, develop tunnel vision and hyperfocus on one task or detail, obsess about completing tasks and feel irrationally pressed for time, develop compulsive behavior in counting or organizing things, feel overwhelmed with trying to make every little detail perfect or relevant, desperately overanalyze past events/mistakes to find reasons/solutions for their present mood or use past events to justify a negative outlook of the future. Being unused to directing so much attention inwardly, they tend to select details inappropriately, often grabbing hold of a negative thought and projecting it into a future of perpetual melancholy. The inward focus also makes them oversensitive to bodily sensations, with a tendency to misinterpret or exaggerate every minor ache as a sign of grave illness or disease. Ultimately, they lose their motivation and enthusiasm for life, feeling lost or hopeless or adrift.

(https://mbti-notes.tumblr.com/post/136898571387/how-functions-work-inferior-si-entpenfp)

The way out of a Si grip is via their auxiliary Fi, and Fi-dominant Clive immediately helps her do this. While he doesn’t see her the way she sees herself, he resonates and empathizes with her desire to live in a way that is consistent with her values and what she feels she needs to do to regain her integrity (“I faced my demons and you must face yours”).

--

Putting all of this together, the type that I think best fits Jill is:

ENFP!

Interacts with the external world to gather information, form possibilities, and find connections between things

More interested in what could be over what is

Uses emotional outcomes/impact as a guide for decision making

Prefers spontaneity over structure, desires freedom to explore possibilities

Jill as an ENFP: adaptable, adventurous, authentic, caring, compassionate, curious, empathetic, encouraging, future-oriented, independent, loyal, optimistic, passionate, perceptive, speculative, supportive, warm

Okay, but…

There is no way Jill could be an extrovert.

Consider extroversion not in terms of social interaction but in terms of a need to interact with the external environment. Jill is adventurous, open, and exploratory–she wants to be out experiencing the world rather than directing her energy inward.

Aren’t ENFPs [insert stereotype that Jill is not]?

Type theory describes cognition, or the way that a person collects information and processes it. It does not describe behavior, or the way a person acts in response to a given stimulus. A person’s behavior may be affected by their experiences/other external factors, whereas many argue that cognition stays the same.

Your conclusion hinges on Clive being an INFP/Fi-dominant and I disagree with that assessment.

That’s fair!

I took a 16-personalities quiz for Jill and got something totally different.

This could be because of a few things:

Your characterization of her is different from mine, which is completely valid!

You were thinking in terms of behavior rather than cognition. We do not get a lot of insight as to what Jill might be like when she’s in an environment where she can be her best self, hence the need for some inferences/liberties that will account for some differences in how people characterize her.

There is variation among online quizzes.

Your interpretation/understanding of the functional stack is totally off.

That is entirely possible.

Personality indicators/type theory is pseudoscience snake oil and is completely meaningless.

Perhaps! I’m not an expert in the field. Regardless, I think they can be a good/fun way to get in a character’s head!

[darklight-owl]

Thank you for everything you do for PL women. You are the bravest PL warrior ever o7

Happy to serve o7

I like things but I don't like when said things have obvious misogyny so I usually end up going "FINE. I'll fix it MYSELF."

I love adding detail to underwritten female characters 🥰 makes the "11 year old shonen fan who would latch on to any passing woman in her animes like a stray puppy because there was no main character with her gender" in me very happy.

[jamesmmorgan]

GRANTATHON DAY 2: Maurice (1987) - The Midnight Realm and My Parents' Divorce

Genre: Romance/Drama

Starring: James Wilby, Hugh Grant, Rupert Graves, Ben Kingsley

'I would have gone through life half-awake if you’d had the decency to leave me alone.’ - Clive Durham

It is the 2nd of December 2024, and against my better judgment I am watching Maurice again. When I watched the film for the first time I believe I was not quite evolved enough to truly appreciate it, and by the time I read the book upon which the film is based I was far too wise to finish it. In fact, I stopped right in the middle, after Clive returns from Greece, and I put it down and never picked it up again. Similarly, I could only make it to the one hour mark on this re-watch before I had to turn the TV off and make myself a stiff drink (whiskey and cointreau, if you must know).

While ‘Hughie’ Grant’s cinematic debut in Privileged was disappointing, both for the brevity of his onscreen appearance and the kind of acting that would give Tommy Wiseau a run for his money, Maurice is quite a different story. Grant plays Clive Durham, an aristocratic student at Cambridge who falls desperately in love with the titular Maurice Hall (pronounced ‘Morris’, for those like me with more Romantic inclinations). A lot of people in queer media have been holding space for this film since its release, by which I mean it’s been analysed to death by now. Perhaps that is just my skewed, spoilt perception of it as someone intimately familiar with gay cinema, but I think the rule of thumb most sheltered middle-class lefty Southerners use in these cases is the following: if a book or film has a review in the Guardian, and enough prestige about it to get a 30th anniversary showing at the Cambridge Arts Picturehouse, it’s as good as universally acknowledged (at least among the likely readers of this blog). As such, I will endeavour not to retread too much all the common ground when it comes to this film, such as its themes of class or the censorship of the original book, but I will do my best to elucidate my own connection to it.

SPOILERS AHEAD

I began this rewatch with my mother, who is herself a Cambridge alum. She spent the first ten minutes of the film pointing out and naming all the colleges featured onscreen, then retired early to bed as she is prone to doing these days. Today had been a day of great jubilation for us, because my father finally filed for divorce. When the e-mail from HM Courts came through, my mother took a screenshot and sent it to him with the caption ‘Yay!’

A question that filmmakers have been asking since they started projecting stories onto little strips of tape is whether it is better to know someone and lose them than to have never known them at all. While canoodling in the grass in one of the film’s most screen-grabbed scenes, Clive remarks to Maurice, ‘I would have gone through life half-awake if you’d had the decency to leave me alone.’

The tragedy of this line is that Clive will ultimately favour the half-slumber of a heteronormative life over the searing pain of living wide-awake, much like the protagonist of I Saw the TV Glow (another exceptional queer film). Both Clive and Owen catch glimpses of that infinitely more vibrant, more perilous reality, and in both cases they recoil and run away, to Greece or to the 90s limbo of the Fun Zone, all the while carrying that precious, glowing secret inside of them like a neutron star, only denser and even more all-consuming. Both, you could argue, would have been better off had they never gotten that first taste of honey. With nothing to compare it to, what could they possibly lament about their half-life, which to them would seem all the life there is to live?

But, as much as directors like to posture that their work is all ‘ambiguous’ and there is no right answer, the conclusion you’re typically expected to draw from these sorts of films is that no, their lives would not have felt less empty had they never come to know what was missing from them. Owen suffocates either way; Clive is always unfulfilled. And to some extent, what makes these characters who they are is that curiosity about themselves in the beginning, that daring to peek inside however briefly to see what all the commotion is about. Both are not ready — yet — to pull back the curtain and bare those curiosities to the world, make themselves vulnerable and possibly even targets of violence just for a chance at happiness, with no actual guarantee that they’ll achieve it. Peace is guaranteed in the hiding, happiness is merely promised in the seeking. Or something to that effect.

I refill my glass. This time, I’m doing two shots of whiskey and one of cointreau (the ratio was all off on the last one). I like the orange flavour because it’s vaguely Christmassy, but not that much. I think about starting the second half, but I’m not ready yet. My mother was given an early edition (we believe a first printing) of Maurice by a gay friend of hers when she was at Cambridge, which definitely belonged to the library at one point because it has a log of people who took it out in the front along with a photograph of E.M Forster and a newspaper clipping from the 70s, when the book was published for the first time. The sort of artefact a character in a movie might discover that conveniently delivers all necessary exposition for that story beat. The book belongs to me now, and it lives buried somewhere in my room out of sight, along with my old school jumper and a collection of tiny drawings of Ben Wishaw’s Q from the James Bond series tucked inside the grey woollen tip of an old mitten.

Grant portrays Clive’s inner turmoil with such deftness and nuance, I am not surprised he has made a new name for himself recently with his ‘freak show’ era in Hollywood. For all his self-deprecating and playful disparagement of his early career, his second film out the gate has Grant’s flair for subtlety and pathos on full display. I acknowledge my bias in saying this but I feel so, so deeply for Clive throughout the film, although like everyone else I am increasingly disgusted by him. By his cruelty, by his cowardice, by his pretension and self-absorption. At the closing image of him looking dolefully out the window at an apparition of Maurice as he was in their heyday at Cambridge, the words ‘serves you right’ come immediately to mind. But he’s not that bad off, all things considered. Perhaps he has chosen to stay in the Midnight Realm of the Maurice universe, but he is a wealthy man of high status, with a wife who will at least provide him some company in his old age. The latter is a comfort many straight men take for granted these days, my own father included; I often suspect I inherited my worst traits from him (be that through genetics or by example).

Maurice is a movie about a man called Maurice who defies class boundaries and societal norms to pursue a true, genuine connection with a working-class man called Alec Scudder. But Maurice is also a movie about rejecting love, deciding that society is right and diverting all your energy into moulding yourself to fit it. Because when you’re young, you still believe in the fairy tale that things can ever go back to 'the way they were before'. You believe your parents will get back together and it will be exactly the same. You believe that if you keep your head down and stay inside the lines, you can return to your childhood later and catch up on all the things you missed while you were busy behaving. But eventually you learn that every moment is unique, and everything must come to an end — that is the only constant there is. You will never get to be thirteen again, except this time you do it all differently, do it all right. You are dying from the moment you are born and the sooner you realise this, the sooner you can accept it, the better you can swallow that medicine that sends you to the Midnight Realm, numbing you just enough to make the remaining conscious half of your brain pay no mind to the other. Maurice is a movie about cutting off your hand to feed your stomach and starving to death in the time it takes to bring it to your lips.

OVERALL RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

HAIR RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

MUNGO SCORE (1-10): 11

Tune in next time when we'll be keeping an eye out for Mungo in Rutherford's 1987 Crime Thriller White Mischief!

[maidenofsophia]

Have you ever read When God Had a Wife by Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince? Fantastic book that truly got me interested in Sophia. If you have read it, I'd love to hear what you thought of it. If not, I definitely recommend it. Additionally, the book talks at length about Simon Magus and his Helen. They are very interesting figures to me and I was wondering what your take on them are. Love your blog!

Yes, I read it recently! One of my favorites. Loved the exploration of Helen who I hadn't heard much about before then.

I'm currently reading God: An Anatomy by Francesca Stavrakopoulou, which is another pretty lengthy academic one but it is fascinating and delves into the 'crafting' of the image of God as we are familiar with today, as such it touches on the divine feminine and Her erasure.

[pinkkittysaw]

WHAT GOOD IS A SWORD THAT NEVER GETS BLOODY?

pairing: clive rosfield x plus sized f!reader

summary: clive helps you relieve your cramps in the best way possible

word count: 3.6k

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be BLOCKED!) established relationship, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it) period sex, blood kink, breast/nipple play, finger sucking, spit, praise, dirty talk, petnames (love, darling, sweetheart, etc.), clive is hairy and uncut

a/n: i wrote this entire thing with my pussy and i will never regret it!!!!!!!!!!! written during a time when i was achy and in pain. this is uhm, very self indulgent DJDJDJDJDJ.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You’re on your side, curled in the fetal position, groaning in pain, when Clive comes into the room. Immediately, he’s by your side, caressing your arm gently. "What’s wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, concerned. ‘"Cramps" is all you can mutter in response. "Ah,"

Clive wasn’t used to dealing with periods. Before the two of you started dating, he hadn’t had much experience with them. Sure, Jill was around frequently enough when they were children, but she was never keen on sharing those intimate details of her life with him. 

His soothing ministrations on your arm continue as he asks, "Would you like me to run a hot bath for you, love?" "The water should help ease the aches and pains. I can even give you a massage if you’d like." 

"That sounds like heaven," you beam.

He plants a kiss on your temple and says, "I’ll get started on it right away and fetch you when it’s ready." Clive leaves for the bathroom and begins filling the tub with hot water, returning a short while later.

"The bath is all set up for you, darling. Come on, I’ll help you up." He brings you to your feet, and the two of you walk to the bathroom.

The warm scent of vanilla fills your nostrils as you step into the room, your eyes fixed on the steaming, bubbly water. "It smells lovely in here, Clive," you comment.

"I'm glad you like it." "One of the vendors sold me this scented oil while I was out. She said it was good for muscle tension."

"Oh, I'm sure she did," you mumble under your breath. You knew the vendor that he spoke of and her "desire" to "help relieve his tension." On more than one occasion, she made a point to flirt with him in your presence, despite knowing you and him were together. Clive, being who he is, is none the wiser. Always the gentlemen, you suppose. 

You're pulled out of your thoughts as he continues, "Plus, you're always lighting those vanilla candles around the place, so I figured you'd like the smell."

You smile in response to the sweet gesture. "Thank you, Clive," you murmur before kissing his cheek.

"Of course, now let's get you settled before the water gets cold, hm?"

He helps you undress and carefully places the garments aside. Taking his hand, you're guided into the hot water. As you sink into the tub, you're met with instant relief.

"You feel alright?" he asks. 

You nod in response, "Most definitely."

"Good," he bends down to kiss the crown of your head and is quick to follow you into the bath. Soon after ridding himself of his clothes, he takes his place behind you in the water. It's a tad cramped inside due to his huge stature, but you enjoy the skin-to-skin contact nonetheless.

"Would you still like that massage, or have your cramps subsided?" He caresses your hip under the water, rubbing small circles with his thumb. You turn around to face him and deliver your best puppy-dog eyes and signature pout. "Massage please?"

"Alright," he chuckles, leaning over the edge of the tub, grabbing a large vial off the floor. You can't help but roll your eyes at the sight. "Is that another one of your gifts from the vendor?"

"Yes, it is darling," he pauses to unscrew the lid. "I was told this was good for the skin, and I thought it'd make a good lubricant for the massage."

"Clive," you whine. "You know she only gives you free stuff because she's into you."

"Is she?" he smirks. "I haven't noticed."

You sulk at his words.

He puts the vial back down on the ground and grips your chin lightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Come now, darling, don't pout. You're the only woman for me," he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, then cocks an eyebrow. "Now, do you want to keep talking about the vendor or would you like me to give you that massage?" 

"Massage," you grumble, turning your back to him.

His laugh is hearty, and the sound reverberates throughout the bathroom. "Sweetheart, I only visit her to get supplies for you," He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso. "She's the only person in the hideout that sells the type of stuff you like." He trails kisses down your neck. "I promise I don't have eyes for the woman who sells us our toiletries."

You burst into a fit of giggles, with Clive's facial hair tickling your skin. "Alright, Alright. I believe you."

A few moments pass before you sheepishly ask, "Will you still give me that massage?" He presses one final kiss on your neck, smiling into your skin, before responding, "Of course, darling."

He reaches for the oil once more, pouring some into his hand before lathering the slippery substance between his fingers. "Can you lean forward for me? I can't reach your back at this angle." You nod as you maneuver your body forward a bit, resting on the edge of the tub.

"I’m going to touch you now, alright?"

Clive is gentle as he slides his oil-slick hands down the sides of your plush body, trailing them from your shoulders to your lower back. The light sheen of sweat and steam from the water helps his hands glide along. When he reaches your hips, he presses hard circles into your back with his thumbs, causing you to groan. He smirks to himself and continues putting pressure on the area until he decides to slide his hands back up your spine. He begins to massage your shoulders as well, his strong and calloused hands expertly working out the knots from pent-up stress. Clive continues to knead any tension built up in your aching body, moving down your neck, shoulders, and back.

"Oh yes," you gasp.

"Clive, you're so good."

He clears his throat. Smooth hands skim down your sides once more, softly grazing your breasts. His nails gently rake down your back, causing you to shudder.

"Clive," you whine, "you’re gonna get me all excited."

"That's the point, love, to make you feel good." He stops all movement of his hands, pulling you close to him once more. It’s at this moment that you feel something prod at your lower back.

"Clive-" you jerk forward, a bit surprised at his sudden arousal.

"Can you blame me, darling?" He murmurs into your ear.

"With all the sweet sounds you were making and the way you were saying my name," you feel his facial hair brush against your skin once more; it's prickly as he plants additional kisses onto your neck and shoulder.

"You know, Cid told me of another way to help alleviate cramps."

"Oh yeah?" You smirk, "And what’d he tell you?"

"I think it’s best to show instead of tell, my love."

"But first-" he heaves as he gets out of the tub, "let’s get you dried off." As the contents of the bath drain, Clive helps you to your feet. He grabs a few towels before saying, "I'm going to get everything ready."

"You stay here and dry yourself off, alright?" He gently cups your face with one hand before planting a sweet kiss on your forehead that gives you a warm feeling in your tummy.

You whistle at him as he turns to leave the room, admiring the sway of his hips and ass while he walks. A soft chuckle is heard as the door swings closed behind him. 

You pat yourself dry with the towel to the best of your ability before stepping out to your shared bedroom. It's then that you see Clive perched on two towels that he laid upon your bed, legs spread wide while he strokes himself. His foreskin glides along his ruddy tip while he pleasures himself.

"I'm sorry, love."

"You got me all excited; I just couldn't help myself." He pants, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as he begins to work his cock even faster at the sight of you.

You're unsure of how, in all of Valisthea, Clive didn't find himself attractive. Everything about him was beautiful in your eyes—the scar that adorns his left cheek, the tinge of pink on his face when he's aroused, the flex of his biceps as he jerks himself off, his broad chest speckled with dark body hair, getting denser as it flows down his abdomen, culminating into a furry happy trail before diverging off again to his somewhat unruly pubes and pretty erect cock. The sight of him, especially when he's vulnerable like this, makes you drool.

You're snapped out of your thoughts as his voice picks up. "Enjoying the view?" he smirks. The look on his face comes across as a challenge, taunting as he eases his grip on his cock, letting you see the consequence of his arousal. His cock is wet and leaky as his pace slows, soft moans escaping his lips.

"Fuck," you murmur, biting your lip at the display. You saunter over to where he sits on the bed. "I always enjoy you, Clive."

A soft smile adorns his face as he pats the spot in front of him, "Come sit, darling, let me make you feel good."

All of a sudden, you're hit with a bout of hesitation. "Are you sure you want to do this?" you ask. "You won't think it's gross?" A small frown flashes across his features as he stills the movement on his weeping cock. He turns to face where you stand on the side of the bed, caressing your plush hip with his opposite hand. "Sweetheart, what good is a sword that never gets bloody, hm?" You’re about to protest when he cuts you off. "Before you start, I am aware of how cliché that sounded, but that doesn't mean I'm any less sincere. I love you. I care about you and your pleasure." He pauses to gauge your reaction, and seeing that you're still apprehensive, he continues. "I hate to see you in this type of pain. If this," he gestures between the two of you, "isn’t something you want, then we don’t have to go through with it, but rest assured, I’ve been fighting in battle for a long time. Some blood isn’t going to bother me, love. Especially not if it’s from you." His tough hand gives your hip a reassuring squeeze. 

You ponder what he says for a moment before giving a tentative "Okay..."

"Yeah?" The pitch of his voice increases. "You want me to make you feel good?" He nuzzles his cheek against the soft skin of your stomach, his facial hair scratching against you.

"Mhm." You nod, carding your fingers through his shaggy hair. He pats the empty spot on the towel. "Good, now come sit, darling." You crawl onto the bed and sit in between his legs, your back facing him. You scoot backward until you're met with the familiar feeling of his cock against you.

"Can I touch you, sweetheart?" He asks.  A soft "yes" is mumbled out in response. Clive's hands descend on your body once more, grazing his nails on the sides of your plush form. The sensation leaves goosebumps in their wake, followed by a small shiver. He gives an airy chuckle, then makes his presence known on the sensitive skin on your neck, leaving soft kisses on it before gently suckling on the skin.

"Clive-" you moan.

"Lean against me, love. I want to try something."

Following Clive's command, you rest against him, the soft hairs from his chest tickling your back.

"Spread your legs a bit, darling."

You spread your legs, albeit bashfully, and expose your warm heat to the cool air as Clive continues to litter your neck with kisses.

"Feeling alright so far?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good," he plants one final kiss on your neck before reaching over to the nightstand and grabbing the vial of oil once more. After rubbing some into his hands, he skims the sides of your full figure, reaching up toward your tits.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

"Yes, Clive- please," you start to fidget in his hold.

"Okay, okay," he amusedly chuckles once more. Slowly but surely, he begins to fondle your tender breasts, massaging them with his warm, calloused hands and getting them slick with oil.

"Fuck," you moan, digging your nails into the meat of his hairy thighs.

"Yeah?"  He goads, nuzzling his face into your neck and biting the skin playfully. Agile fingers work toward your pebbled nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index finger. He continues squeezing the soft flesh; though your breasts are achy and sore, his touch feels so good at the same time.

"Can you lift your hips a bit for me?"

You do as he asks, gripping Clive's thick thighs to steady you. You lift your hips a few inches off the towel, allowing your back to fully rest against Clive's chest.

"That's a good girl," he murmurs into your ear.

A whine escapes you, and though you can't see his face, he smirks at the sound. Reaching toward his hard cock, he guides it to your wet slit and effectively starts rutting against it. The head catches on your puffy, neglected clit with every pass.

"Founder, oh fuck," your breath hitches, and you start rolling your hips in time with his languid thrusts against you, relishing in every bit of pleasure he lets you take from him.

Clive grunts "You’re so wet for me already, love." His cock is coated in a mixture of your blood and arousal.

He speaks against your neck, "Did a little heavy petting really get you this excited? Hm?"

Heat rushes to your face at his words, and a batch of warmth starts to grow in the pit of your belly. You can't find it in you to speak for fear of being unable to produce anything but pants and moans, so you nod aimlessly instead. He gives a soft exhale that sounds a lot like the beginnings of a laugh, clearly enjoying watching your head bobble up and down.

His efforts on your breasts don’t waver, choosing to juggle one in his hand while continuing his massage of the tissue.

"Please, Clive," you pant. "I need you so bad, need your cock, need you inside."

The rhythm of his hips slows. "A bit impatient today, aren't we, love?" He grins. "I need to make sure you’re prepped, that you’re good and ready to take me."

"Please, I wanna feel you so bad." Your whines increase in frequency. "I’m fine, I promise."

"Alright, darling, lay on your side; I’ll take care of you." You roll over onto your left side, supporting yourself on your elbow.

Clive gives a few quick pumps to his cock before lifting your right thigh and pushing it toward your chest. You notice some smeared, stray blood where he's gripping the meaty flesh of your leg.

"Clive, your hand—" you begin to speak. He looks down at his fingers, stained lightly with red. He nuzzles his face in your neck, his soothing words quell your worries. "I know, it’s alright. Just relax, okay?" He pauses. "We can clean up afterward. Right now, I just want to help you feel better." You don't know why, but the sight of both of you covered in your own blood arouses you. A thought to unpack for another day, you suppose.

He guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. "I’ll be as gentle as you need me to be; we’ll go at your pace, okay?" You nod in response.

With that, a squelch can be heard as he slowly pushes himself inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation of him filling you up. He stills his movements, giving you time to adjust to his size. "Just let me know when you want me to start moving, darling." He worms the arm not holding your thigh under and around your torso, pulling you right against his chest. His lips find their way to your shoulder, placing gentle kisses on your warm skin.

A few more minutes pass before you speak up, "You can start moving, Clive." You’re so full; his thick, heavy cock stretches you to the brim. He pulls out slowly, leaving only the tip inside you. Every heavenly inch of his cock drags along your walls.

"Fuck." You clench down on him, and he groans in return.

"So good," he exhales. "Your pussy’s so good for me." His thrust back into your heat is slow as you moan in unison again. "She's kind of greedy, though, isn't she? Sucking me in like she doesn't want me to leave," he teases, speaking right into your ear. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes you as you rest your head against his shoulder.

"That’s it, Just focus on feeling good." He pulls out to the tip once more. "I’ll take care of everything else." His kisses on your shoulder resume as he maneuvers the hand holding your torso to grope at your tender breast.

"Eikons," you whine.

His pace picks up ever so slightly, but it keeps its gentleness, not wanting to hurt you. His hand alternates from fondling your breast to grasping at other parts of your supple flesh, pulling you as close to him as he can, as if he wants to live in your skin.

"I love your sweet cunt so much, baby," he groans. "So soft and warm, she always makes me feel so good." All that can be heard from you is soft mewls and pleas from the continued pleasure. The effect of his words on you is almost too much to bear. Almost.

"I love getting to take care of you like this, making you feel good."

You take the arm that’s wrapped around you and bring his fingers to your lips, kissing the tips of each one before sinking the middle and ring fingers into your mouth, sucking on them softly.

"You’re gonna kill me, love."

You drag your tongue along the slit of his two fingers, forcing them to part at the base, licking the space in between as you keep sucking. Clive groans at the sensation. "Fuck, sweetheart," he mumbles, pressing his digits down on your tongue, causing you to gag slightly. Your eyes brim with ears as he reaches further into your throat. "I'm not going to last if you keep this up, and we can’t have that now, can we?" Saliva dribbles down his fingers and onto the rest of his hand as he pulls his digits from between your lips. His slightly pruned, spit-soaked fingers move from your mouth to your neglected clit, rubbing it in soft slippery circles. 

He readjusts his grip on your thigh; the blood from his fingers and beads of sweat from your leg cause him to slip. He pushes your thigh even further toward your chest allowing him to reach even deeper into your sensitive cunt. The stretch of your leg muscle causes you to whimper.

His pace increases even more but never becomes rough. Damp coarse hairs from his navel rub against you as his balls give a soft "tap tap tap" to your ass. An even more prominent wet squelching sound mixes in with yours and Clive's moans. The volume and frequency increase as he continues to make sweet love to your sopping pussy.

"You hear that, darling?" he smirks. "You hear the sound of your sweet cunt?" he heaves, panting as he thrusts into you faster and faster. "I think she's enjoying this."

You're reduced to a mess of whimpers and pleas, unable to form proper sentences as you beg him to give you that sweet release. "Please, Clive, please, please, please. Wanna cum."

"I’ve got you, sweetheart. Cum on my cock, make yourself feel good."

With the last of your strength, you turn to meet his eyes as you mumble, "K-kiss?" Your emotions are running wild, and the smile that Clive gives you in return almost brings you to tears. "Of course." He leans down, and you meet him in a sweet, sloppy kiss. "Come on, baby," he says as his fingers hasten the circles on your clit. You moan into his mouth as you cum, and he continues to kiss you through it, letting you ride your high.

Clive’s thrusts begin to get uneven and sloppy at the feeling of your release. The hand that was on your clit now finds purchase on your soft tummy, enjoying the soft, squishy feeling underneath his fingertips. "I love you so much, sweetheart, so much." His hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your belly as he hunches into you, leaning in for one more kiss before pulling out. He fists his cock eagerly to climax, the sight of his cock being covered in your blood arouses him to no end. "Fucking-" he groans while he cums, his warm seed coming out in spurts while it drips down your ass and thighs. "Fuck," he gasps.

It takes him a few minutes to catch his breath, enjoying the feeling of your body as he holds you close.

"Are you feeling any better?" He finally asks.

You turn to face him now, giving another sweet kiss to his lips. "Definitely," you respond.

"Good, I'm glad I could help," he pauses for a moment. "Stay right there." Clive gets up and leaves the room, returning with a warm, wet washcloth. He wipes the leftover blood from your body as well as the smears left on his hands before tending to the cum on your backside.

"Alright, here's my plan," he pulls you into a sitting position. "How about we get washed up for real this time, and I'll make you something warm for your tummy?"

"That sounds lovely, as long as I get to cuddle you too."

He grins as he helps you make your way to the bathroom once more. "Of course, sweetheart."

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Prince Harry exhausted by legal battle over UK police protection Duke of Sussex says removal of security after he and Meghan left royal duties was difficult to swallow Poor Wee Harry. He has police protection just not the amount he wants/demands. by u/Harry-Ripey

Prince Harry ‘exhausted’ by legal battle over UK police protection Duke of Sussex says removal of security after he and Meghan left royal duties was ‘difficult to swallow’ Poor Wee Harry. He has police protection, just not the amount he wants/demands. Another bit of paranoia….?The prince also believes that his father, King Charles, could have intervened to reinstate his security detail because the king’s private secretary, Sir Clive Alderton, sits on the royal and VIP executive committee, but Buckingham Palace denied it had any decision-making power.IIt is understood that Alderton was not on the committee when the decision over Harry’s security was made five years ago after he and Meghan had left their royal duties.Does Harry or his legal team ever deal in reality rather than poor wee Harry’s feelings?https://ift.tt/EjrSVkB Has he forgotten this tripe? His sugars lapped it up. https://ift.tt/q3EwMLa first question is “what do you miss about the UK” and Harry’s first thought is, “Living here for five years, it feels like home. Santa Barbara feels like home” and then he really ponders the question of what he misses about the UK. It takes him a second to think of something! LMAO. “Being British, I’m not going to say the weather…I guess the countryside is a big piece to that, and one of the reasons why we live in Santa Barbara, I’m not really a city person. I like to be out in space, with a big sky above me.” And then he just keeps talking about how much he loves being in California and raising his children in America.  “As a family, we’re so happy here. The US provides so much opportunity and also it’s a safe space for us.”Harry also reveals that he misses pubs and pub food, although he’s apparently found an Irish pub in Santa Barbara which does a good “bangers and mash.” He was asked if he misses football and he actually said: “I’ve never been a big fan of soccer, whoops, football.”He said that he’s gotten really into American football, and he loved this year’s Super Bowl because apparently, he’s a big fan of the Philadelphia Eagles and thought about placing a bet on the Eagles winning. He really said “go Birds!” What else? This video has so much good gossip – he talks about how America’s entrepreneurial spirit is unmatched, and in America, “everyone wants to get behind you.” post link: https://ift.tt/eZDA5w8 author: Harry-Ripey submitted: April 12, 2025 at 04:34PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.