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goldenlikedayl1ght · 9 months ago

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...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #logan howlett blurb #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine blurb #wolverine smut #xmen smut #deadpool and wolverine #danny speaks to the void

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inky-duchess · 9 days ago

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Fantasy Guide to Governesses

I've covered royal childcare in this post here but I received an ask asking for specifics surrounding the role of Governesses. So what do we need to know? For @princealienelffish22

Who is the Governess?

Governesses are the female private tutors that raise children for royal, noble or affluent families. They aren't quite servants nor are they equal to the family. In all households, the governess is usually unmarried but there have been some examples in royal households where the governess was or had been married such as Kat Ashley or Margaret, Countess of Salisbury. This was mainly to ensure she wouldn't go getting distracted by her own kids and family while she's raising somebody else's kids. If she is not a noble, she will at least be well born, at least middle class. Being a governess wasn't exactly a desired job but it was a respectable way for an unmarried woman to earn herself some cash. She will, of course, be very educated.

What does the Governess do?

A Governess is essentially a tutor. She would been in charge of teaching children the fundamental 'R's, (Reading, Writing and Arithmetic). She would teach all children but when boys reached about age 7 or so, the boys would go on to male tutors for more expansive education. The governess would teach girls up until they came out in society or even until they married, mainly teaching them languages, etiquette and chaperoning the children. She would even teach life skills such as sewing, embroidery and art to the girls in her charge. Whilst the more hands on tasks would fall on nursery staff, the governess probably had a more emotional role in the raising of the children.

Role of the Governess in the family

The thing with hiring a governess didn't mean that the kid's parents hated their babies or didn't feel like raising them. With many noble, upper class and royal families, they simply wouldn't have been able to juggle both their duties and children. This lead to many children forming attachments to their governesses that lasted lifetimes such as Queen Victoria's Baroness Lehzen. This sometimes caused tension between parents and governesses. Tension was also often caused if the governess was too close to certain members of the family like the husband or wife, because the governess was expected to distance herself unless invited. She wouldn't be invited to eat dinner with them, she would eat alone. She would come with them to their summer residence and if they were travelling. She would come and go if she wanted but she was expected to be at their beck and call.

Notable Governesses

Margaretta Eagar (funny story, she's the reason that OTMA had slight Irish accents when speaking English)

Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury

Madame de Maintenon (she ended up marrying the King)

Kat Ashley (stayed with Elizabeth I all her life)

Baroness Louise Lehzen (stayed with Victoria long after her marriage)

Charlotte Percy, Duchess of Northumberland

Anna Leonowens (The King and I - is this Anna)

Louise Élisabeth de Croÿ

Yolande de Polastron, Duchess of Polignac

Caroline Lamb

Edith Cavell

Anne Sullivan

Mary Wollstonecraft (before she became a writer)

Edith Cavell

Anna Whittaker

Anne Sullivan (Helen Keller's governess)

Maria Sklodowska - Curie (before she became a scientist)

Maria von Trapp (Yes, she's real and no, she's not Julie Andrews)

Marion "Crawfie" Crawford

Clara Knight

Charlotte Brontë (before her books)

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3liza · 6 months ago

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i mean the truth is that we do not need and should not have all this stupid plastic clutter in or houses. no one should be producing or selling this shit. everyone make your own merchandise and charge a living hourly wage to sell it 🤷 sorry to be so simplistic about this but it's one of the results of the lack of class unity specifically in the means of production-owning creative class, who is not mentioned or dealt with by the core Marxist texts as far as I know (i asked about this earlier on here, did marx ever address in his analysis people like, for example, a professional photographer who owns a camera ans prints his own dagguereotypes? or a portrait painter or idk, independent milliner or seamstress? these people all own the means of production and do not employ anyone, and the answer from better educated people than I was that no, Marx didn't mention them), I'm not well read on this at all, there is just a big void where leftist analysis of what modern economists call "the creative class"

I'm getting off topic. my point is make your own keychains in your kitchen. it's actually not hard. you can even mass produce (on a small scale) little plastic crap if you want, with resin and a UV lamp, or a 3d printer, or a laser cutter and acrylic sheets (or just use balsa wood damn, at least its biodegradable and less tacky).

all this stuff is available to little creators AND there are hundreds of people who already own these machines who will take work for you and produce your designs. you just have to actually find them and know them and email them. that's what I mean about the class unity issue with creatives. we have no large scale union, we have no large scale class consciousness, and we're all sending our orders for little plastic crap to sweatshops instead of emailing a guy with a laser cutter in his garage and saying "hey Keith can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh 50 laser cut keychains of this twerking Diggler design I made, like how much would that cost" and he's like sure here's the work and materials cost and tbh it's always always less than i think it's going to be. you just have to do some basic arithmetic and then order shipping, and I hate order fulfillment with my life but you can actually pay or barter with someone to do that for you too. learn to delegate and then factor that into your unit cost. this is basic shit every commercial creator needs to know. they should teach you this in art school but they dont

don't give me crap about "I can't afford a laser cutter" either because I just told you to email Keith. and all these machines get sold secondhand when a manufacturer or hobbyist needs to upgrade. i got a color laser printer perfect for making zines and wheatpastes and shipping labels from a retired lesbian on capital hill for $75 and it was still full of ink. my friend gave me her 20 year old canon dslr because she just didn't need it and didn't want to bother selling it. it works fine because I spent the time finding the right drivers and shit for my computer. and card readers exist. Craigslist. Facebook marketplace. nextdoor sales section. eBay. everyone always forgets eBay. eBay lets you save searches and will email you when it finds a guy selling his vinyl plotter in your city with local pickup. I'm serious

#long post #pro doom strats #leather embossing is another one #risograph prints #woodblock prints #rubber prints #etchings even #silicon molds for sculpey or resin or clay #local pottery studios #local photography studios #professional art printers with giclee printers!#ive used all these techniques to make merch #none of them are difficult or out of reach its just EASIER and adverised more to order shit from china #oh my god i forgot button presses #ALSO WE NEED A UNION AND STANDARDIZED HOURLY WAGES BTW #TIRED OF THIS BICKERING ABOUT PRICE UNDERCUTTING

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searchingforserendipity25 · 1 year ago

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There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

#davenport #lucretia #taz #taz balance #fic #my fics #taz fics #taz balance fic

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witchlight-lore · 13 days ago

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Episode One

Below is a detailing of the first episode of Once Upon a Witchlight by Legends of Avantris

Frost's home in the Order was a mountainous, snowy region in Yulong, not unlike Tibet

The party has been together traveling for 'many years', and the Carnivale existed for a decent amount of time, under multiple names.

They were in Agwé for one month.

Largely they'd all like to reinstate the Carnivale (Kremy the least)

They repeatedly tried to contact Garou for his help with letters.

The Crossroads in the only inn that might let them stay.

They've never gotten as low as 2 gold before.

Pierre is a Grinning Sinner/Catfish employee.

Gricko doesn't know how to play poker but thought he did. Frost watched him play in horror and didn't say anything. Gricko focuses far more on the looks of cards than thinking about meanings.

Gideon considers the group's money his AND Kremy's. Kremy wanted to cut Gricko and Frost off.

The drinks at the Hungry Catfish potentially have a charm influence to them, making you behave how you normally wouldn't.

Frost doesn't like cigars.

Gricko almost got arsenic poisoning from eating a cigar.

Kremy still has 'lesser contacts' in Agwé.

The Grinning Sinners sometimes have invisibility.

Kremy understands Bullywug but doesn't speak it. The Sinners speak Bullywug but understand common.

Kremy doesn't blame Pierre for anything, since he's just doing his job.

Frost considered breakfast the most important meal of the day.

Immediately offers to give Gricko half his meal after he throws up.

Garou considers 'knowledge' to have monetary value that can be taken from him.

He has been watching Kremy for years since he left him, and knows every single scam he ran, and the amount he 'earned'.

Gideon, Gricko, Hootsie and Frost are named as inheritors of his debt.

They salted mines in Grizzlepaw, and 'something else' Gideon seems concerned about.

They earned a significant amount they earned in Beavercreek, and Gideon actively tries to forget something that happened.

Gricko and Frost were with them the majority of the time.

Gossip travels fast in Agwé

Gricko assumed the Carnivale made no money and that's why he wasn't paid.

Kremy DID pay some costs of the carnivale, just not wages.

Gideon isn't a morning person.

Frost is good at arithmetic.

Gideon's idea was to put Frost back on the tables and card count to win 100,000 gold.

Gricko enjoys making Frost do quick maths. Gricko is bad at maths.

Kremy knows that anyone who wins big against the house always end up dead.

'There's probably no one worse to owe money to (than Garou).'

Garou has more 'friends on that other side' than Kremy.

Frost gets easily distracted by maths challenges.

Kremy fucking hates the idea of honest work. It seems to disgust him.

Gricko thinks much better of people than he really should.

Kremy is absolutely terrified of Garou when he's in his bad books.

Gideon offers to sell Hootsie, suggests that he and Kremy have talked about doing that privately. They genuinely consider it. Especially Kremy.

They can't run from Garou, he will always know where they are.

Kremy considers that the fact that they both work for the Baron is why Garou can watch him.

Kremy lies and says he will ask the Baron for help but doubts he'll help, then tells Gideon he won't. 'Not a fuckin' chance, he'll sloop my eyeballs right outta my head.'

Frost suggests they could perform a heist or marry rich.

Gricko thinks very highly of himself as a partner and thinks it's too early for him to marry.

Frost doesn't really think about women at all.

The richest people in Agwé are Remy Garou and Alphonse Le'Blanc, a vampire.

Mace's first roll is a natural 20.

Derek's is a natural 1.

Garou set up at least 4 Sinners to watch them in the Crossroads tavern, Gaston, other Pierre.

Frost was going to suggest they kill Garou.

Hootsie had buttons thrown at her for a jig she did.

Gricko is extremely gullible and believes Frost's deadpan sarcasm even when it's ridiculous.

The Crossroads is in the Crawdad Quarter, an area where everyone has hunting knives and will stab you over money.

They all try to look cool when they get up except Gricko who focuses kn Hootsie.

Frost crushes a rat with Mind Sliver the second he sees it for Hootsie. Gricko enjoys watching. He praises her for catching dead rats.

There are food stalls, taverns, stalls and shops with busy people around.

Gricko thinks very fondly of the carnies and acts.

They were run out of town for the IOUs given and trusted a shitty accountant.

Garou counted the IOUs.

Frost considers that he could be forced to be a barmaid. (I should draw that)

5 silver for a calico cat belonging to Francine.

Bayou Brass Bar and Music Shop, musical act 10 gold a night, tips guaranteed.

Cousins Louie's looking for a bellhop, 5 gold

Rich Boy Po'boy line chef, 5 gold. Kremy's Meemaw goes there. Free meal every shift.

Gricko likes the idea of that, Gideon can't cook and Kremy refuses to 'go back to that professionally'.

They have 3 weeks.

Kremy considers it unimportant what Garou will do to them, they'll die regardless.

Kremy says Garou can 'pretty much' suck your soul through your eyeballs. The fellas when he's done look like empty caprisuns, withered away.

Gricko thinks you have to spend money to make money. He wants to buy soap with prizes inside in the hopes that one will have 100k inside.

Frost promises to show Gricko how to play poker and smoke cigars. Gricko claims he's 'always smoked a pipe', and its 'very easy, simple'.

Frost in INT based.

Everything else on the job board is much older but Frost feels bad about the cat and wants to keep an eye out for it.

Roslof is part of a Warlock guild. He wants a adventuring party to travel into the Feywild to find his patron.

The advertisement for the patron was put up a long time ago.

Frost wants to go for the cat over the patron seeking because 'cat owners are shifty' and suggests they can find something in her mattress. He doesn't like that the patron one isn't specific enough

Guilds have tons of gold because its very expensive to be part of one. Kremy isn't in a guild.

Frost makes a joke about peacelocks as opposed to warlocks.

The patron post looks like its made with shitty clip art.

Kremy considers Archfey warlocks totally different to him.

Kremy knows the layout of Agwé well and has heard the name Madrick Roslof, he's been around for a LONG time. He's rumoured to be wealthy, his house is nice despite being on the edge of the swamp. He 'swims in the same circles' as wealthy elite

Frost knows what Archfey are.

Frost is upset that they said the giant pumpkins weren't big enough, happier when they're 20 by 15ft

Kremy thinks the patch itself is huge

Madrick's full name is Steve Madrick Roslof.

Kremy didn't know he was a warlock.

Gricko would save the Archfey for friendship and to help people rather than gold.

Richie stole Nikkie's dice.

Multiple Sinners are watching them outside.

Agwé is surrounded by swamp.

Magnolia Promenade is another area.

Gideon also believes deadpan sarcasm and obvious lies from his friends.

Gricko can't take a hint.

Kremy knows the swamp itself like the back of his hand, they go through the water itself. Knee deep.

Takes 2.5-3 hrs to get to Roslof's home.

25 giant pumpkins in the patch.

The house seems dwarfed by the pumpkins around it. The house smells like pumpkin pie.

Kremy loves pumpkin pie.

Kremy claims the pumpkins were normal sized last time he was in the area, suggesting a lot of time passed.

Gricko doesn't catch onto innuendos a lot of time. Frost does and kinda hates it.

Gricko just wants pumpkin pie. Frost would rather have money.

Gricko tells Hootsie to mind her manners, speak up but only speak when spoken to.

Kremy knocks with his cane skull topper.

Roslof doesn't come to the door until they knock loudly.

Roslof wears a black cloak, a long tailored embroidered shirt, billowy pants and house slippers.

Two 'what appear to be pixies'. Blonde in purple clothes, red in green clothes.

Roslof's hair is very long, down to his back, solid white. His eyebrows are bushy, piercing blue eyes, small tattoo of his right eyebrow in the shape of a chicken foot. He's hard of hearing.

He can hear the pixies even when nobody else can.

He runs the guild.

Kremy claims Roslof was a regular of 'Crusty Dick's', where he worked as a cook 'back in the day' that served crab.

Roslof says he's 'spritely'.

It's a cosy, comfortable cottage with lots of books. The pixies have a tiny shrunk oak tree with tiny houses with porches as a pixie tower. They drink tea.

They seems to speak telepathically to Madrick and verbally to each other.

Madrick might do crochet, he has crochet throws and there are balls of yarn in a basket 'he clearly enjoys yarnwork'.

Kremy makes sure to ask for pie for Hootsie. Coffee exists and they all like it.

Gricko immediately offers to help Roslof, Kremy and Gideon just sit down. Hootsie settles into a dog bet that's much too small for her.

Roslof may have owned a sausage dog called Sparklebutt, he has a pillow with one on and a small dog bed.

The calico cat from the missing poster is in his home (missing things find their way to the Feywild?)

Kremy and Gideon start looking for things to steal.

Roslof wears a apron that says 'kiss the cook'

He serves it with iced custard, candied pumpkin bits, homemade whipping cream and cinnamon, the coffee is pumpkin spiced.

Gricko tries to make conversation with him and asks questions about his home.

Roslof has giant pumpkin seeds around his home.

Kremy knows the fey are 'tricksy'. Gideon doesn't have a great memory.

There are photos of Madrick on the wall documenting his life and the adventuring party he used to be part of.

Kremy gets nervous that the pumpkin pie is the grand reward.

Frost also helps bring the coffee and pies.

Roslof mistakes Gricko for being Frost's 'green child', and Hootsie for a dog he likely has poor eyesight even with his glasses. He thinks its weird that Gricko is named Gricko Morning.

Roslof realises he's a goblin when he squints and moves closer, so he's near sighted.

Gricko is the oldest of the group.

Gricko thinks its considerate and nice to be offered a booster seat but he doesn't need one. He loves colouring books, especially mazes. Frost automatically does the word jumble over Gricko's shoulder. Gricko claims he 'always does this'.

Nobody's visited Roslof in a long time.

He spent 35 gold on making the advertisement.

Roslof hasn't heard from his patron in 15 years. He still has all his magic.

He seems to be very observant, telling Kremy he's a 'great liar' when he's barely said anything, just claimed they want to help him.

Kremy takes it as a compliment.

Madryck comments that Gideon is ‘Very Large’, that Frost is ‘Very, very smart’, and that Kremy is a ‘Great liar’. All three say ‘Thank you for noticing’ in return. To Gricko he says ‘I like you a lot’, and Gricko thanks him.

Madryck expresses concern that the group may not be up to the task, as many do not survive the Feywild.

He clarifies that Prismeer is a domain in the Feywild that Zybilna reins over, ‘the Queen of the Palace of Heart's Desire.’

Madryck describes her as a ‘fairy godmother, of sorts’, ‘she's kind, and gentle, she is sorely missed.’

Kremy has heard of the Feywild but has never been.

Frost admits he's never been, but it is one of many planar locations he would like to visit.

Gricko hasn't either, Gideon says he hasn't, ‘I don't think’. Gricko asks Hootsie, and Derek pretends to voice her saying ‘once or twice’.

Hootsie has been to the Feywild pre-carnivale as that is where Owlbears are native to in Avantris.

Kremy asks if Madryck can help them get to the Feywild, and he brings up that the Witchlight carnival is in town. He clarifies that Zybilna made the carnivale originally as a gateway into the Feywild for those who wanted to meet with her, to get her help.

With the reveal that the carnival is in town, Gricko exclaims ‘has it already been eight years? Hootsie, have we been together for eight years?’, as the carnival only appears once every eight years.

Gricko considers the day he got Hootsie as her birthday, and tells her they have to throw the greatest party.

They do not throw her a birthday party :(

Gricko worked for the Witchlight carnival last time it was on the material plane as a ‘temp gig’, that he was ‘down on his luck’, prior to meeting Frost, Kremy or Gideon.

Gricko never mentioned it by name before, only referring to it as ‘the carnival’, because he found Hootsie there and immediately ran away with her.

Gricko gets very emotional thinking about how tiny Hootsie was when he took her from the carnival, implying that Hootsir was an extremely young owlbear cub at the time.

The Witchlight carnivale is owned by two Shadar-Kai, natives to the Shadowfell, called Mr Witch and Mr Light, but they were not the original owners.

He visited the carnival when Gricko was working there.

Gricko was a ‘base level carnie’ and stuck with other goblins, not interacting with high levels of staff.

He did beast taming, juggling and other minor acts and jobs.

The carnival has a high turn around rate and doesn't have good benefits for employees.

Gricko only worked for a few days.

Gricko has wood carvings of Hootsie from the first day he met her, detailing all her milestones, including teaching her her first jig (in a little hat), her first corn and corn alone day. in the form of flat wooden tokens in the style of fold out pictures in a wallet.

He also has one of him and Frost together, they both like it.

Madryck Roslof falls asleep multiple times very easily during conversation. His bedtime is 5pm.

A local man called Tom sings outside who Roslof claims is an asshole. Gricko tells him not to give uo on his dreams, then to give up on them after he's told Tom is an asshole.

Madryck doesn't remember information he told them only two minutes ago.

Zybilna ‘takes many forms’, and that she is a ‘statuesque woman, with ‘large blonde hair, with a chickenfoot tattoo over her eye.’

Roslof tells them he wants to die, Kremy says ‘We could help you with that!’, and Derek immediately mimes Frost picking up a pillow to smother Roslof with, saying ‘It's gonna be alright, it's going to be fine Mr Roslof it's all over,It's fine, we'll take care of your pixies. We'll sell your pumpkins for hundreds of thousands of gold pieces.’

Zybilna has gifted Roslof with an extraordinarily long life, and he claims to have millions of gold along with a trove of magical items worth an untold amount. He will give his entire fortune to whomever will go into the Feywild and find out what happened to Zybilna.

They all agree that it would be the right thing to help Madryck pass on peacefully, if for different reasons.

Madryck has never been to the Feywild.

The carnival is 2-2.5 days from Agwé.

Madryck bought a novelty plaque that says ‘I smell old people, oh that's just me’ from Dr Etouffee, who sells fake magical items, and is described as looking like Kremy but older. Kremy confirms to Gricko that he is his brother, and his real name is Kermy.

They need to collect proof that they found Zybilna.

Madryck has written a letter to Zybilna on the back of a paper that says ‘Antiques made daily’. Frost currently has it.

Roslof has signed a magical contract from Kremy to affirm the agreement.

Roslof has diabetes and arthritis.

He has a crocheted purse, which contains mittens, multiple pairs of bifocals, another coffee mug, an old wallet that is empty, a picture of a really sexy older lady and an envelope filled with a down payment.

The down payment is a bag of magical beans, a cloak of displacement, some letters, and 500 gold pieces.

The gang each get a free ticket to the carnivale. They're very high quality.

Kremy is self conscious over how low quality his carnival was despite it being his own fault.

Kremy calls many people ‘friend’, regardless of his intentions.

Gricko communes with the spirits of monsters whose parts or hides he uses to make sure they don’t mind and thank them for it before he uses them.

They go back to Roslof’s twice.

The carnival is located near Bogpossum, north west from Agwé.

There is a cleric group called ‘The Church of the Blinding Light’ that has set up in Agwé, and are passing out pamphlets to advertise their religion. These are the worshippers of Pholtus.

The followers of the Blinding Light are against the Witchlight carnival existing in Agwe, claiming it is ‘crawling with evil’ after being taken over by Shadar-Kai. Kremy suggests they might get violent against the carnival.

Frost does not understand the prejudice against Shadar-Kai.

Carnival Lecroux had a similarly bad reputation.

Gricko casts guidance on Gideon to help him with reading, which comes in the form of a Rust Monster, a flea-like monster whose spectral form swirls around Gideon before returning to Gricko. Frost casts Resistance, which does not help.

Gideon struggles to read, and does so slowly. Guidance helped.

Roslof ‘always wanted to be the Witchlight Monarch’, and asks the krew to try to become the Witchlight Monarch. ‘You can be a Monarch, a real one’.

Frost and Kremy agree that it's strange and illogical that something of such good fortune would so easily befall them.

Frost has a deep urge to smash the giant pumpkins.

Kremy leads the krew toward Bogpossum.

Cypress trees are native to Agwé and are the dominant species in the swamp surrounding it.

Mangrove and poplar trees are an indicator that the veil between the Material plane and the Feywild plane is thin, and the two are overlapping in parts, allowing fey to find their way over as much as mortals can get into the Feywild.

The air glitters, sounds are heightened, and the land appears to have completely changed, as the land shifts and changes in the Feywild.

Hootsie wears socks.

Mangrove trees do not grow at ALL in Agwé, nor anywhere nearby.

Agwé feels ‘darker, grimier somehow, doesn't feel like home’ to Kremy compared to last time he visited after the Feywild leaks through.

The Feywild does not affect Kremy's innate sense of direction.

Gricko believes heavily in Fate as a guiding force of the universe, and believes that wherever he ends up is where he was meant to be.

Gricko was worried about the missing cat, and teases Gideon about being worried about it, who gets very defensive.

The missing cat, a small tabby, was in Roslof’s house when they visited, sitting on the stairs. Frost recalls it but says nothing.

They all roll CON to try to fight off fey curses in the form of swamp gas. This is the first curse of the show.

Mikey rolls a 27, Mace a 16. Mikey has to reroll, and gets a 34.

Gidron believes he becomes a rotting corpse, vomiting up his internal organs, his flesh decaying. Gricko believes himself to be made of solid gold. They're both hallucinating, but Gideon is literally vomiting.

Frost covers his mouth and nose and advises Kremy to do the same, immediately working out that the gas might be doing something.

Gricko says he is ‘Trapped and so beautiful at the same time…also have a very nice intrinsic value.’ Frost responds that he's glad Gricko has ‘finally come to realise that’ and comments on how stiff he's standing.

Gricko does verbal self affirmations after stretches in the morning.

Gideon just gives up once he believes he's dying, saying they had a ‘good run’.

They had shrimp and grits for breakfast.

Poking at Gideon's vomit with his cane, Kremy released more swamp gas, and so he and Frost had to roll CON at disadvantage, and both fail.

Derek got an 88, Richie an 83.

Kremy claims he'd get Gideon to a doctor if he was actually dying, but he seems no worse than a usual night out, suggesting that Gideon drinks so heavily on nights out that he often ends up vomiting, and Kremy stays around when he does.

Frost's legs become fused. He's convinced everyone else is fine, but he's experiencing a real problem.

Gricko comments that Frost has ‘very nice calves’ and that he's never seen Frost skip leg day.

Vines and leaves grow from Kremy's body hair, which doesn't make sense because as a lizardfolk, Kremy has no body hair whatsoever, but he gets vines regardless.

Superhero/mutant comic books exist in Avantris, and Kremy has read some. He does the spiderman hand motions when he uses his ‘vines’.

Frost tries to redirect Kremy's attention to his legs, insistent that his is the only real curse, and Gricko tells him to ‘spread em, Frosty!’ after Frost claims he can't move them.

Kremy attempts to pull open Frost's legs with his vines and it does not work.

Frost is intelligent enough to understand that the others are experiencing some kind of magical effect. But his curse is real.

Frost's legs are spread wide apart the entire time.

Gricko's main concern is that Hootsie might not love him anymore when he's metal.

Hootsie believes she is the greatest bard to ever live, and dances. She does help Gricko when he asks, pushing him forward, but without use of his legs he falls forward into the swamp.

Frost expresses concern that Gricko might actually die from drowning. He attempts to army crawl over after Kremy fails to help with his ‘vines’, but gets caught on mangrove roots.

Frost uses Message to tell Gricko he can move and has to roll over to avoid drowning and come help Frost. Gricko believes him, claiming he might be gold but he has 16 points of articulation.

Frost is actively doggy paddling to try to keep his head above water while he's trapped by the root, keeping his head above water.

Hootsie starts drumming on a log with some sticks, and Gricko praises her, saying she's a real natural drummer, and that she IS the greatest bard to ever live.

Kremy gets somewhat short with Frost, telling him to just get up and help *him*. Gideon believes himself to be a complete skeleton. He lies on the ground, acting dead.

Kremy tries to tell him that he has a skeleton INSIDE him, but that he's fine, using the fact that they're still able to communicate as evidence that Gideon is in fact still alive.

Gideom struggles to retort, saying that that's a good point, but he is just bones.

Kremy then brings up that if he was a skeleton with no muscles, he wouldn't be strong anymore. Gricko agrees, telling Gideon he has ‘some impressive gains’.

Gideon believes himself to be expelling bone chips, but in reality it's pieces of shrimp and some sausage.

Gricko casts Lesser Restoration to try cute Gideon's puking, the spell manifesting as a blue spectral basilisk. They quickly realise that the spell would be useless, but decide to use it anyway.

Gricko has the idea that if Frost started a nation, his gold body could back the currency, or that they could cut him up and give parts of him to Garou to cover their debt, or live as a tasteful statue in the Hungry Catfish.

Kremy successfully manages to convince Gideon to punch Gricko and Gricko to let Gideon punch him, using the logic that if their delusions were true, Gideon wouldn't be able to punch him with no muscles and Gricko wouldn't get hurt because he's solid gold.

Gricko is openly deeply concerned about hurting his friend’s hand.

Kremy tries to bite off the vines, they taste like kale.

Frost's legs are ‘About as far apart as legs can possibly be, trust me, (Gideon) would know!’ They're in the shape of a Y in the air.

Gideon jokes that he's ‘taken Gricko's head off one time’.

Kremy laments that they'll be stuck in the swamp forever.

Frost tries to convince Kremy to try to bite Gricko, as he's the only one with working legs, and pure gold is soft, as a means of testing the delusion to see if it's an illusion. If Gricko bleeds, ‘like a jelly donut’, it's not real.

Gideon punches Gricko, and believes his arm to shatter into bone fragments, and Gricko believes he's unharmed, despite taking 10 points of damage.

Frost finally starts to believe that Gideon and Gricko are ‘clearly skeleton and gold…’

Kremy decides that this is true but they just need to deal with this new reality and move on. Gideon agrees to carry Frost with one arm, claiming he's light, which Frost protests before he's put over Gideon's shoulder. Kremy lifts Gricko around the waist.

Gideon tells Frost that when he finally dies in the swamp, don't let anyone know what happened on Bearpaw mountain. He likely means Grizzlepaw mountain. Hootsie sings and follows.

After ten minutes, they get out the muck and the delusions fade immediately.

Frost considers Gideon's shoulder to be ‘surprisingly comfortable’.

Kremy immediately considers bottling and selling the swamp gas as a drug in Agwé.

Gideon apologises for breaking Gideon's nose and making him lose multiple teeth.

Derek does the horrific nose breaking trick.

The trees change back to cypress trees and Kremy recognises a landmark. They've been travelling for at least a day. Behind them it's only cypress, no mangrove trees.

After asking how he looks after resetting his nose, Gideon tells Gricko to ‘rub some dirt in it’, Kremy says ‘you've probably looked worse, in the years I've known you’, and Frost tells him he likely needs medical attention.

A spectral Girallon appears to give Gricko a bunch of bananas as his form of the Goodberry spell. Gideon takes two.

Avantis goblins can regrow their teeth a seemingly unlimited number of times.

The Witchlight Carnival can be seen from miles away, with lights and music and smells.

They sleep once in the swamp, they have tents.

( To be continued, ends at 2:28:51)

#ouaw #legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #avantris #avantris lorekeeping #kremy lecroux #ouaw kremy #gideon coal #gricko grimgrin #hootsie grimgrin #morning frost

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actuallysaiyan · 1 year ago

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Heart To Heart(Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Bimbo!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, college AU, Emo!Nanami, Bimbo!Reader, reader is actually a sweetheart and smart, blowjobs, making out, alcohol mentions, Kento is a bit of an asshole in this one, fluff, mentions of trauma word count: 3k! pairings: Emo!College!Kento Nanami x Fem!Bimbo!Reader summary: you and Nanami have classes together in university, and he just thinks you screwed your way into these classes. he makes it known one day what he thinks of you, and you snap. but when you meet up at a party, things get spicy.

Nanami had himself convinced that you were bad news. Something about the way you were always applying that sticky lipgloss while looking at yourself in your cute Hello Kitty compact mirror just drove him insane. He had finally gotten himself into a very good university after leaving the sorcerer world behind, and here you were ruining his experience.

You were in quite a few of his classes, which surprises him. You don’t look like you know anything about finances or business, let alone simple arithmetic. You with your eyes so big and expressive, your lips just so juicy and pouty. How could you possibly know anything that he was working so hard on learning? How could a single thought run through that dumb head of yours?

And yet, you were so kind to him. Even when he brushed you off and gave you the cold shoulder, you were always there to lend a hand when you could. You were someone who would come to class with a box of baked goods to offer to everyone. You always had a spare pencil for someone, or an extra notepad to share. And you never ever said no to someone’s request to copy your notes whenever they had missed a class. In reality, despite your appearance, you were someone who just genuinely cared.

Still, Kento was often left fuming whenever he spotted you. He knew about the archetypes and stereotypes of those around him and even himself. He knew that people thought he was a freak for his appearance, and yet they would never know the horrors and trauma he had gone through. He keeps his hair long in the front, his hoodie is always pulled up whenever he gets the chance. He’s even wearing black nail polish and hardly ever washes off the leftover eyeliner and mascara.

The others look at him like he’s some sort of plague, and yet you don’t even glance at him like that. Your looks towards him are soft and sweet, but he just knows there is no way you wouldn’t trick a guy like him. Nanami has to remind himself that you’re just as bad as the others, and all the kind things you do for anyone, it’s all just a plot to have everyone under the spiked heel of your cute stilettos. You were a sweet girl, but underneath it all, Nanami was convinced you could scratch out his eyes with a swipe of your perfectly manicured nails.

Yet he could never really pull himself away from you completely. You always smell so good, and your lips look so plump and juicy. Kento swears he can smell your lip gloss from a mile away. You’re almost too good to be true, he thinks to himself often. You must have a trail of guys following you around, simping and moaning just for you. So Nanami figures it’s just easier to hate you and deem you unworthy of his presence or his words.

Things change one day when you’re partnered up with him for a finance class project. You sit at your desk, doodling something in your cute pink notebook. There’s a feathery pom pom on the end of your pen. Nanami rolls his eyes and scoffs as he sits down near you, not daring to even be that close to you. He keeps his distance, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Hiya Ken~” you coo at him, making his heart skip a beat at the softness of your voice.

Kento scowls, “It’s Kento. Not Ken.”

You pout softly, “Oh, yeah okay. Kento it is.”

You duck your head down a little, somehow feeling so self-conscious. Nobody has made you feel this way before. You’re dejected because you’ve always thought he was so cute, and now that you get the chance to shoot your shot, he’s rejecting you already. So you begin looking at the page explaining the project and you discuss things with him quietly. He seems so disinterested in what you have to say, his eyes flickering towards other people in the classroom. He wishes he could be partnered up with anyone else but you. He’d rather do the project alone if he’s being completely honest. You start to feel like you aren’t wanted at all.

“Listen, we don’t even really need to do any of this together. We can just work on our own parts and submit them together.” You suggest, your cheeks a little pink from not being able to do a simple project with the guy you like.

Nanami watches you carefully, “Hmph, I doubt you can even complete your side of things.”

Your heart aches at this. You know you don’t have the appearance of a scholarly type, but you do well in your studies. You worked so hard to get this spot in the university. You come from a small town, and you never really had much growing up. So for you to finally get this shot and to be able to treat yourself to cute things you’ve always longed for, it means the world to you. But you were growing a bit more upset with every passing moment.

You thrust the pen in his direction, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kento smirks, “Come on, there’s no way you really understand this material. Just admit that you got here by using your good looks and charm.”

This made you recoil. Your stomach was in knots from the thought of him implying that you fucked your way into this school. You frown and your big eyes fill up with tears. Suddenly, Nanami doesn’t feel so confident about what he’s saying anymore. He’s got guilt and regret rising up in his chest like acid.

“Is that truly what you think? You see a girl wearing pink and liking cute things and you think she’s fucked her way into university? Well screw you, Nanami Kento!”

You rise up from your seat and gather all your things. You excuse yourself to the teacher and make your way into the hallway. Tears slide down your cheeks, ruining the makeup you so meticulously put on this morning. You feel your stomach turning in knots, not sure how to even process all of this. You know you can prove him wrong, and you will.

ONE WEEK LATER

Despite the issues with Kento, you were still able to complete your side of the project and hand it in early. When you attended your classes, you ignored him. Your heart longed for him, but you were beginning to think maybe people were right about him. He’s just a freak. He’s mean and will probably cast a hex on you. Still, you think that people were always being too harsh. Just the way that Nanami had been with you. Judging people before getting to know them was always a bad habit that most people had, but you were someone who tried not to pass the judgement.

The weekend was fast approaching and the big party at the local frat house was what was on everyone’s mind. Everyone was going, and you knew that even Kento had been invited. Despite still feeling so sour after what had happened, you decide that you’re going to attend that party. And you were going to show him what he was missing out on. Just because you like cute things and wore makeup didn’t mean you weren’t someone smart and fun.

The night of the party arrives and you show up dressed in a sexy, tight pink dress. It’s strapless and hugs your curves in all the right ways. You talk to a few people, mingling as you get a few drinks into you. You’re not even really sure that he was going to show up, you were just feeling a little hopeful. The more drinks you had, the more you wanted him to be there so you could apologize about your outburst.

The moment he walks in the door, your heart stops and your breath hitches in your throat. He’s cleaned up, but he still carries himself the same way as usual. The hoodie up over his head, his bangs cascading down over one eye. You see that he’s cleaned up his peeling nail polish, and it seems like he’s applied a clean coat of mascara and eyeliner. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him put this much effort into his appearance. This makes you wonder if he’s hoping to meet someone here. You look away, your eyes darting down to the drink in your hands.

The music is loud and you try to drown all your insecurities in this drink. You wish he’d come talk to you considering you were much too shy now to approach him. He looks so good tonight too, and you were feeling drunk enough to try to shoot your shot again even if he had made it clear what he truly thought of you. So you just go snag another mixed drink and go to the dancefloor.

It’s not long before you bump into him as you’re on your way to the kitchen for a cup of water. Both of you are a little shy about this at first, and Kento can barely look you in the eyes. He’s mortified that he would bump into you after all the shit he’s said to you.

“Hey,” you say shyly. You drink some of the water.

He smiles sheepishly, “Hi…”

Neither of you really know how to proceed. But eventually it’s all bubbling up inside of each other. Kento fiddles with the guitar pick necklace that sits on his collarbone. You really look so cute tonight—no, you look so sexy. He’s never seen anyone look this good in his entire life.

“Hey Ken…erm, Kento…about the other day,” you begin but he stops you.

He smirks, “I kind of like it when you call me Ken.”

You blush at his words. You have always loved giving people nicknames. It’s just a way of showing you care. You take another sip of your water and giggle gently. Kento reaches up and brushes stray hair from your face.

“So what were you going to say?” He asks, leaning in a little closer.

You smile, “I wanted to apologize for the way I snapped. I guess it wasn’t right of me to tell you to screw yourself.”

It’s Kento’s turn to blush. He begins to explain himself, saying how he completely misunderstood you and judged you even before he got to know you better. He’s profusely apologizing and all of this is going straight to your heart. Before either of you can say anything else, you grab him by the wrist and you lead him to the nearest room with the lock on the door. This happens to be the bathroom.

Once the door is locked, you push him against the wall and kiss him hungrily. This is the moment you can truly feel his body against yours, and you realize that he is quite muscular. Kento groans as your tongue slides into his mouth, rubbing against his in the most sensual way. He’s had sex before, but never has it been this hungry and passionate.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly to pull him even closer to you. You are so desperate to melt into every aspect of him. You want him, you need him more than anything else. You would forgo anything else in this world just to be forever in this moment with him.

“Ken, I think I’ve liked you since the moment I met you,”

Your confession hangs in the air, making his heart race. He didn’t even think someone like you could think twice about him. You’re so pretty and soft and you make him so tongue tied most of the time. Despite his anger and rude treatment towards you, he’s been in denial about his own feelings for you.

“Shit, I’ve been feeling the same. I guess I just couldn’t come to terms with it.”

You don’t let him say anything else, you just capture his lips with yours once more. He pulls you in closer, his large hands caressing your curves through that tight little dress. You moan into his mouth when his hands cup your breasts and squeeze gently. When you pull away to breathe, a string of saliva keeps you connected.

Without another word, you kneel in front of him. Kento cannot believe his eyes as you undo his studded belt and unzip his pants. Regardless of his own feelings of resentment, he’s always thought you had the prettiest lips. The perfect pair to give the kind of blowjobs you only see in the premium porn videos.

Your eyes widen when you pull out his length from the confines of his boxers. He’s not only lengthy, but he’s got the kind of girth that ruins sex with anyone else. You know now that you really don’t want to let him go at all. With a soft giggle, you lean in to kiss the dribbling tip. Kento grunts as he feels your slick lips on his cock. He reaches down to tangle his fingers in your pretty, soft tresses. You spend a long time just pressing sloppy kisses to his cock. Then you lick all the way down the base, your tongue licking at his balls now. He shudders under your ministrations, knowing it’s going to be hard to hold on if he lets you continue for too much longer.

The moment you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin taking him into your mouth, Kento knows he’s hooked to this treatment. He knows he’s going to have to fuck you so good to show you how sorry he is about the shit he said about you the other day. You begin bobbing your head up and down, swallowing around him. He lets you suck him with expertise for a little while before he tugs on your hair and pulls you back up to kiss him.

“Get that pretty ass on the counter,” he says as he picks you up. You barely have to do anything as he sets you on the bathroom counter. He leans into another fierce kiss, this time he’s really taking the lead.

Kento doesn’t even bother undressing either of you. He just shoves your dress up over your hips, his other hand busy playing with your soaked pussy. He smirks when he realizes that you’re this aroused just from a little kissing and sucking his cock. He loves that he has this effect on you.

“You this wet just from blowing me?” he teases as his fingers push your panties to the side. Your eyes roll back as he rubs your clit in slow circles.

“Ken…” you breathe. You’re already so needy for him.

He spreads your thighs and spits into his hand. The saliva gets mixed with your own juices to coat his cock before he slides into you with one long thrust. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to pump into you. You’ve never ever felt this full in your life. All you can do is hold onto him and have him fuck you stupid.

“Please please…” you beg as the tip of his cock brushes against the sweet spot deep inside you. “Fuck me, Ken.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He picks up his pace, and you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. You lock your ankles, keeping him in place. He hammers himself into you over and over, his breath hot on your face and neck as he grunts and groans.

“You gonna be my pretty girl?” he asks, locking eyes with you.

You feel so shy all of a sudden, “Y-yours?” You let out a moan when he thrusts into you particularly hard.

“Yeah, mine. You gonna be my pretty girl?”

Your mind is reeling from all this pleasure. The coil in your stomach is tightening fast, and the thought of being exclusively Kento’s girl seems to be pushing you further and further towards your peak. You gasp as one of his hands slips between you, rubbing your clit slowly and with precision. You can barely think straight at this point. The room is filled with the lewd, wet sounds of your skin slapping together with every harsh thrust.

“Gotta answer me, baby. Or else I won’t let you cum.”

You whine, “Ken, please. I just…I can’t…”

He chuckles darkly. He’s never had this much power during sex before and it’s turning him on. He knows that you’re already such a little cutie and a sweetie, but he could easily turn you into his perfect little spoiled princess. He begins to pull away, making your orgasm slowly subside.

“I’ll be yours! ‘Wanna be only yours!” you squeal, trying to pull him back in.

Kento smirks and then he nips at your lower lip, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He gets back into the rhythm you need to cum. His thumb rubs your clit, making your thighs shudder and shake around him. As the pleasure builds, you feel tears streaming down your cheeks. Your back arches as stars dance in your vision. A shaky breath falls from your plump lips before you cry out his name. Your silky walls begin to pulse and clench around his already throbbing cock, pushing him over the edge just behind you. Shots of his thick, hot cum fill your waiting womb.

Slowly, you both grind against one another to prolong the pleasure. Then you both still, just basking in the afterglow of the pleasure. Kento kisses you softly, using both his hands to wipe away your tears.

“I’m really sorry for that bullshit I said the other day. You’re a good girl,” He says, pecking your lips.

“It’s okay, Ken. I forgive you.”

You’re both interrupted by a loud knock, followed by a series of giggles and cackles. Your cover is blown, but neither of you really care. The only thing that matters is that you have each other.

Kento helps you freshen up and dress once more, and you help him tuck his softening cock back into his pants. Then, hand in hand, you both exit the bathroom. You’re all smiles as you leave the party, walking on cloud nine as you lead him back to your dorm for round two.

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threepandas · 6 months ago

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Bad End: Century Demons

The steam engine blasted vapor into the air. Cacophonous chatter from the crowds all around us, pressing like a physical weight. I truely did hate traveling. Granted, there was nothing for it, we were needed. Being their Majesty's Special Task Force and all. But STILL! Awful. Just, awful!

It was the pushing, really. The constant shoving. Flashs of insight into lives I wanted nothing to do with. That individual? Marriage was collapsing. This one? Had debts. The girl who just stepped on my foot, thought she was in love, but honestly? Any adult could tell you how badly it was going to end. He was using her.

Frankly, I wish we could walk. At this point? I would honestly take a flipping DONKEY! But nooooo! What has my husband decided to do? "Let's take the TRAIN, darling! It'll be an ADVENTURE! Save so much TIME!"

He's lucky I married him AT ALL. Fuck. I HAD options! Could have been a Baron's wife. Well-to-do! But NO, I wanted to HELP people. Like a FOOL. Gods, my mother was RIGHT! Cute air-heads WOULD be the death of-!

I finally spot Arthur, the sweet idiot, looking lost by our baggage. Map in hand. Like a confused puppy told to do arithmetic or be scolded, his anxiety is palpable. I gather my skirts and shove. Fuck being polite. Everyone ELSE seems to be fine, being stampeding herd animals. Why not I? Move!

"O-Oh thank goodness! Darling!" Arthur gasps, nearly dropping the map as he reaches for me as I get close. His eye are wide and his expression frazzled. Tone as though someone has been compressing his chest. "There are-! There are so many PATHS! I didn't-! And I-! Oh dear. W-what do we do? Darling, I can't-! It's so-!"

Damn it! I KNEW this would happen! This was an awful idea! Reaching for my husband's face, I cup his cheeks, propriety be damned. Pull him close to press his forhead against mine. Match my breath, dear. Focus, darling, just... focus. Close your eyes. You do not See. Curse crowded places and what they do to us. We should have moved to the countryside years ago.

But no, no Arthur would never leave his Sister. And I'll not leave him behind. Damn it all, why? WHY?

Why did she have to pick the Nobility Route?

It was bad enough, remembering this world "wasn't real". That it had a "plot" for Gods sake. Bad ENOUGH to realize that the monster under the bed very much WERE a real and present threat, that I SHOULD be concerned about. But fool that I am? Did I HAVE to fall in love with the Protagonist's brother? Sweet and foolish? A simple, if air headed man? Apparently!

All I could do, now, was try to protect him. Try and protect myself.

Ignore the nasty, judging looks, being sent our way. Piss off! The lot of you! I took no vows to YOU. Stood in no church! There us exactly ONE person in the train station I care about, and it is NONE of you, so keep your snide opinions to yourself! Breathe, Arthur. There we go, dear.

Pulling back slightly, I check his eyes. They flick and track things unseen. He is still unusually pale. He... he will be rather disappointed. He was excited to try the trains. To him? They are a bold new technology.

Maybe once we get farther from the city. Here, at least, he is drowning.

Then, a change. Sudden and swiftly building. Whatever Paths my husband traced were disappearing, narrowing, even as terror sweeped across his face. Only twice I had ever seen this before. Once, was an earthquake. The largest seen in over 400 years. The other? A bombing just before the royal wedding, we had been still engaged then. But the way he had frozen? Mid-sentence?

It is BURNED into my mind. Just like the horror that followed.

Bellowing, I command everyone to get out. Evacuate.

NOW.

But already... it is too late. Down the line of the train, terrible symbols flash into being. Molten red metal, on the side of the train cars themselves, instants before the BLOW. Unspeakable shrapnel bombs. Made of people and metal and MAGIC. The train cars lifted from the tracks by the knock back, smashing into fleeing crowds, even as the next car goes off. And then the next. And the next.

A writhing chain of death.

Like the dying spasms if a great snake.

My husband is frozen. No. As I drag him down? I realize with horror, worse. Seizing. It has NEVER been this bad! What is HAPPENING?! What Path is he SEEING that could cause such OVERLOAD? Terrified, I watch as thin trails of blood, seep from his eyes, his nose. Oh Gods. Oh GODS! Arthur? ARTHUR!

Love! Stay with me! Please! D-Darling, Please! Focus on my voice! You have to let them GO! Close your EYES, Arthur! Don't look! Please, DON'T LOOK! It's KILLING YOU!

"That's rather the point."

I stop. From on the ground, where I crawl. Dragging my unresponsive husband to safety. My gaze finally whips around to ahead of us. Amongst the chaos... stands a conductor. Pressed uniform clean and hair entirely too long. His eyes... oh Gods, his EYES. I do not need to touch him to know. That? THAT is not a human.

Not anymore.

Shrapnel flies harmlessly over us, but comes no where near him. As though where he stands is Forbidden to touch. All around him, those fleeing? Suffering? Do not notice him. Do not SEE. Yet, on instinct alone... avoid him.

Because, of course they do. B-because that?

That Is A Demon.

We weren't even remotely prepared for this. And even if we WERE. Everything is packed away. Pressed to the floor, all I can do? Is drag my husband close. Feel tear begin to fill my eyes and choke my throat, as I curse the Gods. Damn it. D-Damn it! I drag Arthur under me. A-as though... as though we were just... just resting at home. Cuddling, as we so often do.

I-It will be okay, darling. Come back to me. Arthur... Please...

(We promised to go together...)

"He really is useless, isn't he? Can't protect you. Couldn't warn you. Can't even die, where he's supposed to be. Really, how hard is it? To just get on the damned train? Quite inconsiderate, your worthless lump of a first husband. It really won't be hard, no doubt, to surpass him in every way."

I drag Arthur closer. Cradling his head to me chest. You'll have to go through ME, you fucking monster! It's.. it's a laughable defense. I'm tissue paper. We both are. With out supplies and the proper anti-demonics? H-he's going to SHRED us. But... but! I took a VOW.

Married this man.

I... I love him.

Even if he's not awake. Even if he's trapped in his own gifts by this BASTARD of a Demon. That's.. That's okay. I'm still here. W-We're still together. And I love him. Silly, ridiculous, air-headed fool that he is. My quite scholar. M-My best friend. I glare at the damnable creature before us.

"You really do have such lovely eyes." It notes, tilting it's head. "Does he appreciate them? Somehow, I doubt it. He makes you live in squalor, after all. Dresses you in rags and works you like an animal. You were meant for so much... more. I can feel it."

With a boneless grace he squats, bringing him closer even as I try to drag us away, he reaches out. One hand both perfectly human yet tipped with claws. In the distance, I hear doors being forced open. Commanding voices. Prayers and the glimpses of shining light. The Paladins are here.

Too late... I... I fear it is too late.

Demon skin touchs my face and I scream, as I am cast beneath the waves. It is so dark. Oh Gods. OH GODS. IT IS SO DARK. HELP ME. HELP ME! IT HURTS! It HuRtS! HELP M-!

"Shhh, drink deep and sink down, Love. I will be there to catch you. Forget about him. Forget about everything. You are made for so much more. We were meant to be together. Just let go, sweet."

"Just let go..."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #yanderecore #yandere otome #demonic yandere #married reader #psychic reader #bad End century demons #bad end century demons au #tw death

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