#how to taste wine like a badass

[winemastery]

Carta Roja Grand Reserva Monastrell (Episode 373)

[abiiors]

sfw alphabet ❣️ // matty healy x reader

a/n: there is one story in here that is based on true events from my life hehehe. also while we're here i'd like to say that i tried veryyyy hard to keep it strictly sfw but some innuendos did slip through lol cw: mostly fluff, very brief mentions of addiction. brief mentions of morning sickness, some angst but it's very tame overall wc: 5.6k

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

matty’s like if you fed a stray cat that one time five months ago—meaning, he’s going to be the most affectionate person ever if you show him even one act of kindness. it doesn’t matter what your relationship to him is, it’s just a given at this point that if you’re close to him, he’s going to go above and beyond for you. 

you get your first taste of it when you show up to his house, on the verge of tears and a panic attack from the stress of an upcoming deadline. it’s three weeks into dating, you’re barely even sure if you should be bothering him with your silly little problems (even though later he would scold you for calling them silly little problems). 

matty opens the door, takes one look at your face, and instantly pull you into a hug. 

“oh, darling, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern and you suspect there’s a giant frown on his face. 

“everything!”

a little giggle slips out of him and he has to press his mouth shut when you look up at him with a betrayed pout. 

“everything? hmm, we gotta do something about that then, don’t we?”

and then that’s exactly what he does. 

“should we light a fire?” matty asks once he’s got you a glass of wine (your favourite that he found out about and now always keeps on hand) “you love a good fire.”

“and we can read together?”

“anything you want, baby!”

and even though his face twists into an expression of instant regret as soon as he says it, matty still proceeds to make a fire while you set up blankets and pillows on the sofa. he knows exactly what’s coming though (no seriously, he fondly likes to call your kindle unlimited subscription the bane of his existence)

still, twenty minutes later, snuggled up next to you and cringing through every bad sex scene, he can’t complain. not when he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck and hear you laugh at his reactions.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

loyal to a fault!!!

you can pinpoint the actual date the two of you became friends—years and years and years ago, practically decades at this point, at the ripe old age of fourteen, you got into your first fight. 

you can’t remember how the fight started or who it was with. all you know if there were a few words, someone pulling your hair and the next thing you know, you were on the ground, trying to hit any vulnerable spot you could find. 

the memories after that are fuzzy—you, school uniform undone, dried blood on your split lip, toeing the grass outside your school and trying not to look nervous. what if some teacher saw it? 

you didn’t throw the first punch! what if—

“you look like you could use a fag!” a voice cuts through. it’s a boy you’ve sometimes seen around school. black hair (awfully straightened), a unibrow, thick black glasses, always surrounded by the same three boys. 

“i don’t smoke,” you counter and go back to torturing the poor grass. 

“i didn’t ask if you smoked, just said you look like you could use one.”

what. a. fucking. twat!

still, you aren’t much in the mood for an argument. “don’t wanna get in trouble.”

the boy shrugs. “you’re already in trouble, mate. but whatever.”

he’s about to leave when you grab his arm. “no wait. why are you being nice to me?”

at that, he grins. “are you joking? we all saw what you did to sam! biggest fucking bully in class and you looked like a badass putting him in his place.”

“wait, really? you really think that?” 

“ask george,” (you don’t know who george is) “or ross or adam,” (you don’t know who they are either) “we all think you’re fucking cool.”

that makes you smile too. you hiss quickly though, smiling with a split lip hurts but he extends the cigarette to you once again. 

and this time, you accept it gladly.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

clingiest man in the whole wide world!!! he has to be attached to you at all times otherwise he’s gonna have that horrendously sad little pout on his face all day. 

if you’re just at home, watching something on tv then his head is on your boobs (or in your lap but boobs is preferred though) while you play with his hair. every once in a while he nuzzles his face between them and says something that suspiciously sounds like “comfy”

he’s cute though! and it’s not always sexual. you love the fact that he feels so much adoration for you. 

if you’re in bed though, you end up being the little spoon because he absolutely loves to flop on you and cover you with his entire body. he’s deliciously warm and smells so incredible (and he smells like home to you). you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve fallen asleep like that—with his face buried in your neck, his stubble scratching the skin. and even when his arm falls asleep, he won’t make you move your head at the risk of waking you up.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he is a brilliant house-husband (and that’s a title he’s claimed on his own).

“no, go sit down babe, let me take care of that for you” or “let me cook for you tonight” or “should i do the laundry while you finish your movie?” are definitely regular matty sentences arround the house. 

the few weeks when he’s just gotten back from a tour and wants to do nothing but sleep all day long are probably the only time you do all the chores while he’s also in the house. he does get huffy when he realises you didn’t wake him up and ask for help.

“i could’ve hoovered,” he pouts but it melts away quickly when you pull him into a kiss. 

“i know you could have, love, but you looked so peaceful sleeping i didn’t wanna bother you!”

he isn’t very happy about that but he silently vows to stay up and help you the next time.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he doesn’t want to let go no matter how much the relationship deteriorates. he knows he can fix this and turn back time and bring back the spark. he knows the weekly fights are just a phase, he knows you love him so much! 

deep down, he also knows he’s delusional.

you’re sleeping in two different rooms again, you in the guest bedroom, and he’s in your cold, empty bed. and there’s no way he can sleep that night judging by all the tossing and turning he’s done so far. your latest fight echoes in his head—all the nasty things he said, all the vile things you responded with. 

just fuck off then, and don’t bother me again! those were your last words of the night before you slammed the door shut and the loud, defining thud echoed through the whole house. 

when morning finally arrives, he knows he has to do it. 

he knows he owes you at least this much. to break it off with dignity. to salvage whatever shreds of friendship and love that remain between you. 

“we need to talk,” he says as soon as you enter the kitchen, eyes swollen and red and surrounded by bags. lips dry and chapped. 

still, you nod. and matty extends you a steaming mug of coffee for the last time.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he is so down to commit! 

he’s started planning a proposal like a year into the relationship. he hasn’t bought the ring yet or anything! in fact, he’s not going to buy a ring at all. not when he plans on giving you his grandmother’s precious ring that she wore every single day until the day she died. 

however, he knows the timing's not right. you’re both so busy and you’ve just started a new job. he has a few more tours coming up for the next two years. and well, he has his best friend’s wedding coming up soon, he’s not about to be the dickhead that proposes at someone else’s wedding. 

so matty keeps the proposal contained to his day dreams. 

he knows it’s going to be at home (he knows how much you despise public proposals) and he knows it’s going to be during the golden hour when you cuddle into him like a sleepy cat. he loves this routine—you, sleepy and gasping for a nap, plopping onto him when he’s just doing his own thing in the living room. 

he loves how content you look in the dying light of the sun. how happy and beautiful and utterly perfect. 

and matty knows, when he eventually gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, that’s when it’s going to have to be!

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so incredibly gentle!

you can’t remember a single time matty’s ever raised his voice at you. he used to be your pretty, dainty boy but he’s started working out now and he’s got muscles (which you find extremely hot. he’s also got a cute little bubble butt that you love to slap). it’s not that he’s unaware of his own strength but now he puts extra effort in being gentler if you two ever get into a play fight. 

he makes sure to never fully pin you down (unless you ask for it 👀) or put his whole weight on you. 

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them on most days. 

his hugs are always the absolute best! it’s like being surrounded by all things matty—his cologne and aftershave, his arms, the softness of his shirt and the feel of his chin on top of your head. you think a hug from matty is the closest you’ll ever come to having a universal cure for every ailment ever. 

on some days he gets quite overstimulated though. you can see it on his face when every single sensation becomes a bit too much and as much as you want to bundle him up, you try to give him his space. to let him calm down a bit. you can always just sit there and hold his hand if that’s all the touch he can bear for the moment. 

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

one month in, completely on accident!

you’re sick with the bubonic plague (a cold) and rotting in bed, surrounded by used tissues, half-empty cups of lemsip, and your trusty little comfort plush. matty’s in full nurse mode, despite you telling him that it’s nothing, you’ll be fine if he left. 

it’s only when george calls him for something work related that he relents. 

“let me check your fever one last time before i go,” he insists and you roll your eyes. but you have no other choice but to give in. it’s a 100 degrees, exactly what it was an hour ago. not too bad at all, but matty frowns. 

“i’ll be back in a few hours, darling, you have to promise to call me if you need anything okay?”

“i will!” you croak out and wince when your throat protests. “now go.”

he holds his hands up in surrender and bends down to press a kiss on your head. 

“don’t wanna get you sick matty,” you try to protest weakly but even then you know it’s useless. he’s going to do whatever he wants. 

“go to sleep now,” he says, “i’ll see you soon. i love you!” and then he leaves. 

ten minutes later, when it finally registers in your fever addled brain, your entire body goes cold. did he—

did you hear it right? no… it’s just the fever right? you’re sick! that must be it. 

little do you know, matty had to sit down outside your room for a good two minutes before he could leave the house. and now that he’s in the studio, distractedly working on producing a track, he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he used to get soooo jealous back when you were “just friends”! (he still is, he just thinks he hides it better)

the first time you really clock it is when you bring a friend to one of their shows. you know sean’s been a fan of theirs for a bit and frankly, you’re quite excited about introducing him to the band. 

matty, however, is as far away from excitement as one can get. 

he tries to mask his unease, and greets you with a forced smile. “heard you were our special guest, mate,” he nods in sean’s direction and puts his arm around your waist. “hope you enjoyed the show?”

if sean finds any of it weird, he doesn’t say it. he’s smiles bashfully and gushes about how much fun it’s been. you, on the other hand…

“matty…?” you say as soon as you get a moment alone with him. 

he’s outside smoking a cigarette staring off into the distance. his jaw looks sharper than it usually does, his lips are pursed in a straight line. you take a deep breath, contemplating whether to address the obvious tension or let it slide. the distant city lights flicker in the background as you approach him, and he finally turns his attention towards you, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"alright?" your tone is a mix of concern and curiosity. when his eyes meet yours, for a moment, it feels like he's searching for the right words.

he shrugs, attempting a nonchalant smile. but you can see through it. so you fold your arms, giving him a knowing look.

matty sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. he leans against the venue's brick wall, avoiding direct eye contact. “thought we were going out for drinks later. just us two you know?”

ahhhh. so that’s what it is. 

a tiny tendril of something shoots through your stomach, does something funny to your entire body. 

“we are,” you try to stifle a smile. “do you not want to anymore?”

“what? no!” matty sputters, “i mean, yes! of course, i want to get drinks with you, i just thought…”

“you just thought?”

“well you brought a… friend.”

it becomes almost impossible to hide a smile then, and matty narrows his eyes. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses and narrows his eyes further when you burst into a fit of giggles. 

“he’s going home in a bit,” you manage to recover a bit. “you’re stuck with just me i’m afraid.”

that makes matty shake his head and you can finally see a tiny smile peaking through. 

“just you… hmm,” he teases. “guess i’ll have to make do with that.”

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses always leave you a little breathless. 

it doesn’t matter if it’s your first kiss of the day or if he’s been particularly affectionate or if he’s kissed you all over the face—you somehow always end up giggling like a teenager with a crush with your head spinning slightly.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

so good, it gives you immense baby fever for the next few weeks. 

it’s three months into your relationship when his mum insists you spend christmas with their family and you agree to it happily!

his entire family is there! his mum and step-father, his brother and his girlfriend, his dad, his step-brother who’s just had a baby. and that’s the moment you know you’re about to suffer from raging baby fever. 

the whole weekend matty is absolutely adorable with the baby. you see him offer to take care of her and feed and change her, you see him making her laugh and smile, but it’s when you see him singing her to sleep, that’s when you truly lose it. 

matty doesn’t even know you’re watching him, he's completely immersed in singing his own rendition of you are my sunshine while the baby stares at him with sleepy eyes. but it almost makes you weep when she clutches his finger in her tiny hand and starts to dose off. 

the image lingers in the forefront of your mind even when you’re trying to sleep, being spooned by matty and under a cosy duvet. so much so that you have to turn around and bury your face in his chest to stop yourself from squealing at the cuteness. 

he’s long asleep by then though. all he does is tighten his hold around you and you’re left to dream of a tiny baby with your eyes and matty’s curls. 

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

when you’re not getting off to… other things… mornings are usually very calm and chill. more often than not, one of you wakes the other with a steaming mug of coffee. if it’s a busy day and you don’t have much time to be lazy and cuddly, you just chat about your plans for the day while having coffee and some breakfast. 

if it is a lazy day, however, breakfast usually turns into brunch in bed, followed by a nice, long bath full of bubbles!

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights are just as sweet and way more cuddly. 

both of you have a little ritual of reading in bed before going to sleep if you aren’t… otherwise occupied. still, he loves to just sit there and listen to you talk about your day or your work in general. 

it always makes you laugh how excited he gets about any work gossip you might have for him. 

overall, your nights together are so relaxing and sweet and genuinely make you appreciate him so much more.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in all fairness you knew much more about matty than he knew about you. he’s always been so open about his friendships and music and all his struggles, still, you knew hearing it from him first hand was going to be different. and you also expected it to take some time. 

he doesn’t reveal it all at once though, he thinks he’s trying to make it more palatable for you if he talks about stuff bit by bit. 

you’re special to him. he doesn’t want to scare you away by trauma dumping outright! it takes him a bit to open up completely, even when you show him nothing but support. but the more he shares with you, the deeper he falls in love. the more it becomes clear to him that you’re here to stay. 

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

anger isn’t the right word for it really! mostly he just gets annoyed sometimes—like a sweet little toddler with his cheeks puffed up it’s almost funny if it wasn’t so downright adorable. he can’t stay annoyed though! one kiss from you (even though it’s usually multiple in quick succession. a strategic attack really!) his annoyance melts away like butter on toast.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

matty’s like a walking encyclopaedia for trivia related to you and your relationship! he might not remember what he ate for dinner the night before, but he remembers exactly what earrings you wore for your music awards with him.

you do cheekily quiz him sometimes, and matty just smirks like an insufferable twat. “you can try all you want, love, you can’t best me at this game.” he grins. 

“oh yeah? that’s a lot of cockiness healy!”

“go on then, quiz me!” he challenges and you smirk back. 

“what did i say before i kissed you for the first time? four years ago that is! i need it verbatim, babe.”

for a moment he looks speechless and the smile on your face widens. it was four years ago after all. you’ve had infinite kisses since then, there’s no way he remembers. definitely not verbatim. 

matty stalks closer. “you said…” he drawls between one long stride and the next and then he’s right there in front of you, mouth hovering over yours. so close your lips are almost touching. the air between you two feels charged with lightning. 

“you said, you wanted to do this, and i quote ‘since the first time you fixed my smudged lipstick with your thumb’.” and before you have the chance to even react, he’s crashing his mouth on yours, smiling against your lips.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it’s been fondly dubbed as “the mayhem disaster”. 

one morning you hear matty go, “no, no, no, mayhem!” you put your book aside, and sit up to listen the curses that follow. 

“everything alright?” you call out, confused and curious. 

“babe, can you come here a sec?” he responds, making you groan into your cosy cocoon you'd made for yourself. it rained all night before, and now the weather’s just the perfect combination of gloomy and cosy—perfect to cuddle with your boyfriend all day. 

which is what you had been doing until ten minutes ago when matty had to get up to let mayhem out into the backyard. 

you turn the corner into the living room only to freeze in your tracks and slap your hand on your mouth, still failing to stifle the loud gasp that leaves you. 

in front of you sits matty, on the floor, his head in his hands and next to him stands mayhem. except his gorgeous black fur is now fully covered and matted with mud

behind him, you can see muddy tracks and stray leaves he's brought in. 

“oh no…” you don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the scene in front of you. 

“baby…” you coo softly, both at matty and mayhem, “what happened?”

“he ran straight for a puddle the second i let him out, didn’t you, you twat?” he scolds the pup making you tsk. 

that makes him laugh though. shaking his head, matty gets off the floor. 

“well, come on you, straight to the bathroom,” he points a finger in the vague direction. 

when the two of you finally manage to get him in the tub, matty starts running a bath while you rummage through the cabinet for pet shampoo. 

“be a good boy now,” you scratch mayhem behind his ear, grimacing at the mud that’s now under your fingernails. 

you crouch down to his level, softly grabbing his face and about to start cleaning. but of course, he takes it as an invitation to play and begins nuzzling you with his head, trying to climb on you. 

matty laughs, making absolutely no move to help you. mayhem, covered in mud, tries to climb on you as you try to set him back into the tub gently. but it’s far too late, you’re already covered in mud.

“fuck! my favourite t-shirt!” you whine, looking down at yourself in despair. 

“it’s not even yours,” matty laughs while you scowl at him. “besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “you can always take it off.”

“pervert,” you laugh at him and then proceed to take it off in one fluid motion and chuck it at his face. 

your eyes widen when the t-shirt slides off his face, leaving a perfectly round muddy mark on his cheek.

“you got mud on my face, didn’t you?” he dips a hand in the tub and you know what’s coming. “didn’t you?!” he asks again before splashing a handful of water on you. 

you squeal as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, rubbing his cheek against your face, neck, chest. 

“matty!” you laugh, trying to get away from him but he holds on tight. “get her, mayhem, get her,’ he giggles and the puppy covers you in wet kisses once again.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s always been protective of you, especially when you’re in public. he doesn’t have to worry about the fans being rude or agressive, but the same can’t be said about random photographers and tabloids.

you thought you knew the extent of his protectiveness. all of that changed the moment you found out you were expecting. 

you thought you knew his mother hen tendencies inside and out, turns out you were absolutely dead wrong! matty hovers. so. much. 

he’s there, holding your hair every time you find yourself throwing up. he’s there cancelling on appointments and on the boys on days he deems the morning sickness “too serious”. most of all, he won’t let you go up or down the stairs alone. at all. 

“i’m pregnant, matty, not an invalid!” you whine one evening when you feel him hovering behind you as you make your way up the stairs. 

“i know,” he drags it out as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i’m just making extra sure.”

your eye twitches. “making sure of what? that the stair monster doesn’t get me?”

you kow he’s rolling his eyes without being able to see his face. “alright, smartarse. i meant more if you got dizzy halfway up or down the stairs.”

“i’ll sit down!”

he hmphs, completely dismissing that logic. 

“baby, the stairs have a railing for a reason!”

he hmphs again. “didn’t know it was a crime to make sure my girls were safe!”

that makes you sigh. this is a petty squabble—it’s not your first, it certainly won’t be your last. once you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him with another long sigh. “look, baby, i appreciate the concern, but i'm not made of glass. i can handle a flight of stairs without a chaperone.”

“indulge me, okay! we can have this argument every time, or you can just ignore my presence when you’re going up or down the stairs. either way, i’m going to hover.”

“matty!”

but you know it’s useless. besides, his stubbornness is almost endearing. and between that and the pampering that comes with the protectiveness, you might as well just give up your stance now… 

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts in so much thought! it has been like this since date one—since he made sure to accommodate your likes and dislikes and food preferences in finding the perfect place to eat. even after all these years, he takes his time to plan out everything. even if it’s just an at home pamper day for you while he does all the chores. 

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

it’s a low hanging fruit but… the excessive smoking annoys you sometimes. especially because his voice is his job. you’ve told him multiple times to tone it down a little and it’s not like he doesn’t listen. it just… doesn’t always stick.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

depends on where he has to go and what the occasion is. he’ll be dressed to the nines if he has to accompany you to a party or an event but usually he’s fine being in soft comfy clothes that keep him cosy 

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes! 

this literally needs zero explanation. 

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

pots and pans clatter; great, banging sounds first thing in the morning in an otherwise serene kitchen. it wouldn’t be like this, not really but you’re both incredibly sleepy. two figures, one tall and hunched over, the other smaller, softer. cuddled into him. the kitchen is awash in the early morning light, too early if you were to be asked  but you’re okay with it. you’re happy and content as long as you get to stay stuck to matty’s side. 

he cracks an egg. 

“a sunny side up? still want that?” he asks and then laughs to himself. it’s an inside joke to him because, in the end, you’re going to end up stealing the eggs on his plate (a soft scramble) and accuse him of putting more care into his breakfast. which is exactly why he does it; puts more love into “his” breakfast that is. he knows you’re going to end up stealing it.  

“can’t have you changing your mind again, darling.” matty ruffles your hair affectionately and tugs at the claw clip holding them together. they cascade down your shoulders; messy, frizzy and big. 

this early morning everything is a bit fuzzy; your head, your thoughts. “mmm,” you respond. a sleepy little hmm. it’s quite possibly a yes, or it could be a “hold on i’m still thinking” or even a “don’t really feel like eggs anymore”. in all your years together, deciphering your hmms has been his biggest challenge. 

“alright then,” a pause. you cuddle closer simply because his t-shirt is soft and he is very warm. this early in the morning you have no sense of anything else but the familiar warmth and the sizzling of the pan. 

“i’ll make some coffee for us,” you volunteer and move away. 

the bubbling of the kettle almost puts you back to sleep; it’s soothing, rhythmic. but you keep yourself occupied. your favourite mugs are always hung side by side. his is comically large, in the shape of a pint glass; you always tease him about not being able to finish the coffee, about always finding cold remnants at the bottom of the mug. 

yours on the other hand looks more like a bowl; soft pink with tiny daisies all over it. you like holding it in both hands and cuddling it close to soak up some of the liquid’s warmth. on days that are especially cold, matty calls it your “emotional support mug”. and it is. 

“okay we have to time this,” you announce and carefully pour hot water into the french press. so now he has about four minutes to finish the eggs. that’s alright, four minutes is all he needs.

“get the plates for us, would you?” he asks, bumping his hip into yours. it’s partly to wake you up some more, partly because he’s not very coordinated first thing in the morning either. 

you’re about to grumble. getting the plate means leaving your comfy spot and having to open the door, dig around, close it again; so much work really. but matty is quicker. he knows this grumble is coming and he knows a tiny kiss on your nose always does wonders. 

unfair really, that he should know you that well. 

“hmm,”  you huff and start the trek to the cabinet. matty snickers at the way you drag your feet, like a child being told to clean her room. always a grump before you’ve had some food and caffeine. 

“such a grump,” he teases, “c’mere.” 

when you stop in front of him, two plates in hand, he immediately sets them aside and pulls you close. your eyes are droopy, soft and sleepy. there’s no resistance when he tilts your chin and kisses you sweetly; a lingering soft kiss. 

then he holds the steaming mug of coffee in front of you. 

it’s as if the aroma makes you come alive; you perks up instantly, eyes finally open and hands reaching to cradle the bowl-like mug, to hold it close to your chest. you don't just drink the coffee, you indulge in it. 

“right!’ you speak after a few sips, and proceed to steal his eggs.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

snobbiness is a big no no. he really hates it when people retend like they’re better than someone else just because they have more fame or success or money. 

he would absolutely despise himself if he ever turned into that person. and regardless of who he’s with at the moment, he makes sure that they don’t possess that quality. 

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

so erratic it’s worrying sometimes. 

you tried to figure out if he was a night owl or a morning bird but it’s genuinely so unpredictable that you had to give up after a few weeks later. 

one thing remains consistent though, wherever he is, he won’t go to bed without talking to you and telling you he loves you! even if he’s on the other side of the world, calling you with sleepy eyes and drooping curls while you hold your morning cup of coffee. even if he’s just got back home at 2 am and you’re already fast asleep. matty makes sure to whisper a little i love you and place a kiss on your head before he goes to bed. 

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss

add yourself to the taglist

[badn3w]

I have so many ideas for how they could implement Mac's sexuality into storylines seeing as we haven't really seen him with any sort of partner/ how he interacts with men romantically.

I think it'd be interesting to see Mac start to date a guy that Mac really wants to like, but the guy just isn't as badass as Mac. Mac's new boyfriend likes going on dates to Color Me Mine and wine tasting and Mac finds these types of dates painfully boring. He feels like his masculinity is being stripped away from him by going on such "girly" dates, but he really likes the guy so he continues on with it. Mac would have this whole struggle throughout the episode, worrying his sexuality is causing him to go soft, and he doesn’t wanna be any less of a badass just because he’s gay.

(Obviously, it’s stupid to stereotype his boyfriend as being non-masculine for wanting to go on dates that aren’t fueled by testosterone, which is sort of the whole commentary of the episode.)

Mac gets tickets for him and his boyfriend to go to a monster truck rally as it's something Mac actually wants to do and he hopes his boyfriend would try doing something Mac likes for once, but his boyfriend declines, saying that kind of stuff just isn't fun to him. Mac loses his temper and goes off about how he's been doing stuff he doesn't think is fun this entire time.

The pair end up breaking up because neither is willing to try new things for the other, which results in Mac coming home sullenly. When Mac comes through the door, Dennis asks why he looks so glum. Mac doesn't mention the breakup, but he does mention he has an extra ticket to the monster truck rally. Dennis excitedly asks, unprompted, if he can come to the rally with Mac. Mac just smiles.

[pollenallergie]

18+ only!!

do not interact if you’re under 18 years old!

I personally disagree with the headcanon that Eddie can’t cook. In fact, I think that man passed Home Ec. with flying colors in high school. Most of the Hellfire guys took shop class because they thought it was more manly or badass or whatever the fuck, but not Eddie. Eddie needed to learn to sew because Wayne sucked at it and the old lady two lots over was getting real sick of him asking her to use her frail, arthritic fingers to sew yet another goddamn patch on his vest or his backpack or whatever else he wanted to decorate with the logos of his favorite metal bands. Glenda was a sweet lady, of course, and she loved Eddie like he was her own grandson, but even her kindness had its limits. So, he took Home Ec. Plus, he kind of underestimated it and thought it would be like way easier than shop class.

Turns out it was actually insanely more difficult because while Jeff and Gareth got to spend forty-five minutes a day working on bird houses and toolboxes, Eddie had to learn how to operate a sewing machine, create a household budget, change a dirty diaper, and, oh yeah, make like three different kinds of sauce from fucking scratch. Labor intensity aside, Eddie oddly thrived in that class. I mean, he took to the sewing machine like a champ and he made a mean roux for mac and cheese. Not to mention, Miss Bowman absolutely adored him.

That was her first year teaching at Hawkins High, having just graduated college, so she was already plenty nervous. However, it got much, much worse when the, at the time, 16-year-old metalhead, who smelled like a well-used ashtray, sauntered into her class fifteen minutes late and very clearly stoned out of his mind. Imagine her surprise when that same kid expressed a genuine interest in learning how to keep track of household purchases and sharpen a kitchen knife. Unbeknownst to her, his fascination stemmed from the fact that 1) being able to keep track of financial transactions would be super beneficial for him as a rookie pot dealer and 2) the kid liked sharp, shiny things. So, in her blissful ignorance, Miss Bowman actually kind of developed a soft spot for the misfit, much like a little kid might for a scrappy alleycat.

Not to mention, due to him genuinely wanting to learn how to do some of this shit, Eddie rarely showed up to class late or less-than-sober after that first day. He even began to enjoy that class a little bit; the teacher was nice, she didn’t hate him (which was rare), and most of the kids in the class were pretty accepting of him once they realized that he was pulling a stable A-. In fact, the future head-cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, even directly asked him for help with her sourdough starter once; which he thought was pretty cool (and also terrifying).

A couple years down the line, his impeccable home-making skills would come in handy when he finally managed to snag the person of his dreams, you. In fact, your first date with Eddie involved him making an elaborate feast of spaghetti in doused in a delightful, homemade bolognese sauce with a side of homemade garlic bread (Eddie made the bread from scratch and everything) and some wine (that he definitely did not steal from a liquor store two towns over because Eddie would never do that), lighting some candles, turning on some soft music (one of Wayne’s old country records; the only one that Eddie figured wasn’t too twangy), and setting tiny kitchen table like it was a fancy table-for-two at some pricey restaurant in the city. It was perfect and, honestly more than you’d ever expected. When he asked you out, you expected a simple movie date or maybe going to watch some band who was not nearly as good as Corroded Coffin play at local bar together, not an amazing home-cooked meal and a night alone with a shaggy-haired, doe eyed aidoneus. It’s safe to say that the pasta wasn’t the only thing that got saucy that night, if you catch my drift. Eddie gave you a taste of his other homemade sauce, if you know what I mean.

So yeah, Eddie Munson can cook. The man is a fucking wiz in the kitchen.

[headcanonsandmore]

What is the Doctors favourite music?

One: Old-timey music-hall. Oh, you don’t recognise this one? My dear boy, how uneducated are you? Young people nowadays...

Two: Plinky-plonky circus music, with lots of organs. A couple of bagpipe compilations because Jamie kept insisting on playing his set. 

Three: Smooth jazz music; basically, anything that sounds sophisticated to listen to whilst drinking expensive wine. 

Four: Some weird avant-garde folk, with banjos everywhere. His companions are alarmed, but he won’t stop blasting it at all hours. 

Five: Abba. His kids friends roll their eyes when he sings along.

Six: Back to the jazz music, but now its bebop instead.

Seven: Some immensely complicated piece of classical music. A couple of punk rock songs that Ace recommended.

Eight: Some very smooth classical music. He probably knows the person who composed the piece.

War: He doesn’t have time for music.

Nine: Billy Bragg and Public Enemy, but this will extend to “anything that sounds good while smashing totalitarian regimes and monarchies”. 

Ten: Abba again, but this time Donna sings along with him.

Eleven: Queen; he tries to sing along with Freddie but can never quite manage it.

Twelve: Lots of punk rock and Jimi Hendrix.

Thirteen: Ryan introduced her to Stormzy, plus a few songs that Yaz likes (she tries not to think about the way her hearts clench when listening to the love songs Yaz recommended). 

Fugitive: Similar to Nine’s taste, but in a more general “whatever sounds cool while I be a badass” way. 

[lunarianebula872]

did some sketch doodles only one of them is SC!Cloud while the rest of them are from aus created by @aimeelouart go check out the stories they do [if you don't want me to continue @ ing you just lmk and I'll use more tags since I'm am relatively new to tumblr's layout as I usually use Instagram, Twitter/X, and Cara for artwork really]

But yeah SC!Cloud [who's hair in a small section is slowly turning silver due to Jenova's influence but doesn't really care/is just used to her bs and it not doing much of anything to him] may be in space but he also traverses through the void so he makes a device to channel different au wavelengths to talk to those he gave the tech to [he gave one to a Kunsel who he regularly talks to and he just will try to give one to Cursed!Cloud so there could be some information given about the dimension but in exchange for using the device as a whole]

SC!Cloud and C!Cloud are definitely tired,dimension traveling, ponytail wearing blond bois [or as some will call them chocobos]

SC!Cloud can eat straight up lemons [and have no puckering effect as he became immune to the sour though it doesn't stop him from weirding people who aren't immune to the sour effect], does enjoy Banora apples as he got more acquainted with the taste, does have a copy of Loveless which he reads when bored/to get insight into Genesis's mind, owns cook/gardening/astrology/mechanic books, is very familiar with magic/guns/swords and will used them to kick ass if needed, like Cursed!Cloud he tends to lack sleep [because he stays up either giving himself mako or to just do things that will make Calamity!Zack want to make him rest and take a vacay no joke], can make a badass cocktail and even makes meads and wines with ingredients he has on his ship, misses the taste of meat as he hasn't had it in a while but is going to be shocked by the amount of salt most meat products have in them since he doesn't have meat on his ship, can dish out comebacks when needed to, knows how to cook foods but can't make any meat related foods since he lacks meat, he owns a huge assortment of games/movies/collectibles so still has something in his old life to cling onto besides old photos of his mom/boyfriends/and friends, doesn't mind if his ship becomes like a hub before any other versions of him/boyfriends/friends to stay till they head to a different dimension.

Anyways this is getting long yet again but yeah these were interesting to make and I wanted to practice humanoid face shapes and chibis.

Enjoy the doodles if you like to.

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Just putting my thoughts for book 2 since I’ve read more of it (currently on chapter 28) and I gotta say Ronan might actually be my favourite character. His depth and personality is so prominent in this book and I’m just so happy I can learn more about him. Matthew (I actually don’t remember how his name was spelled) might be my second favourite Lynch brother but honestly Declan has not been trying very hard to be anyone’s favourite. I am curious about him though. I do also kind of feel bad for him because he wasn’t any of his parent’s favourites and that just sucks but also he’s a dick and I still don’t like him.

The Gansey-Adam battle is still waging, I still don’t know who tf I want Blue to fall in love with. There is SO MUCH happening in the book right now and I’m not even half-way through. I really wanna know more about how Adam’s being affected by his sacrifice in the previous book and I honestly feel so bad for him?? His POVs feel kind of melancholic? I guess? Like everyone else is having a good time and he’s just sulking because of course he is! Like omg there so much wrong with Adam I wanna hug him.

So I can’t tell if the Gray Man has a thing for Maura or not?? Like he asked her out for dinner and everything but I’m still skeptical. He is interesting though, although his POVs don’t mean much to me (he’s like the one character I don’t look forward to reading 😔) but hey at least Maura isn’t getting sidelined so much??

I actually have nothing to say about Blue because she’s honestly not doing anything worth pointing out. She’s just being a badass and her and Noah have an amazing friendship like I genuinely love them as a duo so much.

okay I just wanted to get my thoughts out there you don’t have to respond to this because it’s just word vomit but I’m REALLY liking the book so far and I can’t wait to have some questions answered and for more chaos to unfold.

(ALSO. RONAN’S MUM IS FROM A DREAM?? GENUINELY SHOCKED ME SO MUCH LIKE HOLY SHIT??? THE BARNS?? THE ANIMALS?? EVERYTHING’S FROM HIS DAD’S DREAMS?? AND DECLAN SUPPOSEDLY ALREADY KNEW????? [this is why I love this book])

AH SORRY I FORGOT TO ANSWER I WAS HAVING A CRISIS BUT IM SO HAPPY WE GOT ANOTHER RONAN STAN >:)

Declan is like...wine, he's an...acquired taste, lol. He really shines in the spin offs tbh, he's one of my faves, genuinely :) I actually love the whole Lynch family kagdkshdldj

HEHE I CANT WAIT FOR YOU TO GET TO THIRD BOOK- the fourth personnnnn~ it's been a while since I read the second one but there should be some hints by now :D

Hhhhh The Gray Man is the gray man idc about him tbh 😭 he's like. Whatever. Idc.

Waiting for *that* scene between Noah and Blue...I forgot if it was in this book lmao.

(It's okay I like seeing these reactions ;v; )

(UGHHHH I LOVE THE BARNES THE AURA IS SO MAGICAL AND I JUST WANNA BURY MY FACE IN THE GRASS AND PET ALL THE SLEEPY COWS AND HAVE AURORA TOUCH MY FACE AND KISS MY FOREHEAD 😭)

[presiding]

just saw that there's a monster in the hull update and realized i'd missed three of those........this + the audio are such treats giggling and kicking my feet about it fr. going to leave a comment on the fic itself but in the meantime needed to drop a letter on here to say i love the way you write billie--her loneliness, her thoughtfulness, distrust of yet attraction to emily and everything she represents........not to mention the way she's haunted by daud, the longing for a life she can't fathom and will never have !!! society if everyone gave billie the complexity she deserves. and your banter and prose are stunning as always lord everything abt this fic is so good. bringing wine to you on the deck to drink together about it in spirit and yes pun intended

🙏😭 thank you so so much I don't know what to say! that's amazingly kind of you ♥ its a genuine pleasure to like. double down on themes and nuance and less popular characters and just like. idk. trustfall into the fandom that there's people with taste like you, and you can invite them onto your metaphorical deck for wine and meaningful looks 🍷♥♥♥

re: billie - no one else in the dh universe comes close to whatever she has going on

hiding my thoughts about writing dh2 billie >

there's so much material to her!

i thought i'd never write for dishonored 2 (not derogatory - its my favourite game). its undoubtedly linear & doesn't have the mystery or grit of dh1 IMO.

but i saw lapin post that billie & emily comic, and i saw a few other people i respect mention billie/emily and it had me rotating them until the abjection/emily-monster thing clicked and then it was downhill from there

but there's more to think about - what billie has been doing with herself, how she feels about daud & the whalers at this point in her life, her relationship with sokolov (god.a separate rant), her history in karnaca & dunwall, emily's place in the empire and how that fits into billie's story, her lifelong revenge arc, and comparisons between jessamine & deirdre.

like. when you consider billie's perspective you realise how fucking badass she is for going back to dunwall. she not only did it scared she did it scared for her life. suicidal level flimsy disguise trapped in a tin can with your enemy. etc

PLEASE tell me if you ever decide to post that daud & billie fic you mentioned a while back :O

[soopsiesdaisies]

nightcourt.gov

Chapter 2: inbox: 0 unread

Read on Ao3 + Masterlist

[16-01-501, 06:55AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: tamtam@highlord.springcourt.gov

Subject: you miserable piece of shit

—

Rhysand,

I can’t believe you’d actually do this. Though, considering you’re such a scummy excuse for a male, I probably shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Give her back to me.

Tamlin

==

[16-01-501, 09:47AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: biggestwingspanofficial@nightcourt.gov

Subject: things n stuff

—

rhysie,

heeeyyyyyyyy i heard from morrigan u got ur girl?? stole her away from her wedding, huh? u nasty nasty. bet she absolutely hates u now. how did the shoe taste?

u should let me n az meet her yknow. maybe not amren idk if thats a good idea. but me n az is totally 100% a good idea so we’ll drop round when we have time ok?? yeah listen to me. little bitch.

anyway theres some shit in illyria we need ur help with if ur not too busy trying (and horribly failing) to woo her. uprisings n shit. still. u already knew about this but i figured its good to get a reminder bc if she is as pretty as u claim im expecting u to think with ur dick rn. be sure to have a good wank before u come over to help!! a stiffy in front of devlon would be embarrassing.

so yeah thats it xxxx cas

ps: do u think u could bring some pastries over we’re only eating grub :(( i need somethign sweet before i can be badass

Sent from my StarPhone

==

[16-01-501, 10:22AM]

From: givememor@nightcourt.gov

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

Subject: the Hewn Wishlist of the Week

—

Rhys,

Can you sign off on these? Thanks in advance.

—

[15-01-501, 23:41PM]

From: keirishere@nightcourt.gov

To: givememor@nightcourt.gov

Subject: Meeting notes

—

Morrigan,

Below are my notes of our meeting. Please ensure our High Lord accepts my requests.

Lord and Lady Wriedt wish to marry their oldest daughter off to Mr Aurelius Balcom. Refuse—Miss Wriedt and Mr Balcom are first cousins. Lord and Lady Wriedt are also first cousins, as are Lord and Lady Balcom.

City budget needs to be expanded by +/- 10.000 gold coins a month: several Lords and Ladies complain about lack of lavish revels.

The wine cellars ought to be restocked. None from Spring: the quality has reduced significantly over the last century, taste is revolting.

The High Lord is encouraged to pay a visit without the company of lesser fae.

Younglings have been sneaking off to the outside with increasing frequency. Lords and Ladies request permission to discourage this properly.

Lord Abaddon wishes to renovate his mansion. Force him to show me the blueprints. If I do not agree, please do not allow him to renovate.

I am tired of seeing wild matings on the dance floor. It is boring. Ban it—perhaps build copulation rooms?

[Personal decision] City needs more shadow wraiths for cleaning. They will not be noticed.

Everybody in attendance has zero (0) intelligence.

If I shake Lord Mortimer I suspect his brain will rattle in his skull like a dried split pea. Tempted to test my theory.

Lady Mortimer wishes for more shades of black in the clothing shops. I am unsure whether there are more shades of black. If there are, lie and insist there are not.

Lady Mortimer might rattle as well.

Lord and Lady Dirge request a revel to welcome a delegation from Autumn. Some members of the delegation are Lady Dirge’s siblings. Maybe?

I need a drink.

Lord Tinuviel wishes for the High Lord to be re-elected. Gift him books on High Lord magic?

The wine from Spring is indeed revolting.

Lord Tinuviel refuses to budge despite protests. Believes Lord Mortimer “has no brain”. I do not agree. Lord Mortimer has at least a split pea; Lord Tinuviel has a singular grain of sand.

They are too drunk to continue. Meeting adjourned.

==

[16-01-501, 12:12]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: idontwantanemailcassian@nightcourt.gov

Subject: the girl

—

Rhysand..

I wish to meet the girl… hope you will allow me to visit soon, boy… Surely she should be able to handle me, if she is yours.

Amren

==

[16-01-501, 16:03]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: xoxogossipaz@nightcourt.org

Subject: 🤨

—

Rhys,

There’s no need for you not to answer Cas’s email. I bet she still despises you—you CANNOT have managed to make her fall in love with you already so I’m sure you have lots of time.

(Unless you’re trying to woo her and are failing miserably. lmao that’s so embarrassing 💀💀💀💀 loser)

Cas and I are able to handle the uprisings on our own but it would be a lot easier with you. Cas is hangry and I’m REALLY cold 😒😒 discomfort is not manageable when you’re not around to ridicule.

Bring us some hot dinner when you come please 🥺

xoxo Az 👻

Sent from my StarPhone

==

[16-01-501, 16:05]

To: xoxogossipaz@nightcourt.org

From: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

Subject: RE: 🤨

—

Azriel,

Fucking hypocrite.

Rhys x

PS: sure, I’ll take food with me. Cas wants the elderberry pastries, right?

Sent from my StarPhone

==

[17-01-501, 07:22AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: tamtam@highlord.springcourt.gov

Subject: don’t ignore me

—

You’re such a twat. Miserable, sad, evil male with no

prospects.

Bring her back.

May the Cauldron tear you apart,

Tam

==

[17-01-501, 08:04AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: hotautumnbabe@springcourt.gov

Subject: help

—

Rhys,

Tamlin is being insufferable. Is there a way for you to bring Feyre back early? Please. We’ve had to replace four chairs and a table so far.

Cauldron bless you,

Lucien

==

[17-01-501, 09:35AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: bigdickenergy@highlord.daycourt.gov

Subject: Heyyyyyyyyyyy

—

Dearest Rhys,

I’ve heard from a little birdie you stole Tamlin’s beautiful Cursebreaker bride? Oh, aren’t you evil ✨✨

(I don’t blame you, though. She’s gorgeous.)

Anyway, you up for a bootycall sometime? I’d love to reinstate some more bonds between our Courts. I’ll bring the booze, you’ll only need to bring your sexy bum (and maybe the Shadowsinger? 👀👀)

Lemme know whether you’d like to meet up with me and when. I’ll send you my schedule later.

May the Cauldron give you fantastic orgasms,

xxxx Helion 🍆💦

==

[17-01-501, 12:55PM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: thedevster@windhaven.illyria.gov

Subject: HELLO

—

RHYSAND

HEARD YOU FINALLY ARRIVED IN ILLYRIA GOOD HOPE THOSE 50 YEARS OF SITTING ON YOUR ARSE DIDN’T DO TOO MUCH DAMAGE TO YOUR ALREADY TERRIBLE FIGHTING

CAN YOU BRING ME A PASTRY WHEN YOU VISIT CHOCOLATE PLEASE

BLESSED BE

DEVLON

==

[19-01-501, 07:33AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: tamtam@highlord.springcourt.gov

Subject: don’t ignore me fuckface

—

I KNOW you read these because I know you and you HATE receiving inbox pings. LISTEN TO ME AND GIVE HER BACK.

Cauldron kill you,

Tamlin

==

[19-01-501, 09:47AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: givememor@nightcourt.gov

Subject: how’s it going

—

Rhys,

Not making much progress, are you? She still hates you and all that. How sad.

Maybe tell her about the mating bond? Oh, wait. You’re stupid and love to torture yourself.

xx Mor

==

[19-01-501, 16:39PM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: hotautumnbabe@springcourt.gov

Subject: PLEASE

—

Rhysand,

By the Mother, if there is ANY way to bring her back earlier I will kiss your feet without hesitation. I haven’t slept more than an hour these last few days. I do not think I can last the rest of the week.

We were too hasty in replacing the chairs and table and I am currently standing in a battlefield. He has made four servants cry today and more will be added, I am sure. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because you aren’t approachable, but at the moment you’re the only one I can vent to. Also, you might not answer. Allow me to use you as a diary.

Ianthe is also unbelievably annoying and I do not trust her. She keeps trying to bed me. I do not want to.

Anyway, I think Tamlin is going in a rage again, so I shall hide in the trees now.

Should you be able to, please bring Feyre back early.

Cauldron bless you,

Lucien

==

[19-01-501, 23:59PM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: keirishere@nightcourt.gov

Subject: Requests

—

Your Grace,

Have you had a chance to go over and approve my requests? There is no reason for this to take so long—you are aware you are our High Lord, yes? Or have you perhaps forgotten during the 50 years you warmed that red-haired mongrel’s bed?

If Morrigan has not sent them to you, please notify me asap and I will send you the requests immediately.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

May the Cauldron bless you,

Keir

==

[20-01-501, 2:35AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: xoxogossipaz@nightcourt.gov

CC: biggestwingspanofficial@nightcourt.gov; thedevster@windhaven.illyria.gov

Subject: Recap

—

Rhys,

Out of two rogue war-bands, 76 Illyrians are dead after resisting defeat with violence. 2 members, one of each group, are alive and in my custody. The children and women have been sent to camps around Illyria. No families are separated.

I will update you on any new information the 2 members will tell me. They will fold.

Cauldron bless you,

Azriel 👻

PS: Lord Devlon, we’ll have a basket of chocolate pastries sent to you as thanks for your help. I promise Cassian won’t empty it before arrival.

==

[20-01-501, 07:42AM]

To: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

From: tamtam@highlord.springcourt.gov

Subject: bring her back

—

Rhysand,

If you hurt her I will hunt you down. She’ll never leave me for you. She is good and sweet and gentle and if she ever ends up with you you will DESTROY HER. Leave her alone.

I am going to break this bargain if it’s the last thing I do, consequences be damned. I will kill you, mark my words.

Tamlin

==

[21-01-501, 01:36AM]

To: tamtam@highlord.springcourt.gov

From: biggestwingspan@highlord.nightcourt.gov

Subject: RE: bring her back

—

Dear Tam,

No ♥️

xxxx Rhys

Sent from my StarPhone

***

“xoxogossipaz” is the result of the joint genius of @demarogue and me. Please follow her, she’s an amazingly talented writer and artist!

[brandtner]

aight if each yugo nation had their own animes, what would their opening theme song be?

Bosnia. Something like this Turkish Anime Esnaf (ESUNAFU - エスナフ) - YouTube and this Türkiye Anime Olsaydı ? Opening 1 - 地方は運命だ！(日本語) - YouTube. Views of pretty villages, chilled out, the pretty kind intro, for song I'd choose a Nasheed ofc.

Croatia. I have the PERFECT song for this [Rave-SLave] cranky - Libera me - YouTube. Catholic super villain intro type crossed with football teenage dream of being the best. Add in images of sipping wine n appearing of higher tastes n shit n throwing knives

Serbia. Gopnik: Anime Opening Style- Naruto OP 16 - YouTube Add in rostilj time, some random fighting in and maybe chalga music video themes? Where they drink and party hard smash a car occasionally stuff like that. Add some bitches, a rap-style intro song and it's perfect. People with smashed faces n bloody teeth smiling into the camera type of thing. I kind of see this song as an anime opening intro Sunshine - Iza Horizonta (Official Video) - YouTube but for more serious version/person? Srbija is kinda too dumb and shitty to be this badass. Maybe for Srpska? It would contrast nicely with a badass song playing and him only pretending how dangerous and powerful of a saviour of the world he is

Slovenia. It's kinda obvious I think this got a nice slavic ring to it Юбочка чулочки - ЧВК ФЕМБОЙЧИК - YouTube

[grief-worn]

♨♘☻

domestic headcanons.

gonna put these under a cut! i might ramble.

any pets they might have.

ok, yes, shadowheart loves animals. if she had a different life, she would've been a horse girl. sources list that in one of her endings she adopts: four dogs, eight cats, nine chickens, six pigeons, four sheep, a cow named daphne, a squirrel, and a wolf cub named buttons. (also the owlbear if you pick that choice.)

i personally adore this. i'm not entirely sure i'd pin my interpretation of shadowheart as a farm girl, but i do think she'd be too weak to deny any stray that ends up on her doorstep. her family would grow quite large.

if she seeks a life of adventure, i think she'd keep an animal companion to fight along her side. a wolf seems fitting, especially if she loses her parents. it would be a way to memorialize her father and remember his legacy. but i also swoon at the idea of her riding that armored owlbear into battle ... alternatively, she'd look badass with a hawk.

the owlbear refers to her as "the nice lady", so even in her brooding early days alongside the others it's certain she treats animals well. she'll huff and puff and act uncaring, but you know the instant people turn their backs she's baby-talking the owlbear and sneaking him scraps of her own supper. i think she understands and empathizes with animals more than she does people. she values their company.

and the age-old question: is she a dog person or a cat person? i think my shadowheart is a bird person.

how late do they stay up?

shadowheart is a night owl. it's when the world is still, and it's one of the few times she can truly, deeply think. she's energized past dark, and tends to feel most productive in the evenings, but her sleep schedule honestly really depends on the day she's having.

some nights are spent wrapping up chores; laundry, organization, recounting her candles, prepping elixirs and potions. shadowheart will stay up late, but won't be too preoccupied, and will know when to turn it in.

other nights she needs to fucking think. ruminate her existence and stare at the wall for hours on end. she doesn't get a lot of self-reflection done, but there's hardly time for that. she plans missions, ponders her role in shar's grand design, and desperately tries to piece together shards of her broken memories. this is when she loses the hours. before long, the sun is rising and she's wasted another night of her life she'll never get back.

those are nights she regrets. they taste bitter.

... this is not the case if she has company. specifically, company she enjoys. it's easy to gorge herself on nights such as this. drowned in wine and laughing so hard her sides ache. or maybe it's more subdued. whispered gossip shared in confidentiality. juiced like ripe fruit. she's talking, and they're talking, and it's hard to know where one topic ends and the next begins. but then the sky is lighter and she sees pink behind the clouds. the night is over. she hasn't slept.

those are nights she won't ever want to forget.

[winemastery]

Jacob's Creek Double Barrel Matured Shiraz 2019 (Episode 389)

[analiavs]

Give Me Some Sugar

Kylar/Briar

word count: 4455

Warnings: Kylar, rape, stalking, kidnapping, electrocution, KYLAR, drugging, choking, a pinch of mind break and a dash of Stockholm syndrome

Summary: Briar catches the attention of a sweet little sugar daddy. But of course he's more than meets the eye

AO3 link for those that prefer:

Hit read more if you prefer to read in tumblr (it's long tho)

He’d been searching for his beloved when he saw them, Hanshoku Kanona made flesh. He couldn’t believe his eyes. S-rank ass, D-rank chest, long brown hair with matching eyes, milky skin, and perfect teeth. He’d thought his beloved would be the closest he’d ever get to seeing perfection in real life, but the lithe form in front of him changed everything. 

“Listen kid, I’m not for sale.” The voice, while not deep, was male. Well, maybe absolute perfection came at a cost. How could he have thought himself worthy of seeding the pinnacle of humanity after all. Nevertheless he could practically visualize his darling in a mating press.

“I’m a man. Don’t underestimate me, I’ll be sure to win your heart.” He quoted his favorite badass anime character  Yūdokuna otokorashi-sa. 

“Excuse me?” 

“What do you like? I’ll prove myself worthy of your love.” 

“Honey I have expensive tastes, a brat like you could never satisfy me.” Just as quickly as he’d met them, he watched his beloved strut away. He’d seen him then. A designer suit and jewelry adorning his body. If his beloved wanted to be a sugar baby he could provide.

Kanona would never have been driven by greed, but once he’d lured his beloved into his grip he could show him the way. He’d make sure to get as much information as possible from the strippers at school. And finally lay his trap.

—- 

He cornered one of the Chads the next day. 

“Listen man, I don’t want any trouble.” He’d put his hands up. Yes, he had his knife out, but it was necessary for the interrogation. It was lunchtime so there wouldn’t be anyone in this hallway.

“Just answer my questions and there won’t be any problems.”

“Ok ok, just put the knife down dude.”

“NO! Not until you answer my questions.” He pulled some of his pictures out, his hands trembling from the adrenaline.

“Who is this? And what do you know about them?”

“Huh, Briar. He’s the owner of the brothel. A really corrupt and evil person, is he blackmailing you? If you need help Kylar-” The information close at hand his frenzy grew.

“No I don’t! Give me more information!”

“Um ok. He’s um basically an alcoholic, but he only drinks wine. He’s got a daddy kink. Shit… what else? He’s dangerous, I don’t recommend catching his eye. If he really likes you, you'll get better paying but more degrading shows or have to service him personally.” The Chad rambled. He trembled with rage at the thought of this jock getting to touch his beloved. For a hot second he considered stabbing him, but it wasn’t his fault if his beloved was slutting around trying to find his soulmate. Besides, neither of them were still pure.

“Never touch him again!” 

“Listen man, if it was my choice I’d never even go to Harvest St.” The Chad shrugged. He grit his teeth before leaving to get to his next target. He found her flashing passersby in the courtyard. He couldn’t believe he’d once thought this mere Stacey was worthy of his affection.

“Come with me!” 

“You wanna fuck?” The bimbo asked, eagerly following him. He led her to a bathroom stall. 

“What do you know about Briar?” She seemed confused, lowering the skirt that didn’t cover the cum dripping down her legs. He couldn’t believe only yesterday seeing that would have filled him with jealousy.

“The brothel owner? He’s a real shady sonnuva bitch. You don’t want to get involved with him bruv, you might end up in a real froggy situation.” 

“Tell me about him!” She scoffed,

“What about him? He’s a sloppy drunk and a solid fuck. Likes pretty things, likes breaking pretty things. Real sadist type ya know? One of the worst scum this town has to offer but he’s charismatic.” They weren’t saying anything of substance about his beloved. Merely his negatives, the negatives he was going to fix.

Without saying anything else he left the bathroom stall. That must mean no one truly knew him. He’d get his beloved to open up to him and only him. He chose to forgo the rest of his lessons and dedicate himself to his mission. 

He rushed home to collect his tool kit. He heard his parents hissing with displeasure over him cutting class. But they didn’t understand, no one did. He grabbed his surveillance equipment: bugs, camera, binoculars, his spy cameras, and tracking devices. 

He stared reverently at his poster of his dear Kanona, soon he would be able to feel her between his fingers. He dressed in a fully black outfit, completed with a hoodie, mask, gloves, and sunglasses. While he may not be the ideal size of an alpha male it wasn’t all negative. Plus, that Stacey had always told him he had inches where it mattered.

One look at his dick and his precious would know he was a true alpha male. And ever since he’d started following Dr. Magnum’s workout videos he’d been gaining physical strength. Combine that with his limitless pepper spray supply and he would be unbeatable. Finally, factor in his wealth and there was no debate he was a high-value man. 

He recited Dr. Magnum’s fifteen affirmations for high value men in the mirror until he felt the strength from the words in his soul. Prepared and confident he headed towards Harvest Street. He followed the hidden paths that avoided the other townspeople. 

He made it to Harvest Street without a confrontation and snuck into the brothel unnoticed. Since it was still afternoon, there weren't many patrons. He had to be extra discrete while planting his bugs and spy cameras.

He kept a constant scan of the brothel as he worked. No one noticed him. Once he set devices to have a 24/7  stream of data from the brothel he slid into the shadows to wait for his beloved to come out of his office.

As it got later in the evening more patrons and strippers arrived. His beloved shouldn’t associate with all these dirty grimy people. Well, soon the only person his dear Kanona would see was him. Shortly after the Stacey strutted in, Briar finally stepped out of his office.

He resisted the urge to abduct his darling right then and there and forced himself to focus on his mission. He picked the lock to the room with ease and slipped in, making sure to lock it behind him. 

Instead of a desk like he expected he saw a rather ornate sofa. There were a few filing cabinets and barrels in the room but besides that the room was empty. He quickly set up his bugs and cameras. He found a stash of wine bottles. 

They were expensive, but not as expensive as some of the bottles in his parents' wine cellar. He might have just found a good use for them now.

He went through and inspected the other fixtures in the room. The barrels he saw a large amount of aphrodisiac drugs. He wanted to go through the filing cabinets, but he didn’t want to risk leaving a trace. As he was doing a final sweep he noticed a door hidden in the wall. 

Intrigued, he picked the lock and snuck into the room. It looked like a bedroom, a private bedroom. Glee tickled his spine. This room was meant only for his darling’s eyes, no one else. This was their little secret. He was overjoyed as he planted his bugs and spy cameras. There was even a little bathroom attached to the room. His feed would be glorious, he could never have expected such a stroke of good luck. He set cameras everywhere. 

He took note of what kind of soaps and perfumes he preferred. Even the clothes and jewelry. And couldn’t resist the urge to steal a pair of red briefs out of the underwear drawer. His beloved scent was all over them. He inhaled deeply, sighing in pleasure.

As much as he wanted to stay in the room forever, he knew he couldn’t linger for too long or he’d run the risk of being caught.  Reluctantly he snuck back out of the bedroom and office. No one saw him, all focused on the admittedly impressive autofisting going on on stage. Even the security guards were watching his ex obsession contort herself on the stage. 

He spotted his beloved sitting next to the Headteacher of all people. He swallowed down  jealousy and refocused. Now came the tricky part after all. Even for the Stacey he’d never considered implanting a tracking device, but now it felt necessary. 

He couldn’t risk his precious Kanona ever being able to get away from him. He readied his syringe and crawled on the disgusting ground to evade attention. He made it to his beloved's ankle, the needle tip was small enough that he wouldn’t feel it, but he wished he could sanitize the area before sticking him. He plunged it quickly and efficiently, as he’d predicted it went unnoticed. 

While he was under their table he decided to eavesdrop and tie Leighton’ shoes together. 

“Ugh, I tried to get her to do private photoshoots for me, but she laughed and said she could use the publicity.” He was so close to his beloved, but he didn’t dare touch him. He did sniff him though. 

“Psh, pay her enough and she’ll do anything. If you can’t even afford one of Bailey’s whores you really are worthless. This towns so fucked who doesn’t have a sextape floating around at this point? Once your students figure that out, you’ll be powerless. We’d have to call you Failton.” He was glad his beloved didn’t seem to care for the Headteacher even if they were sitting together.

“Shut up slut, what’ll you do when people realize they’re paying for something this town provides for free?”

“Convenience fee darling, besides my services satisfy certain tastes. The underground has a queue after all.” His beloved’s voice took on a layered tone. These underground dealings were likely what had struck fear in the Chad and Stacey’s heart. Well he’d just have to purify his darling’s soul. He took one last sniff before sneaking away. 

He had the rest of his preparations to make after all. Back at home he prepared his surveillance room. He set up the different channels for his camera feeds and then their complimentary audio channels. He had several screens dedicated to showing the feeds and then a central screen that could enlarge a feed and play the audio. 

He watched his beloved for a while before heading to bed. Now that the preliminary preparations were complete he’d be able to relax. Continue to go to school and keep his parents and society satisfied. 

Soon he’d have his precious Kanona and she’d never want to ever be apart from him. Ever.

___

When some creep had talked a big game about winning him over he hadn’t really put much stock in it. He knew he was hot, and he used it to his advantage. So when the guy popped up a week later with the most expensive bottle of wine he’d ever seen he almost didn’t know how to react.

He recovered quickly enough to smile and twirl his hair on a finger. He assumed  he’d raided some cellar and had no idea what he actually had in his hands. 

“Aw, thanks cutie.” He cooed, grabbing the bottle. He batted his eyes and asked his name.

“Ky... Kylar.” Even a stutter, this was going to be too easy. He’d always been partial to keeping a sugar daddy around, though it had been a long time since he’d had a consummate sugar daddy. Nevertheless, his old charms came flooding back like muscle memory.

“Kylar… hmm what a cute name.” Kylar’s whole face turned red, he bit back a laugh. 

“Maybe you can satisfy my tastes after all.” He smiled before strutting away from the guy. He could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he walked away. 

Usually he would drink in his office, but he wanted to savor this in private. And be sure it wasn’t tampered with.

He grabbed his fanciest wine glass and a corkscrew then settled onto his bed. The seal was still perfectly intact, he smiled. 

Aged one hundred years, he couldn’t wait. Alone he was free to dress up and fantasize a bit. 

He slipped into a lace negligee and posed in front of the mirror.

“Honey you’ve still got it.” He hadn’t even had to give anything up for the wine bottle, his new diet must be working better than he’d thought. He inspected his body carefully, there were no imperfections that he could see. He put on a jewelry set, now he looked perfect. 

He laid down on his bed and uncorked his wine bottle. It smelled heavenly, he poured himself a glass and flicked it around with his wrist. He sipped and moaned. The bottle really didn’t disappoint, it was smooth and strong.

He drank almost half the bottle and found himself asleep. In the following weeks Kylar got him luxury perfumes and soaps. He quickly swapped them into his daily routine. His skin and hair had never been so soft. 

He’d never had a paypig before but he was loving it. Kylar’s weekly visits soon came to be his favorite day of the week. 

A few months into their relationship Kylar came up to him holding some jewelry boxes. He couldn’t wait to see how they topped the gifts he’d already received. 

“Ooh, come to my office sweetie.” He practically dragged him to his sofa. 

“What’d you get me this week?” He purred. Kylar stuttered but finally managed to say jewelry. Eagerly, he grabbed the biggest case first. 

It was a genuine pearl necklace. He could feel his jaw drop a bit, this was the most expensive jewelry he’d ever held in his hands. It practically shone in the box.

His hands shook as he put the necklace on. Then he reached out for the next box. Pearl and opal earrings, he put them on eagerly. This matching set must look gorgeous. He could see the shine reflecting from them.

It made his own jewelry look like mere trinkets in comparison. 

“One more.” Kyar said and opened up a ring box. A lustrous opal ring surrounded by small pearls. It was gorgeous. He took off the rings he already had on and put it on his ring finger. He stared at it, mesmerized by its beauty.

“I got the rings and earrings custom made, though they can’t compare to your beauty.” 

“Aw, you're such a smooth talker.” He waited for the shoe to drop, surely even a virgin wouldn’t give such expensive jewelry for nothing in exchange. 

“Don’t worry my love, these are just gifts from me to you. I can wait-” He muttered something under his breath and before he could blink Kylar was gone. How flattering, he hadn’t thought he could still get people to fall in love with him with just a look. 

He rushed into his room to dress to match his new jewelry. He slipped on the light blue suit jacket Kylar had gotten tailor made for him. Then gazed at his reflection in the mirror. 

He wasted almost half an hour enraptured with the jewelry. Such lustrous gems weren’t often seen by commoners. He needed to keep himself in Kylar’s good graces. He giggled to himself wondering how Kylar would top this. He hadn’t imagined that the brat was anything more than just a thief. 

He finished picking out the luxury outfit that matched his new jewelry, he wondered how long had Kylar been planning out these gifts for them to match perfectly. With a spritz of the cologne he’d been gifted, he finally stepped out of his room. 

All eyes were on him, as they should be. He could taste the jealousy in the air. He smiled and called his driver. There were some “independent contractors” he wanted to get under his control today. When the limo pulled up he slid into his seat.

“Take me to the cafe and after that the pub.” He was craving pancakes, but he was likely going to get a fruit salad. Then shakedown some floozies and he could call it a day.  Five minutes into the ride his eyes got heavy and he fell asleep. 

When he woke up his head was pounding. There was something heavy around his neck, he sat up slowly. He kept blinking trying to refocus his eyes. He felt around his neck and found a collar that was attached to a metal chain. He tried to get it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Who would dare kidnap him! He shook with rage as he tried to free himself. 

There were no weak points on the chain. It was better than the restraints he used in the underground. He took in the room. He was on a king sized bed and the blankets were soft enough. There was a dresser with a mirror attached. He looked at himself. 

His hair was a mess but he looked normal enough. He still had his ring and earrings on, but the necklace had been replaced with the collar. He got off the bed. To his surprise the chain could extend from the wall. He walked towards one of the doors in the room and the chain didn’t stop him. He opened the door and found a bathroom. It was already prepared with toiletries and cosmetics. 

Was this another underground ring trying to show off their power? But there was no way his bodyguards wouldn’t have noticed. He walked out the bathroom to the next door and tried it. 

He’d expected it to be locked but it opened out to a hallway. He tried to step out of the room, but the chain didn’t extend anymore. He tried to force it and suddenly the chain flew back into the wall, yanking him on the bed by the neck. He coughed and sputtered trying to regain his breath. 

He tried to feel for a weak point on the collar, but couldn’t find it. He pressed on the usual failure points, but nothing worked.  He heard a rustling coming from the hallway, he prepared himself for a confrontation. But to his shock it was Kylar. 

“My precious Kanona-chan, finally I have you all to myself. It’s been so hard waiting, but tonight we can finally consummate our love.” Kylar’s face was split into a monstrous grin. 

“What the fuck are you talking about!?” He got up ready to beat the shit out of the little motherfucker, but an electrical jolt from the collar brought him to his knees. 

“Oh my love, don’t be like that. I don’t want to have to punish you. Tonight we’ll have so much fun. I have your outfit for tonight. You already have the ring.” Kylar paused to giggle to himself. This guy was insane, he backed up into the bed. 

“You can’t keep me here, you… you psycho.” He spat. He screamed when the collar jolted him again. He collapsed onto the bed. Kylar walked up to him and pet his hair.

“Oh darling, don’t worry no one will find us here. So put this on. I don’t want you to get punished again.” He spoke like he wasn’t the one hurting him and dropped a brown parcel onto the bed. 

“I’ll give you some privacy to get changed, but it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. And make sure you put everything on. If anything’s missing you might have to get punished.” Kylar stalked out of the room. He pressed a hand to his chest, his heart was actually racing. He knew he was angry, but could it be that he was scared too?

With shaking hands he reached for the package. He opened it and found a white short ball gown. He stripped and put it on numbly. It didn’t even cover his butt. He’d done the same to countless whores, but he’d never expected to be on the receiving end. There wasn’t even underwear in the bag, though there was a white leg garter. He slipped it on. 

He looked in the mirror. He looked like some kind of perverse bride, he’d had girls do a few shows on the concept but it was a little too cliche for his tastes. It didn’t take long for Kylar to stumble back in, this time wearing an ill fitting suit. 

“My beautiful bride, this will be a night we remember for the rest of our lives. Tomorrow we’ll dance, but tonight we’ll have some fun. Just like in the first volume of Isshō tsudzuku no ni jūbun'na hanshoku.” Kylar pushed him onto the bed. He had no idea what he was raving about, when he tried to struggle he was shocked again. He went limp on the bed. 

“First, the garter.” He watched Kylar go down to his thigh. The bastard mouthed at it, kissing his leg sloppily. Before finally grabbing it with his teeth and pulling it down. Once he finished that he jumped up and pressed a kiss to his mouth, it tasted overwhelmingly of mint. 

“I’d follow the manga to a t, but I wouldn’t want it to hurt. Heheeheehe, I learned that the hard way. No, my darling there’s no pain play till volume three. Today’s our simple wedding night.” Just how long did this freak plan on keeping him here. 

“Listen… I’ll let you get one freebie. Just let me go after ok. Please Kylar, there won’t be any consequences if you do.” His voice sweet as pie, he batted his eyes. 

“You want this just as much as I do my love? Oh my darling I’ll never let you go!” This motherfucker wasn’t listening at all. Kylar pinned him on his back and climbed up his body till he could kiss him. Kylar forced his tongue into his mouth. Kylar kept his eyes open staring directly at him while he kissed him. Eventually he just closed his eyes to escape his gaze, letting Kylar do what he wanted. 

Green eyes weren’t a rarity in this town, but something about Kylar’s eyes actually made him feel nervous. Kylar didn’t let up for air, he felt his eyes start to water. He had no choice but to bite down on Kylar’s tongue to try and get him to let up. Of course the collar shocked the hell out of him, but at least Kylar pulled back. He gasped for air, still laying on his back. 

“Oh my dear Kanona-chan, if you wanted to skip to consummation you should have just said that. You know I could kiss you forever.” Kylar was completely wrapped up in his own little fantasy world. He didn’t even respond. Just stared at the ceiling, willing it to be over with already.

He doubted a shrimp like Kylar could be packing much, or have stamina. That’s what he told himself as awkward fingers breached him. At least the dude knew to use lube.

He still felt pretty limber from the monthly farm orgy, so at least he had that going for him. Though small as Kylar’s hands were he could probably double fist him and he still wouldn’t feel it. He wasn’t particularly skilled either. If he told himself it was just a pity fuck that might make it more bearable. 

Despite the crushing blow to his pride, so far things had been pretty vanilla. So really he just needed to focus on escaping. Or cajole the creep into taking the collar off. He didn’t bother watching Kylar put it in. Maybe if he seemed disinterested Kylar would get a reality check.

Thus he was wholly unprepared for the biggest cock he’d ever taken to get rammed into him. He felt the wind get pushed out of him, even Remy’s stupid bulls weren’t that big. He tried smacking the idiot as he tried to blink the tears out of his eyes. 

“What the fu- mmph” somehow the whelp was able to reach up and kiss him. Effectively muffling his complaints. He tried biting down on Kylar but that only seemed to inspire him. He’d never felt anything like this before. Maybe Remy could enjoy a battering ram on his prostate, he preferred his lovers to be more sensual. He almost choked on the spit pooling in his mouth. Finally Kylar let up so he could breathe. He gasped and sucked air in, body bouncing from the force of Kylar’s thrusts. 

“You bastard! I’ll sell you to the farm for this! Mmph-!” The hands that had been clawed around his waist wrapped around his neck in a death grip. He tried to claw them off. Kylar looked mad as he humped into him. 

“You love this , you love this, you love this…” He kept repeating it. He tried to loosen Kylar’s grip, but he was electrocuted. His body spasmed as Kylar kept fucking him. His body started feeling tingling as black spots started appearing in his vision. In a way the novelty was thrilling. 

He never let anyone be so rough with him. None of his playmates ever so much as slapped his ass. As he started losing consciousness, his eyes started rolling back. He felt his arms falling limp at his sides as the world went black. When he woke up, he gasped. 

His body tingled. He’d never felt anything like this, he felt his own dick was hard. Another hard jab to his prostate, he gasped gently. He felt hypersensitive now, his mind was foggy. He hadn’t realized when it started to feel good. He moaned quietly. Kylar suddenly stilled. 

“Oh my dear Kanona! I knew you would love this too! If it’s better for you, you can call me daddy.” Kylar said pressing frenzied kisses around his chest before starting to thrust into him wildly. He bounced with each thrust. The shrimp had a surprising amount of core strength. Kylar’s sweat dripped onto him. 

“I’m gonna breed you now, but don’t worry you won’t get pregnant until volume 6.” He shivered, feeling his own orgasm finally force its way out. Finally Kylar’s hips stuttered before he ground into him and collapsed onto him. He couldn’t believe he’d passed out on top of him. And he was still inside. Ugh… at least he didn’t have to deal with the cum dripping out for now. Kylar was almost endearing, cuddling into him. He shook his head. He needed to focus on escaping. But the afterglow got to him too and he fell asleep.

[maewiiweam]

My love [EwaxCa**os]

𖤐---------------------------------------------------------𖤐

Summary: Carlos cheats on Ewa and she finds out then she takes revenge (: or Ewa being a badass <3 (I love Ewa)

𖤐--------------------------------------------------------𖤐

Ewa knew marrying Carlos was wrong. Their lifestyles were just too different and with Carlos constantly distancing himself whenever he pleases, Ewa knew it wouldn't last. So as time went by they both started distancing themselves from one another, Carlos would spend most of his time in his office doing "important business, my love. I hope you understand".

Ewa on the other hand would mostly roam around her big, beautiful, fairy like garden. Sometimes he'd also catch her in their home cinema watching movies on her own. Of course he'd feel bad, so caught up in work and missing his wife, yet still prioritizing his job. Only really seeing her during dinner, rarely breakfast or lunch, these being his usual working and meeting hours. Sometimes catching a sight of her when he’s on his office’s balcony or walking from A to B.

She knew he watches her, she can feel his heavy eyes on her while she's grooming her beloved rose bushes or re-watching her favourtie movies or when she's on the phone with her best friend Aemane. She does her best to ignore his stare, to not react. He hates it. He hates that she won't run into his arms anymore whenever he'd leave his office. He hates that she barely tells him about her day or her interests. Does she still love nightly walks through her garden? Does she still enjoy stargazing? Is Aemane still her best friend? He doesn't know, and he blames her. He shouldn't have to ask her about it. She should just tell him about her interests the second they change. How else would he know how to keep her happy?

"Fuck her" he thought as he slowly approches his hook-ups house.

But what did he think? That she won't find out? That the stupid, little hook-up won't brag about it all? That she wouldn't get mad? That she'll think she deserves it since he keeps distancing himself?

"He must think I'm the dumbest woman alive."

That's how they ended up at their dinner table, all dressed up, right after a dinner party of Carlos'. Ewa sat down across from him, watching their servants bring out a special dessert Ewa spent hours working on.

"Looks delicious, my love." He comments looking Ewa in the eyes, hearts in his own. Is making him dessert really all it takes...?

"I hope it tastes good, I haven't had the chance to try it....my love" She takes her glass of wine, raising it to a silent toast. He copies her actions before diving in. Ewa watches from afar, sipping on her glass of red, while he dives into his food. Soon he starts coughing. Ewa can't hep herself but grin and ask "Everything alright, my love?" It comes out in the most innocent tone she can manage. He just nods and reaches for his own glass. "All good, love" He gives her a small smile before drinking up. She just nods, setting down her beverage. She slowly slides out of her chair and walks over to him.

"love..." she shrugs "Did you...did you call her that as well or is that reserved for me?" He freezes, not being able to stop coughing.

"What? Did you think I won't find out?" She can't help the laugh that escapes her lips. "Oh, my love, you're hilarious" She puts her hand on his shoulder. He slowly reaches for his gun, but failes miserably due to his aggressive coughs. Ewa lets out a series of "tsk"'s walking over to the gun and picking it up. "Such a shame, my love." She examines the gun quickly before placing it between his eyebrows. His face turns in fear. "Oh calm down, I won't do it. That'd be such a waste of the good poison I grew. This-" She shakes the gun a bit, to signalize what she’s talking about "-Is purely for the looks and aesthetic"

[oladyofsoulsandwhispers]

Wine and Fingers

Hi :) This is a little blurby thing about cannibalism. I really liked the idea of badass rich women having a meal together. I think the end is a little abrupt, but ah well. Enjoy!

—

Carrots.

Flavourful, orange, crunchy, and healthy. Amazing, aren’t they? 

It’s a shame, though. To a human carnivore, fingers are the closest thing. The crunch is just better.

The candles are expensive. They smell of roses and blood, sweet and metallic. The table is small, made of cold black marble. Darkness shrouds the two women, blonde and brunette hair illuminated only by the subtle glow of the small flames. 

Perfectly painted red lips, though neither have ever bought lipstick, perfect skin, each with strikingly coloured eyes. The blonde, with icy blue eyes that stare coldly and without mercy; the brunette, a green that glares as if constantly hunting prey. 

A large round wine glass is held by each woman, their sharpened nails an even deeper hue than the liquid held within. White teeth and slightly sharper canines are a stark contrast to the red lip.

“Oh but you really must try the new Petrus vintage in Bordeaux. Monsieur Moueix sent a bottle; it is absolutely divine.”  The brunette’s eyes widen in memory of the taste. The blonde takes a delicate sip from her glass before answering.

“It sounds heavenly. What I really wonder though,  darling, is how it pairs?” The accompanying smile sends the shadows scurrying. 

“Fingers. The perfect ones from Italy; not too fat and not too thin.”

“Oh stop, you’re making me hungry!” They laugh, though the sound sends chills rather than warmth. “I actually recently heard that Hannibal is looking for this woman, and bless him, he knows we have such an appetite for fingers, and he’s promised to bring them to us as a gift of thanks. You remember that favour we did for him all those months ago?”

The brunette nods, a grin growing slowly wider.

“Well, mon cheri, we must discuss how the dish is to be prepared.” They think for a moment, and then the brunette speaks.

“Ah, this will be magnifique. My chef, Monsieur Luc, is such a darling with fingers. He filets them for me, and drains them by hand!”

“I cannot believe your good luck in finding a chef that caters perfectly, though I do prefer the crunch. I feel the blood adds a lovely tang to the whole thing, I simply cannot enjoy it without.” 

[folktotech]

A Case of You by Joni Mitchell is one of the best songs ever written.

It is the best love song ever written. Mitchell perfectly encapsulates what it is like to know that love is fizzling out, taking the rose colored glasses off and putting them back on when it is appropriate. It demonstrates how the concept of "falling" in love can be so dangerous, as stated so eloquently in the book All About Love by the late Bell Hooks. You must have critical thinking skills, which includes knowing when to let go instead of falling into the abyss of love. "A Case of You" is an homage to her hometown, her past lover(s?), and her own strength and power. "If you want me I'll be in the bar." Come on. What a badass thing and a CORRECT thing to say to a man who describes himself as "constant" when you know this relationship is splitting apart at the seams. You can't save this now. I'm going to the bar.

How bittersweet it is to love. "You're in my blood like holy wine, you taste so bitter and so sweet." Has anyone ever demonstrated the Starbucks-coffee-when-they-make-your-drink-wrong feeling that is love so perfectly?

"I could drink a case of you and still be on my feet." Oh how similar love is to drugs. Oh how we love to compare the two. Mitchell could drink a whole case, never get enough, and still take the rose-colored glasses off. That takes a strong, strong person. The self-awareness and relatability that Joni emits through a stripped back accompaniment, speech like and soaring vocals, and lyrics that read like beautiful prose make this the best love song ever written.

The progression of the song through the years and the way Mitchell performs it as she ages adds another layer of beauty to this piece. It gets vocally deeper and more reflective as she ages. It has longevity and the ability for other singers to make it completely their own. (See Prince's sensual and aching rendition and James Blake's reflective, sputtered out, conversational cover.)

I love Joni Mitchell. She is forever an inspiration and a core member of any true folkie's musical treasure trove.

Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift is one of the worst songs ever written.

"It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me." And I honestly agree. Or whoever made her release this silly song.

I am not a big fan of Taylor Swift, but I can appreciate her artistry in a multitude of ways. Objectively, she's pretty good. Subjectively, I hate the quality of her voice and think her lyricism is sub-par and surface level. Her lyrics have matured since the start of her career, but when we start at cheerleading and Romeo and Juliet there is only so far we can go.

The most horrifying lyric is: "Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I'm a monster on the hill." How is Taylor Swift going to write the album Folklore, then give her fans THIS. She could have said how huge she feels compared to other people in so many ways that didn't sound stupid. Taylor Swift and I are both 5'11", so I really do understand the struggle of feeling like a monster on the hill while everybody is a... sexy baby... I guess. The difference is, Taylor Swift is a rail thin blonde woman with a model build, weighing 100 pounds less than me. She also steps on a scale that turns to the word "FAT" rather than a number in the music video, at least in the original. She edited that part out after some well-deserved criticism.

I genuinely didn't know if this song was supposed to be deep and personal or comedic or a mix of both before I looked it up. Somehow, the balance is off no matter the answer. I remember laughing in utter shock and confusion when the music video and song were released. I did some research and she describes the song as being pretty candid and personal... so I don't think it's supposed to be funny. Dramatic, maybe, but not funny.

The weird owl-cityesque instrumental break around 2:15 just does not match the mood of the song at all and sticks out like a sore thumb. I also hate the weird percussion/clapping sound that appears several times throughout this song.

"It's me, hi, I'm the problem it's me." is a catchy little pop lyric, but Taylor Swift is not really the problem. Having insecurities and lacking wisdom does not make you the problem, it just means you have a lot of first world problems and normal human emotions. I don't think "everybody agrees" at "tea time" and I don't think anyone really cares, unless they also think that disliking yourself and being kind of annoying and a little bit of a closeted narcissist is some really deep and relatable inner turmoil.

It is really not that deep.

I could probably say a million other negative things about this song, but I feel like you kinda get the point.