#i literally had to go months back to find this

[jacaerysgf]

Deja Vu | Pt. 1

s.m: You are falling to your death. Your final wish is to be able to go back and stop the war. It seems the gods have granted your wish and you open your eyes to be back to the fateful day before of lucerys trial months before your 'death'. You must do everything in your power to prevent the war even if the only way is to find herself in the arms of the one man she hates most, Aemond Targaryen.

w.c: 8.6k

c.w: minor spoilers for the later seasons of hotd, putting anything else here would be spoilers. but theres nothing too crazy don't worry. NOT PROOFREAD theres smut i promise for the freaks out there.

a.n: this is literally just two freaks trying to see if they can match each others freak, enjoy !

masterlist - part two soon !

d.t ml @venmondiese

You’re falling. How long have you been falling? They say when you die you see your whole life flash in front of your eyes but all you see is the grey sky above you.

You are going to die.

You expect to be more scared. You should be screaming, crying, yelling for help. But as you fall through the skies the one thing you feel is regret. As you watch your dragon be chomped up by vhagar, the way your body burns after being lit on fire, you just saw your brother be knocked off his own dragon into the sea.

Whoever is listening to me now. I will beg of you. If i can only ask for one thing, i wish to go back. To stop this all from happening. To prevent the war. Please. This is all i wish. If in death i only wish to remember the good. Please.

You allow yourself to close your eyes. You shall meet the stranger soon. You expect it to hurt once you hit the ground, yet it does not.

Instead your eyes burst open with a jump and you take many a deep breath.

“Are you alright dear?” You look in front of you with alarm. Your mother and your step father look at you worriedly. What in the hells is happening?

You were just in battle. You look down at your outfit and realize you are wearing the same outfit you had been wearing to the keep when you arrived for Lucerys trial. You look back up and notice your parents also appear to be wearing the same outfits as that fateful day. You were sitting in the same carriage, the same familiar bumps in the road.

Were you replaying your life as some had claimed? But it felt too real. “Sweetheart?” your mother reaches forward. as best she can as viserys sits on her lap, and grabs your hand, “Bad dream?” Maybe it had been all such a terrible terrible dream. “Yes, I'm sorry mother.” She squeezes your hand before letting go, going back go bouncing viserys on her leg.

You lean back and take a couple deep breaths. It was simply a terrible dream. But when you turn to your right you gasp, “Lucerys.” He looks at you with wide eyes, “Are you well sister?”

You cant help but hug him, turning your body towards him so he is practically sitting in your lap, shoving your head into his neck, filling his pulse race against your forehead. “Sister? What are you doing? ow this is uncomfortable!” You ignore his whines as your eyes build up with tears. Months, you have gone months without seeing him, hearing his voice, smelling him, feeling his pulse, you missed him. You missed him so much. “Are you crying?” your tears had begun to drip down his neck and soak into the neck of tunic.

“I had a terrible dream.” You rush out as you sob. Because that's all it was. An awful dream. You feel Lucerys unstiffen as he relaxes in your touch, allowing himself to get comfortable in your lap as it grows clear to him you have no intention of letting him go. you hear him whisper to you “I am alright sister, i promise.”

You say nothing in return, just allowing yourself to listen to his breaths. It is almost as if it was real, him truly dead. You try to ignore the churning of your stomach as he begins to play with the ends of your hair, his head soon drops to your shoulder and you hear his breath relaxing. He’s sleeping. You slowly turn yourself to be facing forward, his head falls into your shoulder as he begins to softly snore. You rub your hands up and down his back as you finally rid yourself of your tears.

“Was your dream truly so horrid sister?” You turn to your left and there sits Jacaerys, next to him sits Joffrey who was fast asleep. You try to ignore the flashing images of arrows pelted into his skill that appear in your mind when you see his face. You reach your hand up and touch his face, your hand lays on his cheek as he blinks at you. “So horrible.” He grabs your hand from his cheek and laces your fingers with his.

“It was just a dream dear sister. Do not fret.”

Yes. That's all it had been. A really awful terrible dream.

Yet it gets harder to deny it was in fact all just a dream as the sequence of events play out exactly the same as they had. How your mother had been greeted at the gate, how your parents told you and the boys to entertain yourselves while they went to go meet with viserys. Even the walk to the courtyard was the exact same save for the way you clung to Lucerys which he was more than happy to let you, as he had his own nerves about being back in the keep.

This was so strange. You watch as Jacaerys eagerly approaches the swords, the way Lucerys looks around anxiously, the way Joffrey trails at your other side. You felt sick.

Your stomach drops, as you think about what you had been praying for. Were the gods truly giving you another chance? To fix this? But how would you even fix this? You know you cannot let it happen as you feel Lucerys tightly grip your hand. You have to do everything in your power to make sure he stays safe, to make sure they all stay safe.

But how would you even go about such a thing? The family is basically beyond repair. You know of what will occur, if you can’t figure this out. You try to come up with anything.

Suddenly you hear the clanging of swords and you whip around. As much as you hate to admit it an idea pops in your head. No. This can’t be it. There must be something else you can do. Not him. definitely not him. Yet you find yourself getting pulled along by Lucerys to watch the fight.

He truly is such a skilled swordsman, you would know you’ve seen him in the fields, even having gone head to head for a moment before you fled. You can barely pay attention to the fight. This is it. If you’re really going through with this you would need to start right here right now. You must be able to come up with something else right? There is no way this is the only option.

“Nephews, have you come to train?”

Your mind comes up blank. You feel Lucerys move to hide behind you as Jacaerys takes a step back.

His eye finally moves to you, “Niece.”

You have no other choice.

You let go of Lucerys and take a step towards him, you put on your best smitten look and smile at him. “Uncle, its been too long.”

You must be bold, you must do anything for your family.

You offer him your hand, it hands in the air for a moment and you fear he will simply brush you off. You’re sure your brother are staring at you confused but you can’t be bothered to care as an amused look graces Aemond’s face and he tilts his head.

He grabs your hand and brings it up and his head far down enough to lay a kiss on the back of you hand. You let the smile on your face grow no matter how much you wish to spit at him.

“You have grown into a beautiful lady dear niece.”

You bring one of your hands to cover your mouth as you look down at the ground. You feel Lucerys tug at the back of your dress but you cannot give up.

“and you have grown into a fine prince dear uncle.”

The sudden marching through the hall should not startle you the way it does. Maybe you had just been so lost in your act you could not remember when it had happened. You watch with blank eyes as Vaemond stares you down, you doubt his fate will change and he no longer scares you the way he once had.

You turn back towards Aemond and see he is already look at you. You smile at him before you turn you back to your brothers. “If you wish to go you can, i wish to stay here.” Jacaerys looks at you with worry, “Truly?” You remember you had all quickly fled to your rooms after seeing Vaemond and you knew he would soon suggest you all head back. yet you can’t go not now, not when you must make this believable.

You nod eagerly and they hesitate, especially Lucerys who truly does not want you to leave but you urge them too, it would not go as well if they were here.

“Shooing off your nephews dear niece? how disappointing.” Aemond finally speaks as you watch them quickly walk away not before sparing you once last glance before they turn the corner.

You hate to admit you think he is handsome. Probably the most handsome man in the realm. When you look at him he has a smirk on his face. “Would it be scandalous to say i wish to just spend some time with you my prince?” He raises his eye brows and a look of surprise crosses his face before it drops back to his more stoic look. He takes another step towards you and the smirk graces his face once more as you bashfully look away from him. “You truly wish to?” No. definitely not. “What if i said i did?” You whisper towards him.

He looks like he about to say something else before a voice cuts in behind him. “The prince still has training to do. He best not be faced with any,” Criston looks at you with a glare which leads you to try to hold back you eye roll, “Unfortunate distractions y/n”

You open your mouth to say something, you are unable to stop yourself, wishing to spit some vile insults at him but Aemond speaks before you can. “It is princess to you ser Cole, best not forget yourself.”

You can’t help the smile that grows on your face and the warmness that spreads though your chest. No. You should not be feeling like this. He simply did it as he knows it is rude to not address you correctly, you know it would certainly make him mad.

It amuses you the way criston bites his tongue and mummers to himself for a moment before speaking again. “My apologies princess.” You nod, not wishing to fight with him as of now. “But the training yard is not a place for, you, it would be best if you left.”

You still think he is talking to you inappropriately but you will not say anything to him for now as you simply turn back to Aemond. “I suppose i shall leave, but will you take long? I wish for someone to show me around the gardens, if you would of course.”

You fold your hands behind your back as you stand up tall, You can not faulter. It would be good to get away for a moment, as you have a request you must make. criston speaks before Aemond does, “I will request a guard for the princess-” “I shall not be too long, though i would hate to make you wait.”

You shake your head a begin to walk backward, the smile on your face growing “I will wait as long as it takes dear uncle, please come fetch me i shall be in the library.” You turn before either of them could say anything else and hurriedly walk up the steps and out of view.

Once you are far enough away from the room you lean against the wall and take a couple deep breaths. You feel sick but you can’t help the way your heart races as you think of the interaction.

Was he always so, charming? Well the last time you had met you had been children. Until the rest of your brothers and step sisters you did not see him on driftmark as you had been bed ridden with a fever during the service and your mother thought you too unwell to travel. You had no clue what happened and you had no clue that would be the last couple moments you spent in the keep as you woke up one day on dragonstone, apparently having been taken while you were asleep.

He was always a meek kid, you being a couple years his senior, never really spent that much time with him. You remember seeing him getting picked on and you would scold your two younger brothers and send an apology to him but beyond that there was nothing too it. He was certainly a grown man now.

No. You shake your head to yourself and slap your cheeks. What were you thinking? This is the man who murdered your little brother. Who slaughtered house strong. You could not be thinking this this. It does not matter. You no matter how much you despised him had to get this done. You do not walk towards the library. Instead you walk far up the stairs until you are stopped by some guards.

“I would like to speak to my grandsire, is he free?”

“The hand should take care of any concerns you have.”

“I am first born daughter of his first born daughter Rhaenyra Targaryen you will allow me entry if he is free.”

You cross your arms and stare at the guards who look at each other before they allow you entry to the room. You have not seen him in years you doubt he even knows who you are. So when you hesitantly enter the room and come into his view you try not to gag at the sight of him. You had forgotten how close to death he looked, it know being clear to you he was on his death bad, basically standing at the strangers doorstep.

“Aemma?” You whine and walk closer to him. “No grandsire it is me, y/n. Rhaenyra’s daughter.”

He is silent for a moment before he lets out an ah and a smile graces his face, allow you to grab his hands and sit on the bed next to him. “Yes yes y/n, my dear its been so long. too long.” You nod and smile as best you can at him. “Yes grandsire i have missed you.” He agrees and squeezes your hands.

“There is a proposal I’d like to ask you of.” You hesitate, this is really it. You have no clue if this is even going to work. But you have to try, even if it kills you you must try. “I am sure you could see how our family has been divided as of late,” You know exactly how to pull at him, how to get him to agree, remembering his speech from the fateful dinner that will probably occur tomorrow. “I hate it. I wish for us to be a family together. Which is why i must tell you. I have been in love with Aemond since i was a young girl. He is the man for me grandsire i am sure of it. So i must ask for your blessing in our union, to grant me my one true wish. To make our family whole.”

You are proud of yourself that you do not throw up. You are sick. You cannot believe you are even asking this. But you have to, you see no other path forward. If you can convince him to be on your side and stop this maybe it could all be prevented. You could be a fool walking into a lions den but it does not matter, you have to try.

“Yes yes that is all i wish for yes you shall marry him. oh the wedding will be beautiful, and we will be all together.” You do not have the heart to tell him he will probably not make it to the wedding. instead just smiling brightly and thanking him, squeezing his hand tightly. “Oh thank you grandsire this makes me so happy.” He nods eagerly before he begins to cough, telling you he needs some rest but as you walk away you can see him fall asleep with a smile on his face.

You are going to be sick. You are going to marry him. If you live long enough to marry him, if he does not kill you first. You try to hide the fact that your hands are shaking so badly and you stumble slightly as you walk as you make your way to the library. You know him to be a ruthless man. A Kinslayer. And now you were going to marry him. You were totally screwed.

You are unable to sit still in your seat, constantly rocking back and forth or tapping you hand and feet as you wait for him. He has no clue you’re sure. and your hopeful your grandsire will tell no one definitely not Alicent or most certainly not otto. You should have said something about it before you left but there is no point on dwelling on it now. as you try to relax in your seat.

“You are truly waiting for me.” You sit up out of your seat and turn to him in alarm. He had changed into more a more formal dark green outfit.

“of course uncle, i was truthful when i said i would wait for you.” You can’t read him. He does not speak for a moment, keeping his gaze stuck onto you, looking you up and down. You feel like he is analyzing you, trying to catch even the most minor slip up from you. Like he can tell you are trying to trick him. You can’t have him thinking like that, so you eagerly walk to his side and smile as sweetly as you can at him.

“I apologize if i interrupted your busy schedule uncle.” He smirks and shakes his head, offering you his arm, “Do your brothers know you are here?”

You shake your head and look at the ground. You do not get to see the pleased look that finds its way one his face until he grabs your chin and lifts your head up to look at him, taking a step closer. You feel your chest tighten. You do not understand why you feel this way, why his stare and the simply tilt of his head as your breath quickening. “How curious.”

He drops your chin quickly and acts as if nothing had just happened, offering you his arm. “You said you wished to see the gardens yes? They have grown rather nicely in your absence.” You hesitate for a moment as he raises his eyebrows with a smirk at your hesitance. You certainly cannot faulter now. you cant let him catch on to you, you can tell he has his suspicions.

You eagerly grab onto his arm and take a deep breath, accidently allowing yourself to be consumed by his addicting scent. You cannot stop the delighted hum that escapes you and your gasp covering your mouth. You are humiliated. You turn your head towards him and notice a different look on his face as he stares at you. He says nothing, simply letting out a hum before speaking, turning his head away from you. “We should head out now, the garden is lovely in the afternoon.”

You are glad he says nothing and simply nod and he begins to lead you out of the library and towards the courtyard. You attempt to ignore the stares and whispers of the maids and other ladies in the hallway as the two of you walk. You’re sure word will spread of the two of you walking arm and arm together, you are already dreading the talking to you’ll probably get from your brothers, your mother and especially daemon.

You cannot think about that now. Not as you finally arrive in the garden and simply begin to stroll through the large hedges of grass.

“I wish to know how you’ve been fairing uncle,” You stop for a moment pressing your free hand against his elbow in your laced arm, “I am embarrassed to say.” You bashfully look away, as if you do not wish to say it.

You are shocked you are able to act so well. Or at least you hope you are. You have to get him to believe you, you hope he is at least slightly convincing by your performance.

Your hopes are somewhat confirmed when his arm grips onto tight and looks your way, “You should talk freely with me my sweet niece.”

You blush at his words, unable to control the heat that flows up to your face. You are only happy he seems to be convinced, yes that is it.

“I have missed you.”

He turns you to face him and your breath stops. You two are chest to chest and he’s staring at you with dark eyes. You can feel his breath fanning on your face as you try to ignore the pounding of your heart at your proximity.

“You should not say such things to just anyone my sweet. Some men will not be as kind as i am after you say such things.”

my sweet.

You attempt to pull out of his arms but he keeps you there firmly. Staring you down as if he was a predator looking at his prey, you can’t help but whine quietly and you hear him hum, his grip tightens on you before he lets go. Taking a step back and coughing into his fist.

“I apologize, i lost myself.”

You can’t do anything but nod. Breathing heavily as if its the first time you can breath in years. You grip onto the spot where your heart is and grip the fabric tightly as your heart beats louder than it ever has. He looks at as stoic as he always does while you must look like a disheveled lady who just got caught in a scandal.

You basically were, feeling so caught by aemond who simply stares at you, his eye never leaving your face as he watches your every movement.

He opens his mouth to say something before a scared maid comes approaching you two, “my prince-” “What is it.” He spits at her, his face leaving yours angrily as he stares at the girl. The poor girl is practically shaking, she bows, “I am so sorry my prince but, the queen has requested your presence.”

His face drops as he straightens up at the mention of his mother. You suddenly notice the eyes you feel staring at you. It gives you a chill which runs down your spine, you look around the gardens for anything and notice nobody other than the maid and of course aemond. Then where are those eyes coming from?

“Of course, tell her i shall be there shortly.” “she requested i walk you to her immediately my prince.” You suddenly turn around and look upwards and you see two pairs of eyes staring right at you. Otto and alicent. How long had they been watching you? Had they seen what just happened between you and aemond? Not that anything had happened. No definitely not. Just two people talking.

“Of course.” You turn back to aemond and give him a nervous smile. He notices the look on your face and tilts his head as he looks at where you had just been looking. He tsks and turns his head away, you swear you see him roll his eye as he huffs. He looks back to you and grabs your hands, you try to pull them out of his grasp, your head flicking behind you, worrying they will see but he keeps you tightly in his grip.

“I am sorry to leave you, i shall see you dear niece.” He pulls your hands to his face and leaves a kiss on the backs of your hands before he drops them and walks off, not even waiting for the maid to follow after him. The maid quickly bows to you before hurriedly running off after aemond. You look back up and notice that the two of them are gone, you let out a sigh of relief praying they had left before they saw any of that.

Maybe you should be hoping they had. Then your act would be more believable. You never thought this would turn out like this. Maybe he just believed you far too much and was no acting on it. You wish you felt a sickness in your stomach, you want to hate him. He killed lucerys. You should hate him, you have hated him these last couple months. Nothing has changed, you do hate him. Do you?

You stand in the garden for a while your mind running a mile a minute. Are you getting so into your act that you're truly starting to believe it?

No. Enough of these foolish thoughts. You hastily move out of the garden, you should just head back to your room and sleep. Its late afternoon, you fake fatigue from your travels to avoid talking to your parents and brothers and lay down on your bed after a quick bath.

You stare up at the ceiling as the thoughts from today come spinning back up. Will this really work? Will this even be able to prevent anything? or are you just doing this for your own selfish gain? No. This absolutely had to work. You could not bare to go through what you had months ago, you still do not even know if anything is even real.

You try not to let your mind spiral and descended into madness as the sky turns from light to dark, skipping dinner. it’s not good to think about answers you will not receive until you see it for yourself. You should just try to sleep, but the way you are tossing and turning your eyes not even fluttering closed you fear you will not sleep a wink tonight.

Suddenly you hear soft knocks laid on your wooden door and you shoot up. For a second you think it may be aemond, you knew of aegons more horrendous personality maybe aemond is of the same mind and wishes to claim something from you? No, aemond is certainly not as depraved as him, you had known he took a mistress during the war, that witch, but if the rumors were true she was the only woman he laid with.

You open the door and let out a sigh. “lucerys.” You do not know if what you feel is relief or disappointment. Why would you feel disappointment? You watch as your brother attempts to smile at you before he looks meekly at the ground. “Can i, can i sleep with you sister? i cannot sleep.” Your heart aches at the sight of him, he had not come to you last time, had he felt the same way and could not sleep but felt like he couldn't come to you? was your over display of affection for him today the thing that gave him the confidence?

“of course you can.” You open your door wide enough and allow him to pass by you where he hurriedly scurried in and flops himself onto your bed. You smile at him as you walk over and lay down beside him. He smiles softly at you and lets out a quiet thank you as you begin to stroke his hair. “Are you alright?”

His face drops and he takes a deep breath, “i am scared. Why do they question us so? I wish we looked more like ser laenor and less like ser harwin then they would not question us, then we would be able to stay at dragonstone together, instead of being here.” Your heart begins to ache, you continue to stroke his hair.

You know of his doubts, his worries, and you wish you could do more to sate is worries. You know the trial will go fine tomorrow, knowing viserys will come to defend his heir, but he has no clue of that. Nor should you but you do.

“Everything will work out luce i promise. Leave it to mother to worry about.” “But i do not wish for her to worry. I wish i could do more for her. Maybe i should not be named heir to driftmark.” You sit up causing him to look at you alarmed. “Lucerys velaryon do not say such things. You are a wonderful boy who shall grow up to be the most honorable man, you should not speak down on yourself.” You cross your arms as your heart tries to be ripped from your chest as you remember. If you do not succeed he will probably be killed, by the man you are trying to court.

This whole thing was ridiculous.

He seems content with what you said and simply smiles at you, his eyes droopy with sleep. “Thank you sister.” You continue to comb his hair with your fingers as he’s lulled to sleep. You press a kiss against his forehead and allow him to press himself into your side.

You can’t allow anything to happen to him. You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by aemond’s charisma. He killed your brother. He was heartless and ruthless, a kinslayer. You cannot be swayed. he does not make your heart thump and have your breath racing.

You almost allow yourself to fall asleep before heavy banging on your door jolts you and lucerys up. You two look at each before looking back the door. “Who could be here this late?” No. He was not here was he? Another set of banging hits the door and you gulp.

There was no way right? You freeze as your hand hits the handle. What would you say if it was him? What would you tell lucerys? What would he do if aemond do if he saw lucerys? What would lucerys do if he saw aemond? you know the two will meet eventually, which did not go well at all, so what if its truly him?

You grab the handle and pull it. Letting out a huge sigh of relief as he storms past you. “You were not at dinner.”

He turns to you his arms crossed, your brother crosses his arms at you in the middle of the room. Baela and rhaena follow into the room, closing the door behind them. “I have been tired all day brother, i wished to rest.”

“You were not tired when you were walking around in aemonds arm rather cozy.” you ignore him, greeting you sister baela and smiles and gives you a warm hug before stepping and crossing her arms at you too. “Not you too.”

“What could you possibly have been doing with aemond?” You sigh and walk back to the bed, sitting on the edge. “I do not know what you wish me to say.” “I wish for you to explain to me why you were with him.”

You sigh and throw your hands up. “I simply wished to see him.” “You wished to see him? are you mad?” “Is that so wrong?” “Yes!”

You flop down on your bed and sigh. You feel the bed bend down next to you and see you jacaerys face staring at you. “you are acting strange sister, i simply am worrying for you.”

“it is so wrong i wish to bond with my other family members.” “They are not like us you know that sister.” You sit up and stare at them. You wish you didn't have to do things like this. You wish you did not have to do this. You wish you did not have to see the look of hurt on rhaena’s face or baela’s glare, or jacaerys anger or even lucerys confusion.

But you cannot give up now. Standing up to glare at the four of them and cross your arms. Your voice tight with anger. “I do not excuse what happened between you all on driftmark if anything i hate him for it. but you will not understand, i simply wish to spend some time with my other family. We should all want to mend what has been broken, bury old hatched and build, if not a loving family relationship, then atleast a civil one. I am sorry that i am the first person to realize that it is no good it would do no good for blood to be bad between is, not for us, not for rhaenyra. or her claim. We as family must have each other's back. and if we are not at least civil with these people they will never support us.”

The four of them are silent and you let out a huff as you fall onto your bed and close your eyes. “If you wish to hover and argue with me you may but you will be arguing with a wall. I know i am right and i will be sleeping. You are free to talk amongst yourselves.”

You roll over and keep your back to them. You feel lucerys get off the bed and you assume the four of them have huddled in a corner, whispering to each other. They would not understand. What you are doing for them. They would not even believe you if you tried. Though you hope your story is believe able enough.

You try to sleep. Though you are unable to knowing they are lingering not too far away from you. You feel movement around you and the door opens, footsteps trailing out before it softly closes. A part of you fears you might have scared lucerys off. but when the bed dips next to you you feel relief. “Can i still sleep here sister?” You turn around and look at his nervous gaze and nod, grabbing his cheek and smiling at him. “of course you can stay.” He smiles and lays down at your side, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

You don’t fall asleep for a while. Simply staring up at the ceiling and feeling lucerys shuffle around in your arms every once in a while. You pray and pray that tomorrow afternoon will go exactly as it had the first time. And for the dinner. You would have to get a lot more creative to try and figure out how to prevent that.

It is now morning and you had been planning on walking to jacaerys room after breakfast before you are suddenly stopped. “Good morning.”

“Good morning my queen.” You bow and attempt to bite your tongue as she gives you what you know now to be a clearly fake smile. “How have you been faring? it has been a long time since we’ve spoken.” “I have been well, as all my family has been, my queen.” She nods and folds her hands behind her back. “I wish for you to walk with me for a few moments.”

It is not a request. She is telling you. So you nod and she walks, not even looking to see if you are following though you are. You know what she wishes to ask. Though you pray your grandsire has not mentioned the proposal to her and she simply wishes to ask what you had been doing with aemond. Not that you would have an explanation for that either.

“I have just been wondering something. if you would clear my head.” The sound of metal clanging behind you would startle you if you did not know criston trailed behind alicent like a damn dog. He should make it less obvious that he is glaring at the back of your head.

Please do not ask about the proposal please do not ask about the proposal,

“I had seen you with aemond in the gardens yesterday, thats curious is it not?” You try to hide the shaky breath of relief you let out. You simply hum , “it is not so curious. We are family after all.”

You act like you do not near the mumbling of ser cole behind you. Something suddenly click to you, he was probably the one who told alicent of your outing with aemond and you grow irritated.

Alicent merely huns though you know there is more she wishes to say. You are silent as she attempt to gather her words properly. You do not even glance at either of them, keeping your gaze forward. Its odd, despite the fact you should be more stressed out talking with the queen you feel more at ease then you were with aemond.

“I suppose you’re right. Its simply been a long time since you’ve been in the keep.” “Exactly the more reason i would wish to spend the afternoon with him. It is rather a shame our time was cut short.”

You don’t get to see the way her eye twitches and the way criston rolls his eyes but you can assume so. “Yes. I am sorry i had to pull him away for somethings..” You can hear how her words are not sincere but you decide maybe you can make her feel bad.

You turn to her with mock shame in your face, “Oh gods i had no clue it was you who pulled him away, i am so sorry i would not have complained if i had known it was you.” She turns to you and has a look of embarrassment on her face, “It is no issue truly, do not fret.”

You smile at her and she gives you a weak clearly forced one back before you turn back forward. It’s fun messing with them.

“My queen.” She quickly turns around where a guard was standing, “Your presence is required in the council room your grace.” She nods before she turns back to you.

“Good day princess.” “Good day my queen.” She scruries off without another glance but ser cole spares you a glare before he trails after her. You sigh and roll your neck out before walking back to your own room, no longer having any interest in speaking to anyone. It would probably be best to have some alone time before the trial anyways.

The trial goes exactly as expected thankfully. Viserys walks up exactly as before, rhaenys says jacaerys and baela and rhaena and lucerys will marry, daemon cuts off vaemonds head. All the exactly the same. It gives you erriry feeling, now you are so sure you have been transported in the past. You keep lucerys hand tightly in yours during the trial though you knew how it would go, allowing him to lean against you in relief afterwards.

The only difference is you can’t help but find yourself glancing at aemond throughout it all. His eyes drift to you as well numerous times, a small smirk finds itself on his face every time you lock eyes. You look away bashfully every time but you always find yourself looking back to him.

You quickly rush out the room after everyone had been dismissed, hoping to avoid everyone. You find yourself in the garden once more, finding a secluded bench and sitting down. Leaning your head back and letting the sun hit your face.

You allow yourself to relax, listening to the sound of the wind and the bugs, breathing in the scent of flowers and grass, enjoying the way the sun and the wind hits you. You don’t know how long you’re lying there. Not until you finally decide to open your eyes and stretch.

You turn to your left and let out a shriek. “Aemond!” He has an amused look on his face as you cover your racing heart with your hands. “I did not mean to startle you my sweet.”

You turn away from him and readjust yourself to be sitting upright, keeping your gaze forward. You merely hum in acknowledgment, not trusting yourself to speak. The nickname. Maybe it has just slipped his mind to add niece at the end of it.

“I merely wanted to see you” You look to him and see the amused look on his face. You still cannot tell if he’s genuine or not, he keeps his emotions completely in check, only allowing you to see what he wishes you to.

You smile, putting on a sweet face as you bravely scoot towards him. “I an happy to hear that uncle.” He hums, continuing to watch you. You squirm under his gaze and cough into your hand due to nerves.

Why do you seem to be enjoying yourself? Why do you like his eyes on you? You hate him. He killed your brother for gods sake. He didn't in this timeline you suppose. No. Why are you trying to rationalize this with yourself? You had just sworn you would not be pulled in by him.

Yet when he leans forward and gazes into your eyes you find your mind turning into putty. “What have you been up to these past few years my sweet? i fear we did not get to talking much today during our time together due to,,,”

He trails off, looking away almost bashfully as if he is embarrassed about what had happened. You’re sure he probably is, you would be if you were him. Not that what he did was wrong, no it was wrong, very wrong of him to grab you like that and have you so close to him. To say such a romantic statement to you and you two are not even courting. Thought you two wouldn't be entering a courtship anyways, well would your engagement count as a courtship?

“I have not been up to much. I’ve been doing some studying, some reading, lady things.” He nods at your answer but he looks displeased like thats not what he wished to hear. “How have you been uncl-” “Are you betrothed?” You look at him alarmed and try to catch you breath as he leans in closer to you. “I will apologize for being forward later but i must know.”

“Why?” You breathe out with a hushed breath, as you notice his eye drifts to your lips. “You must know. You must know already why i wish to know, why i must know.” No. You don’t know. You certainly don’t wish to. You shake your head and let out a meek no while he nods and gets closer. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, a chill runs down your spine as his lips brush against yours and you shiver.

“My prince.” He lets out sound close to animalistic as he whips his head to the left to glare at the squire while you pull all the way back and turn your head out of view, scooting farther away from him.

“Your mother is looking for you-” “Tell her i am busy.” He barks out. Thought you are not looking at him he can tell’s clenching his jaw and glaring. “She requests you now-” “You should go uncle-” “I am never allotted a moment of alone time and the one time i am she demands me? Tell her i am busy at once.”

The squire looks back and forth between you two and you say nothing, simply flushed with embarrassment. This was humiliating. Were you truly about to kiss him? and you were happy you were about to kiss him? You could not believe this. He nods simply, eyeing the two of you for a moment longer before nodding and rushing away.

You breathe heavily as you stare at your lap, your heart racing. What was happening to you? You begin to speak as you turn to look at him, “If your mother needs you maybe you should go- hmm!” he kisses you with a sense of fever you have never experienced. Sucking up every little sound and breath you take, one of his hands finds its place on your jaw.

When you open your mouth a little to gasp he eagerly shoves his tongue in your mouth, pocking and prodding, eagerly dominating you, leaning his body over you to where he is basically covering you completely, leaving you to lean back against the corner of the arm rail.

You grip onto his forearms, unsure of what you are doing. After what feels like an eternity he pulls away from you, eagerly rubbing his nose against your face affectionately, a small true smile falls on his face at your dazed look, his thumb affectionately rubbing the side of your cheek.

“Ao issi sīr gevie issa dōna.” (you are so beautiful my sweet) You flush. You hate him and the way he makes you feel. How dare he. You are supposed to despise him, make him pay for everything he’s done to you, to your family. But this Aemond hasn't done anything. This Aemond who’s gazing into your eyes like you are the stars in the sky, like you are the center of the universe. Maybe if this all works out and there can be no bloodshed there will be no reason to hate him truly.

Suddenly his hand lightly trails down your sides and to the sides of your thighs where he finds himself rubbing circles on your thighs. It is a silent exchange. The eye contact you share being more than enough. Your breath continuous to race as he keeps his eyes on you. one of his hands trailing down your legs and under your dress. Your breath speeds up and your heart quicken, is it even possible for a heart to be beating this fast? Would your heart burst from your chest?

He is a terrible man. An awful one. For being so unaffected while you are panting at a single touch. His hand lays on your thigh as he continues to gaze at you, he stops and you gulp, opening your mouth but unable to speak. He has stripped you of your ability to do anything. You look at him confused why he is not doing anything and then you realize something.

He is waiting for you.

For your queue. for your permission.

You have only heard and read about the affairs between men and women, you have never experienced something like this, he had even taken your first kiss. If you did this it would all be getting too real. Were you truly going to sully yourself like this? It would not technically be sullying yourself as he is to be your husband, no other man is meant to touch you anyway. No man is good to touch you other than him. You don’t want another man to touch you. Only him.

He is surprisingly patient. Not moving his hand an inch. continuing to gaze at you with that same dreamy look. You still cannot get a good read on him, is he truly trying to do this because he holds affection for you or is he merely attempting to manipulate you? had his mother told him to persuade you to get you to submit to him?

You nod to him.

It doesn't matter to you. You want him. Terribly to the point your heart begins to ache and your stomach twists and turns.

He finally begins to move his hand where you are soaked. He merely brushes his fingers against you and you move to grip his forearm tightly staring at him with wide eyes. He continues to simply gaze at you, unable to take your hands off you as he slips past your underwear and shoves a finger inside of you.

You gasp. One of your hands moving to grip his shoulder and pull him closer to you as he lightly begins to wriggle it around, feeling the inside of your walls. You are glad you are in a far away part of the garden for if anyone were to hear you, you would surely be ruined. Yet you couldn't find yourself to care as he pressed his lips against yours in a messy, open mouthed kiss as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of you. You are surely hurting him with how hard you are griping onto his shoulder, put his spare hand slides up your dress to begin squeezing your breasts as you gasp loudly against his lips. His lips leave yours occasionally, instead pressing against your cheeks and around your lips.

His finger quickens in pace where he slips in yet another finger giving you a delicious burn in your stomach. He stretches you out, his hands scissoring against you, his fingers pressing against your tightly walls which grip against his fingers harshly. He can move his fingers freely however, as you are completely drenched, allowing him to easily move within you.

You cannot tell how he is feeling, his eye simply closed as he presses kisses against your face but his face seems as stoic as ever. Though you cannot dwell on it again as he adds a third finger. You did not even know women could take more than one but three? This has your jaw clenching and your eyes shut tightly. He still says nothing and you in return. The only sounds coming are from your moans and gasps. You press your face against the side of his, putting your lips right up against your ear as he continues to pump in and out, you are now able to hear the squelching sound coming out of you leaving you to whine. You should be humiliated.

You continue to whine and moan and groan in his ear. Pressing yourself against him tightly, the burning of your stomach roaring louder and louder. You have no clue what is happening to you, not having heard about this unusual feeling before. You want to question him but you cannot find yourself to break this silence between you.

“Brother!” The two of you freeze. Your eyes shoot open and glance at him who looks at you with the same look, glancing over his shoulder at the direction of the voice. “Brother! Where are you? I know you're here!” He groans and mumbles to himself. His face annoyed as he continue to gaze at him. He slowly slides his fingers out of him and you whine at the now empty feeling, that burning in your stomach dying down.

You watch as he stands. You are unable to move only looking at him in confusion. What was happening? “I will make it up to you.”

He leaves. Turning his back to you and does not spare a single glance as he completely leaves your view. You are left clutching the bench and breathing heavily, the daze not having left you.

What the fuck.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos. 

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[heyhay13]

Lightning Round QnA!

We had over 250 questions in the form and we focused on ones that were very open to anyone in the cast. So specific detail questions got left out :(

Here's a lightning round of questions to answer for y'all and my ask box is open if you have more!

Rae/Heyhay Questions

What happened to Icarus's birds?? We know Rae said he'd take care of them, but with the birds being wacked and Icarus whole memory type thing, what would happen with that.

Sherb and I talked about this a bit and landed on the birds seeking out Rae and he builds an aviary for the strange new little friends following him around. I might even write a fic for it!

Heyhay how long did the scrapbook (shown at the end) take to be made?

I worked on it for nearly a month and a half between organizing with the artists and making it myself!

How did you come up with Vaeh's Name?

It's from Fenris' sister Nevaeh!

Will you continue to cosplay the characters after this?

Absolutely!

To Rae/Hayhay: what was your favorite memory to make in the Always Remember Book?

I think probably all of the wedding details. I loved talking with my friends to plan out the details and outfits SO MUCH and a lot of the poses are based on my own wedding photos!

Are there any plot lines that you wish you could have done or explored more in depth, but couldn't due to time?

We initially had some ideas for finding a few more Telchin temples, including Project Protetus. I really like building the temple/facilities so that would have been fun!!

How did lore planning/pre stream work?

We usually plan out rough ideas for a stream in dms and then meet 30 minutes before a stream to go over everything, dry run some things like flight paths, and do sound checks!

Out of all the characters on fable smp, which one do you think you could win in a fight against?

Ven lol

Will we see other versions of the fable characters in other smp's like Bound?

You might >:3

If your character didn’t ascend, what would they be the god of? And if they did ascend, were there any other domains they could have been the god of other than the domain they got?

Rae's took FOREVER to actually land on. I was really stuck on wanting something that felt more correct than Knowledge and we tossed around a lot of ideas until landing on Wonder.

How much of the relationship constellation was planned?

Literally only Raax and Ocie's original partners (Rust, Jerry, Shawn) were planned! The others came about naturally as the lore progressed.

Did Rae ever get better at baking/cooking?

YES! At least slightly-

How old is Rae in the time period that Rye made in Rae’s epilogue

Not an exact age for Rae, but his epilogue takes place when Vaeh is roughly 4-5 years old.

The first two seasons have “names” (endstone reset and skulk reset) but what would be season three’s?

I like to think it'd be called the "Last Reset"

What is your favourite kind of fanfictions written about your character? (Tropes/themes/etc)

I'm a massive sucker for Hurt/Comfort fics-

Clarification Questions

What was that one gold aura building near the temple of creation in S1?

It was a build from Sherb's hardcore world at that time!

Why did Rae remember Icarus? I thought everyone was supposed to forget but I might’ve misunderstood

Rae remembers Icarus as a child up until when Icarus' first death would have been! Isla would also remember Icarusa as a child as well.

Was the release me book from season one written by fable?

Yes!

What is Haley? She came back from the dead but no body ever said if Midas made her come back or if she was a god.

Midas brought her back, switching her and Fable's places so he would go back into Purgatory

Why couldn’t Haley see quixis’ changes from purgatory?(and fable)

There is no record of Quixis in the Akashic Records. This is also why Icarus is missing from the records in Rae's epilogue!

General Questions

Are you guys gonna do another smp where its everyone as the same cast?

Nope, not with this exact cast at this time, but we all are on a bunch of other smps you can check out! Mer, Bound, Siege, and more!

Is there a reason behind all of the seeds you use in Minecraft? Or is it just the first biome that pops up is the new setting for the season?

We actually look really hard for a good world seed that we like. For season 3, we really wanted a good spot that the tree could be near the ocean and this seed worked out great for that!

Will we be able to have a world file of S3?

YES - it's coming soon!

[piplup335]

Darkheart x reader!

H E L L O, F E L L A S ! ! ! ! ! ! !

*ahem*

I'm back to write! My exam just ended 2h ago, and I'm doing alright! To whoever requested this, I'm so sorry you had to wait so long ;-; I had stuff to do and I had to rush this because I may not be posting for another month or so otherwise ;-;

but yea, enjoy the story! :D

-

Crossroads. Known for being the lively town which joined all four factions together...and the only thing stopping them from engaging in war.

Blackrock, Playground, Lost Temple and Thieves' Den.

For generations, Blackrock had considered themselves sworn enemies with Playground, and the phighters of Playground thought likewise, so the sight of demons from each faction leaving the other alone instead of going at each other's throats in Crossroads was a treat for everyone. 

It also just so happened to be the only place where people of different factions could meet up and relax after a long day of phights. 

Someone from Lost Temple could chat with someone from Playgrounds without any conflicts happening on either side. 

Someone from Thieves' Den could walk into a bar with someone from Blackrock, and that would be perfectly fine on all sides. 

However, Crossroads wasn’t just the number one hangout place for phighters- it was one for the SFOTH deities, too. Especially during their days off. 

And sometimes, they just so happened to be in the places no one would expect them to be. 

Of course, Firebrand was standing in the centre of it all, boasting to demons about his great power and how he ruled over the entirety of Crossroads. 

Other deities hid elsewhere. They watched over Crossroads from the shadows, save for Windforce who went to Banlands to find her son. 

They all had a favourite place to watch Crossroads from. Illumina enjoyed standing at the edge of the Crossroads tower, watching demons move around like ants on a grid. 

Some of the deities’ favourite spots were slightly unusual, however…

…such as underneath a bridge. 

“Freaking finally…”

The weekend was here. You, a phighter, made a living by duelling other demons in “phights”. They were regularly hosted by Dom and Valk, the two famous idols known as Flipside. 

They were born with a silver spoon in their mouth, and you were participating in these phights to maybe, just maybe, make enough from them to ensure you get to live well for the rest of your life. 

You knew you already could, however- because of your lover. 

He had everything. Strength, affluence, hell, he was also well-known around the Inpherno.

He had offered you everything you could ever wish for. He just wanted you to be there with him until the end of time. 

You refused, however- how could you let your loving boyfriend do all the work?

So, you still worked by phighting- you enjoyed the job, anyway. Your boyfriend would even visit sometimes. Just, well- to annoy the hell out of others.

"A little bit of chaos is fun...don't you think?"

You internally cheered at the sight, but everyone else groaned. Even Biograft, despite it being a robot, seemed to tense up, gripping its energy blades harder...

To you, it was a blessing.

To other players, it was a curse...literally.

“Feeling vulnerable…?”

Just then, the enemy Biograft seemed to falter, its lights dimming. Seemed like he got the curse…

“WHAT THE HELL? AM I NOT VULNERABLE ENOUGH ALREADY?”

Those were his last words before getting obliterated by your ally, Hyperlaser…

Your ally, Shuriken, was chasing down Sword, who was on 15 HP. 

“We’re feeling a gust of wind come along…!”

The next thing he knew, Shuriken got blasted upwards…and out of the map. 

Of course, Darkheart would make sure that you were out of harm's way before casting another one of his curses. Though, he wasn’t as merciful with your teammates…

So here you sat, after a long day and a hard battle, snuggled up in your boyfriend’s arms. 

"Darkheart...I'm exhausted..."

"No need to worry, dear...we'll be here..."

You never really understood why your boyfriend always referred to himself plurally, but it was just another one of his quirks that you adored about him. You loved him, and he loved you back.

His one withered wing wrapped itself around your frame- his own special way of hugging you. Another one of his little habits. 

"We just don't want Illumina to get to you, you know...? We're trying not to be too overprotective...who knows what he'd do to you?"

You giggled. Typical Darkheart- always protective of you, fearing for your wellbeing...sparing you from the usual curses he'd inflict on the others- hell, Darkheart would even curse other people if they got too close to his beloved. 

As you fell asleep in your boyfriend's arms, you couldn't help but let out a small smile. Seeing your happy expression, Darkheart let out a small chuckle.

"Sleep well, my dearest..."

This was your life. Yourself, with Darkheart by your side. Sure, there were little disputes or disagreements in your relationship, and sometimes people would laugh at you because Darkheart was so much taller than you. But despite all this...

...you couldn't ask for more.

- thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! this is my second (I think lmao) romance fic, so if you have any feedback do leave it in the comments so I can improve my writing for you guys! :D

[harley-sunday]

Renaissance

Renaissance [noun]

re·​nais·​sance ˌren-ə-ˈsän(t)s  -ˈzän(t)s 

1. capitalized : the period of European history between the 14th and 17th centuries marked by a flourishing of art and literature inspired by ancient times and by the beginnings of modern science 2. often capitalized : a movement or period of great activity (as in literature, science, and the arts) 3. literal translation from French : re-birth

Summary: Charles wins the Monaco Grand Prix.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 765 (a short one, I know)

AN: You know I had to come out of retirement after Charles winning his home Grand Prix. Hope you enjoy this little drabble. Please come yell at me in the comments ♥

Part of Rituals

Charles Leclerc, in 2021, when asked if he has any race rituals: “At every start of the season, until F2, my grandmother used to take my race suits, remove one of the sponsor logos and sew a little cross instead of it. Now grandma is gone, I can’t sew and the ritual is over. I was thinking about keeping a lucky charm in my pocket but then I thought to myself: if you need an object [to feel better], then you are missing something on the mental aspect, so I let it go.”

[Angel of God, my guardian dear,]

The ritual is not over.

You can sew and the ritual is not over. 

Charles took pole today, you can sew, and the ritual is not over.

[To whom God's love commits me here,]

It’s late. It’s late and with the rest of the world asleep you are wide awake, hunched over in a chair, with the red of the Ferrari race suit draped across your legs, and the floor lamp casting a golden glow over your lone figure. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the window earlier, the scene eerily reminiscent of a renaissance painting you saw in the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Nice last year. 

Freddy is sleeping at your feet, tired after spending yet another day barking at race cars from the safety of the balcony. The gray hairs around his nose are becoming more and more prominent, a cruel reminder of his upcoming sixth birthday next month. Except for Freddy’s soft snores, the house is quiet, and it almost feels like a sanctuary. 

[Ever this day, be at my side,]

Modern Formula One suits don’t have sponsor patches, everything is printed on, and so instead of having to decide which patch to remove, you try to find a piece of thread that matches the yellow of the Ferrari logo. There’s no exact match, everything you have is a slightly different shade, and after a few minutes you give up and take out a bobbin with black thread instead. 

It’s been years since you’ve last sewn something but your muscle memory makes feeding the thread through the eye of the needle easy. You pick up the fabric and set to work, using a simple back stitch to sew a cross in the black of the Ferrari horse. No one will even know it’s there, not unless they look closely, and people hardly ever do. It only takes a couple of minutes to finish and once you’re done you run your fingers over the stitches, while you say a quiet prayer. 

Careful not to disturb Freddy, you get up then and drape the suit back over the chair, making sure it looks untouched. You leave the light on, it’s almost morning anyway, and make your way back to the bedroom. 

Charles stirs when you lay down next to him and when you settle into him you can feel him press a kiss to your forehead, “Lucie is back to sleep?” 

For a moment you’re confused, not sure what he means, but then you remember you told him you’d go check on your daughter earlier. You nod and tilt your head back so he can let his lips ghost over yours, “She is. You should be as well, chéri. You’ve got a race to win tomorrow.” 

[To light and guard, Rule and guide.]

Charles takes it all in from the top step of the podium, lets his eyes wander over the sea of people below him, the water in Port Hercule glistening in the distance. He can feel his smile growing wider when he finds his family in the cheering crowd - his mom and his brothers looking at him with watery eyes and soft smiles, and her, with their daughter perched on her hip, biting her lip to keep from crying. He wants nothing more than to hug them, hold them close, and celebrate with them, but he knows that will come later, in the quiet hours after the public celebrations, back in the sanctity of their home.

It’s time for the national anthem and so Charles takes his cap off and places his hand over his heart. When his fingers graze over what he quickly realizes is a cross, embroidered onto the Ferrari horse, he has to swallow back tears. He didn’t see it before the race, doubt anyone has, but now that he knows it’s there he never wants to race without it ever again. 

The ritual is not over and Charles Leclerc is a Monaco Grand Prix race winner.

[trans-androgyne]

hey, thank you for having and running this blog. you're doing the equivalent of gods work.

first, i'm sorry for the amounts of jerk anons you have to deal with. you literally articulate yourself very well and clearly, and still, people will find a way to twist it or not take it seriously. it reminds me of me "arguing" with terfs back in 2022 on twitter. (shudders.)

and second, how do you deal with the constant negativity? i have found myself doomscrolling the transandrophobia tag, and, well, to no ones surprise, my mental health is down the gutter. do you have any tips to deal with it? mainly with the transandrophobia in general? it is more than exhausting existing as a (gnc & enby) trans guy atm, and it's really getting to me. the thing is, I wouldn't mind it if it were non-queer bigots, but the fact it's coming from inside the community is devastating. i am more than hurt. this intense hatred for men and masculinity, queer, trans, or not, is incomprehensible to me. it never does anything good. anyone who says "i hate all men and anything masculine" is definitely going in the "yep that's either a radfem or a radfem hatchling" box. i partially understand as to why- i had a fear of men myself when i still identified as a girl, and slipped into the "all men bad. kill" side of the internet for a short while but ONLY because of this rhetoric ("you need to be afraid because there are men outside." , "men and masculinity are inherently predatory or dangerous")- but i got out of it because i saw how fucked it was eventually (thank goodness)- but nothing should ever be an excuse to excessively hate a gender or masculinity this badly. and its mostly gender essentialist bs anyways imo, so i do not understand it at all...it reminds me of people saying men/mascs cant be asexual because it's "in their nature to be sexual"- because testosterone. its hard. i just wish we all could respect each other. you're either "one of the bad bad evil men" or "noooooo not YOU. you're AFAB!! never!! youre a girl/woman in spirit!!" from my personal experience with terfs/radfems/idiots.

anyways, sorry for invading your anon space with this long rant, but i just wanted to leave this and the question. i hope you have a nice day/night, and thank you for reporting on transandrophobia as much as you do. it's sadly very much needed right now.

Thank you so much, this is such a kind ask to receive. To be honest with you: I don’t handle my mental health very well around it </3 It’s weighed on me pretty heavily these last few months especially. The things keeping me running this blog anyway are my passion for the transmasc community and lovely anons like yourself cheering me up. When it comes to trying to manage it, the most important thing for me has been finding people I can vent to about it who will understand. I’m lucky enough to have a wonderful discord server full of awesome trans people who will talk it through with me, and that’s been a life-saver. Staying offline for a bit and trying to engage in person with people who are unlikely to be transandrophobic towards you can be a nice relief. I catch myself doomscrolling constantly too, and it doesn’t feel great. If you need to set some sort of time limit on your phone even just to remind yourself not to do it, that’s helped me before and might help you too.

Having this much hatred levied at me for my identity from my own community lately has been devastating. I completely understand you. I’ve always been vocal about supporting transfems in particular, so it really hurts to see so many turn against me for speaking up. I understand how the queer community got this way, though. Antimasculinism has been an issue in queer and feminist spaces for ages. I think people are starting to notice it more and understand why it sucks and how much it negatively affects trans men and mascs. It feels like a losing battle sometimes with how much cultural feminism — the Men Bad Women Good flavor of pop feminism — has pervaded our communities and often led to very overt radical feminism that people still can’t always recognize because they don’t know anything about TERFs outside of them hating trans women. I believe the culture will start to shift soon such that people are able to recognize sexism and gender essentialism that harms all genders, and I will be doing my part to help that happen.

[shveris]

collage au with toji, sukuna and satoru living together and it’s surprisingly clean and well kept.

mention of emotional & physical abuse from family members and trauma

toji is the most messy out of the three but sukuna hates dirt so when he finds it he cleans it. satoru is a perfectionist who grew up in a tidy mansion so he always has the need and urge to keep his new environment just as clean — he feels very uncomfortable and restless otherwise.

they fuck around once in a while (yes, literal fucking) but it’s mainly because none of them have the actual mental to have proper relationships and despite satoru’s very extroverted behaviour, he actually hates touching people. he thinks they’re dirty, unsanitary, because he doesn’t know how they live and what their hands and clothes have been touching.

sukuna is clean though, he knows because he regularly buys those very expensive bodywashes and puts all their underwear into another cycle just after the first one is done.

toji is clean since he is kinda trained to adapt to his environment. he eventually even stops punching sukuna when he tries to put lotion on his very dry face after a scorching hot shower and he starts washing his hands when he comes home.

they don’t talk about how all of them have sex with each other at least twice a week — trice, if there’s exam stress — and usually the apartment is filled with bickering.

“six, you told me you’d send me that fucking report an hour ago.” satoru just stares at toji in his doorway and clicks his tongue because, yes, he completely forgot.

“have some fucking manners, dude”, he snaps back but sends him the report. they got thrown into this group project for three months with this emo named choso and a guy named ino, not that any of them gave a fuck. they were just laughing at sukuna because he was stuck with four women staring down at him.

there’re also regular outbursts of sukuna throwing items around — at satoru and toji as well — because he feels threatened. by what? they don’t know. they don’t ask. they just go with it and make a game out of it.

“if one of you hits my face i will actually chop your dicks off” is usually what satoru enters the living room with but when the tv remote slams into his jaw ten minutes later, he can’t help but laugh menacingly and throws himself onto the culprit elbow first.

their evenings are filled with study sessions (sukuna and satoru take their academics very serious and toji is just sitting there because he enjoys watching their facial expressions contort into frustrated confusion), playing video games, sex, uno that almost always ends up with sukuna and toji trying to kill each other, bad horror movies that make sukuna hungry, and some times they’re actually peacefully talking with each other until satoru falls asleep.

almost everyone on campus thinks they are dating and neither of them have an issue with that rumor (“it keeps the weird chicks away” sukuna had said and toji rolled his eyes). they don’t even act like couples, more like competitive boxers with too much testosterone (shoko’s words).

even with sukuna’s constant berates, insults and slurs, he loves cooking and always looks for a chance to brag about it to satoru.

“i bet your private chefs at home ain’t shit in comparison to me” or “the michelin chefs your parents are friends with can only wish to be at my level” or “this is my first time cooking this recipe and i fucking rocked it”

toji doesn’t mind at all, he loves all kinds of food, he’s the opposite of picky. whenever there’s something on satoru’s plate that he doesn’t like, he gives it to toji who will happily eat it for him.

sukuna even makes an effort to learn the recipes to his roommate’s favourite foods, perfects them in a few weeks. making mochi was probably way too much effort but he feels very proud whenever satoru brightens up upon eating the sweet treats. he’s glad toji is on the easier side of all this, the man loves chinese food a lot; dumplings, egg drop soup, lamb skewers and some simple noodle dishes.

toji doesn’t look like it but he enjoys the other two men’s company a lot. they never judge him for who he is, they never expect him to be a certain way, and not once did they ask why on some nights he comes home covered in blood. they just tell him to clean up properly and throw his clothes into the washer for three circles. they don’t ask him why he has that scar on his lips or nag him about that massive one that wraps around the left side of his body.

satoru is curious, his eyes speak volumes, but he never says nothing about it and just traces the tissue with his fingertips after sex. sukuna doesn’t even seem to acknowledge it at all, ignores it almost, but he always tells him to apply more lotion to it after scorching showers together.

grocery runs with them are always a complete mess; satoru only has eyes for sweets, toji grabs the next best instant ramen from the shelves, sukuna is constantly scolding them for not eating more healthy, says both of them would have vitamin deficiency if it weren’t for him.

he absolutely hates going out with them to the store but it’s necessary in a way. it’s a way of bonding, they get to buy everything they need once a week and then don’t have to go there for another seven days, and it makes cooking plans easier — and satoru is there to pay because he’s rich and the other two ain’t.

they also always end up buying a few packs of condoms and lube, much to the cashier’s horrors upon reading “extra large” and “strawberry flavoured”

sukuna and toji are rough, absolutely and utterly wild. satoru often calls sukuna an animal with no other instincts than to bite and breed and tear him inside out whereas toji just always knows how and when to abuse his prostate in the weirdest positions — satoru now has to stretch everyday to keep his limbs flexible.

when toji and sukuna fuck, the bedroom turns into a warzone. there’s bite and scratch marks everywhere on their bodies and when sukuna finally gives in and bottoms, neither of them actually make an effort to stretch him. never goes well. sukuna actually cries but he loves pain so it’s okay because satoru gives toji a really big scolding after and then both of them try to somewhat take care of him.

which also never goes well because all three of them never had good experiences with physical touch, nor do they know how to take care of someone else or themselves.

toji was barely holding himself together after graduation high school, having started some heavy drugs when he was sixteen and he never really grew out of it for years because of his fucked up family or his even more fucked up friends.

satoru was homeschooled, had no friends, didn’t know anyone his age — he had no concept of social life, of interpersonal relationships, pop culture. his face never showed any emotions because he just didn’t feel nothing, he felt hollow. nothing in his life brought him joy. his own mother barely paid any attention to him and when she did, there was nothing but hatred in her words.

sukuna grew up with a mother that had fun torturing him, may it be emotionally or physically. when he was younger, still an only child and his father too busy with work, she’s used him to press out her cigarettes, told him to stay still and then watched his face with great interest. there’s a long list of things that he had to endure and he hates remembering it.

they don’t know how they found each other.

i will deffo write more for this au bc i miss toji and satoru terribly

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A bunch of replies todayyy! Sorry for the wait!

Anonymous asked:

Wha…what is with all the gaslighting discourse?

A waste of our precious time, Anon.

It started with some Anon being frustrated with me talking about Jade being a gaslighter in a hc post about twst boys being horrible to their lovers, and then them calling Rook a gaslighter instead. I was confused about this ask and replied half-jokingly, but the Anon came back trying to explain themselves once more. So I wrote another reply where I stated my position loudly and clearly: I do not agree with that Anon, I will continue drawing and writing Rook and Jade as I please, and I do not like how the Anon approached this topic by basically telling me that because it upsets them personally, I should reconsider how I view the characters. I find this type of rhetoric manipulative and unfair not only to us, but to the rest of people here: I can’t prioritise one person’s trauma over others’. I also really don’t like it when someone tries to assess my personal views on things by the type of fiction that I like and the way I see and portray certain characters. This is literally why we shoo away everyone who acts disgusted because of some of our ships, and this situation is no different to me. “I really don’t like it = this is dangerous” is manipulative, no matter how you cut it.

Anyways, then there was that Anon to whom I replied yesterday! And it was a nice ask, I had fun thinking about what to write. They actually sent their ask a month ago, just as this whole thing was happening, but I took my time because I was busy, but wanted to reply properly. Just like I said before, I love talking about characters a lot, and even if I disagree with someone, as long as they aren’t trying to force their point of view on me or imply that I don’t get it or I am stupid, I like hearing different interpretations of characters. Even if it feels completely off to how I view it, I can appreciate or at least respect it if they respect the way I do things. And don’t imply that I don’t get it or I am stupid.

So yeah, this is everything I have to say about this lol But you can read more on this topic; I believe there are plenty of other posts on this site, apparently this discussion has been going on for years. I really have no idea what there is to even discuss though.

Anonymous asked:

I know you haven’t talked about twst cast being parents for awhile, but I couldn’t help but come up with an azuide kid scenario. Imagine the kid is constantly feeling so much pressure from Azul’s expectations that when they fail a test after enrolling into NRC, the kid just SNAPS, overbloting and having a complete breakdown. And Ortho gives Azul and Idia a look that screams “See? I TOLD you so!”

It really has been a while! We don’t really think about family topics all that often though, so I guess it’s not very surprising lol

Thank god AzuIde kid has Ortho around because these two aren’t at all helpful with Idia hiding in his room for the majority of time and Azul almost being the second Riddle’s mom lol If it takes less time for them to overblot than it did for poor Riddle, it’s going to be very impressive. ESPECIALLY if the kid has Shroud blood, which means that they shouldn’t be able to overblot easily, if at all…

This is some great parenting right here.

Anonymous asked:

How do you think diasomnia would celebrate silver's birthday :)? I feel like Lilia would end up doing the least most birthdays,,, where he just ends up having sex, doing what he wanted anyway while barely being nicer to him than usual. Silver would be so grateful still lol

Anon, I am so sorry because I didn’t reply in time I completely missed the time when it would be perfect…. Sweet Silver, my precious fellow Taurus, I have failed you. 😔 But it’s better late than never!

I feel like Silver mentioned that they celebrate it together every year and take a picture together, and to be honest, I think Lilia actually cares a lot about making Silver’s birthday feel special. Even thinking back on how he made sure Silver would experience trick-or-treating on Halloween despite not having any neighbours, Lilia seems like someone who likes doing this type of thing. Silver himself doesn’t really care much though.

This doesn’t mean that Silver wouldn’t be very grateful even for a bare minimum of course, I think he gets this feeling of “there’s more?” every year after only receiving this “doing the least” level of attention from Lilia at first. Maybe Lilia would try to prank him as if he forgot about his birthday, but… Silver himself wouldn’t remember, so this isn’t much of a prank :(

Also ALSO! When it comes to sex, you are right; Lilia would present it as something special for Silver only, but he would ABSOLUTELY end up just going whatever he himself wanted to do lol

Anonymous asked:

Have you heard how horny Rollo is for the bell tho? Now that's a paraphilia if I've ever seen one. No clue how it would even work but mark my words, that boy will either fuck the bell or get fucked by the bell one way or another

+

Anonymous asked:

Rollo anon here, Malleus sneaks into the belltower to get railed by the gargoyles and comes face to face with Rollo getting off to the bell

Anon THIS PIECE OF ROLLO LORE IS SUCH A TREASURE (in the most unhinged horny unholy way possible). Just as with Gargoyles (both with Rollo and with Malleus), this is something that’s been on the back of my mind since we’ve heard this information lol There has to be a way… The bell is magical for a reason…

God Rollo would absolutely hate being interrupted and SEEN by Malleus of all people. Wait until he hears about the reasons why Malleus is even there, heheh.

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

True, Sebek is too hard on (pun intended) for Malleus to slip up unless he's REALLY distracted. Also can you two imagine...Lilia physically shows Sebek how to move using Silver as the example and then letting Sebek try right after, guiding Sebek's hips every once in a while to correct his rhythm and or movements he gets to stick it in.

(this is related to this post)

I’ll be honest, this is so stupidly easy to imagine that I don’t know if we should judge ourselves or Lilia for this LOL

He just wants to ensure that he has taught these boys everything that they need to know… This is a very important part of their training. Sebek is becoming a man. 🥹

Anonymous asked:

Yes yes, Jack has a knot, does that mean Leona and Che'nya have barbs? Is Ruggie's grandma packing? Twins in merform with no balls? Followup question: Who would be most into all the different kind of dicks?

Yes yes yes and yes. Someone also mentioned a possibility of Malleus having two dicks lol I always forget about all that stuff when it matters (i.e. when I actually draw it), and it sucks; we need more beastboy dicks! And Ruggie’s grandma too I guess… powerful woman :(

Now that I think about it, I really don’t draw balls when I draw Twins in their merform. But with merman in general, in our case it’s usually something that makes no sense biologically lol but at least it’s fun! And very hot.

As for the follow-up question, damn it I feel like the only correct answer here is Rook fucking Hunt, but since we don’t really see him on the receiving end of things, he is just here to appreciate.

Also you know, wild card? Riddle. He just isn’t aware of it yet. Also Idia because he has no choice and he’s seen too much weird porn.

[archangeldyke-all]

hi hi hii sweetheart. Oh my lord. Your writing is literally so good, you honestly deserve the best, mind blowing, legs shaking, knees bucking, cant even talk orgasm. I'm so sorry. someone had to say ittttt. But I was wonderingggg😋 could you maybe do a drabble with reader and sevika are selling their house because maybe they have a little fucker on the way and they need more room, so they are goin through the house one last time and sevika starts js randomly naming out all her favorite times they have had sex in each place of the house...and she recalls like Hella details not even reader remembers. (Reader has pregnant mush-brain.) But could sevika be like..."wanna find a place we haven't fucked before..?" AND ITS LIKE THE HARDEST THING TO FIND BECAUSE THEY HAVE LITERALLY DONE IT EVERYDAY. But they end up finding a spot and sevika gives reader defo on the top 10 best sex they have had in that house. Could sevika maybe have a penis or even js her strap on in this...?:3 ANYWAY I WOULD LOVE THIS BUT IF YOU CANT DO IT ITS OKAY TOO!! I love you so so much your writings literally amazing!!!

this is so cute i love it!! (and thank u so much, i'm so glad u like my stuff eeek!!<3)

men and minors dni

you should probably be feeling a little more sentimental and sad about leaving behind the house you and sevika have been living in for seven years now.

these four walls have been your home through some of the best days of your life: meeting sevika, marrying sevika, realizing you're pregnant with sevika's baby-- it all happened here. you guys built your lives together here, and overtime, they became so intertwined and connected that you've become a 'we' rather than a 'me.'

but in all honesty-- you're thrilled to be leaving.

you hate this house. the floors are slanted, the roof is leaky, the windows aren't weatherproofed, so it's freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer. you haven't been able to take a bath in the tub for three years now because there's cracks in the caulk and any water above an inch deep starts to flood the bathroom. it's a shitty house, and you've been wanting to leave for years.

sevika's always been the one to convince. it's not that she loves your house, it's that she doesn't want to put the effort into finding a new one. but, upon the two of you finding out that your family will be growing in a few short months, sevika finally relented.

and now, just ten minutes down the street from this place, you've bought a beautiful family home, big enough for the two of you, your future baby, and whatever other family members (both human and animal) that might spawn in the future.

your inspector gave it an A+, the yard is spacious, the floors are level, there's not just one, but three bathtubs,-- and the one in the main en-suite is like a hot tub-- big enough for you and your wife to fit and lounge. you're so fucking excited to move in, that you're not even a little sad to leave behind the old space.

sevika's been eyeing you with worry all day as she lugs boxes and furniture to the moving van. she's waiting for your pregnancy hormones to hit you and for you to become a blubbering mess at the thought of leaving behind your place. you can't blame her, your pregnancy hormones can and have turned you into a puddle of tears over much less. just last night you cried for thirty minutes because one of the celery stalks in the bunch you'd bought was wilted, and all his celery friends were still green and healthy, going on living without him.

but, really, you're fine.

she's not buying it.

"sevika, for the last fucking time, i'm okay!" you groan. the house is mostly empty now, just a few boxes and some lamps left. sevika's taking a snack break, one of her arms wrapped around you as she looks at you with concern.

"i'm just saying babe, we can't come back after tonight, so if you need any, like, sentimental pictures, or a good cry--"

"oh my god!" you laugh, elbowing her. "sevika, i'm okay, really. i'm so fucking excited to go, i'm so excited for our future. i'll cherish the memories this place gave us forever, but i don't really care about the place itself." you shrug.

sevika studies you carefully, and then she pouts a bit. "it doesn't make you a little sad?" she asks. you raise your eyebrow, surprised to hear your usually-so-stoic wife is feeling ...sentimental?

"what makes me sad?"

"babe, this house is the first place we ever fucked in!" she whines. you burst into laughter. sevika points to the empty bedroom behind her. "you're not sad to leave that room behind? after all the times i fucked you into incoherence in there?" she asks, her eyes wide and sparkly like she's actually a little emotional. you can't stop laughing as you reach up to cup your wife's cheek.

"honey, you're gonna be fucking me into incoherence for the rest of our lives." you remind her. sevika smiles a bit at this.

"yeah, but... we had so many good times in this house." she sighs wistfully. you chuckle, pecking her cheek.

"we did. remember when you dented the drywall with the headboard?" you ask. sevika giggles a bit, her gaze snapping back down to yours, her hand reaching around your body to start gently stroking your ever-growing belly.

"'course i remember, i had to plaster it back up myself." she chuckles. "remember when we almost started a fire when we were getting kinky with the wax?" she asks. you blink up at her, drawing a blank and pouting.

"no." you whine. "tell me, it sounds hot." you demand. your pregnancy's been blessedly healthy, but the one symptom that's hit you hard is your baby-brain. sometimes, you're just total mush in the head. sevika's been patient and kind each time. right now, she just smiles salaciously at you and presses you against the counter.

"you don't remember?" she asks. "our second anniversary, we wanted to try wax play? you got the special lotion candles and everything, wore those pretty lacy panties i ruined last year on your birthday, and i let you tie my hands up." you smile, the memory slowly coming back to you, heat building between your legs as she speaks. "anyways... it was goin' real good until i kicked over an unattended candle." she whispers.

you break into laughter-- the memory suddenly flooding back to you. "shit, i miss that blanket." you snort, remembering the way the comforter seemingly spontaneously combusted.

"you were screaming as you tried to pat out the fire, and i was tied to the fucking bed that was goin' up in flames-- i thought i was gonna fuckin' die." sevika cackles.

you snort, and kiss her cheek. "i saved you, though." you brag. she laughs.

"yeah, you did."

"c'mon, tell me another." you demand.

sevika raises an eyebrow. "another what?"

"another sex memory." you say. sevika giggles. "they're all fresh and new to me, i like remembering how fun and hot we are."

"hmm..." sevika thinks, her eyes darting around the house. she snatches your wrist and drags you to the bathroom. "i'm still pretty convinced i got you knocked up in here six months ago."

"which time?" you ask. sevika smirks, kissing your cheek and pinching your ass.

"exactly." she teases. you snort. "no, but for real, there was this one time-- i'd just finished my workout and you'd had a big glass of 'shower wine'" sevika puts this in air-quotes, teasing the habit you indulge in each night, "and i fucked you against the sink so good that you had to get right back in the shower once i was done with you. fuck, i came my fucking brains out, honey, i couldn't speak for like ten minutes afterwards." your thighs clench a bit at the memory, your stomach bursting into butterflies at the way sevika's voice has gotten all heavy. her eyes are dark when she looks over at you. "and then, boom. two weeks later you're pregnant." she says, grinning.

you giggle. "you think that was the one, huh?" you ask. she nods.

"what's your theory?"

"i always thought it happened when you fucked me on the couch while we were watching that stupid cop-buddy movie." you say. sevika laughs.

"so you remember that-- a lazy, unromantic fuck after a long weekend of both of us lounging and not showering-- but you don't remember the good ones?" she asks. you just giggle and shrug again.

"they're all good ones with you, baby." you say. sevika's teasing look melts away, something needier taking it's place. you know what she's going to ask for, so you speak before she can. "you think there's a place in the house we haven't fucked?" you ask.

sevika blinks, considering it for a second. "i dunno."

"i wouldn't wanna leave the house with a room un-fucked in, sev, that would be a real shame."

"fuck, it really would, wouldn't it?" she asks. you snort and nod.

"so?" you ask. "you think we've checked all the boxes or can you think of a place we might need to--"

"the attic. you think you can crawl up there in your state?" she inturrupts you, rubbing your stomach as she eyes the little hatch in the ceiling of the hall. you burst into laughter.

"the attic!?"

"c'mon!" she laughs, jumping up and grabbing the string, pulling the stairs down. "you go first, i'll catch you if you fall. she says, steadying your hips as she walks you up the first few steep steps. you can't stop laughing as your wife basically herds you up into the attic.

you've never been up here, execpt for the few times you've had to put a pot down during a rain storm to stop the leaks from coming down into your home. it's dingy and dusty, and you can't even stand up straight-- you have to crawl to the end of the small storage space so sevika can fit up beside you.

she seems just as disgruntled with her choice as you are, but she's determined to make it work, quickly stripping herself of her shirt and laying it down behind you as a blanket. you giggle. "lay down." she requests, holding the back of your head as you lower yourself down so you don't bonk it on any beams or bars.

you can't see her like this. you're flat on your back, and your stomach is huge. you don't know what she's planning, so it's a shock when sevika starts tugging at your pants.

you burst into giggles, lifting your hips up to help her. "what's your plan here, babe?" you ask as she starts kissing your bare legs.

she hums against your thigh, considering your question. she trails a hand up your thigh, teasing your cunt with a feather-light touch, before lifting her mouth from your leg to speak.

"'m gonna get you knocked up again." she says.

you burst into laughter, and you can see sevika lift up from between your legs to admire your smile. you grin down at her, and widen your legs. "give it your best shot, baby." you choke out between laughs.

sevika, grins, and then ducks back down to disappear beneath your tummy and bury her face in your cunt.

fuck, you're horny. the baby's been giving you crazy hormones, and while sometimes that means you can cry at sad celery, other times it means you're so insanely horny you could cum from a strong breeze.

"oh, fuck, baby!" you cry as sevika buries her tongue inside of you. she hums, reaching up to start working her fingers in the mix.

"gonna cum already?" she grunts before ducking back down and sucking your clit. you smack your hand against the dusty floor beneath you-- too round to reach down and tug her hair like you want to.

"fuck, 'm gonna cum all over your fuckin' face, sev." you whine, your brain turning to mush as you get closer. she groans against you at your words, and you take it as a sign to just let your mouth run. "'y feel so fuckin' good, 'y fuck me so good, shit, sevika, sev!" you scream as you cum.

before you can even ride out the first wave of your high, sevika's jumping on top of you to mount you so quickly that her head smacks against one of the low hanging beams in front of you.

you gasp-- still cumming and horrified at the loud "SMACK!" that rings out as you watch your wife's head collide with the beam-- then you burst into pitying, whiny giggles as sevika curses.

"shit!" she groans, reaching up to hold her forehead. you reach up to cup her face, laughing and shivering and somehow still cumming.

"are you okay?" you giggle, pulling her down to kiss the bruise already forming on her forehead. she grunts.

"i'm fine."

"liar." you giggle. you tilt her head from side to side, giving her pupils a good look as a half-assed concussion exam. "poor baby. need me to take you to the urgent care? see if you got a concussion?"

"i'm fine. just need to put my dick in you." she grunts.

you laugh, but shut your legs before she can sink into you. she huffs and glares up at you, and you pinch her chin. "remind me to check you out for real once we're done, okay?" you ask. she nods. you glare at her, knowing she won't. "sevika, you're my brain until the baby comes, i don't care if you don't want me to remember, you really gotta remind me. if you have a concussion and die because i let you fuck me instead of taking you to the hospital-- how am i supposed to explain that to the baby?" you ask.

sevika groans. "okay! okay! i know! ''re you gonna lemme fuck you or what?" she asks.

you pucker your lips, and sevika's annoyance melts as she swoops down to kiss you. you hum happily and open your legs, smiling up at your wife. "okay." you agree. sevika grins, and then she sinks into you with one smooth thrust.

you both gasp, your open mouths just a breath apart from each other as sevika starts to work her hips against yours. "fuck." you whine. sevika smirks down at you.

"fuck." she agrees.

your thighs are shaking-- her cock fills you up perfectly, like she's made for you, made for stretching you just right. each of her thrusts is accompanied by a wet smack, and you bury your face against sevika's shoulder in embarrassment as the wet sounds grow louder. she chuckles.

"you've been fuckin' leaky since i knocked you up. your cunt's so fuckin' needy, isn't it? already put a baby in it and it's just droolin' for more." she grunts against your ear. you cum the second the words leave her mouth, your nails sinking into her shoulders as you shake apart. sevika grins down at you. "fuck, it's so fuckin' cute how easy you are when you're carryin' my kid. i just put it in babe, you're already cumming?" she teases again.

you bite her neck, relishing in the way her breath hitches as you try to collect yourself, then hiking your leg up over her hips and gripping her hair in your hands. "it's your fault." you whimper as you try to catch your breath. "you knocked me up 'n now i'm fuckin' stupid and horny and-- and you feel so good." you whine.

sevika shivers on top of you, and you tug her hair harder.

"'m yours, baby." you whimper. "all yours."

that's the final nail in the coffin-- sevika screams a "fuck!" as she cums at your words. you grin, clenching around her cock and giggling at the way her arms nearly give out beneath her. "you're an evil woman." she sighs appreciatively. "i love you so much."

you laugh, and sevika ducks down to kiss your exposed neck. "'m your evil woman." sevika's dick makes one more feeble twitch inside of you at your words, the reminder that you're hers. you giggle in delight at the feeling.

"damn right you are." she mumbles, grinning.

you sigh as the euphoria of your orgasms wears off and the hard floor beneath you starts to kick in. "you might need to carry me back down the attic steps."

sevika bursts into giggles. "you might need to take me to the hospital. i can't tell if i'm seeing stars because i just came so hard or if it's a concussion."

you groan, and sevika muffles her giggles against your neck.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[blacklegsanjiii]

i'm not really a sanji girlie but i've been watching skypeia so. what if skypeian sanji au (idk how tjis would work but maybe he escapes germa thru one of the other entrances to skypeia that are referenced? or he has skypeian heritage on his mom's side. idk i just had the thought of sanji with wings and antennae and my brain went brr)

There is a Skypiean!Sanji here. However this has been something I've wanted to expand upon, especially in the context of loved!Sanji. So here we go!

Skypeian!Sanji whose mother and father rule a kingdom in the North Blue and is a prince with basically no chance at the throne as he's the fourth born child and the third born son, but he has wings and antennae like his siblings and mother. His mother is Skypeian and teaching them the language as they prepare to head for the East Blue. Sanji knows what they are, there is no hiding it after the failures of their forefathers.

They're attacked as they cross over and they're doing their best to defend themselves when Sanji is grabbed from his hiding spot, the guards slaughtered in front of him as he is dragged out of a window and his mouth covered, muffling whatever screams came out of his mouth as he is ripped from his family and home. Sanji is held prisoner for months and he doesn't know if his family is going to come for him or if he's just dead to them.

The people holding him put him in the helmet and tie his wings down cover them and taunt him for months and there's nothing he can do except cry and remember the stories his mother told him of the All Blue and Skypiea and all of the fun he had with his siblings and father. He's in there for a long time, so long that he lost count until pirates attack the ship and he's dragged out of his cell he is screaming and crying and the pirate with his braided mustache stomps on his helmet hard enough to open the jaw part.

Then the ship goes down and Sanji wakes up on the rock with the pirate and is staring at him and he stares back as he's given a small bag of food and sent to the other side of the rock. He's waiting for a ship to come get them and hopes it's his family but they don't come. No one does. For months. He's waiting for everyone to come get him. Sanji goes and finds the man, lacking a leg with a bag of treasure and not food, Sanji is so frustrated and he cries again as the man watches him rip the jacket off his body and move a knife to one of his wings. Zeff stops him and pulls him close and tells him not to be dumb, those are more precious than his leg. Sanji loses his knife to the man.

When they are saved Zeff makes sure no one comments on the small boys wings, they work on getting the helmet off and everyone is surprised at the antennae sticking out of his matted blond hair and the swirly eyebrow that everyone realizes he's not supposed to be there. Zeff keeps the boy with him and refuses to let him be alone really. The kid doesn't talk about his family as what is canon continues, the only difference is Sanji covers his antennae. Even after he joins the crew. Everyone finds out over time though. Nami and Luffy and chopper find out on Drum, Robin on Skypiea when she hears the story of one of their girls running off with a prince who looks a lot like their cook. Usopp and Franky during Ennies Lobby/Water Seven. Brook on thriller Bark.

No one brings it up to the cook, lets him bring it up to them, though Luffy will preen his wings because they're so soft when Sanji is shirtless and not hiding them under his shirts and such. Sanji doesn't actually know what to do with how soft everyone is being with him. Zoro finds out on Sabaody when Sanji takes a particularly hard kick to the back and sees blood soaking through and someone shouts about his wings. They don't get to talk until after the time skip. When Sanji decides to forgo his bandana and coat in favor of his extra bits being free and not cramped.

Everyone always asks him why he didn't stay in Skypiea and he's like 'i know literally no one there, I have no idea who my family is there, they hated what my mother did' and just leaves it at that and things still go as Canon. Until Zou where there's a singular member of the Royal Family of Germa, not in anything from the 66, just her royal outfit as she tries to calm down the Strawhats, that Sanji is fine. She is doing well in taking their anger and the fact they keep saying she kidnapped the cook when she didn't. Her brothers did.

So the rescue team goes with Pink and meets Sanji's family who are also dealing with the Big Mom pirates. Pink unpins her antennae as they arrive and are let into the castle and led to a main sitting room where Sanji is being preened by an older woman and a man is laughing as three other Sanji's with different hair keep talking about the beast pirates and how Big Mom is also after Sanji after Fishman Island and as a swipe to them. Luffy yells and snaps to Sanji who catches him and curses him.

"This is him? How charming!" The woman coos as she pats Luffy's cheek.

"Yes, this is my captain, Luffy." Sanji sighs.

"You stole my cook!" Luffy snaps at her.

"Oh dear, he's possessive isn't he?" She laughs lightly. "My apologies, our children were so excited to be reunited they didn't seem to take into account what repercussions there could be." She apologizes.

"And who might you all be?" Nami asks with a frown.

"My apologies, I am King Judge, this is my wife Queen Sora's and our children. Princess Reiju, our oldest and her younger brothers, the quadruplets and princes: Ichiji, Niji, Sanji whom you already know, and Yonji who is our youngest." The older man smiles kindly.

"You're a prince?!" Nami, Brook, and Chopper yell at him.

"I haven't been since I was eight?" Sanji asks with a look to his mother.

"Oh, you still are. Besides we seem to have a common enemy in Big Mom." Sora smiles.

"So you're the Skypiean who ran away?" Chopper asks her as they're led to a dining room to eat and Judge talks to Nami about things they can provide short term aid in the fight, not men but equipment. As they're prepping to leave a few days later they're staring Big Mom attacks and the crew and Germa begin fighting as Jinbei shows up.

When they escape and make it to Wano and the crew is gathered Luffy and Chopper tells everyone. The story of Vinsmoke Sora running with a Sea Dweller, their family, the lost prince who became a pirate. Sanji shrugs as Jinbei laughs heartily as that story, at least the first half, had been around for a long time. Over twenty five years at least.

"Yeah, that's about when my parents met. Hence the appearance." Sanji shrugs.

"Amazing." Jinbei laughs harder.

[sciderman]

im so happy for you that you have a possible reason/cause for your brain itch!!!! i hope the tumor removal goes superduper smoothly. Do they know how long its been present/growing???????? how did you find out??? <- you obviously do not have to answer these personal medical questions lmao im just!!!! so curious and excited for you.

from what i've discussed with the docs it's been there for a LONG time... they say this sort of thing might take up to a decade to develop - it doesn't happen overnight!

i think i started noticing symptoms about maybe... 7 years ago? literally as soon as i started working full-time, maybe. my first job stressed me out so much and i cried underneath the tables at 8pm because i couldn't leave the office, i still had so much to do. i was leading up an entire ass animation department at 20 years old. bad. awful. that's when i started depending on things to get me through the day. my body started feeling awful. i thought it was anxiety, or me just being weak, i guess. i don't know if stress created the tumor, or the tumor created the stress - (well, it's the latter now) i think it's probably both, but all the research i've done and what the doctors have said is that there's just - some people with a genetic predisposition for it.

it's funny - i never miss a deadline, and i'm really really good at my job, always. i never let anyone down, ever, at the cost of my own sanity, and i seem to always, always have it put-together when i'm dealing with people - i have the constant consensus from everybody around me that i'm the most cheerful person to work with on this here planet earth - but apparently, my body was falling apart underneath it all - which i failed to recognise, because outwardly i was holding it together so well, and figured it was just normal to cry all the time when nobody was looking.

i started really noticing it after taking on a lot of freelance work on top of my day job – i was really doing very hot, and did these amazing projects for some really amazing clients who sought me out for being amazing (i am amazing) - but naturally, had consecutive nights of no sleep, and quick deadlines - and INVOICING... screams. and just, realised - after taking those jobs that - my heart did not stop pumping afterwards. my heart was still racing a mile a minute, even after all those jobs were done and dusted and ever-so-loved and appreciated by very happy clients. my heart. wouldn't. stop.

i figured it was MAJOR anxiety, and sought out some counselling sessions, hoping they'd help. i relayed my woes. i said i'm worried i'm not resting enough. i'm not sleeping enough. my heart rate won't go down. they said "oh. not everybody needs 8 hours sleep, don't worry about it. everyone's different." - for some reason that reassured me. i thought it was okay. okay. i don't need rest. maybe my body's just different and doesn't need rest. maybe that's why i wake up at 6am every morning without fail. i just don't need sleep, i guess. (bad advice.)

so – everyone is telling me i'm okay. i should just get on. you're barely sleeping? that's fine, you probably don't need it. your heart is pumping? that's healthy. your heart SHOULD pump, idiot. get back to work.

i felt very unhappy at work - i felt like i was stagnating - so i moved job, last year. i moved job to one that was so, so much more fast-paced. i thought the excitement and change would do me good - but i've been facing maybe - 3 deadlines a day? vs my previous one-deadline-a-month arrangement. and i think it broke me. i needed to depend on so many unhealthy habits to get me through the day. i needed like 6 energy drinks, 3 coffees, i'd have the shakes, i'd have the jitters, i'd feel like i was going to fall apart every single day.

and then, one day, i did.

one week last year i doubled over - my body was in so much pain that i couldn't sleep, i couldn't eat, and worst off - i couldn't work. it was the first time i'd taken sick leave - i couldn't function. after being on antibiotics that didn't work, i eventually went into the emergency room because i just couldn't sleep. i couldn't do anything. i didn't care if they put me down, i wanted the pain to end.

she was a kidney stone. her name was sharon (sharon stone) - i suspect it was all the energy drinks that made her. i've dealt with her now. but during the process, the doc pulled me aside, and he said "dear. do you have any pain in your other kidney?"

i said... no............... why?

doc said "ah. problem for another time."

so, once sharon was dealt with, obviously i had to chase up on that doctor's ominous warning. i said "WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY OTHER KIDNEY!!"

you have a tumor, dear. his name is lamar. he's on your right adrenal gland, and we suspect he's messing up all your hormones.

i did my own research, and turns out all these crazy, mysterious symptoms i've been having all line up - so i chased, and chased, and chased.

the doctors didn't take me seriously at first. because i guess i'm not in pain, and i handle it so well. i'm still so strong. i'm a fighter, i guess. whatever. but, turns out...

it's worth it to chase. your life might depend on it. i'm so glad i did, because there's an end to my suffering (dear god, i hope) - but, guys, if your heart won't slow, and you chronically can't relax, and you feel like there are bees in your brain - that's the time to do some research. it isn't normal, actually. and sure - it might not be a tumor, but - kid, you need some support. you need some help. you need to ask some questions. it's not okay for that to be your baseline. your body needs to rest. it needs to rest. even if i have to force it to. it has to rest.

right now i'm in a major stressed way, and i broke down and cried. i'm in the middle of a freelance job, and in the middle of an interviewing process for a new full-time job, and still working my current full-time job with 3 deadlines a day, and my surgery is next week. and i feel like crying. all the time.

i can't wait for rest. i hate that i literally have to be hospitalised to get it. but, i'll get it. i'm going to rest so fucking hard.

[cottoncandyswisherz]

psycho hoe

all the chapters will have the same pics of her in the pool and him in the wife beater. they have nothing to do with the contents of the chapter itself im just a lazy bum

also layla not gon be here long so im not boutta find sb to be fer face claim

chris x dealer!oc

warnings: toxic relationship (not with tasia), swearing, mentions of sex

chris hated cursing at women. he strongly believed in the difference between cursing with women in casual conversation and cursing at them in order to refrain from driving his fist into the wall.

"you're so stupid! you sit there and smile at the camera and roll your eyes in that way that all these BITCHES go crazy over and then you just sit there all day and do NOTHING while there are other women who want what i have!" his girlfriend of 4 months, layla, was droning on about his fans or whatever the fuck. "look at this!" she shoved her phone in his face. he leaned back and ran his hand over his freshly shaved jaw. "they're literally mocking me on the internet. they made a COMPILAT-"

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" chris was at his breaking point. "first of fucking all, our fans are literally teenagers. 15 year old girls. i want them just as much as nick wants a girlfriend. second, i told you this would happen. maybe if you weren't such a fucking idiot and didn't FORCE me to tell them that we were together, you wouldn't have gotten your feelings hurt." he watched the tears well in her eyes and thought how he couldn't give less of a fuck.

he sighed and began to speak as non-chalantly as possible. "if you're gonna do the whole manipulative 'you hurt my feelings' shit you can go. you literally just called me stupid, after whining about how literal high schoolers are making fun of you. you're nineteen years old. grow up and get over it."

"fuck you chris." she sniffled and gathered her things, and marched (literally marched) to the front door.

with that chris got up and walked towards nicks room. nick always knew what to do in these situations. but when chris entered his brothers room, he heard a female giggle. it wasn't madi's or anyone else he'd recognize.

"hold on chris just walked in." nick set his phone face down and looked to his brother with a 'what's up' look on his face.

"who're you on the phone with?" chris questioned.

"tasia." nick answered with a shrug. "you remember her right? from the party last week?"

do i remember her? chris thought to himself. i fucking wish i could forget her.

"oh yeah." chris played his fascination off. "hey tasia!" he called out, then returned his attention to his brother. "i need to talk to you."

"oh shit." nick picked his phone up and told tasia he had to go and hung up. now all his attention was on chris. "shoot."

"so layla-"

nick interrupted chris with a groan "this bitch again?"

"shut up. anyway. layla was bitching about how the fans are picking on her and how they make edits of me or whatever and i was sitting there listening to it because i don't really care. the fans are gonna do what they want regardless of what we say."

"right." nick agreed.

"right. so i was just sitting there thinking about whatever when she shoved her phone in my face. and that's when i got pissed off."

"you should have bitch slapped her to mars." nick said.

"nick. come on bro." chris laughed and continued. "so i yelled at her told her that this was on her because i told her that this would happen. and how stupid it was to be jealous of kids. and she started crying like she always does. and i kind of felt bad but then i remember what you told me about manipulation and things like that so i told her to leave."

"i just wanna say that i've been told you that i hate her and that she's psycho." nick began his speech with an i told you so. "anyway. i would tell you drop her dumb ass but i know you're not gonna do that. so my official advice is to to call her in the morning and just talk to her. tell her that the fans are gonna do and say whatever comes to their heads and to not listen to them because they have nothing to do with how you feel about her."

chris thought the situation over and decided that nicks advice was probably the safest option.

chris lay in matts bed, who was sound asleep beside him. he stared at his girlfriends contact. he hated this shit. but it was what it was and he had to do what he had to do.

he tapped the call button and place the phone to his ear.

"hello?" chris couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes at the sound of his girlfriends voice. it was ridden in fake heartbreak and phony sorrow.

"hey." was all he could muster up in response. 

"chris, baby. are you still mad?"  

"baby?" chris mouthed and shook his head. he physically could not do this so early in the morning. "no lay, im not mad."

"good. can i come over? i wanna talk this out with you. i hate it when we fight." 

"then maybe shut the fuck up sometimes." is what chris wanted to say. instead he said. "yeah i wanna talk too. but come later tonight at like 6. nick wants me and matt to go with him to run some errands"

"of course baby. i love you."

"i know."

"byeeee" chris ended the call before he could here the smooching sound she always made when they got off the phone. 

now you're probably thinking, "why does young christopher stay with this woman when he so obviously is annoyed by her existence?" and the answer to that is, he didn't want to deal with the drama he knew she would start on the internet. 

had layla not made him hard launch their relationship after a month of being official, he'd have no issue cutting ties with her. but she put the pussy on him and before the post-nut clarity kicked in, she asked and he agreed like a dummy. 

you're also probably thinking, "why did he get with her in the first place?" and the answer to that is layla is a great actress. oscar worthy honestly. she seemed like a semi-normal person. she made him laugh, she was a good fuck, and she kept him from sleeping until 2 pm. and that was enough for him. he didn't love her or anything but he used to like her. 

now the sound of her name brought dread into his heart. but chris was nothing if not self-preservative. so hes gonna ride this shit out until he has no choice but to end it. 

chris was drawn out of his thoughts by his second oldest brother bursting through the cracked door. "matt, chris get the fuck out of bed. i have to go to target, then return shit to tasia, and then i gotta take pictures for fucking instagram. and we need more pictures for this weeks photo dump because so far all we have is two and theyre both of chris so..."

"are you done?" chris asked. "all you had to say was you were ready to go."

"fuck off. come on its already 10." nick responded by picking up mr. wrinkleton and chucking him at matts head. "matt, get up!"

"HEY! don't do that shit again." matt shouted at his brother, who was already on his way out the door.

niyah speaks💗 okay this is the second chapter im posting tonight. imma do one more because i just want yall to get the vibe of the series then imma post like every few days. i really dont know but ik i had these chapters ready for today so yall gonna get them today.

remember that if no one loves you, mommy loves you (and by mommy i mean me)

taglist: @liafilmed

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[lornasaurusrex]

I miss you Lorna… this is such a mess

This is an old message and I had several other similar messages, but I miss you guys and hope you’re all doing well!! I’m sorry to see nothing has improved.

I saw I was kindly mentioned by @awesomefringey and some other commenters the other day, so just wanted to log in and say hello and log back out for a few more months. 💕

Sending so so much love to all of you. Take care of yourselves and each other, please.

The video is still on YT.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I miss my old coworkers!!! I miss having friends at work instead of passive aggressive assholes who don’t want to train me and then get annoyed when I don’t know things and act like my very existence irks them!!!!

[yardsards]

living alone is all fun and games til you have a medical emergency and there's no one there to help you to the hospital