#hence why it's the subject of that prompt

[cosycafune]

CAPTIVATING FLAVOUR

3.8k words. sure, you’re supposed to be taking sylus’ measurements. yet, what happens when you’re sexually desperate for him, pushing forward an offer that the two of you can’t refuse? once you’ve made a deal, you have to keep it. now, you're in his room — waiting for him to finally test out his self-restraint. pt 2/3. p1 here. masterlist.

acts: oral (f) receiving, teasing, restraints, cunnilingus, fingering, slight praise, mocking, boob sucking, corruption kink, begging, missionary, crying, orgasm, unprotected sex, breeding kink and aftercare. a/n: thank you for the love on the first part; reposts are appreciated.

NERVOUS, you listen to the soundless atmosphere – only your footsteps linger. Composing yourself, you fidget with the ends of your sultry robe – concealing all traces of your lingerie beneath. You knew doing this — visiting Sylus’ room in the dead of night – was bound to consume you.

As you drew nearer to Sylus’ secluded bedroom, your abdomen churned wickedly – subjected to a spot of mental weakness. Glancing at the door, you puff out your warm cheeks – smoothing out any imperfections you carry. Everything within you yearned for Sylus intimately, after your private dressing room encounter, but you were too scared to commit after.

“You can do this,” Whispering to yourself, you shed your emotional distress, rooted in lust, “If he’s sleeping, wake him up.” Nodding naively to yourself, you catch sight of Mephisto – causing you to furrow your brows.

“Stupid robot-bird,” Scoffing, you slowly open Sylus’ double doors – briefly glimpsing at the intricate patterns. Patterns that intimidate you in the same way he does.

He’s just behind those doors. The confirmation welcomed thudding between your thighs, pushing a fuzziness to conquer you entirely.

“You’ll be fine, girl,” Reassuring yourself, you gently walk into Sylus’ bedroom – your eyes discovering his slumbering self.

Slightly smitten, you admire his sitting self – enthralled by his stance. Oddly, it proposed a form of vulnerability – consuming you entirely. Entirely as you dart nearer to him, brushing your knee against the edge of the ample bed.

“Sylus?” Attempting to wake him up, you settle yourself onto the bed – contemplating poking him frantically.

Giving into your urges, you cast yourself into frantically poking Sylus — simmering with desire. Your demeanour is tainted with lust, an insatiable urge and a bottomless craving. Each fibre of you wanted him so deeply inside of you, regardless of your pride and ego.

After all, after you had given him the sloppiest oral, Sylus had momentarily coddled you. Yet, despite his praises and fleeting solace, he wouldn’t gift you more. Partially, it’s due to you two never sexually going all the way — simply participating in oral or something less marking than sex. 

The two of you had done everything, but intimacy leaves you unnerved — and Sylus knows that. No, Sylus is aware of that — hence why he restrains and denies you of physically sinking on his cock. A cock you had handled with your mouth many times, cock warmed, breast fucked and more. The most Sylus would give you, if he was feeling generous, was clothed grinding against your soppy cunt.

“Sylus!” Growing frantic, you heavily poke him — prompting yourself into almost straddling his sleeping self.

Pouting, feeling a little embarrassed, you softly poke his cheek — observing his toned breaths. Irritation floods you narrowly, causing you almost to leave his lap. Testing your luck, you gift him one last poke — only to be greeted by silence.

“I’m leaving,” Huffing, you meekly express your desires — attempting to get up from his lap.

That’s when you felt it. No, you had fallen for his trap. You’re an idiot.

“Where are you going, sweetie?” Tauntingly asking you, Sylus grabs your wrist — positioning you within his lap again.

“S-Sylus,” Flustered, you blurt out his name — feeling the intensity of his crimson gaze penetrate you.

“Don’t get nervous now, sweetie,” Wickedly smirking with his statement, Sylus looks down at you — intrigued.

“I’m not—”

“—Did you dress up for me?” The restraint within Sylus’ question causes you to halt, finally meeting his intimidating gaze.

“I dressed down, Sy’,” Countering his inquiry, you playfully roll your eyes — only for his deft fingers to grip your doughy ass.

“No,” Sylus’ eyes contort with lust, “You’re in lingerie and a robe.” Groaning, Sylus speaks — gripping your hips firmly.

He’s losing composure.

“I just want…more, Sy’,” Hazily, you admit your truth — warm at Sylus’ intense attentiveness.

“More, sweetie?” Feinting brash incompetence, Sylus pulls you flush against his budding erection — wavering at your scent.

It’s as if you’ve evoked something primal within him.

“I want all of…you, Sy,” Remaining firm, you voice your thoughts. All you could feel is Sylus fondling your ass, enthralled by the feeling of you.

“This is a large step, sweetie,” Seriousness adorns Sylus’ deep tone, leaving you to almost shed your apprehension.

“I-I know, but I want to try, Sylus,” Determined, you speak — feeling his nimble fingers shape around your hip curves.

Relishing your physique, Sylus caresses your hips — occasionally feeling your robe brush against his knuckles. However, you knew he was testing your resolve — feeling you squirm heavily against his touch. If his touch, simply from teasing you, did this much to you, he can’t help but wonder what you’d do if he finally gave in to you for the first time.

“Promise me that you’ll tell me if you feel the littlest pain?” Sylus instantly asks you, and you know that he expresses not an ounce of humour.

“I promise, Sy’,” Responding to him, you place your forehead against his own — kissing his soft lips.

With your array of kisses, you indirectly told Sylus you felt your safest. Needily, you passionately grind your hips against Sylus’ erection — intoxicating his eager lips. 

Commanded by your physical, sexual and emotional chemistry, Sylus immediately takes control. Unable to restrain his primal urges, Sylus gently wraps his arms around your hips — lowering you against the bed.

Turning you around, so you’re near his mountains of pillows, Sylus smugly manhandles you. Fuelled by his urges, Sylus instinctively cages your physique — using his energy manipulation to tie your hands above your heads.

“You really waste no time, my love,” Sylus cocks his head at your nickname, leaning closer to you — settling a kiss against your neck.

“You put effort into looking more beautiful for me, sweetie, of course, I’m going to ravish you,” Appreciative, you grow flustered at Sylus’ praise— knowing he’s more riled up at your nickname.

“I can’t even be in control?” Pouting, you question him — flaunting your battering lashes.

“Not with what I have in store for you, sweetie,” Replying with authority, Sylus tightens the reddish-black bonds around your wrist – smitten at the way you gasp. Gasp at the control he’s planted over you, having access to every limb of you.

“S-Should I be scared, my love?” Sincerely, you ask Sylus – watching his soft cheeks and gruff ears turn a beautiful crimson hue.

“Terrified, sweetie,” Sneering, Sylus teases you – smothering meaningful kisses along your neck.

“Mhm,” You moan out, mesmerised by Sylus’ lips skimming down to the middle of your breasts – stopping at your heartbeat.

“Your safeword is crow, sweetie,” Sylus speaks, swiftly tearing apart your robe with a swift motion of his evol.

“Sylus!” Bellowing with shock, you look at his pleased expression — his brow lazily rising.

“I can buy you many more, sweetheart,” Boyishly grinning, Sylus needily informs you — enthralled by your sheer bra.

“I’m expecting a new pair,” Fake huffing, you respond to him — groaning at Sylus kissing between your pushed-up cleavage.

“Always,” Planting kisses against your breast curve, Sylus murmurs.

Basking in your anticipation, Sylus smothers slow kisses against your thin bra — running his warm tongue against your taut nipple. Practically, you could feel his smile — shivering at his teeth grazing it.

“Sweetie, tell me what you want,” Admiring you, Sylus questions you — hastily disregarding your bra with his evol.

“Aside from you destroying my lingerie, I want you between…” Pressure clings to your words; Sylus’ gaze intimidates you vastly.

“Use your words, darling,” Purring, Sylus taunts you — bringing his lips against your exposed nipple.

Naturally, you were shy beneath his gaze — within an intimate setting. However, being propped before him, caged, almost naked, left you a flustered mess. This scenery contradicted the usual you, whether Sylus is your boyfriend or not. You were both going down a territory that had been unmarked, something that was fated to strengthen your intimate bond with him.

“I want head, Sy’,” Crushing your ego slightly, you express your needs — groaning at him sucking your nipple.

“Say please, sweetie,” Dominance floods Sylus’ order.

“Please, Sy’,” Shedding your ego, you plead with him — slightly arching at Sylus’ insistent nipple sucking.

“Hm, you’ve earned it,” Indirectly agreeing, Sylus kisses around your breasts once more — gifting them a sensual squeeze.

Monitoring your flustered state, Sylus begins to descend down the length of your body — marking patches of your skin with kisses. Kisses of love, devotion and mellowness, that contrast his usual demeanour. Sure, he’s much softer with you — but this intimate softness pales Sylus’ past acts.

Observing him with love, intrigue and bubbling yearning, your breathing rises. Sylus’ lips upon your nimble skin consume you, leaving you letting out explorative moans, shudders and squeamish movements.

However, Sylus’ warm breath against your stomach left you so flustered. He’s savouring you, taking his time to relish every contort of your abs. 

Desperation seized his composed breaths, leading to Sylus lowering his kisses — arriving towards your sheer underwear. Instinctively, Sylus’ head lifts — his crimson eyes meeting yours. 

A message’s stored in his gaze.

“I’m trusting that you don’t have any doubts?” Sylus’ voice rings through your mind, causing you to frantically shake your head — irritated at his lack of touch.

“Nu-uh, don’t stop,” Pouting, you breathily respond to Sylus — longing for him to finally consume all of you.

“Don’t be impatient, sweetie,” Softly chuckling, Sylus murmurs — instantly disintegrating your sheer lingerie.

You’re completely naked now. Vulnerability clings to you.

“I want to see you, too, Sy’,” Shying at Sylus’ resumed kisses, you mutter — slightly unnerved at his lips kissing your smooth base.

Growing obedient, you watch Sylus’ lips with anticipation. Your lips part as Sylus’ mouth brushes against your clit, teasing you with his mouth’s warmth. Warmth you can’t help but try buck into, but he restricts your legs — smiling at your evol-tied down wrists.

“Not now, you saw me earlier,” Scoffing, Sylus grins, “Don’t be impatient, sweetie,” Sylus says, enjoying the look of innocence upon your facial features.

“J-Just wanna…see,” Knowing Sylus won’t cave into you, you stutter. 

Your mind is hazy at his chuckling vibrations, against your soppy cunt, compelling you. And, as expected, you knew Sylus’ ego skyrocketed at your attempted grinding. In his mind, it spells that his touch is intoxicating to you — leaving you longing for his corruption.

“You heard me, sweetie,” Nodding at Sylus’ stern statement, your protests are lost. Lost the moment he ran his ample finger down your slick folds, bringing your sticky arousal to his swollen lips.

“‘More, Sy’,” Requesting more, your mouth’s agape — intrigued by Sylus’ long middle finger teasing your clit.

“Our safeword’s crow,” Sylus reminds you, dragging your slick towards your pulsating entrance.

As you process Sylus’ warning, you feel his thick fingers begin to sink into your entrance. Not expecting his swiftness, you loudly moan — your eyes barely able to stay open. Even if it was half of Sylus’ fingers, it doesn’t matter. His fingers are huge, and ample, leaving you feeling full and slightly unnerved.

“‘So…much!” Unable to hold back, you blurt out your thoughts. 

Your body flutters at Sylus’ large fingers plunging deeper inside of you, causing a haziness to dance over you. Overwhelmed, you fall breathless — unable to spew coherent sentences. Maybe that’s why Sylus wasn’t keen on giving you his cock? If you’re barely able to handle him plunging his fingers into you, what makes you think you’re able to handle him? He’s a big man.

As Sylus intensely watches you, he uses his energy manipulation to secure your legs around his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you cry out — hypnotised by his lips wrapping around your clit. All you could feel was this fuzzing warmth that dissipated your sanity, stirring you into attempting to squirm around. However, your arms and legs are tied by Sylus — leaving you unable to move.

“Oh! Yes!” Lazily moaning, you lewdly smile. Your eyebrows and lips twitch drastically, conducted by Sylus ravaging your clit.

“Look at you, so desperate,” Mocking you, Sylus chuckles — thrusting his fingers rapidly inside of you.

“Mhm! Ngh! C-Can’t… breathe,” Whimpering, you’re barely able to listen to Sylus’. 

The only thing you can do is grow embarrassed at being able to hear your pussy squelching, along with Sylus’ consistent sucking, and the perfect power imbalance. Everything within this moment captured you, leaving you an undeniable mess — monitored by Sylus’ gaze.

“Just say…crow,” Harshening his speed, Sylus speaks — basking in your crazed struggle.

Undeniably, you’re a mess — drooling, trembling and unable to handle this. Sylus’ groaning and lust-draped eyes didn’t help you further, prompting you to be louder. Whenever it came to intimidating moments, it didn’t truly take Sylus much to make you finish — and you knew that, too.

However, you want to prolong this moment. No matter what your ailing physique was screaming and no matter what your knotted stomach preached. Just seeing the unjust pride in Sylus’ gaze caused you to simply moan, knowing you didn’t want to validate his accurate judgment. A judgement that could potentially deny you of his cock.

“Fuck! A~Ah! N-No!” Countering his calm teasing, your body strains heavily — desperate to finally cum against his tongue.

“You’re so stubborn, sweetie,” Tutting, Sylus answers back — increasing his inhumane pace.

Naturally, your body’s compromised — almost Sylus’. Sylus’ speed and agility sapped your willpower, cramming the lewd squelching that fills the atmosphere. His proud smirk lightly ticks you off, as you’re so close to finishing with his tongue and ample fingers. Fingers you know you struggle to stand against.

“Here it comes,” On Sylus’ worded cue, you forcefully cum — your physique trembling from your crazed high.

“You’re…so smug, Sy’,” Huffing in embarrassment, you avoid Sylus’ gaze — flustered at Sylus slowly drinking up your seeping cum.

Taunting you further, Sylus unhurriedly removes his fingers from you — bringing his attention towards lapping up your cum. The grin he wore almost irritated you, but it warmed you at how attentive  Sylus remains. All you wanted to do was run your fingers through his ivory hair, but he still had your wrists tied.

“Yet, you still love me,” Heckling you, Sylus frees your restrained legs — admiring the messy art he made of you.

“Yeah, but I’m ready now,” Flaunting your glassy eyes, you voice the unsaid — distorting the lingering tension.

“This is a big step for us,” Addressing the elephant within the room, Sylus meets your flustered gaze — amused by your messy state.

“I know, but I’m ready, my love,” Reassuring a sceptical Sylus, you silently ask him to release your tied wrists — but he doesn’t.

“I’m trusting you, sweetie,” At Sylus’ worded approval, you happily smile — a little teary at his intimate trust.

“Finally, I’ve been kind of deprived,” Relieved, you speak — waiting for Sylus to conduct his next move.

“Hm, I could tell,” Teasing you, Sylus inches closer to your face — quickly disregarding his large robe.

“You’re so pretty, Sy’,” Subconsciously babbling, you admire Sylus’ scarlet eyes — honoured by his heated cheeks.

“Pretty? Not handsome?” Feinting irritation, Sylus is heavily flustered — allowing his toned abs to greet your eyes.

“You just want compliments, greedy,” Responding to his disbelief, all your playful banter is eliminated — replaced with a suffocating lust.

“Of course, but those can wait,” Sylus’ voice is authoritative now, stripped of playfulness and painted with sexual intent.

Sylus’ eyes are coated with his bubbling desires and primal intent. Seeing you, so vulnerable, tied up, left him unable to restrain himself. Even as he spoke, tearing away his underwear, he couldn’t help closing in on you. Right now, you’re his prey — someone to be consumed entirely. There isn’t to be a fragment of you that doesn’t belong to him.

Shy, with no way to cover yourself, you nervously look down at Sylus’ cock — realising your mistake. This moment left you conjuring a strategy, gulping at his massive cock. It made so much sense since Sylus’ is a big man. His hands are large, his ego is large, and his physique is large. Of course, his cock is going to be massive — it’s fate’s rule. Naturally, you knew sucking his dick is so much different from being stuffed with it.

“Sylus, I’m ovulating,” Informing him, you blankly stare at him coming extremely close to you — his cock moments away from your soppy folds.

“And?” Unimpressed, Sylus responds — placing his fat cock against your stomach.

“I don’t want you to pull out,” Blurting out your deepest desire, your breathing grows choppy.

Your pussy pounds crazily at Sylus sizing you up, grinning at how far his cock’s to be in your stomach. To him, he basks in this revelation — encouraged further at your abdomen rising and falling against it.

“You’re willing to risk your future?” Enthralled, Sylus strategically questions you — bringing his pulsating cock towards your folds once more.

“Let’s think about the consequences after,” Playfully rolling your eyes, you reply to him — your eyes twinkling with desperation.

“As long as you’re comfortable,” Sylus mutters with subtle concern, settling his pre-cum-coated tip against your entrance.

Still restrained, you maintain eye contact with Sylus — waiting for his primal instincts to absorb his sanity. Carefully, Sylus grunts sensually — hazy at the tip of him slipping within you. Even as you softly moan, unable to clutch anything, you stare directly at Sylus. You’re swarmed by the feeling of his cock head inside of you, stretching you heavily — for the first time.

He’s not even all the way in.

“I-It’s warm, Sy,” Telling Sylus your thoughts, he quickly captures your lips in an opened-mouthed kiss.

As if distracting you, Sylus plunges more of his cock into your soppy cunt — whimpering at your pulsating warmth. Gasping, you grow lightheaded — attempting to adjust to his large cock. A cock that left you dumbfounded already, even with only half of it in. It didn’t help that Sylus’ deep voice mewled within your ear, his brows furrowed as he watched your contorted face.

“Are you…okay, sweetie?” Cloudily questioning you, Sylus watches you mellowly — purring at your warm cunt swelling him.

“‘M… fine,” Kissing Sylus mid-speech, you accommodate more of his sinister dick — arching beneath him.

“C-Can…I start moving?” Desperate to ravish you, Sylus passionately asks you — pressing his forehead against your own.

“Y-Yes,” A little nervous, you agree — love and trust adhering to your eyes.

“Remember, say crow if it’s too much, sweetheart,” Reminding you, Sylus gifts you a few experimental thrusts — his toned arms settled on each side of your head.

“Ngh! Fuck me! Yes!” Instinctively, you’re forced to let out your suppressed moans — warmed by Sylus’ pleasurable cock.

“You’re as…beautiful as the day I lost you,” Whispering in your ear, Sylus builds up a fast pace — thrusting harshly into your soppy cunt.

Beautifully, the large, raven room is coated with you and Sylus’ clustered moans, grunting and whimpering. The bed beneath you both creaks slightly, controlled by Sylus settling a pace you’re forced to handle. A pace that leaves you screaming with pleasure, unable to restrain your sounds.

“‘Need…more!” Begging at this point, you smile instinctively as Sylus quickens the snapping of his hips — colliding with your gushy cunt.

With your hands still bound, you’re unable to writhe against Sylus — suffocated by his warmth. Fuzzy with love, desire and everything just, you grow trusting with each moan. Sylus completely decimated you, conquering your squelching cunt — flooding the room with effortless skin slapping. Skin slapping, gushy macaroni sounds and your expressed love.

“Mhm, you’re…so good for me,” Sylus moans out, his eyes rolling back as he increases his pace — grinning at your breaths coming short and large breasts bouncing.

“Ah! Yes! More!” Spewing subconscious thoughts, Sylus continues to pound you recklessly — sparing not a fragment of mercy towards your gushing cock.

“So…tight,” Lazily smiling, Sylus increases his pace at your out-of-it state — proud at you being barely able to moan anymore.

“Ngh! Too… much!” Crying, you relish Sylus’ balls beating against your bubble butt — his thick cock drilling you senselessly.

As your hazy eyes barely meet his, teary and rolling back, you grow a little soothed at Sylus’ deft fingers caressing your forehead. He takes a moment to halt his pace, but he continues afterwards — enthralled at your cunt’s sounded praises towards him.

“Say it and…I’ll stop,” Addicted, Sylus frantically moans against your lips — bucking his hips as if it’s the only life he has left.

He’s been waiting for a moment as sacred as this.

“N-No,” Discovering a slither of sanity, you slowly respond — feeling your body tremor with a familiar essence.

“Let…go, sweetie,” Lewdly grunting, Sylus helplessly pounds into your inescapable cunt — loving the way your cunt devours his greedy cock.

Silent, Sylus’ voice is a distant wave to you. Everything within your physique is a warm, bubbling lava pit. There’s a fragment of sanity within you, yet it comes the moment you crumble beneath Sylus. Harshly, you cum — coming undone and crying out beneath Sylus. Not an ounce of silence consumes the both of you, yet you’re unable to register how loud your post-orgasm wails are.

“Hmm,” Satisfied, you’re weak beneath a relentless Sylus — rendered vulnerable as you try to pull him away. Pull him away at the suffocating intensity, warmth and consistent stimulation.

“You’re…swallowing me,” Sylus’ stern demeanour crumples slightly with his worded revelation, but he’s so near to cumming.

Overstimulating you extensively, until straggled moans flee you, Sylus finally gives in to his suppressed needs. First, he had guided you extensively through your first time with him — resisting the urge to cum immediately. 

Yet, now, his breaths become straggled — his thick cock expanding within you. A mental mess, Sylus glances down at your sleepy self —  snapping his hips a few more times before he prepares himself to finish.

“‘M close,” Flustered, Sylus can barely form a sentence — so close to pulling out.

Instinctively, you muster out your last strands of strength — wrapping your toned legs around Sylus’ waist. Restricting him, you grin the moment Sylus surrenders — filling and swelling you with his plentiful seed. Satisfied, you slowly allow your legs to fall — happy at finally being creampied by Sylus.

“Glad you wanted more, sweetie,” Pulling out of you, fatigued, Sylus speaks, “I love you,” Sylus smirks at his cum pooling out of your swollen cunt, completely painting your folds with all of him.

“I love… you, too, Sy,” Tiredly responding to Sylus, you barely register him placing you against his chest — subjecting you to his heartbeat.

Softly, Sylus kisses your lips — pleased at how you were able to handle him.

“You did so well, sweetie,” Sylus speaks, gentle praise detectable in his love-stricken tone.

“Can we do it again, forever?” Star-stricken, you ask Sylus — unable to hold back your heart.

“As many times as you want,” Content, Sylus answers — his chest vibrating beneath you.

“Let me take care of you in the bathroom, sweetie,” Sylus adds to his sentence, not willing to leave you so battered, marked and bruised without him attending to every part of you.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Grinning at Sylus’ extensive love, you reply — grateful at his attentiveness.

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[vaaaaaiolet]

A broken backspace key, two rival magazines, and love letters sent through email. It’s the 2000's and Raccoon Mag’s prize photojournalist lands himself a secret admirer. 

You. 

gn / m, fluff, romance via email love letters, how to lose a guy in 10 days-esque, just a cutesy romcom, reader works a stereotypically female job but no pronouns mentioned!

word count: 2.4k // read on ao3

a/n: title inspired by the alicia keys song ofc. thank you to the lovely @kennedysbaby for the prompt inspo and endless support while writing this! this isn't my usual writing style so i'm kinda nervous AHGH but i thought it was cute LMAO. i <3 u!!

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com 

Subject: You Don’t Know My Name

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

I hope this email never finds you well. 

No, no, that came out wrong, I swear! Gosh, I’m not sure how to work the backspace on these new computers. What I mean to say is that I hope this email never finds you.

I’m the new hire for the How To column at STARS Week magazine. They haven’t quite set up an email address with my name yet: I’m using the one readers mail their questions to. It’s a bit of a blessing to not have my name attached to this mortifying message now that I think about it. 

You must be wondering, why does an Agony Aunt columnist from your media rival have your email in the first place? You, the top photojournalist at Raccoon Mag, the highlight of all newsstands. You must think I’m crazy. 

But the thing is that I think you’re simply wonderful.

You visited our office last week. Surely you remember walking into the great big glass doors of the STARS building. Aren’t they glamorous? They make me feel like a hotshot movie journalist when really I just write back to teenage girls and help them pick out the right nail color, or tell middle-aged moms how to dress less like they rolled out of an outdated Sears catalog. I’m eternally grateful to get to work here – Ms. Hunnigan really did a favor taking me on – but I can’t help feeling like a bird with its wings clipped, stuck in a glass cage. I could be doing so much more with my talents. And don’t tell me that I already am; I know my advice articles don’t work because my own mom still wears stripes with polka dots.

Yeesh.

So when you came by last week with your great big camera filled with pictures of all your travels around the world, you caught my eye right away. 

You weren’t wearing a suit like all the other big shots in the STARS office. Mr. Kennedy, you came to what Ms. Hunnigan would consider “the biggest business risk of your life” dressed in a polo and slacks, still looking sharper than our Man of the Month, with not a word extra to say because your photos spoke for themselves.

Mr. Kennedy, I was working my measly little column when I overheard Ms. Hunnigan’s surprise at your refusal to take a dime for the photojournalism you brought to our office. Your manila folder was filled with pictures from a recently hurricane-hit island, one I’m embarrassed to say I only learned of from your spirited tirade. You didn’t care that Raccoon Mag and STARS Week were sworn enemies. All you cared about was combining readers’ donations for disaster relief. I thought it was mighty noble of you.

You didn’t flinch once at Ms. Hunnigan’s unforgiving stare and I know how hard that can be because I got the same one when I asked to switch to a journalism department instead. Ms. Hunnigan isn’t too keen on putting effort where there isn’t turnover. But you came anyway, and you left victorious simply because you wanted to help people that badly.

I think you can assume why I scrapped my article this week about getting over crushes. There’s going to be a horribly empty space in my column if I don’t figure out how to type something other than your name soon. Hence this email. 

(You left your business card on Ms. Hunnigan’s desk, if you’re still wondering how I’m sending this to the right email address. I’m not too shabby at snooping around, in a journalism kind of way, of course.)

I don’t think this counts as getting over a crush. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?

Yours sincerely, You Don’t Know My Name

> Saved as Draft (7/7/2003)

> Continue Saved Draft? YES

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

Did you see the smiles of the children who got their school rebuilt thanks to your disaster relief proposal? I’m sure you did: their pictures, along with all the other photos from the donation effort, got printed front and center on this week’s issue! I nearly sold out the newsstand from all the Raccoon Mag copies I bought the morning they came off the press. Had to hide them from Ms. Hunnigan too; she wasn’t too happy about my less-than-juicy column last week. 

But that’s not for you to worry about, Mr. Kennedy. I’ll figure something else out. Like what color fabric makes your eyes pop, subtle ways to tell a coworker you’re interested in more than just drinks after work, what to eat to look and feel your best in less than two weeks.

On a completely unrelated note, I can’t help but look forward to when you come back to STARS Week in less than a month (according to Ms. Hunnigan’s desk calendar).

You’ve inspired me to get back into journalism; put my degree to use. I didn’t graduate top of my class just to tell people what hairstyle goes with what neckline! I’m clumsy with cameras and not too nifty with technology (I still can’t figure out where that backspace key is!) but I’m a sure hand with a pen. I go to the library after work now and spend hours researching global issues to write about when I get home. My collection of research articles is coming right along. Kind of like your manila folder. I flatter myself.

I wonder what you write, what you read. What makes Leon Kennedy laugh? What does he read before bed, what makes him think? I wonder if we laugh at the same bad jokes. 

Email is a strange mode of communication. There’s an awful lot of dishonesty involved. You get to pick and choose what you leave out. I suppose I don’t get that luxury with my lack of backspace, but it’s the same in conversation when you don’t get to backtrack on what comes out of your mouth. Would it be silly of me to dream that I’m having a conversation with you like this? Through my keyboard?

I’d much rather hear you in conversation, I have to admit. You’ve got a lovely voice. The rest of us are just lucky you decided to use it for good and speak out about the problems of the world despite what may or may not sell (sorry, Ms. Hunnigan). I might even be lucky enough to hear my name fall from your lips one day. Are…oh gosh, this is making me shy. Damn you, backspace key. But I wonder what it feels like to kiss you, Mr. Kennedy. 

I hear tying cherry stems with your tongue makes you a good kisser. I’ll be sure to learn. Maybe if we ever hit the town and we get drinks, I could show you? I’m not even sure what kind of drinks have cherries on top. That’s more a milkshake or ice cream thing. I’d be delighted to get either with you; I even know a trick to cure brain freeze in a second! I hope that’s incentive enough. I’m quite partial to cookie dough if you’d like to share. Not so much if you’re a fan of rum raisin.

And then over ice cream, we could talk about everything under the sun. Your pictures, my writing, bad jokes, good jokes, your favorite rom-coms, important questions like that.

(I’m kidding, promise. The rom-com one is important though. I hope you understand.)

There so much I’d love to talk to you about. But for now, I’m content with sitting in my cubicle in the corner, hiding behind my potted plant and hoping for a glimpse of your golden hair through Ms. Hunnigan’s office doors when you come by. But as all good things must come to an end, here comes the end of this email to my Raccoon Mag Romeo. 

Looking forward to your nonexistent response, You Don’t Know My Name

> Saved as Draft (8/12/2003)

> Continue Saved Draft? YES

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

You used to be in the police academy before you worked for Raccoon Mag? 

Gosh, I hope my snooping doesn’t come off untoward, truly, I don’t mean to – it’s just that you’ve been coming to STARS Week so frequently this month and you didn’t visit in the last few days and…well, I missed seeing you. So it seems I’m remedying that with novice-level stalker work. Er, journalism. 

I’m marvelously impressed by you is all. Your sense of justice runs deeper than I thought. I wonder what made you choose this line of work instead of the force? 

For what it’s worth, digging up your past work introduced me to several fascinating topics. If Ms. Hunnigan lets up on her workload, she might even have time to look at the piece I’ve been drafting all month! You’ve inspired me in more ways than one, Mr. Kennedy, so you understand why I’m eager to see you again in the hope of showing you what I’ve written. I could slip my article into your folder, leave it in an envelope next to the cup of coffee you always let cool on the receptionist’s desk before going into the copy room…

But there might not be a point avoiding you anymore. I’m afraid you’ll run into me sooner than later with the number of errands Ms. Hunnigan sends me on around the office.

Worse yet, I think someone’s caught on to me. 

Claire from Sports is starting to ask about all these emails I type up while my How To assignment of the week sits by its lonesome next to my potted plant. I wish these keyboards weren’t so loud and cranky! They rattle up a storm when I type these emails to you, but turn quiet as mice when it comes time for me to work on my dreadful How Tos. Snitches get stitches, don’t you know?

But I’d never snitch on you, Mr. Kennedy. A tiny part of me hopes you’ve caught on to who hides an extra donut in the fridge for you from our office breakfasts. Rest assured that I can do much better than slightly stale office donuts, though. 

So if that ice cream date doesn’t work out, we could head downtown to Marvin’s on a Thursday for the best chocolate donuts I swear you’ve ever tasted. Thursday is when they bake them up fresh and I know a table by the street where the sunset looks the prettiest. A treat for you and a treat for your camera, how’s that? 

You don’t even know what you’re doing to me. I feel all crazy inside, giddy and smiling over my research like unpaid overtime I’m all too happy to take on. I really hope to show you my article soon. There’s nothing more romantic to a journalist than setting your facts straight next to somebody who smiles like the sun, like you, Mr. Kennedy. I might even dream of my article being printed next to your pictures one day.

But as short as today’s email to you might be, I hope our time together isn’t. The security team is redoing the How To department’s computers after Ms. Hunnigan’s keyboard started acting up – something about manufacturing issues. Remember that pesky backspace key of mine? They’re fixing it later today! 

Actually, they’re fixing it right now. The team’s coming over to my desk, so I’m going to have to enDKJJL

> Send Email? SFHALFNO

> Input detected. Email sending… NJOS NON DON”T SEND 

> Email sent successfully! (9/16/2003)

From: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com To: howtodept@starsweek.org

Subject: RE: You Don’t Know My Name

I’m submitting an answer for July’s How To: how do I get over a crush?

If I’m being honest, I’ve written and rewritten this email a fair number of times. I’m not good with my words. That’s why I take pictures: they say everything I leave unspoken. But it’s also why I’ve grown so fond of a certain How To columnist because they’re not afraid to put their feelings to pen, rather, keyboard. 

It’s just a shame that their name isn’t on any of the sweet emails they sent me. And it’s not like I can just go up to my boss and ask. If I’m their Raccoon Mag Romeo (see what I mean when I say they’ve got a way with words?), they’re the Capulet I’m after. 

So I took a page out of my admirer’s book and went snooping. It’s what a journalist does best, right? 

Marvin’s an old friend of mine. I went to his shop last Thursday to find out who comes for donuts and stays for the sunset. His donuts taste better than the office ones for sure, but there’s something a little sweeter about the thought behind the latter. FYI: my lips are sealed.

All this donut and ice cream business makes me think my admirer’s got a sweet tooth. I’m willing to share any ice cream that isn’t rum raisin either. Cookie dough is a close second to my personal favorite – mint chocolate chip – but that brain freeze trick is enough to convince me to have both. What do you say we try out all the flavors? You might even come across a scoop to write about, you never know. (RE: your question about bad jokes, how was that?)

And last but not least, Claire from STARS Week Sports isn’t too tight-lipped. She was perfectly charming when I asked about any deskmates with clunky keyboards who’ve been quite busy recently, so it really wasn’t that hard to find out who this kind, endearing, and incredibly talented admirer of mine is. 

You needn’t sneak your article into my folder because I found a copy of it on your desk with my name written on the bottom. You say you’ve only been working on this since I came for the disaster relief deal? That’s only two months!

Color me impressed. Ms. Hunnigan would be a fool to miss out on the untapped talent sitting in her How To department, so I think it would be a great idea to bring your article to her together. I’d be honored to straighten out any facts with you, though I doubt there’s much I can add to what you’ve compiled. My camera is at your disposal.

Let’s talk details over those donuts, then? It’s Thursday. I’ll wait by the bench outside the STARS building. I have a feeling it’ll be a nice change from sending emails. 

Yours sincerely (and I do know your name), Leon

(P.S. Personally, I hope this isn’t a crush you need to get over.)

(9/18/2003)

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[guardianofnightmares]

Forbidden

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot.

... or, rather, for any sensible Prime.

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

"... is it wrong that I feel... bad for the prisoners? That I... periodically... h-help them?"

----------

Hello everyone, long time no see). Can hardly believe it's been a whole year since the last @blitzbee-week event and man, was I glad to participate in it once more. All of works were submitted on time to an event chat, but, unfortunately, I am uploading them here only now (full-time job drains me up).

Anyways, here is my first drawing from BlitzBeeWeek event Promts List. I think it will be fair to mention that this and next couple of my works will be dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". I will leave a link [here] for anyone interested to give it (and an existing teaser) a try. And yes, I am, in fact, going to finally upload first chapters pretty soon, it's happening, guys))). Thanks a ton for everyone who left their kudos there throughout a year, you have given me courage to put this behemoth of a story on paper and actually work it through.

As for the current entry for an event, I will provide part of a draft to one of chapters which is related to a depicted scene. It'll be "hidden" under a cut line for anyone wishing to get a more... fleshed out picture of what's going on here. Hope you'll enjoy reading it)

----------

“Bumblebee… are you listening to me?”

It was beyond confusing for Ratchet to see a younger Bot acting so out of touch with reality. He’s hunched over a console, helm resting in one servo while a wielding tool was twirled slowly in digits of another. Bumblebee looked so tired, clearly not caring about a task at servo, nor about an advice coming from his elder friend.

White and red Autobot knew how cheerful Bumblebee got each time they met via video calls, clearly waiting for a chance to talk to old teammates, even if these calls didn’t last long. That’s why him being so silent and lost in own thoughts was that much more worrying to witness. 

Upon being prompted again, the young bot finally raised his optics, the weight of his gaze almost making Ratchet flinch in surprise - to think that a recently promoted Prime was capable of behaving so out of character was indeed an alarming sign of change. 

The truth was, the minibot couldn’t help but to act all secretive, as if he’s done something wrong. 

Because, all things considered, he has. 

Minibot was well aware of what his actions could lead up to. All those rendezvous and revelations were such a dangerous subject to talk about, something that surely could lead him to being court marshaled if he’s caught by anybot. And what’s even worse - Bumblebee wasn’t certain whether telling friends what’s been troubling him was a good idea. 

Surely they’d not rat him out… but would they continue interacting with a yellow Autobot if he shared said secret with them? Wouldn't it be more mature of him to leave mechs oblivious (in order to protect them) and let his fears to silently fester in his processor?

... yet, to his shame, a minibot felt his resolve to keep his intake shut breaking upon seeing a haunted expression on Ratchet’s faceplates. Bumblebee wished he hadn’t looked up into the wise optics of his, those that seemed to read him as an unlocked datapad. How could he play it cool when a medic was looking at him in such a manner?

“…kid?” Now Ratchet was truly worried for his companion. He wasn’t even certain he’s ready to hear an explanation, but knew in his spark that he had to get to the bottom of a problem for minibot's sake.

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot. 

… or, rather, for any sensible Prime. 

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

“… is it wrong that I feel… bad for the prisoners? That I… periodically… h-help them?” 

… a fleeting moment or relief at voicing his concerns instantly evaporated, changed to regret once he saw Racthet’s optics widening beyond usual capacity and heard Optimus sputtering and coughing on his energon ration off the camera. 

Such reaction made Bumblebee hide his helm between shoulder pauldrons in a clear sign of dread - so much for the support coming from teammates it seemed. 

“What?” Optimus asked after standing up from a table he’s sitting next to, the stool screeching audibly after a mech span in it. “Help them? What do you mean by that, Bumblebee? Are you alright? Do they… force you to do something for them or..?”

Minibot didn’t answer any of those questions. Wasn’t able to do it under the searching gaze of an elder mech’s optics which seemed to pin him to his own stool. Bumblebee felt like energon was going to freeze in his lines and tubes from a rising horror. Time seemed to stop for him, not unlike inner mechanisms in a frame of his. He couldn't utter a single sound, words swimming in a jumbled mess that was his processor.

What could he possibly say in his defense, now that his teammates knew of his secret? That there was a proper reason for him to feel pity for the inmates? That he was the only one to keep those mechs alive because nobody else did? That perhaps, Primus help him, all this time they were held in prison, somebot tried to take them out of game by starving them to their deaths?

A yellow Bot clearly hasn’t thought the conversation through, just as he always did, hasn't prepared himself for such a reaction even, and now that mistake was biting his aft. 

But then… then minibot heard something that immediately tore him from a panicking state he got stuck in. 

“I’ll take care of it, Prime.” Ratchet announced in a calm tone, breaking the tense silence which settled over the video call. Bumblebee was so stunned that he didn’t register those words right away, looking dumbly at warm optics of a mech on the other side of a call line. 

“But-“ 

“Optimus.” Medic cut off his commanding officer in a stern but good-natured manner, showing that he knew what he’s doing. Trusting the judgement of an older Bot, red and blue mech nodded to him and stepped away from a console, giving both of his friends some room to talk to each other. 

Young Prime could hardly believe what he’s been witnessing in front of him. Afraid to hope that his situation might’ve not been so dire after all. Baiting his breath, he watched red and white Bot turning to him again and leaning closer to a screen.

“Bumblebee, tell me, what’s happening back on Cybertron.” Ratchet asked his young friend, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, ready to tentatively listen to everything minibot’s about to say. 

And that’s when Bumblebee understood, felt it in his spark which gleefully thrummed in his chest that his old teammates were not mad at him - only worried for his well-being. Said realization made the built up over orbital cycles tension leave his frame and gave him courage to answer as honestly as he could.  

“You don’t know even half of what's going on, guys,” He stated after a breath moment of silence, then scooted on his chair closer to a screen as well and continued speaking in a hushed tone as to not to be heard by anyone else on his side of a video call. 

While retelling the recent events, which took place in Tripticon Prison, young Prime couldn’t help but periodically glance at a screen to his right side, a list of main convicts taking up most of its surface. 

Their stern gazes seemed to burn a viewer with hostility. Evil, cold, sparkless optics on unsightly faceplates. That’s what fellow guards always tended to whisper to each other either in fear or in bold mockery while walking down the hallways.

But to Bumblebee the very same pairs of optics, those he'd looked into more times then any of the local mechs, more then his friends even, told another story. Each time he saw Decepticons, bound and stripped of their weapons, there was no rage in their expressions, nor malice or contempt - only an eternal tiredness, hopelessness... and resignation with Fate.

Warframes. Mighty mechs being brought to their knees and stripped of their pride. Truly a sight which made minibot feel more miserable then three inmates he tried to take care of.

“Bossbot… Ratchet… please, come back here as soon as you can," Recently promoted Prime finally said as a conclusion to his speech. "I… I am afraid I won’t be able to handle this situation on my own anymore.”

[russo-woso]

Falling in love || Kyra Cooney-Cross x Catley!reader

Prompt list here. Request here.

Summary The beginning of yours and Kyra’s story

“Kyra meet my sister Y/N, Y/N, Kyra.” Steph introduced you both as Kyra walked into the living room.

Kyra had just moved to Arsenal and still didn’t have any electrical products, like a tv, sorted so Steph had invited her round for a movie night to save Kyra from boredom.

Unlike your sister, you didn’t play football, instead you dreamed of becoming a teacher, but you didn’t want to live in Australia, hence why you followed Steph to England.

Steph had promised your mum to look after you and the best way to do that was if you moved in with her and her fiance, Dean.

“Nice to meet you, Kyra.” You told her, jumping up from your spot on the couch to greet her.

Kyra didn’t respond straight away, instead just looking at you.

You had to admit, she was very cute but you couldn’t date one of Steph’s teammates.

Although she’d never stated it, you felt like you were betraying her if you did.

“So, I thought we could just order some pizza and then watch some films, sound alright?” Steph asked you both, desperately wanting to change the subject to save the awkwardness.

“Sounds perfect.” Kyra spoke up

—

After watching a movie and putting on another, you looked over to find Steph fast asleep, but Kyra still wide awake.

As you were looking over at her, she looked at you.

There was clearly a sense of awkwardness that had risen so you tried your hardest to try come up with a conversation starter.

“So, Kyra, how are you enjoying London?” You asked, stuttering a few times as you looked at the girl.

“It’s nice, the weathers bad, better than Sweden though.” Kyra responded, a small smile resting on her face.

“I know, I went to Sweden last year with my friend from uni and she’s Swedish and had pre-warned me that it would be cold. Long story short, it snowed the whole week I was there.” You explained, and Kyra let out a giggle.

“It does tend to snow a lot there. You mentioned university, what degree are you doing?” Kyra questioned, continuing the conversation.

“An educational degree, I want to be a primary school teacher.” You responded and she nodded.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and getting to know each other.

The sounds of talking and giggles taking over the sound of the movie.

Steph, who had woken up at some point due to laughter erupting from you and Kyra, couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her sister and close friend.

That night, as Kyra was leaving, you swapped numbers, promising to meet up again soon.

What you didn’t realise was that soon meant soon soon. Like in the morning soon.

It was a last minute decision but you’d asked Kyra if she wanted to meet for a coffee before she had training.

Kyra messaged back saying yes almost immediately and you replied back with the address of your favourite cafe.

“Hey, Ky.” You said as you saw her sat down at a table.

She got up and hugged you, before you both sat down opposite each other.

Similarly to the previous night, the conversation flowed and you found yourself staring in awe at Kyra.

There was just something, everything, that you loved.

After that morning, you both found yourselves making up excuses to see each other.

As much as you loved seeing Kyra, you couldn’t help but feel guilty.

You could feel yourself falling for the girl but she was your sister’s teammate.

Could you do that Steph?

You didn’t know the answer to that question until the match against Chelsea.

A few nights before the match, you had been at Kyra’s apartment, her having cooked dinner for the two of you, when she’d asked in conversation if you could come watch the match.

Now, normally, you didn’t go to many matches, only going to watch big games that meant a lot to your sister.

But Kyra asking you was different, you wanted to watch the match, you wanted to watch her play.

Steph couldn’t believe her hearing when you told her.

She must have asked about four times for you to repeat before the message actually went to her brain.

The following Sunday, you travelled to the sold out Emirates stadium.

Although you hated watching football, you had a really good time, getting to see your sister and Kyra win 4-1 over Chelsea.

You made your way to the players exit, hoping to see Kyra before she went home.

“You played amazing, Ky.” You whispered into her hair as you hugged her tightly.

“I only played like five minutes.” Kyra pointed out, a saddened smile on her face.

“Yeah but you changed the whole play when did come on.” You tried to cheer her up, genuinely telling the truth.

“I guess.”

“Anyway, Steph’s waiting in the car for me. I told her that I wanted to wait to see you and that I’d only be five minutes but someone is a slow changer.” You teased her, and a light pigment spread over her cheeks. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

As you were walking away, you heard your name being called.

“Y/N, wait.” Kyra shouted. “Go on a date with me.”

“A date?”

“Yeah, only if—” Kyra started but you cut her off.

“—I’d love to, Ky. Message me.” You told her, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek, before walking away.

You got into the car with a massive smile on your face making Steph look at you with the biggest smirk ever.

“Something’s got you happy, huh? Is it Kyra?” Steph playfully questioned you. “Aw, look at you blushing.”

“Fine, fine. Kyra asked me on a date. Would you be okay with that?” You asked her hesitantly.

“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because she’s your teammate and I don’t know.” You told her

“Ladybug, you’re my sister, I just want you to be happy, and if that’s with Kyra, then I’m happy for you.” Steph said, using your childhood nickname.

“Thanks, Steffy.”

“Now, when’s the date? What are you wearing? Where is it?”

You groaned as the questions kept coming.

“Do you know what? I really do love you Steph, and I know I don’t mean this, but I really hate you right now.”

—

The following Saturday, Kyra took you to a small restaurant on the outskirts of st albans which just so happened to be your favourite restaurant.

“How did you know this was my favourite?” You asked her as you sat down at the table.

“I remember you telling me back when we first met.” Kyra replied, sending you a smile.

Your heart melted at the fact she’d remembered something so little from months ago.

Over dinner, you and Kyra laughed, and spoke, and just told each other everything and anything.

To say it was an incredible night was an understatement.

After paying the bill, you and Kyra went back into the car and started to drive back to Steph’s house.

Once more, the conversation never died down, you and Kyra finding something to laugh about.

The drive came to an end as Kyra pulled outside the house.

You turned to look at her, resting your hand on hers which was still perched on the gear stick.

“Thank you for tonight, Ky. I think it was genuinely one of the best nights of my life.” You told her and she smiled.

“Me too.”

As you went to leave the car, Kyra grabbed ahold of your arm.

Without needing to be told anything else, you turned to face her again, but smashed your lips onto hers.

Kyra immediately kissed back, smiling into the kiss as it came to an end.

“That was amazing.” Kyra said, a smile taking over her face.

“I’ve waited to do that for months.” You told her and she hummed in agreement.

“You know, my mom used to tell me what it was like to fall in love. Even in my wildest dreams, I never thought it'd be this good. The past few months have been the best ones of my life because I’ve been given the gift of falling for you.” Kyra admitted and your heart melted at her words.

“Oh, Ky.” You didn’t know what to do, there was no words that could express how you felt so instead, you placed your lips on hers. “I can’t believe you chose me to fall in love with.”

“You should believe it. You’re kind, you’re gorgeous, you’re clever. Ways there not to like?”

“You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you over the past few months, it’s that you’re a sweet talker, Kyra.” You joked, and she laughed lightly.

Once again, you connected your lips together, but it was soon interrupted my your sisters face staring at the two of you through the car window.

“Steph!”

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 2 - Painland Week

Day 2 of Painland Week 2024: August 5th - August 11th by @painlandweek

Prompt: Myths / Legends

Tags:  Post-canon, Case-fic

TW: None

Edwin stopped writing mid-word - which, in hindsight, should have been the first evidence that something was wrong, if Charles hadn’t been distracted - and he asked:

“Sorry, wait a tick, you said you are trying to retrieve a lost sword from a lake, and the sword’s name is?” 

“Excalibur, yes,” finished the client.

Edwin tapped the pen over his notebook twice, not even pretending to go back to taking notes - second evidence - and threw the universal ‘closet, now’ look at Charles. For his part, Charles had been listening to the conversation like it was something happening inside a bubble, or on the television, something he wasn’t a part of. His brain had been stuck on a very different train of thought ever since the client entered their office, because the first thing Charles’ mind supplied him with was ‘wow, he’s hot,’ immediately followed by ‘uh, that’s new, since when do I find random boys hot’ and ‘wait, does that mean I can finally be not straight and return Edwin’s feelings?’ - all in all, very confusing thoughts to have in the middle of a potential case.

He did follow Edwin to the closet, though, because it was muscle memory to follow Edwin anywhere without question.

“So what do you think?” Edwin asked, “a curse?”

“It could be, if the missing sword is cursed that would explain why he can’t find it in the lake,” Charles replied, trying to cut through the haze enough to form a sensible thought.

Edwin raised his eyebrows in confusion. It was unusual for them to not be on the same wavelength, they rarely needed to explain themselves further during conversations on almost any topic. It made Charles feel like he had failed some kind of test. “Mr. Rowland, the reading assignments are mandatory to every student.”

“What are you talking about, Charles? There is no sword.”

‘What?’ Charles didn’t say, not eager to repeat the experience. 

Edwin apparently could see right through his desperation, because he sighed with that ever-present hint of fondness and explained:

“This man thinks he is Arthur Pendragon, the once and future King of Britain, on a quest to find his missing sword Excalibur. There is absolutely no way that it is true, hence the hypothesis that he might be cursed. It is not unheard of for ghosts to develop mental illnesses, but it usually involves more rage and screaming, thinking you are the long lost King of Britain seems too specific for that.”

Taking a breath he didn’t really need, Charles focused back to the present to catch up with Edwin’s reasoning. “I think we should play along, if he has been cursed, there has to be a reason, maybe he will lead us to the artefact, or the person who cast the spell on him.”

“That is a brilliant idea, Charles,” Edwin agreed with a smile, more to tell him that they were back on the same track than anything. It sent that shiver up his spine that happened every time Edwin looked proud of him.

“We have decided to take your case, sir Pendragon,” Edwin declared as they returned to the office.

“Thank you, my kind subjects,” Arthur replied, and Charles, who was now in control of his mental faculties, had to fight to suppress a snort. He pushed all the ‘men are hot’ thoughts in one of those carefully locked boxes he had started collecting after Port Townsend to consider at a later date, or maybe never.

--

The hike to the lake where the magic sword was supposed to be was incredibly nice.

“We should do this more often, mate. I mean, mirror travel is cool and all, but look at the view!” He pointed to the mountains in the distance, the clear sky, and he felt excited like that one time he went camping with his friends when he was fifteen - before those same “friends” ended up murdering him.

Edwin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “That is a good idea, perhaps we could take a small vacation after this case is closed.”

It was nice to see Edwin like that, more open, more relaxed. Not having to fear Death separating them, or Hell coming back to take him had done wonders in improving his well-being, which made a lot of sense if Charles was honest. Now that he had seen Hell himself, he had no idea how Edwin had kept it together as well as he did for over thirty years after he escaped.

“I will have you two executed if you do not find my sword right now,” the client declared.

Charles was quick to bow, not trusting Edwin’s bedside manners enough. “We are sorry, sire, we promise we are doing everything we can.”

--

They looked everywhere on the lake and around it, Edwin even tried different spells to reveal hidden magic, but they found nothing. 

“There must be something we are missing, he does not have the object binding the curse on his person, and I can’t find anything of worth in this place,” Edwin said, moving a bit further from where Arthur was looking longingly at the middle of the lake.

“You know that sentence you wanted to write on the wall of the office? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’, maybe he really is what he says.”

Edwin looked a very balanced mix between flustered and impressed. “While I appreciate you remembering my favourite quote, I think if King Arthur existed, we would have heard about it before.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Charles conceded.

While they were going over their notes again, trying to notice something they might have overlooked, or a different spell they could use, an eerie figure appeared next to their client. It was a very pale man, all dressed in black.

The next moment, they were sprinting towards him at full speed.

“Who are you?” asked Edwin, while Charles retrieved his brand new cricket bat from the pocket universe he carried in his backpack.

The man, or being, or whatever he was, smirked, which was an odder sight than if he had manifested eyes all over his body, or a flaming wall behind him. “You must be the ghost detectives my sister is so fond of.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am Dream of the Endless, I apologise for the inconvenience my escapee might have caused you,” he continued, ignoring Edwin’s disbelief.

“Dream of the Endless,” Charles repeated under his breath, trying to make sense of the words. “So your sister, who is fond of us is…”

“Death,” he said, matter-of-factly. “She wishes you would stay and say hi, sometimes. For now, I thank you for your service.”

He turned to keep talking to Arthur then, and after a while the two of them disappeared in a whirlwind of sand, leaving Charles and Edwin to gape at the empty space where they had been. 

“Well that was an experience,” said Charles. “So he was, what? A dream?”

“What a thought, to stop and say hi to Death,” Edwin exhaled at the same time. He was smiling his relaxed smile again, and Charles found his eyes stuck on the curve of his lips, the hint of tongue and teeth peeking from them.

“So, you fancied the once and future king?” the lips moved to form the words, before going back to that beautiful smile. 

Only when the meaning registered, Charles blinked. “What? No, of course, I-” he started, before remembering that they did promise each other no more lies, “maybe a little. Didn’t you? He looked like, I don’t know, the perfect example of man, the one you would expect to see on an advertisement for the entire species?”

Edwin pursed his lips, in that expression he made when he was trying not to laugh. “I can admit that he was objectively good looking, but, you know, blond hair and blue eyes is not really my type.”

He said it in his prim tone, the same way he would say ‘pass me that green book on supernatural diseases’, but there was no mistaking the flirtatious glint in his eyes.

Charles stopped. For a moment, it almost seemed like Edwin knew something that he didn’t even fully know himself, something carefully hidden in one of those boxes “to consider at a later date or maybe never” that he had been collecting. But flirting was like a second nature to him, so he couldn’t help but replying:

“Yeah, and what is your type?”

“Let me see,” Edwin said, slowly, carefully, stepping closer with every word. “Tall, athletic, big dark eyes, unruly hair,” he was right in front of him now, “likes to throw himself into danger to protect others, what else? Insanely clever and perceptive. Shall I continue?”

Charles took a deep breath, his eyes were fixed on the small space between them. “I think I should tell you something.”

If it was on anyone else, the fake surprised expression would have fooled him, but he knew Edwin’s eyes and smiles better than his own. He had to struggle to remain serious, even if he appreciated it for what it was: a way to give him the time to set the pace of the conversation and to take the lead.

“I have never allowed myself to think about it before, you know, with my dad being the way he was, but lately I have been noticing that I am attracted to guys as well. At first it was only one specific guy, but-” he stopped, cringing at the way it sounded, “What I mean is, I didn’t say anything because it was something too important, I had to be sure, and it’s easier to admit you can like someone when you have nothing to lose from it.”

The flirty smile turned into a soft one as Edwin said:

“You have every right to take your time and experiment, you don’t have to say anything, I apologise if-”

Charles stopped him very effectively by cupping his face with his hands. “I don’t want to experiment with anyone else, I think I’ve locked up these feelings for long enough.”

Edwin’s eyes widened, he looked like every ounce of confidence he had mustered up until then had left his body. “As much as I pride myself in my detective abilities, I need you to please say it out loud at least once. It’s been quite difficult for me to believe it, even when you were not at all subtle.”

“I like you,” Charles said immediately, wanting to erase the insecurity from his face. “I haven’t stopped thinking about your confession and what it could mean for our future, and I think I am finally ready to take you out on an official date, if you still want that.”

It was Edwin who leaned in first after that, but like it happened many other times, they met in the middle, instantly on the same wavelength again.

Distantly, almost completely hidden behind the all-encompassing sensation of Edwin holding him and their lips pressed together, Charles thought about how absurd it was that he had to thank the fucking King of Britain for finally managing to have this conversation. Edwin would tease him for all eternity.

[bokutosbiceps]

public privacy

matsuoka rin x f!reader | fluff + smut | 1.9k words

summary: rin takes you back to japan for gou’s graduation + your first stop is a familiar hot springs resort. rin lets the heat get to his head.

warnings: handsy/horny rin, mentions of death and depression, mild cursing, suggestive themes, nsfw, nsfw under the cut, almost voyeurism, fingering, humping, semi-public sex, it gets so sad then so horny lol

18+ MINORS DNI

“Ah, this place is just like I remember it!” Rin dropped his duffel bag on the tatami mat next to the door and stretched his arms into the air, sighing.

Rin had to return to Japan for Gou’s high school graduation and decided to take this opportunity to bring you to his home country for a little getaway, complete with introducing you to his family and friends. Hence the immediate reservation made at Anago Hot Springs three days before Gou’s graduation to spend some romantic alone time with you before subjecting you to the chaos that was Iwatobi.

“Oh, have you been here before?” You asked, kicking the door shut behind you and dropping your bag next to his. Rin hummed in confirmation and approached you, taking your hand and leading you to the big glass window that completed one of the walls of your room. He positioned you in front of him and secured his arms around your waist, resting his chin in between your neck and shoulder and gazing out at the view of the shoreline that the window offered.

“Yeah, but this time is gonna be different.” You could hear the lilt in his voice and turned your neck to look at his face. The smirk that you expected to be there was flourishing on his face and his fingers started to rub circles into your hips.

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m here with you.” He placed a chaste kiss to your jawline before releasing you. “Let’s go into town, I’m starving!”

Rin held your hand as you two walked through town, stopping at various food and activity stalls to sample snacks and challenge each other to multiple games. Once you had both had your fill, Rin opted to walk with you along the shore, still holding your hand.

“I missed the beaches here so much.” He smiled, looking out over the water simmering under the moonlight. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We have beaches in Sydney, babe. We literally live five minutes from one of the biggest tourist beaches in Australia.”

“Yeah, but…something about the beaches in Japan is different.” Rin stops walking to fully face the water, prompting you to stand beside him and acknowledge the water as well. The water was a deep blue, that somehow glowed even in the darkness, and the lull of the waves along the shoreline seemed to have a gentle calm to it. You could immediately understand what he meant once you stopped to regard it the way that he did. “Maybe it’s because I always came to the beach when I needed to clear my head.” He smiled softly and started to scrape at the sand with his toe. “Or maybe it’s because it’s the last place my dad ever saw. Makes me feel close to him.” 

You turned your head to see Rin still smiling down at the sand, no doubt thinking about his late father who had drowned at sea while working an honest job to provide for his little family. You squeezed his hand. “Is that why you swim?” You asked slowly, trying to make Rin feel safe enough to talk about his feelings. He was probably feeling a multitude of emotions since coming back to Japan after two long years of being away. He was probably being reminded of all the feelings he felt during his time here. He was probably feeling the closest he’d felt to his dad in a long time.

“At first, I wanted to train hard so I could carry out the dream that my dad never got to see through.” Rin chuckled gently and lifted his head to look out across the ocean again. “But after meeting Haru, Makoto, Sousuke, and the others, I started to swim for myself. I trained hard so that I could swim with them.” Rin let go of your hand momentarily to kneel down and brush his fingertips across the waves. “I wonder if you’ll like them.” He straightened up and dried his hand on his pants before grabbing your waist.

“I’ve met Haru.” You smiled fondly at the memory of the black haired, blue eyed man staying in your apartment when he came to visit Rin last winter. You had never seen two humans bicker more than Rin and Haru, but you could see the years of friendship between them with just a glance. 

Haru took to you immediately upon seeing you interact with Rin. Mainly the way you liked to tease him and make him blush. Haru knew Rin was in good hands with you in Australia. He knew of the loneliness Rin experienced during his first time living in Australia, and was glad to see he didn’t have to worry about that this time around.

“Yeah, you guys are just two peas in a pod. Arguing with me about every single damn thing.” Rin shook his head and squeezed your hip, causing you to giggle.

“Tell me about the others.”

“Well, Sousuke, you’ve met him on facetime. There’s not really much more to him than the stubborn, responsible guy you’ve spoken with. He’s probably kept me the most grounded out of any of my friends, but he’s a pain sometimes, the bastard.”

You remember meeting Sousuke one evening when you had arrived home and found Rin laughing and chatting with him over facetime. Rin immediately took the opportunity to introduce you two and the first thing you did was take note of how handsome Sousuke was. This lead to a string of teasing on your part, petty jealousy on Rin’s part, and more teasing on Sousuke’s part. The next time Sousuke happened to be facetiming Rin, Rin made it his life’s mission to keep you away, as if you were going to fall in love with Sousuke just upon seeing his face again. But over time, Rin got over his petty jealousy and allowed you to befriend his best friend. Now, Sousuke was someone you kept in touch with—mainly to gossip about Rin.

Rin went on to talk about Makoto, Nagisa, Momotarou, and Nitori, reminiscing about all the fun times they had together before he left for Australia. Rin talked about his high school days for the duration of the walk back to your inn.

He chatted with you about all the things he wanted to show you once you were back in his hometown while you slipped out of your street clothes and into the robes that the onsen provided.

“I’m gonna take a dip in the hot springs before bed. What are you gonna do?” You asked, securing the belt of the robe around your waist. Rin grinned and did the same.

“I’m gonna join you.”

“Rin, you know very well they are not co-ed pools.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he followed you into the hall after locking your room door.

“Awe, c’mon, it’s late. There’s probably not gonna be anyone around!” Rin pleaded with you all the way to the entrance of the hot springs. You stopped in front of the women’s entrance and smirked at him.

“If I didn’t know you any better I would think you’re just trying to see me wet and naked.” You ran your fingers up along the collar of his robe, lingering to wrap your fingers around the fabric and pull Rin close to you.

“I’m just trying to spend time with my beautiful girlfriend.” Rin said innocently. He leaned in and let the tip of his nose brush against yours. “Getting to see you wet and naked is always a perk, though.”

You placed a chaste kiss to his lips before letting go of him and pushing open the door to the women’s entrance. “You’ll survive, honey. Try not to pass out from the heat!” You waved at Rin before disappearing behind the door, leaving him speechless, hot, and bothered.

You made quick work of slipping out of your robe and slippers, stashing them away in a cubby, and rinsing yourself off before sliding into the warm water. You let out a content sigh, somewhat relieved that you were the only one in the pool and allowing yourself to feel the stress of the long day of travel evaporate from your body with the steam. 

You were about to doze off when the door to the entrance opened and you heard the sequential splash of someone rinsing themselves off. Before you could turn around to politely greet whoever it was that would join you, a figure flashed across your field of vision and dove into the pool.

A creeping suspicion crawled its way up your chest as you shielded your face from being splashed with the steamy water. You lowered your arm just in time to catch a glimpse of a wet mess of maroon locks as Rin swam up to you, stopping only to rest his arms on your thighs and float in front of where you were sitting against the rim of the pool. A smirk was plastered across his lips.

“If you think you can get rid of me that easily, think again, baby.” Rin grinned at you and pushed himself out of the water to start nibbling on your neck, sneaking one of his hands to fit in between your thighs and push them apart.

“Matsuoka Rin, we are in public!” You scolded, pushing his hands away from in between your thighs. He just smirked at you and pressed his bare chest against yours.

“Eh…public private.” He drew out the last word in emphasis, completing his point by looking around the empty pool before turning back to you with a mischievous grin. You let him push your thighs apart again before sinking into his touch with a sigh as he ghosted his fingers over your clit.

You moaned and let your head fall forward onto Rin’s shoulder as he continued his ministrations on your neck and in between your thighs. He cupped your cheek with his other hand and brought your head up to meet your eyes before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, he moved his lips against yours in sync with each stroke of his fingers against your clit. He successfully managed to pry your lips apart with his tongue at the same time he plunged two fingers inside of you, making you gasp into his mouth. Your sounds were almost too much for Rin to bear.

“C’mere.” He growled, quickly taking your place against the rim of the pool and grabbing your hips to have you grind your ass against his cock. He bucked his hips against you and sank his teeth into your shoulder as he continued to hump you under the water, feeling as though he might pass out from the steamy pool and the excitement of having his lover there with him.

Without any notice, Rin gently lifted you from his lap and pulled himself out of the pool before turning around to offer you his hand. “Now, let’s continue this in the room or I will pass out from all this heat.” You blushed when you noticed he was still completely hard and wondered how he was going to walk back to your room like that. You took his hand and let yourself be pulled up and out of the pool.

“I will never understand why you suggested a hot spring when you know you get dizzy from the heat.” You chuckled as you slipped back into your robe, not bothering to tie it properly as you knew it would be dragged off once you set foot in the room.

“The heat from you and the pool, babe. You and the pool.”

[haikyuufanficwriting]

Chapter 7: Kuroo (NSFW)

Prompt: Reader working non-stop and (Character) has to ‘tire’ them out. (NSFW) Character: Kuroo

_________________

You’re a workaholic. Anyone who’s ever met you could notice it at first meeting. You’re a typical type A person. You fit the stereotypical mold perfectly. This isn’t really a surprise to you though, you’ve been this way for as long as you could remember.

Ever since you were a little kid, you’ve never been able to take a proper break. You simply didn’t know how to. There always seemed to be something else to do, something to improve on, something to fix…

And while you profited from this trait in your professional life, it did horrendous effects on your personal life.

“Kitten, it’s almost midnight.” You don’t even glance up from your desk, engrossed in the report you’re writing, as your boyfriend curls his arms around you, silently beckoning you to come to bed. You sigh lightly.

“I’ll be there is fifteen minutes Tetsu.” You mutter absentmindedly, and Kuroo snorts, knowing very well that you’re saying anything to sate him.

Truth be told, Kuroo understood where you’re coming from. Becoming the spokesman for a famous a volleyball team has led to many late nights, but the difference between him and you were he knew when and how to take a break. Kuroo could kick back and forget about all his ailments, while you could barely go ten minutes without going into a frenzy about some files you had to go over. He couldn’t really remember a time when you weren’t like this. Even back in high school, you tried to make sure you had perfected every subject, every assignment. When you joined the volleyball team as manager, you stayed back longer than any boy practicing. Doing anything from helping cleaning and maintaining the gym, to help making as many practice matches as you could.

Many times he’d have to force you to eat and to sleep, among other things. Kuroo had gotten so used to it, it became routine to pick up both you and Kenma just to make sure both of you had eaten something. So much so that it’s a favorite pastime for him to recall those memories and watch you cringe.

But, now in your adult life and being in a romantic relationship rather than a platonic one, Kuroo lets you do you. Of course, now you know when to do basic necessities like eat and sleep (Well, sometimes you needed a little help), but mostly because he wouldn’t dare change you. (Maybe because of how amusing it is to see you try to relax). However, there are times where he felt he needed to step in. Just to make sure you wouldn’t burn out or combust.

You were high maintenance but, Kuroo liked maintaining you. Your drive and passion for everything you do is one of the reasons he fell for you in the first place.

Which brings him to his current mission. To get you to sleep. Ever since you were brought on to a new project at your work, he could tell you weren’t sleeping as much as you should be. And while he was usually lenient, it was starting to worry him a little bit. Hence, why this time he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Kuroo doesn’t respond with words, but only light, feather-like kisses down your neck, just to remind that he really isn’t going to give in. You try to ignore him, but once he begins to suck a light hickey right below your ear, you can’t handle it and let out a heavy sigh of mainly annoyance and just a bit of pleasure. You can feel his smirk from behind you. That jackass.

“Tetsu, I have to focus.”

“You can focus tomorrow, (Name). It’ll still be there when you wake up.” Kuroo says in a teasing tone while moving his hands from your sides to your hands, pulling them away from the work you so desperately want to finish.

“I promised myself I’d finish this today.” You argue, turning around to plead with your eyes, but to no avail.

“When’s the deadline?” You pause, before looking away slightly.

“Next week.” Kuroo doesn’t even need to use words, but just a slight eyebrow raise for you to feel the need to defend yourself. “I-I’m using next week to read it over just to make sure I didn’t forget any-” Your argument is cut off by your yelp as Kuroo picks you up bridal style right from your chair. You flush.

“T-tetsurou!”

He gives you a Cheshire smile. “Bedtime.” Is the only thing he says as he carries you to your shared bedroom. You huff childishly as he sets you down onto the bed and pulls the covers down. He pulls off his shirt and lays down. You’re silently thankful that you were already changed for bed. Your mind can’t even take the imaginary scenarios of what your boyfriend would do. Your noises of disagreement are quieted when he pulls you into his chest. You grumble slightly.

“I’m not a child you know.” You hear Kuroo let out a small chuckle. You feel the vibrations coming from his chest and shiver slightly.

“Sleep, kitten.” He whispers before playfully nipping your ear, which earns him a light smack against his arm. Such a tease. You sigh, before relaxing into your boyfriends’ arms, attempting to sleep.

Maybe this could actually be good for you. Some sleep to feel refreshed in the morning and give you the final push to finish that report…

~~

This was a terrible idea.

Not only could you not fall asleep, but you couldn’t stop thinking about your unfinished report in the other room. It was practically calling you, teasing you, infesting your mind with the fact that it’s sat there, undone. You shift slightly, leaning more against Kuroo as you feel his deep and even breathing. Lucky bastard practically passed out the second his head hit the pillow. While you laid there for about what felt like an eternity. You let out a low agonized whine, before looking at the clock on your bedroom wall. It was 1:35 am.

You definitely couldn’t stay like this. It was going to be the death of you if this continued.

You look from your door to Kuroo. Surely, he wouldn’t notice if you left for half an hour? You were almost finished with your report, so you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long, plus he slept like the dead…

You slowly and cautiously uncurled Kuroo’s arms from your waist, checking his face for the smallest shifts of discomfort, stopping whenever he twitched. After about five minutes, you managed to get him off you, and as quietly as possible, you stood up and tried to make your way to your door. You were about halfway there, when you hear a low grunt. You turn to see your boyfriend’s arms searching threw the empty space of the bed. He was trying to look for you.

If you weren’t focused on the task at hand, you would’ve recorded this for blackmail material. But, afraid of waking him, you silently grabbed your pillow and gave it to his searching hands. And like a child, Kuroo immediately clings onto it, pulling it into him and letting out a satisfied groan. You feel sensations of warmth course through you.

You swear you cannot describe the love you feel for this man. You feel yourself smile, going back and brushing your fingers down his neck, to which he let out a comforted noise.

Wait, stop, (Name) focus!

You snap yourself out of it, reminding yourself of the report sitting outside. With one last glance, you turn and make your way out the door. You feel peace and relief as you sit back down in your desk chair.

Okay time to get to work…

~~

Okay, this might’ve taken a little longer than you’ve anticipated.

You finished writing the report, but when reading over you decided halfway through that you wanted to change a section, but then it intersected with another part and another…

Long story short, you’re rewriting it all over again.

You have no clue what time it is, only knowing the last time you checked it was 2: 45 am, and its felt like forever since you last checked.

But nevertheless, you were convinced that you were going to be done in the next fifteen minutes, so you just had to make sure that it was quiet enough that Kuroo wouldn’t wake. You made sure to check the door every five minutes and not a to make a single sound other the keyboard clacking. You were filled with determination. The next ten minutes flew by, with you getting immersed into your own little bubble.

Which is why you didn’t even hear Kuroo get up.

Granted, he had woken up randomly, but when he stirred and found himself clutching a pillow instead of your body, he knew immediately what you were up to.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He groaned, before huffing out a laugh, shaking his head at the clock on the wall. It was around 4: 15 am. Kuroo got up and walked out of the room, to find you sitting on your desk, face totally absorbed in your screen. He leans against the wall causally, watching you for a while.

“You know they say the early bird gets the worm,” His voice is rough from sleep, but is still filled with amusement as he watches you jump from his voice. You turn his way like a child getting caught for taking candy from their mothers’ purse.

“But this is a little much don’t you think?” He watches you slide out of your desk, closing your laptop while attempting to figure out a reasonable defense, but ends up watching you open and close your mouth like a gaping fish. He wishes he had his phone with him to catch your expression.

“I… I wasn’t tired. So I just figured I’d finish while it was still on my mind.” You finally say, voice filled with nervousness and a little bit of shame. Kuroo looks from you to your laptop.

“And did you finish?” You look away.

“…Not yet.” There’s silence between you two for little while. You watch Kuroo rub his face, clearly trying figure out what to do with you. You gulp.

“Tetsu, just go back to bed, I’ll be finished in ten minutes. As soon as I’m done, I’ll go to sleep I promise. I just couldn’t rest knowing it wasn’t done-” You’re cut off by Kuroo’s body pressing into yours, pushing you against the wall in a searing kiss, moving against your lips in a slow but bruising pace. You moan in surprise.

How-How did he even get over here so quickly?

Your mind goes blank as his hand travels under your pajama shirt (Which was his old t-shirt, but whatever), rubbing your lower back in ways that leave your skin tingling in its wake. You gasp from the sensation, giving Kuroo the space to slip his tongue in. At this point your body is on auto pilot, with even your arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck at some point of the suddenly heavy make out session.

After what felt like centuries, Kuroo pulls back to let you breathe, before immediately going to attack your neck, not in the lighthearted way he did hours prior. He cycles from sucking on your flesh to lightly biting to kissing, all in places that he knows are sensitive. This all came on so fast that you can barely form coherent sentences.

“T-tetsu… What -ah, are you… Doing?” You pant, and he finally stops and smirks at you, which alone caused your heart to skip a beat.

“What else could I be doing? Taking your mind off work.” With that, he continues that assassination on your neck.

Honestly, the idea came to Kuroo on a whim. He knew that you couldn’t (or wouldn’t) stop working on that stupid report, so at that moment he could only think of one thing that could have a chance at taking your focus off it.

 Sex.

Primitive yes, but hey, it worked at the best of times. Plus, it could also help with working off the extra energy you can’t seem to shake.

It’s a win-win in his eyes.

(It also may have to do with the fact that you two haven’t slept together in a week, due to said report, so he could be feeling a little pent up but that’s a different issue.)

After he was satisfied with his work on your neck, which was full of red and purple splotches that he knows you’ll complain about later, he returns to your lips, kissing you with all the strength he had. His hands travel from your back to your chest, thankful that you weren’t wearing a bra. Kuroo starts to knead your breasts, making sure to pinch and pull and your nipples every so often, leaving you to twitch and cry softly in his mouth. He can’t help but think about how the sounds would feel around his cock, and that imagery goes straight to his crotch.

Right no, this was about you. Another thought for another day.

His hands leave your chest, to go to the back of your thighs. He squeezes them to silently tell you to that he’s going to lift you. You help a little, jumping slightly and hooking your legs around his toned hips. Without leaving your lips he takes you to the nearest surface, which was your couch, and lays you down with the upmost care, before pouncing on you immediately. Putting one of his legs between yours.

After five minutes in this new position, Kuroo suddenly leaves your mouth and you quietly whine at the loss, but he doesn’t hear as he motions you to lift your arms off to take off your shirt. You comply, helping him remove the item of clothing, leaving you in just your panties. Kuroo appreciates the fact that you don’t wear pants to bed as he takes a moment to look at you. Your face flushed and red, lips swollen with a bruised neck that goes down to your collar bones. Your chest heaving from your heavy pants that accentuate the curve of your breasts. Kuroo has to real in his self control to stop himself from fucking you immediately. You feel yourself heat up from his dark eyes looking you up and down like you’re a piece of meat.

“St-stop staring, pervert” You mutter, turning even more red from embarrassment. He smiles at your shyness. “Sorry kitten; but you can’t expect me not stare when you’re all laid out for me like this~ Just waiting to be devoured.”

You stutter at his words, refusing to look at him but trying to kick him to get your point across. He catches your leg with ease, and starts to kiss your calf, going up your leg, purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You whine again, this time with Kuroo hearing you and he chuckles lowly.

“Patience is a virtue, you know~” He teases, and before you could say anything, he latches his mouth to one of your nipples, leaving his hand to tease the other, making you speechless. Your only response was a shaky moan as he softly bites your nipple, causing your back to arch just a bit.

Kuroo is relentless, refusing to let your nipple go until its bright red and engorged, making even the lightest touch make you shiver. But he isn’t done in the slightest. Once pleased, he turns to the other one, giving it the exact same treatment. Once he’s done, you’re practically shaking with need.

“Tet-Tetsu… Pl-please.” You moan, as he teasingly pinches your extremely sensitive nipple. He looks at you, acting oblivious.

“Hm? Do you want something?” You glare as hard as you could at the prick, but with your half-lidded eyes and totally red face, it loses all intensity. Kuroo huffs out a laugh, sensual and deep, as he takes his finger and trails it down your abdomen and down to your inner thigh, making you let out gasps as your body twitches at the touch. He traces tiny circles down your inner thigh before grazing the lips of your pussy.

You’re absolutely dripping. His cock twitches. Maybe this week has been hard on you too…

“So needy~” He groans, again not giving you time to respond, as he shoves his finger inside your dripping hole, leaving you writhing. To be honest, he was becoming impatient as well, his cock was becoming so hard it was beginning to hurt, but he ignored it for your sake.

Kuroo starts off slow, pushing his finger in a slow pulse, loving the way your walls would twitch around his finger. After a while he brought his thumb to rub slow tight circles on your clit. You struggle to hold in any noise. Not like you weren’t struggling before.

“Tetsu~” You pant, becoming a literal puddle as he steadily winds the coil forming in your lower abdomen. Your hips start to move on their own accord, pushing against his finger to get it even deeper.

You want more. You need more.

“Still thinking about work?” Kuroo asks slyly, purposefully adding a second finger just to mess and cloud up your thoughts.

Bastard was making you look like a bitch in heat. But in the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not with all the pleasure muddling your basic communication skills. Kuroo obviously didn’t like that, so he decides to push up into a place that makes you see stars.

“Tetsurou!” You literally gasp, arching your back so far that you lift yourself off the couch. Kuroo groans just from your voice and expression alone. Just watching your eyes roll into the back of head was enough to put him in a frenzy, not even mentioning the way you said his name. He wanted you to scream it. Scream so loud the neighbors file complaints.

So of course, what else was he supposed to do but press and rub against that spot repeatedly.

Kuroo watches hungrily as your gasps and moans pitch higher and higher as his fingers set a brutal pace. Adding a third finger and his palm against your clit once more and you were goner, with him throwing you into climax rather than pushing you to it. He swears your cunt squeezed him so hard his fingers lost circulation for a moment, but it was worth the expression of pure bliss on your face.

It takes you a while to get your breathing under control, winding down from a climax harder than you’ve had in a while. You take a couple minutes resting your eyes, before you remember that Kuroo was still present, now rubbing his cock against your inner thigh.

“I hope you’re not tired yet, kitten~ We still have so much work to do.”

Boy, were you in for a rough night.

[luthien-under-bough]

*banner by @anamazingangie! 🤍

milk teeth - Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen >> in progress - chapters 5/?

Prompt: When Aemma gives birth to a healthy heir, Rhaenyra is very curious about breastfeeding and often lets her brother suck on her breasts without milk. It makes him quiet and her mother is relieved that Rhaenyra likes her brother. Daemon discovers what is she doing and shows her how her tits should be sucked. Rhaenyra can't wait to get pregnant and have her own milk for Daemon to suckle.

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings*

*Please read the prompt and mind the tags. I used the "Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings" tag and added more specific warnings in the Additional Tags. Sexual content will occur between Daemon and Rhaenyra when she's 15; they will not marry/consummate their marriage until she's 16 (disclaimer - my timelines are always subject to change, but this is the current plan). There will, however, be no Major Character Death or Non-Con. There will be varying degrees of consent (hence the Dubious Consent tag), and — depending on how I end up writing particular scenes — the Consensual Non-Consent tag may be added.

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baelon Targaryen (Son of Viserys I) Lives, Aemma Arryn Lives, No Dance of the Dragons | War For Succession Between Aegon II and Rhaenyra Targaryen Never Happens, Underage Sex, Dubious Consent, Underage Masturbation, Motherhood, Pregnancy, Menstruation, Breastfeeding, Lactation Kink, Early marriage, Breeding, Blood, Uncle/Niece Incest, Mentions of Child Loss

Summary:

She knew this wasn’t proper, but it didn’t feel wrong. There was nothing perverse about it; it was merely a way to bond with her new brother. And if she did have children of her own, she would feed them herself, the customs of men and maesters be damned. What was this, if not practice? Men played at swords in the yard to practice for their wars, why should she not practice for her duties just the same?

Chapter Links:

🤍 chapter 1 🤍 chapter 2 🤍 chapter 3 🤍 chapter 4 🤍 chapter 5 - 🚨new! 🤍

[arianatwycross]

JILYCHALLENGE NOVEMBER 2023 | @jilychallenge

Theme: Nostalgic Tropes

Prompt: Accidents with a certain potion (Amortentia) - although there was less accident and more Lily being painfully oblivious

Partner: @charmsandtealeaves

I was only able to write something short and sweet this time and I used the prompt loosely but please enjoy!

James lunges straight for a bowl of oatmeal. His typical breakfast, one that has served him well for Quidditch training, is crucial in his daily routine. With a healthy dusting of cinnamon sugar, he tucks straight in, all while trying to advertently listen to the girls chat about yesterday afternoon's lesson. 

Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. A potion that ultimately smells different to each person, according to what attracts them. A potion that caused infamous chatter when the subject of the class was first revealed by Professor Slughorn just last week. Even the boys had been nervously chattering about what the potion would smell to them. 

The Gryffindor’s had their lesson yesterday afternoon, James' potion aroma did not surprise him at all, but Remus and Sirius were still reluctant to describe theirs. Peter was still preening over his smelling exactly like his girlfriend, the Hufflepuff girls currently cooing over him as he sat next to Lucinda.  

As he takes another spoonful of oatmeal, Lily rolls her eyes playfully as Alice sighs over Marlene’s love potion description. He’s been desperate to hear what Lily’s potion smelt like, desperate to either finally get closure or get the courage to take the next step. 

“So, Lils, what did yours smell like?” Marlene waggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

“First, I want to explain how Amortentia works. It smells like what attracts you, that could be anything from what we’re sexually attracted to something that just smells good. Hence, why mine smelt like chocolate.” 

“It did not smell like chocolate.” Alice scoffs, behind her coffee mug. 

Lily frowns, the little divot between her eyebrows making an appearance. 

“It did!” Lily frowns, yet James clocks the redness flushing her cheeks. 

“What else did it smell like, Lils?” Marlene asks carefully, a secret smile on her face as she pours milk into her cereal. 

Lily rolling her eyes once again, takes a moment. He watches as her eyes look at the various condiments in the centre of the table. 

“It smelt like lavender…” She says quietly. 

“Like our dorm room?”

“Yeah, suppose it just smells like home for me.” 

“Anything else?” Marlene adds. 

Lily bites down on her lip, almost causing James to miss his mouth with his spoon. “It smelt like cinnamon sugar,” she says quickly. 

Marlene’s spoon halfway to her mouth, pauses and watches Lily expectantly. Alice’s attention, meanwhile, flickers to James and back to Lily, an excited smile on her face. 

Now it’s James’ turn to go red. 

His heart may be climbing up his throat, but he watches Lily as calmly as he can. 

“Oh?” Alice prompts. 

“Mmm, I mean I like cinnamon sugar, but I don’t remember any sort of situation where I’ve been attracted to the smell?” 

Lily looks thoroughly confused now, so confused that James stops eating, puts down his spoon and arches a brow at Alice. 

Alice beaming under James' gaze flashes him a conspiratorial grin. “Cinnamon sugar? I mean, I can think of one person that has a penchant for the taste every morning…” 

Lily arches a questioning brow at Alice, “Who?” 

Before Alice can respond, a thump interrupts the group. Sirius landing heavily next to James and Alice, gives the group his usual mischievous grin before announcing very loudly for the entire table to hear, “James, mate, would you like some oatmeal with all that cinnamon sugar?” 

[ddelline]

free-for-all (wips) friday

blurb | alright so an adsr update is still a lil aways, hence posting this as a sneak peak (of new! writing! finally!) editing the bulk of the prev posted 33k (which is now at 36k, yikes lol) took up the majority of my time, and I ended up lagging behind

premise | road trip! the first bit, which serves as a sort of of a calm before the storm-bit. we'll also be seeing some action in this one. queue dramatic music (or some shit) verrry short in comparison to my usual wip postings, but I don't wanna get ahead of myself and reveal tooooo much

The journey down to Nagoya is an exercise in restraint. Satoru would be surprised, but it feels futile to try and conquer and divide among his emotions, considering he’s already expanding a great deal more than he’d do for literally anything else. 

The convoy pitches stops at several checkpoints along the route South. They make Satoru and Yūji get out at the first two, flash their IDs and recite where they’re headed and why. Yūji is restless with energy, shifts his weight between his feet and tilts forward whenever he’s addressed.

Satoru, for his part, and in contrast to Yūji—slouches, drawls his syllables long and makes himself a bit more caustic with each unnecessary interruption. It’s one thing to halt the caravan and inspect its contents, but wasting precious time—time no one has, least of all Satoru and Yūji—on subjecting them to a rote inspection protocol each and every time—it’s grating.

“Gojō-sensei,” huffs Yūji—who seems less and less inclined to let Satoru off the hook with each passing minute—once they get back on the road. “You could be a little less harsh, no?”

Satoru quirks an eyebrow. “Who’s being harsh?”

Yūji’s expression turns deadpan. “C’mon, sensei.”

Satoru relaxes into the steely side of the truck. He doesn’t say anything. It eventually prompts Yūji to continue, “They’re just trying to do their job. Same as us.”

“Same as us, huh?” muses Satoru. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.”

“Well, how would you look at it?” asks Yūji. It’s not particularly challenging, more genuinely inquisitive. 

Satoru glances across the cramped space; Yūji has fitted himself between a wooden crate and a pile of grain sacks. His legs splay long and loose across the floor. He’s looking far at a spot over Satoru’s head.

Satoru cracks his neck. “If the authorities were operating at a disadvantage I’d concede to your point. As it is, they’re well aware of what’s happening and when. Same as us. Wouldn’t you say, Yūji—knowing what you do—that we’re wasting a considerable amount of time? Going through all of these checkpoints; ticking all these rote, regulatory boxes—for what, exactly?”

Yūji counts off his fingers. “I mean. It’s not slowed us more than what—twenty, thirty minutes though?”

“Thirty minutes that could spell the difference between life and death.”

Yūji’s brow creases. “I—not really? Right?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Satoru tips his glasses up to his hairline. Doesn’t miss the way Yūji’s eyes twitch wider, but can’t imagine reaching for it right now, attempt to grab it for himself to enjoy. “Every minute we’re sat here, rendered effectively useless, is a minute we’re not getting back. It’s thirty minutes spent ineffectively—thirty minutes we shouldn’t lose.”

“So use it on me,” replies Yūji promptly. He locks eyes with Satoru baldly. “Use it to—I dunno, teach me something. That’s useful, right?”

For a few seconds Satoru can’t do anything but stare. Frankly, he’s becoming a bit tired with himself—with how effectively he’s rendered mute, sometimes, when Yūji turns his sincerity up to a T, lays it belly-up for Satoru to stare at, try to make sense of.

“Sensei?” prods Yūji.

Satoru puffs a breath he hadn’t realized was stocking in his chest. “You’re something else, you know.”

Yūji rolls his eyes.

“No indulging me, huh.” Satoru arches an eyebrow. “Well, in that case—walk me through yours and Megumi’s infiltration op, would you?”

[phoenix-manga]

Cerule Oceana

CV: Tadakoro Azusa

Biographical Information

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Birthday: October 8

Starsign: Libra

Height: 178 cm

Eye Color: Cerise Red

Hair Color: White Rock & Coral Red

Professional Status

Dorm: Coquille

School Year: 2nd Year

Class: 2-A | Student no. 7

Occupation: Student | Dorm Leader

Club: Roleplay Game Club

Best Subject: Music

Fun Facts

Favorite Food: Ocean candy & milk

Least Favorite Food: Caviar & meat

Dislikes: Being kept limited

Hobby: Exciting dares

Talents: Quick crafting

Idol Stats

Performance: Able to sing really high notes with a chance of accidentally summoning a whirlpool.

Choreography: Able to memorize footwork despite being a mermaid. Cannot copy if done too fast.

Styling Jewel Outfits: Cute | Cool | Quirky

She a free-spirited mermaid who likes to learn more about people and worlds that are unknown to her. She won’t be afraid to ask questions and show her curiosity, in fact, she’s more daring and would not care about her surroundings which can be bad when she’s in an unsafe place in the ocean.

Cerule is unable to do well in mundane things that bore her, prompting her to run off and go do something fun. Even if it means she’d be scolded by her father.

Though she is classified as an herbivore serpent, closer to her mother’s side, she is still raised on the behavior of a carnivore serpent like her father. Which makes her a wildcard but unlike a certain eel that looks menacing from the starts, Cerule looks almost harmless. Though her feral behavior is reserved for those who truly test her patience. Not a lot of students know but her close friends have seen her literally growl at people who push her limits.

Despite being able to fight well as a serpent, she is quite clumsy with her long tail which makes her flustered often than she would like. The twins wouldn’t let her live it down if they ever see her bump into things.

Cerule would always try to understand new slangs in the human world though she mixes them up a lot, she still tries to keep up with the trends.

She absolutely adores cute things, she would drop what she was doing to just squish what she deemed “cute”. You would have to bargain hard to get her to let go.

She has the habit of humming when she’s transfixed on something, it would unintentionally put someone in a daze due to her powers as a serpent. Though as beautiful her singing voice is, she can’t stand to perform all by herself.

Cerule has a stubborn personality like her father which tends to clash as the two would argue about certain perspectives while her mother has to play peacemaker between the two.

Hometown: Serpent Sea

Family Life

Cerule’s home is known as the “Serpent Sea”, it is located in a deep trench where the light doesn’t reach. Going past the trench leads to a cave system that is difficult to maneuver around if one isn’t familiar with the area.

Many merfolk who have heard of the Serpent Sea know rumors and even legends about how the serpent merfolk were beings of power, and this leads to many being intimidated whenever there was a meeting that needed the leaders to meet up for discussions.

She was the only egg to be born between the royal serpent couple which was unusual as there should be multiple eggs. Hence why her father became overprotective to the point of it becoming overbearing. Her mother was thankfully not too overprotective unlike the father.

But life in the Serpent Sea was dangerous because of the rogue serpents who don’t ally themselves with the royals. There would be violent battles to either prove one’s strength or claim territory.

Cerule grew up mostly restricted to explore the sea outside her home which made her fussy and bored. So, she developed a habit of sneaking out without anyone noticing most of the time. It was only until she was at middle school age that her mother finally convinced her father to at least take her to see the area outside.

That decision was how she met and became friends with a certain octopus and the twin eels. She continued to visit them now that she has her first friends that aren’t hesitant to hang out with her because of her father’s reputation. She can’t recall how many times her father has accidentally or purposely intimidated other serpent children who tried to befriend her.

Childhood Memories

Cerule’s mother can remember that she almost lost her precious baby when a rogue serpent snuck in and tried to take the egg. Thankfully her husband was able to fend off the thief and retrieve the egg that suffered only a mere crack on the surface. But this was enough to put the two on high alert even after she was born. Hence why her father is always looming over Cerule even if he was being too much.

The first time she went out was to escort her father to see a different area of the sea which she marveled so much that she got carried away in doing something exciting before she goes back home. This led her to the event where she became friends with Azul and the Leech twins. She would willingly get him the ingredients that can only be found in her home or in dangerous waters. Thanks to her serpent heritage, she is strong enough to hold her own against plenty of aggressive sea creatures.

When Cerule was summoned to attend DCA, she had to beg her mother to try her best to convince her father to let her attend. Not like he could say no to the queen, this was a good opportunity for Cerule to be able to perform her duties as the next ruler better. Although her father was adamant on not having his precious daughter outside of the sea, he had no choice but to begrudgingly agree with his wife’s argument.

Thus she was given a special necklace that allowed her to transform from human to mermaid. This is a national treasure, much like Kalim’s magic carpet. Her father always spams her with letters to make sure she’s okay whenever she’s at school.

Cerule can recall the first time she brought over potential friends in the Serpent Sea, to her place only to flee at the sight of her father’s “grin”. Those sharp teeth don’t really look welcoming and it scared off any young serpent that Cerule wanted to be friends with.

There was one time when Azul saw Cerule’s feral side, it was when he was confronted by his middle school bullies when he was in his octopus pot. They tugged at his tentacles roughly that he can’t help but cry out. The bullies were then smacked a few feet away when Cerule slammed her tail onto them. She drops her joyful attitude as she snarled at them.

Azul thought that she was easy to manipulate during their first meeting but it was this event that made him think that he should consider her to be on the same level of respect as the Leech twins. The sight of her glowing red eyes as she squeezed his tormentors until they fled, was a constant reminder of her status as the serpent’s daughter.

He was smart enough not to incur the wrath of the serpent king as well.

Cerule is a 2nd Year Coquille student and is the current dorm leader.

She got way too excited when she was chosen to attend DCA that she had to be knocked out with a sleeping spell because she wriggled around so much that the carriage shook on the way.

Cerule was quite clumsy at first since she had to get used to legs, but as she practiced using her newly transformed libs it felt like she was more nimble on land than in water. Though she doesn’t want to give up her strong tail entirely, she still would choose to live in the sea.

Not to mention that she has no knowledge of the education that humans often go through on a daily basis. She felt stress for the first time in her life when she had no idea about math or human history. She struggled a lot back then but thankfully the staff were able to sort out her problem to get accustomed to human culture and subjects.

She was always dazed due to how many things were so new to her everywhere she went, she was almost as bad as Allison when it comes to being curious. Though after a year studying in DCA she’s toned down a bit though she still gets excited over new trends.

Though the fuzzy and feathery land animals are interesting, Cerule still prefers the sea creatures in the school. Mainly because she’s discovered the magical method of “Searching the Internet” that she found out about the dark biology behind those cute faces.

But when told that sea creatures are the same, Cerule argues that the sea creatures that have dangerous biology is clear as day unlike the platypus and ducks.

Cerule is very active in PE, while she has decent grades on other subjects that don’t involve using magic. She found them mundane and therefore lacking a bit of motivation to give it her all. Asking her to take notes for tests feels taxing as she’d rather look for sunken treasure instead.

School Relationships

Cerule was curious about humans and would want to be included in these strange human activities to experience something new. She’s made a new friends that can show her exciting things and always include her in their fun. These friends are, Allison, Perrine, Ella, Jinlong, and Vidya.

Allison and Perrine have opened her eyes to human cuisine which she became addicted to, they just tasted so delicious and the way the girls decorated the food reminded her of the colorful shells back in the sea. Though when they tried to get her to cook, she failed miserably, Cerule stuck to microwaves which sparked the argument between the three how microwaving food is not a form of cooking.

Jinlong and Cerule were at odds at first, mainly because Jinlong thought she wasn’t taking things seriously. But it took a match between their dorms for her to realize that Cerule just found fun in what she does but can also be serious. From then on the two became friendly rivals.

Ella looked like a seal to Cerule with how big and sparkly her eyes were. Not to mention she has a lot of pretty, shiny objects that pique her intrigue. They remind her of sea glass but they were shinier and quite heavy. She didn’t mind being Ella’s model from time to time but she preferred loose, flowing dresses as opposed to those dreadful “corsets” and “crinolines” that she tried out one time. It felt like she put herself in a net.

Vidya was very interesting because Cerule felt as if her gaze was like an alpha on guard. Which would make sense considering Vidya’s circumstance. Many thought that Vidya won’t let her guard down around Cerule so easily but surprisingly, the two got along well. Maybe because of Cerule’s happy-go-lucky personality reminded her of Kalim.

Cerule was also impressed when Vidya showed her a variety of plants that grew on land, they were more colorful than the corals and smelled nice. Her favorite plants were the fruits.

Marina’s form is from Cerule’s desire to seek out the unknown and discover new wonders. Hence why Marina is so open to exploration and always sings such interesting stories from time to time. Cerule also enjoys Marina’s company, she doesn’t keep her still for long.

Though Marina does warn Cerule in case of any danger, she still has to protect her charge after all. Cerule takes heed every time the fairy sings in a low tune.

Bobble

Cerule has a pet ringed seal named, “Bobble”, because of how he tends to bounce while trying to maneuver on land. She encountered a poor baby seal trapped on a floating iceberg, clearly it was separated from his mama. But what was worse was that orcas were waiting to pounce on the poor thing.

Cerule fought against the orcas valiantly and though she got injured, she managed to chase them away. The seal was starving and she offered to take care of him until he can find his mama. But it would seem that the seal prefers to stick with her instead.

Due to her home being too deep even for a seal, she kept Bobble at a grotto that happened to house several treasures she managed to find.

Bobble is just as curious as Cerule and would follow her orders without question. He has a keen eye for anything shiny, which means more treasures to hoard. Though he is a bit of a coward, he would hide behind Cerule and quiver.

Her unique magic is called, “Tears of the Sea”. She can willingly turn her tears into pearls that can be crushed into powder. Applying it to the injury or ailment would heal it instantly, the more pearls are used the better the effect. Cerule often keeps a bottle of it or makes them into bracelets for emergencies.

Cerule’s lineage as a serpent gave her the ability to serenade people into a trance-like state, though she can’t control this yet.

She can also manipulate water but doing so would exhaust her a lot. And she doesn’t exactly have complete control over it unless she’s singing. If she loses focus during a song, the water would burst and create a splash zone.

Charbyss Oceana

Cerule’s father and the serpent king. He is a 50 ft long serpent classified as carnivore with an intimidating appearance. His jaw resembles an anglerfish and he possess large horns that vaguely resemble a crown.

His body is very wide with scales that are dark blue with bioluminescent patterns on his back that begins to glow if he feels aggressive.

He is able to command storms and summon whirlpools with a mighty roar. Though he rarely causes trouble in the surface because they now live peacefully in the depths.

In his more human-looking merform, his size is the same as an adult orca. He has a buff build and the bioluminescent markings appear on his arms and chest as tattoos.

Despite his intimidating appearance, he is a noble and loyal ruler who looks after his people and his family well. His people have nothing to fear when he’s guarding their territory, because he would violently fight off any intruders and leave them for dead.

Such is the rule of the Serpent Sea. In fact, fights among serpents are said to cause underwater quakes from time to time.

He still has his fears of Cerule getting injured and no matter what his daughter or his wife says, he can’t let go of that memory which haunts him. This is also why he was against Cerule attending DCA.

Caeta Oceana

Cerule’s mother and the serpent queen. She is a 30 ft long serpent classified as an herbivore with a more elegant appearance. Her head resembles a porpoise and she has fins that flow behind her like a veil, with spines that vaguely form a tiara. These fins and spines glow with bioluminescence.

Her body is slender than her husband’s and her scales shine like silver in contrast to Charbyss. She also has bioluminescent patterns.

She has the ability to sing songs that can lure ships to her, it was once rumored that the legend of the siren began when serpents like her sunk a thousand ships.

As an herbivore, one would think twice about messing with her, though she doesn’t possess the feral instinct like her husband does, she still has abilities that render opponents unable to fight.

Such as being able to use her glowing fins to make anyone dizzy if they gaze for too long before paralyzing them with a venomous sting from her spines.

In her more human-looking merform, her size is slightly shorter than her husband’s. She has a slender build with long flowing hair, the markings also become tattoos on her body.

She is gentle and the voice of reason between her husband and her daughter. Understanding of what Cerule needs to grow up to be proper ruler as well as possess the right morals to rule. She had been sick when she was carrying eggs that led to her only being able to lay one healthy egg while the rest were not able to be born.

The character’s name, “Cerule” is derived from the color Cerulean, while her last name, “Oceana” is just the word ocean with a few more letters.

Her fist concept was the typical mermaid with the usual fish tail until it was changed to be an oarfish. To make it more unique, the serpent sea was created as Cerule’s character was built.

Instead of the Disney mermaid, Cerule’s mermaid concept is based on the siren mixed with the legends of sea serpents. This was also because the artist wants Cerule to be represented as the lair that served as the shelter of the Sea Witch (which happens to be a large sea monster).

In a sense, Cerule has closer ties with the Octavinelle Trio rather than be considered adversaries to one another like in the Disney film.

Cerule dislikes tight spaces for too long due to how suffocating it feels.

Cerule is a vegetarian, she is alright with dairy products such as milk, cheese and yoghurt. But eggs are not included in her diet on the surface. In the sea, she eats mostly seaweed and kelp among other underwater vegetation.

[orbmanson7]

@intrulogical sent me a Logan Angst prompt!

logan crying in a video whilst offering a solution to something and thomas going "stop crying"

I'm still taking Logan Angst prompts from any word or phrase sent to my ask box!

--

Asking for clarification had become almost habit for him by now.

"Ah, so you didn't mean that literally then?" Logan steadied his expression after the realization struck him. "I suppose this is why clarification is so useful in these discussions."

"There's nothing to clarify, Specs!" Roman threw his hands up dramatically. "It's not like we were trying to trick you!"

Logan blinked at that response. He hadn't thought they were trying to deceive him with their words, no, but it's not as though they had meant what they said, either. Hence the need for clarification.

He nodded towards Roman, replying,

"I understand that, but--"

"Do you?" Roman instantly cut him off. "Because it seems like it takes a million times for us to explain something to you before you actually get it!"

Oh. So he was bothered by Logan's repeated desire for clarification. The quantity was the issue.

"I believe I understand your concern. While some subjects may take extra consideration, I can assure you, I am trying my best."

"Are you?"

Thomas stared back at him with an unreadable expression. Was it unreadable to everyone else, too, or just him?

"Wh..." He was so shocked to hear Thomas outright doubt him like that, he couldn't even formulate the question he wanted to ask. He tried not to let it show, straightening his stance.

Thomas needed his trust, his confidence.

"Of course I am," he told him.

He just needed to be confident. He didn't need to bring more doubt to the topic at hand, after all.

"Princey kind of has a point, though," Thomas only frowned at him. "We've talked about this before, but you never seem to get it. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

"Well, yes, of course," Logan replied as quickly as possible, trying not to sputter over how badly his attempt had just failed. "But it's not as though I have limitless knowledge--"

"Aren't you his language center or whatever it's called?" Virgil piped up. "Isn't this supposed to be your thing?"

"I operate his recognition and use of language, yes," he answered truthfully, "but understanding more than the contextual meaning behind a phrase via facial expression or body language or tone of voice doesn't typically fall to my expertise--"

"Then why are you even doing it?"

"Wh... It... Because it's my job."

He'd never had anyone ask him such a question before, and he wasn't sure there was a better way to answer it.

"And yet," Roman butted in, "you need us to explain what we mean forty times every episode for you to understand? If it's your job, shouldn't you already know how to do that?" He grumbled, crossing his arms. "It's not like I have to relearn how to write every time I have an idea, you know. I already know how to do it. So what's your problem?"

Logan stared. He...wasn't sure there was an adequate answer to that, either. Surely, there was a legitimate reason why pragmatic errors frequented his discussions with others, but if it really was his role to handle that on Thomas' behalf, why was he continuously struggling with it? Why had he not learned about it, held onto that knowledge, and then applied it when the situation arose, just as he had with near everything else?

Why was this different, especially when it so heavily affected his purpose to Thomas?

What was his problem?

Roman laughed.

"What? Cat got your tongue now?"

"...no?" Logan raised an eyebrow, confused. "I still have my tongue and there is no cat to--"

"Logan, seriously, just stop." Thomas held up a hand to stop him. He wasn't even looking at Logan as he spoke. "You're the one always lecturing us about learning stuff but then you don't even understand half of what we're saying unless we spell it out for you!"

Logan bit his lip, willing himself to understand.

"I don't think you'd need to spell anything out, Thomas. I simply ask that you clarify the meaning of--"

"For the love of God, Logan, this is exactly what we're talking about!" Thomas shouted, finally turning to look directly at him.

Logan paused. So this was more of the same, then.

"Ah."

It wasn't just that he was asking too often, it was the matter of his asking at all.

Roman rolled his eyes.

"Boy, and you call me stupid."

"I don't believe I've called you that," Logan responded calmly, then adding, "Today."

Even if it was harsh, at least when he had said that, he meant what he said.

After all, why would someone say something they didn't mean? Wouldn't they want to be understood? To be able to communicate effectively?

When he spoke, he wanted to not only be heard but for others to know what he was trying to convey. Using hidden context served little purpose, and only proved to create massive communication issues like this one.

Logan absently fiddled with the end of his tie.

The others were all looking at him disapprovingly.

He swallowed, but something in his throat felt tight, obstructed. His eyes seemed less focused, slightly blurring around the edges.

He tried to take a proper breath, but it came in shuddering and came back out shaky.

None of these were good signs, at least as far as seeming professional goes.

"Perhaps I have asked for clarification far too often for your liking." Logan paused, expecting to be cut off yet again. When the others didn't respond, he continued, "I merely wish to make sure we're communicating properly, that I'm not misunderstanding your--"

"We shouldn't have to explain it every time!"

And there it was.

Roman and Thomas both began yelling a number of things, but Logan just waited.

Everything they were saying... They were right. Something was definitely wrong here. Logan shouldn't be continuing to struggle if they've all done their part to explain their intention so many times. Why was he still in need of clarification, of assistance? Why hadn't he resolved this on his own already?

He would have to keep trying.

As it quieted down, he turned to Thomas, attempting to hold his gaze without trepidation.

"I... I'll keep trying, then."

"What, so you weren't trying before?" Thomas was so immediately outraged. "How long are we going to have to put up with this?"

"Logan, maybe you just need to try a different way of figuring it out." Patton offered, hands up, placating. "We all know you get stuck in your ways, so maybe just try it our way this time, yeah?"

But doing just that hadn't ended well at all last time. He couldn't have been the only one who remembered that, right? Last time, he was only left confused and ultimately misunderstood by the others when he tried it 'their way'. That couldn't possibly be the solution. No, there had to be something else.

"Well," Logan tried, "I don't know if that would--"

"He's right!" Roman cut in, sounding angry. "You don't even want to get it, do you? Is this an attention thing again??"

Roman moved his arms around in ways that failed to make sense to Logan at all.

"Oh no, Logan needs even more attention now so he has to pretend to be stupid to get even more camera time!"

Logan was completely confused at such a comment. That didn't seem like a fair judge of his conduct at all.

He grimaced,

"I... I would never pretend to--"

"L, it's fine if you're just doing it so you get to talk more," Virgil told him, leaning back casually on the staircase. "I get it, man, but this isn't the way, you know?"

Logan did not 'get it' like Virgil apparently did. Why would someone pretend to not understand something? Why not just be sincere, clarify their confusion so they can get the help they need? What purpose would it serve to lie about it?

"I just..." He wasn't sure how to explain to them that he wasn't pretending without knowing why they thought he was. "That's not... I wouldn't do that--"

"Oh, please." Roman scoffed.

Thomas sighed, putting his face in his hands.

"Logan, the excuses aren't helping, either."

He hadn't meant to bother Thomas with all of this. He was at a loss on what he could do to fix this mess, one he had apparently started all on his own.

He swallowed again, feeling heat begin to rise behind his eyes.

"A-apologies."

Thomas shoved his hands down at his sides. Logan may not have been the best with body language but he could certainly tell his choice to apologize had been the wrong one to make.

Thomas glared at him, something Logan realized he had started to see more often lately. Logan flinched without meaning to, and he couldn't even begin to understand the shiver that had gone through him or what it could possibly mean. His vision blurred.

He could just make out Thomas' expression as it twisted at Logan's knee-jerk reaction, and he suddenly shouted at Logan,

"Ugh, stop crying! Just do better!"

He really hadn't meant to have any overt reaction, but he'd been quite unprepared for this turn of events.

Where had they come up with the idea that he would lie about this? Was this his fault to begin with, for not putting in enough effort to understand, to learn, to improve?

Clearly they had a better understanding than he did, so perhaps they were right. Maybe he was capable of understanding and was simply choosing not to properly learn how to discern the difference in someone's words with how they speak them.

He reached up, removed his glasses, and wiped a palm across his eye, trying to stop the tears that kept flowing. He wasn't entirely sure when he had started crying, either, but now it didn't seem to want to stop.

Thomas was right. Logan had to do better. It was past time he did his job the right way by now, and in the way Thomas wanted above all else.

He put his glasses back on and turned to Thomas, ignoring the last tear escaping down his cheek as he spoke.

"I'll try."

[snackugaki]

I was semi-joking last post but ....she’s so fun to draw wtffff

Following 2007 and Rise Splinter’s example, Bay Splinter absolutely watches soaps, teleseryes, telenovelas, and dramas and Venus watches some with him 

Casey taught them how to make their own skates, so now the entire sewer is an impromptu skating rink 

... I forgot that Leo, Donnie and Mikey’s shoes actually match (as much as they could make their custom frankenshoes match-- Mikey’s is like 98% duct tape and bandage wraps tbh; “But they’re still chucks underneath...!”) I just subconsciously went Punky Brewster on her shoewear. problem is I like both. so. nyeh.

have I settled on the size of her tesse--- hahahahhahahhahhahhha no.

in a brighter timeline, if they did a 3rd movie or just put both scrotes in and pumped out TMNT movies like they have Transformers movies I’d guess Venus, Jennika, Slash, Tokka, Rahzar, whoever were probably whatchamacallit, experimental groups to Splinter & Co.’s ....control group? subjects from different experiments with the ooze before April’s dad went whistleblower. or maybe experiments from the 15 year interval trying to recreate the first lab’s results ‘cuz Sacks would’ve had the resources to recommence pretty fast after the disaster

although to explain Venus and Jennika... since Sacks had ties to the Foot Clan, and Shredder pulled that double cross with Baxter in OotS. what I would guess is that Sacks pulled whatever weight he had left with the Foot Clan (maybe with Karai at the helm in Shredder’s absence) to use their resources for any gaps with his own and as a cover to reconvene his experiments. blah blah Karai studied under Shredder obvi and so probably thought to have the scientists report to her before they report to Sacks. Sacks was kept in the dark, not told they were more or less able to recreate the original lab results on the turtles who’d become Venus’n Jennika. “oh oops they died sacks, sux 4 u try again maybe, here’s some more animals for you.” 

Venus and Jennika are taken in under the Foot once they exhibit the same potential the boys showed; Sacks just goes a little apeshit on the science, as a treat, hence Slash, and then Tokka’n Rahzar and again told they failed. Sacks fully thinks he couldn’t recreate the first lab’s results womp womp u bitch

....how would any of them break out from under the Foot? lol i dunno. uh. mmmmmaybe black market “weapons” dealing-- Venus and Jennika break out (willingly or opportunistically) during shipment to... where? nyc why thefuck not, oh look they end up in chinatown *eyebrow waggle* oh now they’ve stumbled upon a grandpa, maybe his name is Grandpa Chung in the community, I don’t know, and he adopts them surprise! is he blind and therefore just thinks they’re lost kids? blech, does he see two turtles and see an auspicious omen? ehhh hmmm..... I guuuuesssss? or is he just gonna be an example of people doing good things with no prompting because it’s the right fuckin’ thing to do, they’re obviously kids with no guardians, and goddamn we know it’s for the plot but also people are just out here being good to each other guys, it’s real, it happens.

[sunshinemarauder]

For the prompts: "you think i didn't notice the voice change? you totally like them." Jily pleaaaaase 🫶🏼

this prompt is canonically the epitome of jily, so I HAD to write it! thank you for sending it in, Kelsey!

fanged geraniums

Herbology wasn’t James’s favourite subject, but it was a close second after Transfiguration. Contrary to popular belief, James actually liked learning. It was just the stuffy lectures he couldn’t stand.  

Hence History of Magic was a drag, Arithmancy a bore, and Divination not even worth mentioning. Defence Against the Dark Arts could be fun when Hogwarts was blessed with a half-decent professor, but unfortunately, this year’s Professor Fungbury was not that. He shouted at his fifth-year Gryffindors more often than he taught them. 

Which left Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology. Transfiguration was, of course, his favourite. Especially now that he and his mates had managed their Animagus transformations, McGonagall’s advanced theory and practical demonstrations captured his attention in most classes. 

James should have liked Potions. His father’s genes — the same genes that concocted a bestselling million-Galleon hair potion — helped him get by, but something about staring at a boiling cauldron and waiting for it to turn pink bored him endlessly.  

Herbology, on the other hand, was as hands-on as Potions and as involved as Transfiguration. James thought of it as the best of both worlds. 

Professor Sprout had spent the afternoon’s lesson on Fanged Geraniums hovering beside the table James and Sirius shared, the poor woman. He truly couldn’t blame her; she had been on edge ever since the disaster they caused with the Mandrakes. 

Today, however, James had no intentions of causing chaos. James had other things on his mind. 

The table in front of theirs was occupied by fellow Gryffindors Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald, chatting away as they watered their Geraniums. James considered Mary Macdonald his friend, however passive their friendship might be. 

But Evans? Well... they weren’t enemies, but they weren’t exactly friends either. She could be quite the stickler for the rules, especially now that she was a Prefect. James Potter, Marauder extraordinaire, found her new status supremely irritating. Besides, she was friends with James’s mortal enemy, Severus Snape. He had never been able to comprehend why a witch of her talent with plenty of willing Gryffindors to befriend would associate with Snivellus. 

As if on cue, Evans turned around in her seat to fix James with a pointed stare. “Potter, you’ve been silent for too long. What nonsense are you cooking up now?” 

James raised a single eyebrow. He had discovered the talent of arching his right brow (the left one was still holding out on him) over the summer and subsequently abused it every chance he got. 

“Ah, Evans, me? I’ll have you know I’m a model Herbology student!” He found himself leaning forward on his elbows and grinning at the girls, his voice dipping in timbre.  

Evans snorted. “Do model Herbology students usually Charm Mandrakes into singing the Hogwarts school song?” 

James’s grin grew wider and he simply shrugged. “Maybe model Herbology students have a deep sense of school spirit.” 

She fixed him with an unimpressed look. “Ah, of course. Because you’re such a big fan of ‘Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts.’” She recited the first line of the song in a mocking sing-song voice. 

“Of course I am,” James said immediately. “I could sing it in my sleep.” 

read more on AO3

[dailyanarchistposts]

G.6 What are the ideas of Max Stirner?

To some extent, Stirner’s work The Ego and Its Own is like a Rorschach test. Depending on the reader’s psychology, he or she can interpret it in drastically different ways. Hence, a few have tried to use Stirner’s ideas to defend capitalism while others have used them to argue for anarcho-syndicalism. For example, many in the anarchist movement in Glasgow, Scotland, took Stirner’s “Union of Egoists” literally as the basis for their anarcho-syndicalist organising in the 1940s and beyond. Similarly, we discover the noted anarchist historian Max Nettlau stating that ”[o]n reading Stirner, I maintain that he cannot be interpreted except in a socialist sense.” [A Short History of Anarchism, p. 55] In this section of the FAQ, we will indicate why, in our view, the latter, syndicalistic, interpretation of egoism is far more appropriate than the capitalistic one.

It should be noted, before continuing, that Stirner’s work has had a bigger impact on individualist anarchism than social anarchism. Benjamin Tucker and many of his comrades embraced egoism when they became aware of The Ego and Its Own (a development which provoked a split in individualist circles which, undoubtedly, contributed to its decline). However, his influence was not limited to individualist anarchism. As John P. Clark notes, Stirner “has also been seen as a significant figure by figures who are more in the mainstream of the anarchist tradition. Emma Goldman, for example, combines an acceptance of many of the principles of anarcho-syndicalism and anarcho-communism with a strong emphasis on individuality and personal uniqueness. The inspiration for this latter part of her outlook comes from thinkers like … Stirner. Herbert Read has commented on the value of Stirner’s defence of individuality.” [Max Stirner’s Egoism, p. 90] Daniel Guérin’s classic introduction to anarchism gives significant space to the German egoist, arguing he “rehabilitated the individual at a time when the philosophical field was dominated by Hegelian anti-individualism and most reformers in the social field had been led by the misdeeds of bourgeois egotism to stress its opposite” and pointed to “the boldness and scope of his thought.” [Anarchism, p. 27] From meeting anarchists in Glasgow during the Second World War, long-time anarchist activist and artist Donald Rooum likewise combined Stirner and anarcho-communism. In America, the short-lived Situationist influenced group “For Ourselves” produced the inspired The Right to Be Greedy: Theses on the Practical Necessity of Demanding Everything, a fusion of Marx and Stirner which proclaimed a “communist egoism” based on the awareness that greed “in its fullest sense is the only possible basis of communist society.”

It is not hard to see why so many people are influenced by Stirner’s work. It is a classic, full of ideas and a sense of fun which is lacking in many political writers. For many, it is only known through the criticism Marx and Engels subjected it too in their book The German Ideology. As with their later attacks on Proudhon and Bakunin, the two Germans did not accurately reflect the ideas they were attacking and, in the case of Stirner, they made it their task to make them appear ridiculous and preposterous. That they took so much time and energy to do so suggests that Stirner’s work is far more important and difficult to refute than their notoriously misleading diatribe suggests. That in itself should prompt interest in his work.

As will become clear from our discussion, social anarchists have much to gain from understanding Stirner’s ideas and applying what is useful in them. While some may object to our attempt to place egoism and communism together, pointing out that Stirner rejected “communism”. Quite! Stirner did not subscribe to libertarian communism, because it did not exist when he was writing and so he was directing his critique against the various forms of state communism which did. Moreover, this does not mean that anarcho-communists and others may not find his work of use to them. And Stirner would have approved, for nothing could be more foreign to his ideas than to limit what an individual considers to be in their best interest. Unlike the narrow and self-defeating “egoism” of, say, Ayn Rand, Stirner did not prescribe what was and was not in a person’s self-interest. He did not say you should act in certain ways because he preferred it, he did not redefine selfishness to allow most of bourgeois morality to remain intact. Rather he urged the individual to think for themselves and seek their own path. Not for Stirner the grim “egoism” of “selfishly” living a life determined by some guru and which only that authority figure would approve of. True egoism is not parroting what Stirner wrote and agreeing with everything he expounded. Nothing could be more foreign to Stirner’s work than to invent “Stirnerism.” As Donald Rooum put it:

“I am happy to be called a Stirnerite anarchist, provided ‘Stirnerite’ means one who agrees with Stirner’s general drift, not one who agrees with Stirner’s every word. Please judge my arguments on their merits, not on the merits of Stirner’s arguments, and not by the test of whether I conform to Stirner.” [“Anarchism and Selfishness”, pp. 251–9, The Raven, no. 3, p. 259fn]

With that in mind, we will summarise Stirner’s main arguments and indicate why social anarchists have been, and should be, interested in his ideas. Saying that, John P. Clark presents a sympathetic and useful social anarchist critique of his work in Max Stirner’s Egoism. Unless otherwise indicated all quotes are from Stirner’s The Ego and Its Own.

So what is Stirner all about? Simply put, he is an Egoist, which means that he considers self-interest to be the root cause of an individual’s every action, even when he or she is apparently doing “altruistic” actions. Thus: “I am everything to myself and I do everything on my account.” Even love is an example of selfishness, “because love makes me happy, I love because loving is natural to me, because it pleases me.” He urges others to follow him and “take courage now to really make yourselves the central point and the main thing altogether.” As for other people, he sees them purely as a means for self-enjoyment, a self-enjoyment which is mutual: “For me you are nothing but my food, even as I am fed upon and turned to use by you. We have only one relation to each other, that of usableness, of utility, of use.” [p. 162, p. 291 and pp. 296–7]

For Stirner, all individuals are unique (“My flesh is not their flesh, my mind is not their mind,”) and should reject any attempts to restrict or deny their uniqueness: “To be looked upon as a mere part, part of society, the individual cannot bear — because he is more; his uniqueness puts from it this limited conception.” Individuals, in order to maximise their uniqueness, must become aware of the real reasons for their actions. In other words they must become conscious, not unconscious, egoists. An unconscious, or involuntary, egoist is one “who is always looking after his own and yet does not count himself as the highest being, who serves only himself and at the same time always thinks he is serving a higher being, who knows nothing higher than himself and yet is infatuated about something higher.” [p. 138, p. 265 and p. 36] In contrast, egoists are aware that they act purely out of self-interest, and if they support a “higher being,” it is not because it is a noble thought but because it will benefit them.

Stirner himself, however, has no truck with “higher beings.” Indeed, with the aim of concerning himself purely with his own interests, he attacks all “higher beings,” regarding them as a variety of what he calls “spooks,” or ideas to which individuals sacrifice themselves and by which they are dominated. First amongst these is the abstraction “Man”, into which all unique individuals are submerged and lost. As he put it, “liberalism is a religion because it separates my essence from me and sets it above me, because it exalts ‘Man’ to the same extent as any other religion does to God … it sets me beneath Man.” Indeed, he “who is infatuated with Man leaves persons out of account so far as that infatuation extends, and floats in an ideal, sacred interest. Man, you see, is not a person, but an ideal, a spook.” [p. 176 and p.79] Among the many “spooks” Stirner attacks are such notable aspects of capitalist life as private property, the division of labour, the state, religion, and (at times) society itself. We will discuss Stirner’s critique of capitalism before moving onto his vision of an egoist society and how it relates to social anarchism.

For the egoist, private property is a spook which “lives by the grace of law” and it “becomes ‘mine’ only by effect of the law”. In other words, private property exists purely “through the protection of the State, through the State’s grace.” Recognising its need for state protection, Stirner is also aware that ”[i]t need not make any difference to the ‘good citizens’ who protects them and their principles, whether an absolute King or a constitutional one, a republic, if only they are protected. And what is their principle, whose protector they always ‘love’? Not that of labour”, rather it is ”interesting-bearing possession … labouring capital, therefore … labour certainly, yet little or none at all of one’s own, but labour of capital and of the — subject labourers.” [p. 251, p. 114, p. 113 and p. 114]

As can be seen from capitalist support for fascism, Stirner was correct — as long as a regime supports capitalist interests, the ‘good citizens’ (including many on the so-called “libertarian” right)) will support it. Stirner sees that not only does private property require state protection, it also leads to exploitation and oppression. As noted in section D.10, like subsequent anarchists like Kropotkin, Stirner attacked the division of labour resulting from private property for its deadening effects on the ego and individuality of the worker:

“When everyone is to cultivate himself into man, condemning a man to machine-like labour amounts to the same thing as slavery … Every labour is to have the intent that the man be satisfied. Therefore he must become a master in it too, be able to perform it as a totality. He who in a pin-factory only puts on heads, only draws the wire, works, as it were mechanically, like a machine; he remains half-trained, does not become a master: his labour cannot satisfy him, it can only fatigue him. His labour is nothing by itself, has no object in itself, is nothing complete in itself; he labours only into another’s hands, and is used (exploited) by this other.” [p. 121]

Stirner had nothing but contempt for those who defended property in terms of “natural rights” and opposed theft and taxation with a passion because it violates said rights. “Rightful, or legitimate property of another,” he stated, “will by only that which you are content to recognise as such. If your content ceases, then this property has lost legitimacy for you, and you will laugh at absolute right to it.” After all, “what well-founded objection could be made against theft” [p. 278 and p. 251] He was well aware that inequality was only possible as long as the masses were convinced of the sacredness of property. In this way, the majority end up without property:

“Property in the civic sense means sacred property, such that I must respect your property … Be it ever so little, if one only has somewhat of his own — to wit, a respected property: The more such owners … the more ‘free people and good patriots’ has the State. “Political liberalism, like everything religious, counts on respect, humaneness, the virtues of love … For in practice people respect nothing, and everyday the small possessions are bought up again by greater proprietors, and the ‘free people’ change into day labourers.” [p. 248]

Thus free competition “is not ‘free,’ because I lack the things for competition.” Due to this basic inequality of wealth (of “things”), ”[u]nder the regime of the commonality the labourers always fall into the hands of the possessors … of the capitalists, therefore. The labourer cannot realise on his labour to the extent of the value that it has for the customer.” [p. 262 and p. 115] In other words, the working class is exploited by the capitalists and landlords.

Moreover, it is the exploitation of labour which is the basis of the state, for the state “rests on the slavery of labour. If labour becomes free, the State is lost.” Without surplus value to feed off, a state could not exist. For Stirner, the state is the greatest threat to his individuality: ”I am free in no State.” This is because the state claims to be sovereign over a given area, while, for Stirner, only the ego can be sovereign over itself and that which it uses (its “property”): “I am my own only when I am master of myself.” Thus the state “is not thinkable without lordship and servitude (subjection); for the State must will to be the lord of all that it embraces.” Stirner also warned against the illusion in thinking that political liberty means that the state need not be a cause of concern for ”[p]olitical liberty means that the polis, the State, is free; … not, therefore, that I am free of the State… It does not mean my liberty, but the liberty of a power that rules and subjugates me; it means that one of my despots … is free.” [p. 116, p. 226, p. 169, p. 195 and p. 107]

Therefore Stirner urges insurrection against all forms of authority and dis-respect for property. For ”[i]f man reaches the point of losing respect for property, everyone will have property, as all slaves become free men as soon as they no longer respect the master as master.” And in order for labour to become free, all must have “property.” “The poor become free and proprietors only when they rise.” Thus, ”[i]f we want no longer to leave the land to the landed proprietors, but to appropriate it to ourselves, we unite ourselves to this end, form a union, a société, that makes itself proprietor … we can drive them out of many another property yet, in order to make it our property, the property of the — conquerors.” Thus property “deserves the attacks of the Communists and Proudhon: it is untenable, because the civic proprietor is in truth nothing but a propertyless man, one who is everywhere shut out. Instead of owning the world, as he might, he does not own even the paltry point on which he turns around.” [p. 258, p. 260, p. 249 and pp. 248–9]

Stirner recognises the importance of self-liberation and the way that authority often exists purely through its acceptance by the governed. As he argues, “no thing is sacred of itself, but my declaring it sacred, by my declaration, my judgement, my bending the knee; in short, by my conscience.” It is from this worship of what society deems “sacred” that individuals must liberate themselves in order to discover their true selves. And, significantly, part of this process of liberation involves the destruction of hierarchy. For Stirner, “Hierarchy is domination of thoughts, domination of mind!,” and this means that we are “kept down by those who are supported by thoughts.” [p. 72 and p. 74] That is, by our own willingness to not question authority and the sources of that authority, such as private property and the state:

“Proudhon calls property ‘robbery’ (le vol) But alien property — and he is talking of this alone — is not less existent by renunciation, cession, and humility; it is a present. Who so sentimentally call for compassion as a poor victim of robbery, when one is just a foolish, cowardly giver of presents? Why here again put the fault on others as if they were robbing us, while we ourselves do bear the fault in leaving the others unrobbed? The poor are to blame for there being rich men.” [p. 315]

For those, like modern-day “libertarian” capitalists, who regard “profit” as the key to “selfishness,” Stirner has nothing but contempt. Because “greed” is just one part of the ego, and to spend one’s life pursuing only that part is to deny all other parts. Stirner called such pursuit “self-sacrificing,” or a “one-sided, unopened, narrow egoism,” which leads to the ego being possessed by one aspect of itself. For “he who ventures everything else for one thing, one object, one will, one passion … is ruled by a passion to which he brings the rest as sacrifices.” [p. 76]

For the true egoist, capitalists are “self-sacrificing” in this sense, because they are driven only by profit. In the end, their behaviour is just another form of self-denial, as the worship of money leads them to slight other aspects of themselves such as empathy and critical thought (the bank balance becomes the rule book). A society based on such “egoism” ends up undermining the egos which inhabit it, deadening one’s own and other people’s individuality and so reducing the vast potential “utility” of others to oneself. In addition, the drive for profit is not even based on self-interest, it is forced upon the individual by the workings of the market (an alien authority) and results in labour “claim[ing] all our time and toil,” leaving no time for the individual “to take comfort in himself as the unique.” [pp. 268–9]

Stirner also turns his analysis to “socialism” and “communism,” and his critique is as powerful as the one he directs against capitalism. This attack, for some, gives his work an appearance of being pro-capitalist, while, as indicated above, it is not. Stirner did attack socialism, but he (rightly) attacked state socialism, not libertarian socialism, which did not really exist at that time (the only well known anarchist work at the time was Proudhon’s What is Property?, published in 1840 and this work obviously could not fully reflect the developments within anarchism that were to come). He also indicated why moralistic (or altruistic) socialism is doomed to failure, and laid the foundations of the theory that socialism will work only on the basis of egoism (communist-egoism, as it is sometimes called). Stirner correctly pointed out that much of what is called socialism was nothing but warmed up liberalism, and as such ignores the individual: “Whom does the liberal look upon as his equal? Man! …, In other words, he sees in you, not you, but the species.” A socialism that ignores the individual consigns itself to being state capitalism, nothing more. “Socialists” of this school forget that “society” is made up of individuals and that it is individuals who work, think, love, play and enjoy themselves. Thus: “That society is no ego at all, which could give, bestow, or grant, but an instrument or means, from which we may derive benefit … of this the socialists do not think, because they — as liberals — are imprisoned in the religious principle and zealously aspire after — a sacred society, such as the State was hitherto.” [p. 123]

Of course, for the egoist libertarian communism can be just as much an option as any other socio-political regime. As Stirner stressed, egoism “is not hostile to the tenderest of cordiality … nor of socialism: in short, it is not inimical to any interest: it excludes no interest. It simply runs counter to un-interest and to the uninteresting: it is not against love but against sacred love … not against socialists, but against the sacred socialists.” [No Gods, No Masters, vol. 1, p. 23] After all, if it aids the individual then Stirner had no more problems with libertarian communism that, say, rulers or exploitation. Yet this position does not imply that egoism tolerates the latter. Stirner’s argument is, of course, that those who are subject to either have an interest in ending both and should unite with those in the same position to end it rather than appealing to the good will of those in power. As such, it goes without saying that those who find in egoism fascistic tendencies are fundamentally wrong. Fascism, like any class system, aims for the elite to rule and provides various spooks for the masses to ensure this (the nation, tradition, property, and so on). Stirner, on the other hand, urges an universal egoism rather than one limited to just a few. In other words, he would wish those subjected to fascistic domination to reject such spooks and to unite and rise against those oppressing them:

“Well, who says that every one can do everything? What are you there for, pray, you who do not need to put up with everything? Defend yourself, and no one will do anything to you! He who would break your will has to do with you, and is your enemy. Deal with him as such. If there stand behind you for your protection some millions more, then you are an imposing power and will have an easy victory.” [p. 197]

That Stirner’s desire for individual autonomy becomes transferred into support for rulership for the few and subjection for the many by many of his critics simply reflects the fact we are conditioned by class society to accept such rule as normal — and hope that our masters will be kind and subscribe to the same spooks they inflict on their subjects. It is true, of course, that a narrow “egoism” would accept and seek such relationships of domination but such a perspective is not Stirner’s. This can be seen from how Stirner’s egoist vision could fit with social anarchist ideas.

The key to understanding the connection lies in Stirner’s idea of the “union of egoists,” his proposed alternative mode of organising society. Stirner believed that as more and more people become egoists, conflict in society will decrease as each individual recognises the uniqueness of others, thus ensuring a suitable environment within which they can co-operate (or find “truces” in the “war of all against all”). These “truces” Stirner termed

“Unions of Egoists.” They are the means by which egoists could, firstly, “annihilate” the state, and secondly, destroy its creature, private property, since they would “multiply the individual’s means and secure his assailed property.” [p. 258]

The unions Stirner desires would be based on free agreement, being spontaneous and voluntary associations drawn together out of the mutual interests of those involved, who would “care best for their welfare if they unite with others.” [p. 309] The unions, unlike the state, exist to ensure what Stirner calls “intercourse,” or “union” between individuals. To better understand the nature of these associations, which will replace the state, Stirner lists the relationships between friends, lovers, and children at play as examples. [No Gods, No Masters, vol. 1, p. 25] These illustrate the kinds of relationships that maximise an individual’s self-enjoyment, pleasure, freedom, and individuality, as well as ensuring that those involved sacrifice nothing while belonging to them. Such associations are based on mutuality and a free and spontaneous co-operation between equals. As Stirner puts it, “intercourse is mutuality, it is the action, the commercium, of individuals.” [p. 218] Its aim is “pleasure” and “self-enjoyment.” Thus Stirner sought a broad egoism, one which appreciated others and their uniqueness, and so criticised the narrow egoism of people who forgot the wealth others are:

“But that would be a man who does not know and cannot appreciate any of the delights emanating from an interest taken in others, from the consideration shown to others. That would be a man bereft of innumerable pleasures, a wretched character … would he not be a wretched egoist, rather than a genuine Egoist? … The person who loves a human being is, by virtue of that love, a wealthier man that someone else who loves no one.” [No Gods, No Masters, vol. 1, p. 23]

In order to ensure that those involved do not sacrifice any of their uniqueness and freedom, the contracting parties have to have roughly the same bargaining power and the association created must be based on self-management (i.e. equality of power). Only under self-management can all participate in the affairs of the union and express their individuality. Otherwise, we have to assume that some of the egoists involved will stop being egoists and will allow themselves to be dominated by another, which is unlikely. As Stirner himself argued:

“But is an association, wherein most members allow themselves to be lulled as regards their most natural and most obvious interests, actually an Egoist’s association? Can they really be ‘Egoists’ who have banded together when one is a slave or a serf of the other?… “Societies wherein the needs of some are satisfied at the expense of the rest, where, say, some may satisfy their need for rest thanks to the fact that the rest must work to the point of exhaustion, and can lead a life of ease because others live in misery and perish of hunger, or indeed who live a life of dissipation because others are foolish enough to live in indigence, etc., such societies … [are] more of a religious society, a communion held as sacrosanct by right, by law and by all the pomp and circumstance of the courts.” [Op. Cit., p. 24]

Therefore, egoism’s revolt against all hierarchies that restrict the ego logically leads to the end of authoritarian social relationships, particularly those associated with private property and the state. Given that capitalism is marked by extensive differences in bargaining power outside its “associations” (i.e. firms) and power within these “associations” (i.e. the worker/boss hierarchy), from an egoist point of view it is in the self-interest of those subjected to such relationships to get rid of them and replace them with unions based on mutuality, free association, and self-management. Ultimately, Stirner stresses that it is in the workers’ self-interest to free themselves from both state and capitalist oppression. Sounding like an anarcho-syndicalist, Stirner recognised the potential for strike action as a means of self-liberation:

“The labourers have the most enormous power in their hands, and, if they once become thoroughly conscious of it and used it, nothing could withstand them; they would only have to stop labour, regard the product of labour as theirs, and enjoy it. This is the sense of the labour disturbances which show themselves here and there.” [p. 116]

Given the holistic and egalitarian nature of the union of egoists, it can be seen that it shares little with the so-called free agreements of capitalism (in particular wage labour). The hierarchical structure of capitalist firms hardly produces associations in which the individual’s experiences can be compared to those involved in friendship or play, nor do they involve equality. An essential aspect of the “union of egoists” for Stirner was such groups should be “owned” by their members, not the members by the group. That points to a libertarian form of organisation within these “unions” (i.e. one based on equality and participation), not a hierarchical one. If you have no say in how a group functions (as in wage slavery, where workers have the “option” of “love it or leave it”) then you can hardly be said to own it, can you? Indeed, Stirner argues, for ”[o]nly in the union can you assert yourself as unique, because the union does not possess you, but you possess it or make it of use to you.” [p. 312]

Thus, Stirner’s “union of egoists” cannot be compared to the employer-employee contract as the employees cannot be said to “own” the organisation resulting from the contract (nor do they own themselves during work time, having sold their labour/liberty to the boss in return for wages — see section B.4). Only within a participatory association can you “assert” yourself freely and subject your maxims, and association, to your “ongoing criticism” — in capitalist contracts you can do both only with your bosses’ permission.

And by the same token, capitalist contracts do not involve “leaving each other alone” (a la “anarcho”-capitalism). No boss will “leave alone” the workers in his factory, nor will a landowner “leave alone” a squatter on land he owns but does not use. Stirner rejects the narrow concept of “property” as private property and recognises the social nature of “property,” whose use often affects far more people than those who claim to “own” it: “I do not step shyly back from your property, but look upon it always as my property, in which I ‘respect’ nothing. Pray do the like with what you call my property!” [p. 248] This view logically leads to the idea of both workers’ self-management and grassroots community control (as will be discussed more fully in section I) as those affected by an activity will take a direct interest in it and not let “respect” for “private” property allow them to be oppressed by others.

Moreover, egoism (self-interest) must lead to self-management and mutual aid (solidarity), for by coming to agreements based on mutual respect and social equality, we ensure non-hierarchical relationships. If I dominate someone, then in all likelihood I will be dominated in turn. By removing hierarchy and domination, the ego is free to experience and utilise the full potential of others. As Kropotkin argued in Mutual Aid, individual freedom and social co-operation are not only compatible but, when united, create the most productive conditions for all individuals within society.

Stirner reminds the social anarchist that communism and collectivism are not sought for their own sake but to ensure individual freedom and enjoyment. As he argued: “But should competition some day disappear, because concerted effort will have been acknowledged as more beneficial than isolation, then will not every single individual inside the associations be equally egoistic and out for his own interests?” [Op. Cit., p. 22] This is because competition has its drawbacks, for ”[r]estless acquisition does not let us take breath, take a calm enjoyment. We do not get the comfort of our possessions… Hence it is at any rate helpful that we come to an agreement about human labours that they may not, as under competition, claim all our time and toil.” [p. 268] In other words, in the market only the market is free not those subject to its pressures and necessities — an important truism which defenders of capitalism always ignore.

Forgetting about the individual was, for Stirner, the key problem with the forms of communism he was familiar with and so this “organisation of labour touches only such labours as others can do for us … the rest remain egoistic, because no one can in your stead elaborate your musical compositions, carry out your projects of painting, etc.; nobody can replace Raphael’s labours. The latter are labours of a unique person, which only he is competent to achieve.” He went on to ask “for whom is time to be gained [by association]? For what does man require more time than is necessary to refresh his wearied powers of labour? Here Communism is silent.” Unlike egoism, which answers: “To take comfort in himself as unique, after he has done his part as man!” In other words, competition “has a continued existence” because “all do not attend to their affair and come to an understanding with each other about it.” [p. 269 and p. 275] As can be seen from Chapter 8 of Kropotkin’s Conquest of Bread (“The Need for Luxury”), communist-anarchism builds upon this insight, arguing that communism is required to ensure that all individuals have the time and energy to pursue their own unique interests and dreams (see section I.4).

Stirner notes that socialising property need not result in genuine freedom if it is not rooted in individual use and control. He states “the lord is proprietor. Choose then whether you want to be lord, or whether society shall be!” He notes that many communists of his time attacked alienated property but did not stress that the aim was to ensure access for all individuals. “Instead of transforming the alien into own,” Stirner noted, “they play impartial and ask only that all property be left to a third party, such as human society. They revindicate the alien not in their own name, but in a third party’s” Ultimately, of course, under libertarian communism it is not “society” which uses the means of life but individuals and associations of individuals. As Stirner stressed: “Neither God nor Man (‘human society’) is proprietor, but the individual.” [p. 313, p. 315 and p. 251] This is why social anarchists have always stressed self-management — only that can bring collectivised property into the hands of those who utilise it. Stirner places the focus on decision making back where it belongs — in the individuals who make up a given community rather than abstractions like “society.”

Therefore Stirner’s union of egoists has strong connections with social anarchism’s desire for a society based on freely federated individuals, co-operating as equals. His central idea of “property” — that which is used by the ego — is an important concept for social anarchism because it stresses that hierarchy develops when we let ideas and organisations own us rather than vice versa. A participatory anarchist community will be made up of individuals who must ensure that it remains their “property” and be under their control; hence the importance of decentralised, confederal organisations which ensure that control. A free society must be organised in such a way to ensure the free and full development of individuality and maximise the pleasure to be gained from individual interaction and activity. Lastly, Stirner indicates that mutual aid and equality are based not upon an abstract morality but upon self-interest, both for defence against hierarchy and for the pleasure of co-operative intercourse between unique individuals.

Stirner demonstrates brilliantly how abstractions and fixed ideas (“spooks”) influence the very way we think, see ourselves, and act. He shows how hierarchy has its roots within our own minds, in how we view the world. He offers a powerful defence of individuality in an authoritarian and alienated world, and places subjectivity at the centre of any revolutionary project, where it belongs. Finally, he reminds us that a free society must exist in the interests of all, and must be based upon the self-fulfilment, liberation and enjoyment of the individual.

[vermillioncourt-if]

You said I think that there would be preset reasons as to why MC isn't coveting the crown. So if we do end up getting rid of the stepmother from hell. Would her favorite even want the crown? Or was it simply because of the pressure they were receiving from her.

And is there a chance for MC to gain the crown? I can't remember your exact answer on this ask before but especially for an MC whose only reasoning for not even wanting to be power hungry was simply because they felt like there was someone more qualified/ they liked the way they lived before.

All of this is subject to spoilers most likely so feel free to tell me to fuck off and I will go back to fluffy asks. 😅😇

Jokes aside, I'd be happy to answer any questions!

So, Consort Xing's oldest son, Pihen, is the one she wants to inherit the throne. Doing so would make her Dowager Queen which equals more power. The current issue is that Crown Prince Lunsu, the Queen's son, and Second Prince Shuailu, MC's older brother, are currently In The Way. Pihen is the Third Prince, so he's third in line to inherit the throne. Scattered between Lunsu, Shuailu, and Pihen are their sisters: Kutuo, Dapang, and Luexia. They're not in the way, but are a nuisance to her.

Pihen doesn't even want the throne. If it did come to him, somehow, he'd pass it off to whoever's Fourth Prince, whether that's MC or Duanzu. He'd actually want to place Kutuo as Queen over Duanzu, but court politics dictate you go through the male children in line and then the female children.

Historically, most female children were married off to other kingdoms before the next ruler was crowned, hence why its male children first and not simply birth order. They also didn't want to deal with a succession issue. Nowadays, it varies from person to person. Kutuo is currently single while Dapang and Luexia aren't, even though Kutuo is older than them. The King would change the rule, but a precedent was already set for him, who inherited over his older sisters, since he was the eldest son, and he doesn't want to cause issues this far into his reign. Anyway.

As for taking the throne... probably not. I don't plan on any of MC's older siblings to die, which would prompt the line of succession to start moving. As long as Crown Prince Lunsu AND MC's brother, Shuailu, alive, MC won't sit on the throne.