#need to make it clear this blog is centered around being not just for female inserts.

[l0verb0t]

going back to being more active, but I think I'm going to completely redo the info posts. (and add tags like "x reader" so they can be found)

[cerberuscaeli]

Short Zhongli x f!reader drabble

This was initially written as a drabble in an ask for a blog I follow (give @zhongrin a follow, also Rin I'll dedicate this one to you <3), and after some encouragement, I have decided to post it on my writing blog as well. So enjoy reading and please don't crush me with a meteorite if it's not great (you get it? Meteorite = Zhongli's ult?...) <3

Comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

Although this can be easily read as gn!reader, all my fics are centered on female reader, and thus I will label this as female reader insert as well. (No pronounces are being used.)

Based on when Neuvilette is grieving or lost in his sorrows it starts to rain and clears up when he gets himself back together. So kind of my take on this situation and what happens but with Zhongli instead?

Zhongli has seen a lot of things in the long years he's been walking the earth. He endured a lot so it's only normal he carries a lot of sorrows with him. Now, what if the earth would tremble when he gets lost in his sorrows? When he gets sad or is grieving?

The earth would tremble, just hard enough for people to feel it under their feet but never too hard that it would shake the entire nation and cause damage. No, just a slight tremble you feel underneath your feet that people with sharp eyes and sentences can feel the best.

But the people of Liyue don't give it a mind. After all, they have seen the almost downfall of their region so that the earth trembles now and then are the least of their worries, for sure with how it doesn't cause trouble. Sure it would let stones tumble down from the mountains, but rocks that were already bound to fall off. And even when Zhongli is so consumed in his sorrows, somehow he does make sure the shift in earth would cause no one harm.

After all, it's barely there that people don't have to worry about it. But you do. You know the signs and the meanings of the sudden change and as his lover you are bound to look for him. And so you do, finding him near a giant tree, where he once locked Azhdaha up. Eyes closed, head bowed down and shoulder slouched. A thing you didn't see that often. You step closer to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder as you softly greet him.

It's all he needs to be pulled out of his mind. You're enchanting voice and gentle touches bring him back to the present. The earth stops trembling as the Archon finds peace and comfort in your gentle touch and loving words. He gently wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest as he lifts his eyes up at the sky. His sorrows are now replaced with a blooming feeling of love.

There was no need to dwell on his sorrows when you, the person who brightened up his life were at his side. His rock that grounded him in times like this. A gentle breeze of love and comfort you always carried with you. A small smile slowly starts to grace his face as he presses a soft kiss on the top of your head. Muttering a simple "Thank you, my darling." Because no more words were needed, because he had you and you understood him better than anyone ever did.

There was no need to dwell on his sorrows when he had the light - that made the darkness of his past fade away - in his arms.

[vore-scientist]

Hey, reading through your stories, and i see a mix of both male and female preds, so just wondering, do you have a preference? Also! no pressure of course, but have you ever considered making a "masterpost" With links to all your stories?

I'll answer second question first bc the first question will have... a lot to it.

Masterpost: Anon you reminded me I need to update a thing. that thing being the Original Works page of my blog: https://vore-scientist.tumblr.com/mine that page is meant to be a directory of my works. but i haven't touched it in years. If you are needing a way to get all the Mystic Woods content in post order (not chronological) this link is your best friend: https://vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story/chrono

To answer your first question: preference?

This probably has a longer answer than you want to read so I'll give you the short version and also have a long version

Short Answer: I have no preference! I dont care what gender characters are! And I'm actively trying to use more female giants in my content because i like giants of all genders and there is a lack of them in non-sexual GT-vore content.

Long Answer (or: a short history lesson on WHY female preds, in non-sexual GT-vore are rare. And also why female giants in general are less common in the GT community as well. Dont take these things are absolute fact, it is what I observed and experienced in the last decade of being in the community)

So when i first discovered GT (and eventually GT-vore), the majority of content with female giants/preds was extremely sexual/very blatant to extremely explicit fetish content.

This was back when i was... 16... so. 2011... the big hub of the GT community was on deviantart. And the most active and thriving corner were dA groups that forbid content with female giants which was unfortunately necessary. Otherwise group mods would have to be denying submissions of fetish GTS content which 1) would be a waste of their free time and 2) would mean seeing a lot of SEXUAL content they dont want to see!

I also did not want to interact with the micro/macro GTS fetish community so as a defense, I, and MANY MANY OTHERS, made content that centered around male giants near exclusively It wasnt a preference, it wasnt a choice, it was the way to stay safe. These groups had the best and largest curated galleries of safe GT content, but of course it was all male giants. It also PISSED ME OFF because i liked writing giants as a species which necessitated giants of all genders (though the male-giant exclusive dA groups were usually understanding of content with larger casts of characters as long as the main giant was male). Still, the fear of the GTS stigma made me also "prefer" male giants.

Now apply all this about the GT community and apply it to the GT-vore community.

It has only been in recent years when I have seen people less hesitant to have female giants/preds and like me, put in effort to make female pred/giant OCs and content and the community is much more supportive and not as averse to interacting with the content put out with said characters.

Fighting the fear of GTS stigma has been tough but the community is healing.

(now of course some people do prefer a gender but for the dA groups the group rules made it clear that part of the exclusivity was to avoid fetish content. Also how do i know? Well check out this group: https://www.deviantart.com/gt-central. look at the Rules and Group Info posts. I'm very familiar with the group's co-founders who all LOVE female giants, and are more open about that now. That group was founded by a gay man (who is an absolute gem btw) who saw the other side of micro/macro where male giant content was all super nsfw/cruel and majority of dA groups were saturated with that, but it became a haven for those who were avoiding explicit GTS content, i confirmed this with one of the co-founders, that she was hesitant and worried about the idea of making/sharing female giant content! )

(AND AGAIN: what I am saying is not subjective facts. it is the GT / GT vore community as i have observed and experienced in the last 12 years)

[blackspoon99]

The Sign of Three Pt. 2

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mention of Blood and Near Death, Spoilers to Season 3!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

You took your seat at the head table and found yourself relieved that you were sat in between Janine and Sherlock. You felt immediate guilt at that thought. Dinner was slightly tense and awkward. Possibly only for you. For the most part, you made small talk with Janine while Sherlock read over his stack of index cards. Little boughs of anxiety kept creeping in the back of your mind as you replayed Sherlock and Janine’s conversation over and over. You peeked over at Sherlock to your right and took a healthy sip of champagne. You decided you would try your best to be present. This day wasn’t about you, after all. Your attention was pulled to the center of the room when a waiter tapped a spoon against a champagne glass.

“Pray silence for the best man”

This was it. You can do it, Sherlock. You watched Sherlock rise from his seat and stiffly fasten one of the buttons on his blazer. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable. You smiled when you noticed Sherlock adjusting the flower you placed in his blazer pocket. The wedding guests applauded and waited for Sherlock to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... and ... erm ... others.” Sherlock blinked several times.

“Er ... w...” Another awkward pause. “…Also”

You looked over at John then at Molly and Greg. They wore the same concerned look on their faces.

“Telegrams” John whispered to Sherlock

“Right, uhm…” Sherlock patted the pockets of his blazer and pants then finally noticed them on the table near his place setting. “First things first. Telegrams.” He lifted up the pile and inspected the first one. “Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition,” Sherlock muttered quickly. “Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

You saw John narrow his eyes and turn to Mary. You nervously looked down at your hands in your lap. Sherlock read the first note.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

“Oh, Mike,” John said, smiling.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big ...” Sherlock paused and suddenly looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “... big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly again. You tried to suppress your laughter. “Mary – lots of love, ...” Yet another pause. “…Poppet” He finished, popping the “t” at the end. Mary snickered.

Sherlock straightened his back and took the next card. “Don’t bugger it up, Sher—” he abruptly cleared his throat and looked straight at you. You tried to hide your laughter. He’d finally gotten to the note you slipped in with the telegrams. Everyone would have heard it was actually quite a nice note if Sherlock had read the entire thing out loud. It read: Don’t bugger it up, Sherlock. Only kidding. You’re doing great. X, y/n.

“Um, special day” Sherlock threw a telegram over his shoulder. “Very special day” He then proceeded to toss each telegram straight behind him. “Love, love, love, love. Bit of a theme – you get the general gist. People are basically fond.” The wedding guests laughed, interpreting it as a joke. Sherlock looked confused, then picked up the other stack of index cards. He began to shuffle through them, clearly trying to find his place.

“Done that. ... Done that ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Hmm ...”

You anxiously looked up at him, feeling the awkward tension in the room.

“I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyes snapped over to John who looked as shocked as you felt.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.”

You looked around the room at all the wedding guests as some of them began to murmur. Greg and Molly had the same horrified look on their faces. Sherlock continued on.

“Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time – one feels certain – our entire species.”

You placed your head in your hands. You knew you should have made Sherlock let you read over his speech. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel nervous or like you didn’t trust him.

“But anyway ... let’s talk about John.”

“Yeah, good idea” you hissed up at Sherlock. He ignored you.

“If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.”

You heard Greg snort across the room. This was going south fast. You couldn’t believe Sherlock was insulting John on his wedding day. He must be spiraling. There had to be something you could do to save this. Fake an emergency, maybe? You could at least buy some time that way.

“Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Ouch. You tried so hard not to look at Sherlock as you felt your ears burning with embarrassment. You adverted your gaze and focused on not allowing yourself to be hurt by what he’d just said.

Somehow, Sherlock continued. “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation ... or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.”

Oh boy. Now Sherlock was going straight to insulting the vicar. The murmuring began to pick up again. You looked over at John, who was now hiding his face in his hands while Mary frowned.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.”

You looked up at Sherlock in genuine surprise.

“I am dismissive of the virtuous ...” He looked to the vicar. “... unaware of the beautiful ...” Your heart stopped when he looked straight at you. Or maybe in your general direction? You looked over your shoulder at Janine, who was smiling. He could have just as easily been looking at her.

Sherlock finally turned to John and Mary “... and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.”

Just when you’d started to doubt him, Sherlock had surpassed all your expectations. He always managed to surprise you, every time.

“John, I am a ridiculous man ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can.” Sherlock turned to Mary. “Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss... so sorry again about that last one.” John laughed. Sherlock leaned back over to you and winked. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You found yourself fighting tears. You were not alone. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?” Sherlock again looked rather confused. He turned to look at you. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you said quietly.

John stood up and pulled Sherlock into a hug. The crowd applauded. “I haven’t finished yet,” Sherlock said as John released him.

“Yes, I know,” said John

“So, on to some funny stories ...” Sherlock attempted to yell over the applause.

“Can you – can you wait ’til I sit down?” John asked.

“So, on to some funny stories about John,” Sherlock continued as the noise died down. “So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog.” Sherlock pulled out his phone. “The record of our time together. We’ve tackled some strange cases, some frustrating cases, and ‘touching’ cases. But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don’t we? The Bloody Guardsman.”

You remembered this case. It was only a few weeks ago,

You, John, Mary, and Sherlock sat in the living room of Sherlock’s flat, completely surrounded by lists, items, and menus for the wedding. You’d initially been surprised at Sherlock’s dedication to wedding planning. The back wall above the couch was a perfectly organized record of everything that needed to be done in the next few weeks down to all the potential fonts for the place cards. Sherlock had even created a to-scale model of the reception venue sometime during his fits of mania. You were no psychologist, but if you were you’d say that Sherlock’s meticulous efforts were all in an attempt to force some control into a daunting situation.

John and Mary were seated at the table near the windows looking over the bridesmaids’ dress options. Sherlock stood studying the guest list on the monstrous wall of wedding planning. You were sitting in John’s chair with your legs hanging over one of the arms, flipping through catering menus.

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.” Sherlock spoke from across the room.

Mary forced a smile. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends – that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

You didn’t know anything about Mary’s family except that for unknown reasons, she didn’t have one. She kept her cards so close to the vest, you doubted John knew anything either. “And your friends adore you, Mary,” you said, attempting to cheer her up.

“Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48,” Sherlock spoke over you. “Sherlock,” you groaned. He didn’t turn around from the wall and continued to fiddle with the clippings.

“Or maybe 11:55, with allowed time for delays,”

“Sherlock,” you tried again. “The rehearsal’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down”

He whipped around to face you. “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you said sarcastically, noting the wild look in his eyes.

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary said from across the room, diffusing the tension. “John’s cousin. Top table?”

Sherlock rose to join John and Mary at the table. “Hmm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

You rolled your eyes. You tossed the catering menus to the side and walked over to the table to look over Mary’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” Mary asked, shocked

“Second class post, cheap card bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Don’t worry Mary, I’ve met her and she’s the worst. Let’s stick her by the bogs,” you interjected.

“Oh yes,” Mary agreed.

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” John said, looking down at his phone.

“Who else hates me?” Mary asked Sherlock. He turned around and handed her a handwritten list. “Oh great – thanks,” Mary said unenthusiastically.

“Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting,” John announced. He’d been looking through inquiries for cases on the blog. It was only a little annoying that he wasn’t helping. “How about this: ‘My husband is three people’? It’s interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

“Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes.” Sherlock bent down and pulled a tray out from under the coffee table that had two different elaborately folded napkins. “Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

“Wow…” you said flatly. He’s lost it. You bit your lip in concern and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Where’d you learn to do that?!” Mary asked, impressed.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation ...”

“You’re lying, Sherlock,” you said, teasing.

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of ...”

“Sherlock, out with it.” You pressed him further.

“Okay – I learned it on YouTube.”

“Well then, Sydney Opera House, please,” Mary said with a smile.

You turned away, thinking. “Hey, Mary? Can I show you what I was thinking for my bridesmaid dress?”

“Uh, sure,” She replied.

“Great!” you said and grabbed her wrist. You pulled her into the kitchen and closed the door. “Mary, we have to do the thing. Right now.”

“Are you sure, he seems okay-ish?” She said skeptically.

“Okay-ish?! Mary, he’s watching YouTube videos on napkin folding. He’s terrified.”

“Right. You’re right. Okay, you speak with Sherlock while I get John.”

You opened the doors to the living room to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, surrounded by at least 15 napkins folded in the opera house shape.

“That just sort of ... happened,” he said dropping his hands to his side.

“Did you just do that now?” John asked, finally looking up from his phone.

“Okay. John?” Mary started. “I’m about to give Beth a call, she’ll want to talk to you as well.” Mary held her phone up and gestured to the kitchen.

“Oh Beth, that’s right. We’ve been meaning to call her.” John got up and followed her.

You walked over to Sherlock and took a seat on the floor next to him. He reached under the table for more napkins, but you caught his hand and shook your head.

“I think we have enough for now. I actually need to talk to you about something, Sherlock. I’m worried about John.” He looked over at you, listening intently. You lowered your voice and inched closer. “I think all the wedding planning is getting to him. He needs to get out for a bit, I can tell.” Sherlock nodded along with you. “I can’t say anything because he won’t listen to me. He’s just going to think I’m worrying too much. Could you please find him a case, any case? For me?”  

“Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.” Sherlock whispered. He stood up and carefully smoothed out his suit. John walked back into the room. You got up and silently joined Mary into the kitchen. A few moments later, Sherlock and John walked into the kitchen.

“Er, we’re just going to ... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks.” John awkwardly fumbled over his words.

“Ties,” Sherlock interjected.

“Let’s go with socks,” Mary said.

“Could be a while,” John said. “We’ve got to make sure they match my—”

“Tie” Sherlock interrupted. John looked back at him, exasperated.

“My coat in there?” John cleared his throat. Mary nodded and John turned the corner. Sherlock leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Just going to take him out for a bit – run him.”

“Good work, Sherlock,” you said with a smile. Sherlock winked at you and walked out of the door. When they were out of sight, you turned to Mary.

“Do you fancy a drink?”

“Let’s go,” She replied.

That had been the end of your involvement in the case of the Bloody Guardsman. You had heard the rest of the story from John. Sherlock hadn’t particularly felt like sharing. Probably because he never solved it. You listened to Sherlock lay out his chosen details in his speech all the way up to Sherlock and John finding Stephen Bainbridge bleeding out in a shower in the barracks.

“Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, Sherlock was challenging people to solve a case on the spot that he didn’t even figure out himself. You pitied whoever he chose to humiliate.

“Scotland Yard.” Greg looked up from his drink. “Have you got a theory?” Greg stared blankly at Sherlock. “Yeah, you. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

This was going to be bad.

“Er, um, if the, uh, if the if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could … could crawl in there.” Molly cringed. “So, yeah, we’re loo... we’re looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.”

“Brilliant,” said Sherlock

“Really?” Greg replied immediately

“No,” Sherlock said coldly. Ruthless. Greg lowered his head back into his drink. Across the room, you saw Tom whispering something into Molly’s ear.

“Hello? Who was that?” Sherlock asked and looked around the room before settling on Tom. “Tom. Got a theory?” Tom slowly stood up across the room.

Poor Tom looked uneasy. He shifted around for a bit before reluctantly giving his opinion. “Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone that broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.”

Molly wore a look of uncomprehending embarrassment. You looked to Sherlock. He had a look on his face that was a strange mix of smugness and disbelief. “A meat dagger.” He stated.

“Yes,” Tom said, awkwardly.

“Sit down.” Molly hissed. She reached up and yanked Tom down to his seat by his sleeve.

“No,” said Sherlock plainly. “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson: who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.”

You smiled at John’s proud expression. So that was the point of Sherlock’s roundabout story. It surprised you because when they’d initially came home that day, all Sherlock could focus on was how the attempted murderer did it and why he couldn’t figure it out. It was nice to see he had developed a new perspective.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John – I’m also here to embarrass him, so let’s move on to some ...”

“No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?” Lestrade interrupted.

Now Sherlock would have to admit he didn’t solve the case. You smirked. That’s what you get for insisting on embarrassing Greg and Tom.  

“How was what done?” Sherlock asked, attempting to deflect

“The stabbing,” Lestrade clarified.

Sherlock looked down for a moment, then reluctantly continued. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s ... It can happen sometimes. It’s very ... very disappointing.” He looked down for a moment as if contemplating then continued. “Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

A/N: So sorry this is so late! I haven’t forgotten about this series, I promise! I just moved into a new apartment in college and it’s already been nuts!

taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @sad-bitch-h0ur @scorpios-echos

If you want to be added to the taglist for future updates, go like the post I made earlier about it!

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

30 FILTHY DAYS CHALLENGE. SEMIPUBLIC / PUBLIC SEX.

BENNY MILLER. ┃ USEFUL LINKS.

❝ warnings: nsfw, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, semipublic and unprotected sex, swearing, language, mention of bodily fluids.

❝ a / n: don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it, i’d really appreciate it!

You just have met him some minutes ago, watching him looking at you from the table he was sitting in with his friends as you were with yours, and now you're in an alley with a leg tangled on his shoulders. Ben is kneeling close to you with his face deep-buried into your heated center. When he has the brilliant idea of pulling your clit between his lips, slamming two curved fingers inside your cunt, you have to bring one of your hands on his golden hair to your mouth. The loud moan that rips off your throat causes him to chuckle, encouraging him to increase the pace of his rough thrust hoping you lose the bet of being quiet.

“Fuck, Benny...” You sob resting your body completely against the wall, feeling emptied when he stands up neglecting your pussy.

He crashes his mouth on yours, devouring it eagerly, landing his huge hands on your breasts to squeeze them tightly. You can taste your own juices in his tongue and saliva, purring against his lips before he urges you to turn around and face the wall.

“Keep moaning my name like that, and I'll fall in love with you”. He grunts on your ear, rubbing the rock under his pants on your exposed ass since he rolled up your skirt.

You can't help but whine when he slaps your buttock, hearing how he uses his free hand to undo his zip and pull down his clothes. With your palms as support, you arch your back and spread your legs as he needs. Spitting on his cock and wetting it with his saliva, Ben guides his glans to your shiny folds by your fluids. And he doesn't wait. He pounds you against the wall when his cock invades your tight hole, covering your mouth to shut the loud cry you utter.

“Shit, baby... I could live inside you till my last breath”. Benny howls against your neck, digging there his teeth with the clear intention of leaving some marks on your skin.

He fucks you harder than someone has done it before, banging you once and once, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. Not satisfied enough with your vocals, the boxer directs his free fingers to your throbbing clit and gives it the attention it deserves.

“Keep fucking me like that, and I'll fall in love with you”. You scoff between gasps, tossing a hand to the back of his neck, pressing him a little closer hearing his chuckles.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio

TRIPLE FRONTIER: @phoenixhalliwell @goldielocks2004 @pedritomando @spideysimpossiblegirl @im-an-adult-ish @chibsytelford @smollpinkgirl

[the-ghost-king]

the term malewife isn’t a very nice term to use...

A man who acts as a wife and is inferior to his #girlboss girlfriend.

Person A: I just got myself a malewife. He's gonna clean my kitchen and watch me download custom content for the sims.

Person B: Sweet! You must be such a girlboss

^^urban dictionary. It’s just confirming to the sexist stereotypes that perceive and expectation of what a wife should act like. It’s quite harmful

It's a parallel to girlboss which is conformity to the sexism within corporate America:

"it becomes inescapably clear that when women center their worldview around their own office hustle, it just re-creates the power structures built by men, but with women conveniently on top. In the void left after the end of the corporate feminist vision of the future, this reckoning opens space to imagine success that doesn’t involve acing performance reviews or getting the most out of your interns." (here)

The word girlboss comes from a book quite literally called #girlboss, in parallel to the negative aspects of this book people eventually rebranded the term "malewife" to parallel it (malewife was originally an nsfw type thing)

In the malewife/girlboss "system" it's essentially the swapping of the problematic aspects, expectations, and socialization of men and women within a relationship

"Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep" was a meme started to pick on the idea that women should become men and enforce the sexism within corporate society, and I'm sure it was a jab at the book the word came from as well.... "Manipulate, mansplain, malewife" was created to parallel the original meme

So yeah, the whole concept is mocking sexism within corporations and and modern relationships and showing how ridiculous it is. Girlboss mocks the idea of 2014 (largely) white feminism within America.

In example the original meme (created on Twitter) is intended to make mockery of Karen-types:

On January 12th, 2021, Tumblr user missnumber1111 posted, "today’s agenda: gaslight gatekeep and most importantly girlboss," garnering over 43,500 notes in a month (shown below). On that day, Twitter user @CUPlDL0VE posted, "my agenda is gaslight gatekeep and #girlboss," the first instance of the phrase on Twitter.

And a day later on January 13, 2021 Tumblr user a-m-e-t-h-y-s-t-r-o-s-e reblogged the post along with a photoshopped image of "Live, Laugh, Love" wall art instead reading, "Gaslight every moment, Gatekeep every day, Girlboss beyond words" (shown below). On January 18th, the image was reposted to Twitter for the first time.

Malewife doesn't hold those same implications however... The term malewife which is now being used to parallel girlboss achieves it's origins from p*rn, now I'm not an nsfw blog or someone who blatantly discusses nsfw concepts on my blog so I'm not getting super into it but there's a few places it comes from: femdom, bdsm, and feminization kinks... All of which have a connection to queerness in their own right but I don't feel comfortable going into the complexities of that with so many younger people following me.

On February 15th, Tumblr user @relelvance posted, "Manipulate, mansplain, malewife" as a male-themed opposite to "gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss," garnering over 27,000 notes in four days. The post was screenshotted and reuploaded by Twitter user @nortoncampbell on the same day, garnering over 14,200 likes and 2,800 retweets in the same span of time (shown below).

Urban dictionary's explaination of "malewife" is not only harsher than what malewife was intended to mean, but also removes the context of origin from the word- making it something new, different, and erasing the history of who originally used this word.

Because of Malewifes origins vs Girlboss origins, malewife is a less problematic term than girlboss and is more "affectionate" because the term malewife and it's use (up until recently) involved the man acknowledging that he wanted to be the "wife" in his relationship. There's a variety of reasons someone might do this, but it can generally be summed up as a mixture of personality and also personal wants.

I do think it's important to also note that although these words are being "glamorized slightly" they're still intended and being used in a memeing manner, but they're also used to quickly denote arbitrary traits in an individual and categorize those traits...

Although there's lots of conversations to be had for a variety of reasons about the origin and use of the word "girlboss" in relation to sexism, up until recently the world "malewife" was something claimed by men, something men wanted to be called, and something that men who used the term wanted to reference them.

Malewife is about "stepping-up" to "take on" "female" social roles, and it's something that at least some women would be happy to see in society:

"...We have been told that we can have it all, but so far we have noticed that it is extremely hard work having it all, because you still have to do everything that your mother did but now you have to do everything your father did as well. Except that your father had your mother waiting at home with a gin and tonic and his slippers when he came home from work, and you have the washing up and the shopping and a few screaming brats as well as a bloke with his feet up on the sofa watching the football... " (via. Victoria Mary Clarke)

And I don't think that she's wrong at all. Women are still expected to do so much more than men in society without equal reward.

Malewife exists as a a sort of fantasy removed from the truth of society. It's an idea that a husband can be waiting at home to care for his wife, and in this instance it benefits the woman- unlike Clarke's situation above, the woman comes home from a long day and is able to relax without the pressures of society and her life.

Where housewife is a word that holds its origins in forced subservience, malewife is a term that is showcasing men "picking up the torch" in regards to housework- where housewife is socially forced, and girlboss is reversed social compliance, malewife is the rejection of social expectations.

Malewife is about men finding a place in their life's and relationships to make themselves more than a paycheck. To say "I can be emotionally there for my spouse, I can clean a toilet, and drive kids to school, and I don't treat my spouses wants as something expendable". In a society in which men are often demeaned, mocked, and scorned for picking up socially female roles (say hello to misogyny and gendered contamination!)

The Urban dictionary definition, is not only too harsh- but not the way in which the word is intending to be used, because that's ignoring the origins of this word, and the fact that men had a choice in becoming malewifes where women didn't have that choice. It should read more like:

Person A: Ah yeah, I have a malewife waiting for me, he's going to clean my kitchen because I've had a hard day at work and need a break, and then he's going to watch me download custom content for the Sims because I enjoy the game so much and it helps me take a break from life!

Women's wants were often ignored in favor of men's wants, so by the malewife saying he's going to watch his spouse play the Sims, he's really saying "I care about her interests" and by him picking up the kitchen cleaning after she's had a stressful day he's saying "I have a lower stress job so I can handle that for her and make her life a little easier" (because malewife doesn't mean he doesn't have a job).

In a society in which a man's worth is tied to his ability to bring home money and be emotionally distant, malewife is the rejection of this norm. Malewifes are going to be there for their spouse, they're going to step up and take on traditionally women's roles and they're doing it because they want to, because they like it, and because dividing chores into pink vs blue is wrong.

I also want to say, you can't flip a word around and say it does "this" because that's not how it works... Men and women are forcibly socialized in very different ways, the two binaries have very different treatment, and expectations within societies social constructs. If you could flip the forms of oppression that men vs women face (because yes, the patriarchy oppresses men) then you could also flip the forms of violence faced by trans masculine people vs trans feminine people- but that doesn't work either, because women will always be oppressed in the most public way to "make an example of them" while the patriarchy expects anyone who is male to "keep his mouth shut and fall in line". (I know that's worded poorly, but I've just written at least a couple hundred words and my brain is a bit fried already from various other things today- basically anyone perceived female or male will be treated in a certain way as a result of others perception of them)

Anyhow, all this isn't to say that the term "malewife" is inherently free of any form of flaw ever... Malewife is a newly mainstream word, it wasn't popularized until February 15 of 2021... So?? 5 days ago?? The origins of malewife and the social implications of malewife combined with the history of the word, don't make the word bad or impressive and it's not "upholding the ideals of a housewife" but instead a word which provides men freedom from male social expectations.

Can the word malewife come to be a word which enforces expected female social behavior? Yeah it absolutely can become a word to mean that, erase the history from the word, and give it to someone who doesn't know the history of the word, and someone who doesn't have an intimate understanding of gender theory, and you've got a recipe for hundreds more asks like the one you've sent me...

I can't find a single positive reason to use the word girlboss in an empowering way, but I can find more reasons to use the word malewife in an empowering way than not to do so.

So at the very least if all you come away from this with is that I don't personally use the word malewife to uphold female social expectations in a relationship but instead I use this word to provide space for guys to be allowed to be feminine, soft, caring, emotionally present, and worth more than their monetary value, then I guess that's okay.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.13

12/12/2020

The Honeymoon’s Not Over

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,309

Warnings: jealousy, slight angst, light smut, language, talks of pregnancy

A/N: I’m sorry these are taking longer. My grandparents are living with me for a few months and these are going to get a little slower now that they’re here. I hope you enjoy it! If you have a favorite part, let me know what it is! I’d love to hear. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Not knowing what to expect from a marriage to a veritable stranger is predictable. Of course, you’re not going to know what’s to come when you don’t know the man you’ve agreed to marry.

Apart from the responsibilities of the throne you’ve chosen to sit upon, and the obligations you have to provide the kingdom with an heir, the marriage you have chosen for yourself was entered into blindly.

You knew absolutely nothing about Thor when you agreed to marry him. You knew a little bit more by the time you stood directly opposite him and said your vows.

Now, after spending time with him in the company of his comrades, his friends, you know what Thor sounds like when he busts a gut. You see the twinkle in his one eye when they all sit around the living room reminiscing about battles won.

You see sadness over their losses, and the loyalty of his friendship. You see the weight they all carry on their shoulders to give this world its best chance against all forms of threat.

Most of all, you know how proud Thor is to have you by his side. At every moment possible, he’s pulled you into their games and conversations. He’s invited Tony to give you a tour of the compound and Bruce had tagged along and whispered to you smaller things that Tony conveniently left out because they weren’t things for him to boast about.

As the night went on, the Avengers told you their farewells and those that lived outside of the compound took their leave. They told you it was so nice to meet you, shook your hand—or hugged you as was the case with Wanda, Nat, and Steve—and then made you promise to stop by again and stay for longer than a day.

“We’ll make a real vacation of it, I assure you,” Thor promises Bucky who has taken a shine to you more enthusiastically than you thought he would.

Since you made your opinions on Loki clear, he’s been much more eager to speak with you and exchange ideas on more than just overlooking the troubled pasts of people desperate to make a change.

By one o’clock in the morning, Tony and Bruce are the only two left in the living room.

Bruce sits at the edge of the sofa, his glasses balanced at the end of his nose as he scrolls through large amounts of text and numbers on a sleek black tablet.

Tony has taken over the corner of the sectional, his phone pressed to his ear again as he yawns but resists sleep.

You hear him say Pepper’s name and a quick acknowledgement that he misses her when you decide that maybe it’s time to give them their privacy.

You rise slowly, Thor back in the main common room where you’d all eaten dinner, talking to Loki or Hilde on his own phone to keep up with what’s happening back home.

Bruce notices, not as invested in his reading as you’d thought.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed.” You admit, gesturing over your shoulder towards the other room.

“Oh, okay. Have a good night. I think Tony has breakfast set up for eight o’clock tomorrow morning so, the others will be back by then. I think?”

Bruce turns towards Tony who has his legs folded up on the seat, his hand combing through the back of his head as a sappy grin overtakes his face.

“Hey, breakfast at eight, right? Tomorrow morning?” Bruce asks, reaching over to place his hand on the seat of the sofa to attempt and get his attention.

“Hold on, Pep, there’s some weird old man trying to ask me something. I think if I ignore him long enough, he’ll leave me alone.” Tony mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear but muffled enough to make it clear that you’re not supposed to.

From the other end of the phone, you hear a clearly amused female voice speak back, “Be nice. He’s trying to be accommodating for Thor’s wife.”

He throws his hand back towards Bruce and waves his hand at him in clear dismissal.

Bruce sighs and gives you an apologetic smile, but you’re smiling from ear to ear.

“Sorry. Just to be safe, we’ll say eight o’clock.”

“Thanks, Bruce. For the tour and everything.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Bruce nods.

“Good night. Good night, Tony.” You call at him pointedly.

Tony makes a point to look back at you, fixing you with a buttery smile, “Goodnight, Cherub.”

You scoff, laughing a little, but give them a wave and move into the common room.

Thor’s back is tense, and it makes you worry.

Despite the conversation you’d overheard in the kitchen, you’re more confident now than before that Thor is devoted to you.

Because it’s in his touch. It’s in his gaze. It’s in the way he pulls you into his side when the others teased you about now being obligated to be an Avenger and the consequent terror that filled your eyes.

“A jest, my sweet.” Thor had whispered, then chuckled with the others.

He’d promised to tell you about this threat when the two of you were alone, but you’re so exhausted and as much as you want to go over and demand he fill you in now, you turn down the long hallway and pass two or three doorways before you reach the bedrooms.

The first door on the left is Thor’s and you slip in quietly, hoping not to interrupt Thor’s phone call.

It’s toasty warm inside. You peel off your clothes and despite wanting to just snuggle into bed, you make your way into the bathroom and the deep tub is long and wide enough for two people.

You flip on the shower instead, the water burning hot and as it glides down along your skin it summons goosebumps as the cold is chased away.

You hadn’t realized how chilly the compound is until now, and wonder if the Avengers are just hot natured. It would be weird for all of them to be like that, but if the ones with powers are like Thor, then maybe they all run a little hotter?

A tickle around your arms, just above your elbows, coaxes your eyes back open.

You hadn’t even realized you were falling asleep. Looking down you see two sets of large familiar fingers.

The hands they’re attached to turn you around and pull you close until Thor’s lips press down against yours, pushing you even further into peaceful bliss.

He opens his mouth wide, coaxing your own to respond as his tongue delves hungrily into your mouth.

You’re slow to respond, so tired but eager and pleased with the affection.

Thor’s knee nudges against the inner part of your thigh and you take a step, but he catches it as you do, and he lifts it up against his hip.

Water rains down along your naked bodies and Thor slides into you slowly.

You moan, low and sweet. Quiet and pleased but lazy.

“Thor…” You whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he dips down to nibble at your throat.

He pumps in and out so deliciously slow that the stretch of him pulls an orgasm from you quickly.

You’re so sensitive at the moment. You go limp in his arms, and he adjusts to support your body as you relax while he continues to push into you.

He rests your back against the shower wall, hips pulled against his as he fucks you slow. Watching him thrust into you, hips rolling slow, is perfection.

You caress the side of his face and he pulls back to look at you before he kisses you sweetly.

It all feels like a dream, and as he speeds up, you shut your eyes and you’re sent off with another wave of pleasure.

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning is toasty. Large warmth wrapped around you.

You twist where he holds you, straining to look at his face which you know like the back of your hand by now. No eyepatch, you reach up to trace the edges of his missing eye.

He croons and curls into your touch, the space gets red and itchy sometimes from wearing the patch all day.

This feeling, this soft glow in your chest, the way it aches and makes you feel like you could fly is something you didn’t know to expect from your marriage.

This iridescence, this shine that grows from your very center to entangle itself around you and Thor.

“Sleep longer,” Thor whispers, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep.

He pulls you closer, large hands splayed against your back as he rubs it several times up and down.

It almost does lure you back to sleep but you force your eyes open.

“We have to go down for breakfast. Everyone will be waiting.”

“Mmmmmm,” Thor protests.

No, he’s straight up whining. Tightening his hold, you groan as he squeezes. Any harder and he’ll crack your back.

“Thor,” You insist, and after a bit he opens his eye and peeks at your face before shutting it again.

“I do not appreciate early mornings when I am supposed to be enjoying uninterrupted time with my new wife.”

“You’re the one that brought us here!” The chuckle that slips through your lips is unintentional, but he’s so cute all pouty.

“It doesn’t matter,” He frowns, “I am King. Things should go my way.”

“Well, excuse me Your Majesty. Should I go tell the Avengers that they need to reschedule breakfast until you’re ready to wake up?”

“Yes,” When you start to move, he shoots up, tackling you to the bed and pinning your arms over your head as you laugh. “Wait, I don’t want you to leave the bed.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to go tell them then?”

“I suppose we can’t make them wait. I am so glad that we’ve still got a few days left to spend at your home. I want to make sure we go back to the palace with my child firmly planted in your womb.” He gushes and even though the words aren’t exactly dirty, it’s got your core throbbing and aching for more of what you think happened last night.

“Did we make love last night?” You really don’t know if it was just a dream or not.

It was all so sleepy, the memory like smoke. It could very well have been a wet dream.

“Don’t you remember?”

“Kinda. I was so tired.”

The amused curve of Thor’s lips give you the confirmation you need, “Yes, you were very tired. I had to catch you after your second climax. You fell asleep just as I also reached mine.”

“I don’t remember,” You confess, trying hard to remember what happened after your eyes shut.

You vaguely remember feeling supportive hands on the back of your head and back.

The soft mattress of his bed supporting you as he placed you on it?

“I’m not allowed to get drunk or to get really tired around you anymore. I hate not remembering my nights with you.”

He settles down on top of you, keeping his weight light and balanced on his side. His hands he brings down along your arms until he has his right cupping the left side of your head while his left hand finds its usual spot on your hip.

“I quite enjoy it when you can’t keep your eyes open. You sang for me on our wedding night.”

His reminder makes you groan and you turn away from him but he catches your lips in a kiss before you can turn away fully.

Thor gives you a good morning. A very good morning.

You both shuffle out into the common room where you’d had dinner last night with wide smiles, playful chuckling, and completely satisfied.

Both of you are so into what the other is saying or doing with their hands that you don’t really hear the murmur of conversation by the long table.

“When we get back, we should break in that bench in your backyard.” Thor whispers.

“Are you joking? That thing is gonna leave so many marks on my body. No way.”

“Come on, I’ll put a blanket, and you can be on top.” He presses his lips right up against your ear as he seduces you, but you’re stronger than that...maybe.

“Mmm, that’s really tempting there, Your Majesty,” you tease, reaching up to tug on his ear until he meets your lips in a quick peck.

It’s noisy and it smacks. So loud in fact, that you two finally notice the way the murmur of voices has disappeared and turned into silence.

Both of you stop, searching ahead for what might have caused the sudden death of conversation and at first don’t see anything.

Well, you don’t see anything.

“Good morning, everyone. What’s-is everything okay?” You ask, finding Steve’s face as he stands with his arms crossed across his chest, looking at you and Thor with his chin tucked in a bit.

He looks pensive and worried.

A quick look at Natasha and Wanda tells you that they’re worried for you for some reason. Both of them sitting at the edge of their seats.

Beside you, Thor has gone stiff.

“Thor?” You look at him, not sure why and search his face to see if there might be a clue but his eye is lasered in across the room and you follow his gaze.

You’re still not quite certain what he sees until movement on the furthest seat of the table draws your attention to a small brunette, with peachy skin, rosy cheeks, and bright brown eyes.

She’s so nervous that she’s almost clumsy, pushing her long hair over her shoulder, her lips quivering into a smile and then back into a straight line several times before they settle into a teeny uncertain curve of her lips.

Pink lips. Not chapped. Perfectly proportioned so that both lips are the exact same thickness.

“Jane…” Thor says, almost like it’s a realization.

“Oh,” Your voice is more timid than you expected it to come out if you ever came face to face with this woman. “That’s Jane.”

You’re suddenly really sad you never Googled her so that you’d at least have been prepared for the absolute petite beauty that she is.

Thor’s head whips towards you and he blinks, mouth opening as he searches for the words.

“I-we-er-I mean...This-this is my wife,” He introduces you breathlessly.

Clearly seeing her has caught him by as much surprise as you. Maybe more.

“Queen of Asgard,” he gives her your full name.

In Asgardian tradition, since Thor doesn’t technically have a last name in the traditional sense like humans do, you’ve kept your own.

“Right,” Jane shuts her eyes, claps her hands gently then nods slowly. “Right, of course. You’re King now! RIght. Your Majesties.”

Her greeting is simple and she even gives a quick somewhat off balance curtsy, probably from her nerves.

“Oh, that’s-”

Thor takes your hand, pulling you just a smidge more into his side, cutting off your protest to her curtsy.

“Thank you for that,” Thor tells her, nodding once. “None of these rascals bothered to bow to my new Queen.”

There’s something odd about Thor’s voice that you’ve never heard before. An anger. Subdued rage. Surprise too. His own sprinkle of nerves thrown in there as well.

You steal a glance up at his face and find a tightness around his eyes as he then drops your hand to slip it around your shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” He asks her, and the Avengers take this as their cue to rise from their spots and move into the living room or the kitchen.

Jane comes around the table, stopping a few feet away from the two of you.

Their eyes are locked on each other, her pretty browns and Thor’s one electric blue.

The silence, though it lasts only a quick three seconds, is endless. Instantly you’re an intruder and you spot Bruce peeking from the kitchen. He makes eye contact with you and there’s a beckoning from him, a promise of safety and sanctuary in this super fucked situation you find yourself in and you pull out from Thor’s arm and nearly scamper into the kitchen but a large hand wraps around your wrist gently, pulling to stop you from moving.

“Where are you going?” Thor’s face has softened, all tension leaving his beautiful face as he steps towards you to close the distance between your bodies.

It’s still respectful, a good two feet between you as opposed to the narrow six inches he’s kept you in all week.

Something tells you that he’s also keeping you at arms’ length because Jane is right there and it’s only been at most, two weeks since he ended things with her.

“I was going to give you two some space.” You whisper, though Jane is literally right there, so she can hear you.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She starts, but Thor cuts her off, almost as if he can’t hear her.

“You do not have to give us space, cherub. You are right where you should be, at my side.” Thor doesn’t bother to whisper, but it’s clear in the volume of his voice that his words are meant only for you.

“It feels weird…” You whisper more quietly that it makes Thor move closer and lean his head down.

“It shouldn’t,” He reaches up to stroke your cheek, and you can’t help but peek at Jane.

She’s watching the two of you, her eyes darting away and back and away again, a fleeting look of confusion on her pretty face.

You reach around Thor’s side and give his side a little pinch to bring his attention back to Jane.

“She’s waiting,” you inform him, and flick your head in her direction before turning to face her again, planting yourself beside Thor just as he wants.

“Right,” Thor agrees, then wraps his arm right back around your shoulders. “What brings you to the compound, Jane? I can’t imagine anything would get you out of the desert with what you showed me last time I was there.”

Your heart gives an upsetting lurch at the reminder to Thor’s and Tony’s conversation last night, but you simply lean into Thor’s side some more, pushing down your insecurities for now.

“Yeah, um...I was in the lab when a weird energy spike completely threw off my sensors. It fried my stabilizer. So, I checked with NASA and UNOOSA, CNSA, SUPARCO, and a whole bunch of other contacts at various space agencies around the world and all of them also had similar readings. Not as strong, but they all swear that they don’t have anything in orbit or out in that quadrant. Given the strength of the surge, I contacted Tony to let him know so that he could get word to you but then he told me that you’d be here this week for a day, so I...I decided to stop by and tell you myself.”

She smiles, just a quick awkward little thing, at you and then at Thor.

Thor’s mind processes what she just told him as quickly as it can while you steal a glance at the kitchen again where Tony is peeking out this time.

“To be fair, I didn’t know you were going to be so nice.” He tells you, unapologetic that his words will reach all ears in all three rooms.

He quickly ducks out when you frown at him, leaving Bruce peeking out behind him who then panics and also pulls himself back out of sight.

What you can infer from his words is that he’d invited her to come when he’d known that you and Thor would be on your honeymoon in an attempt to get them back together?

As you look back to Jane who stands there staring at Thor with those stupid big brown eyes, you wonder if she knew Tony’s plans and that’s why she’s here.

“What’s the trajectory of the energy you found? What’s it heading towards?” Thor wonders, taking a half step forward, dropping his arm from your shoulders.

Your mind goes into a sudden frenzy as you, like him, put two and two together quickly.

“The threat?” You guess, stepping away from him but also moving around so that you can look at him and speak a little more face-to-face with him and Jane too.

You’d completely forgotten about the damn threat! You’d been so seduced and tired last night that you passed out. Then Thor woke you up so sweetly with more seduction that you’ve put the secret threat Thor has been trying to hide from you out of your mind.

His furrowed brow, large biceps bulging as he crosses his arms across his chest, betray his guilt at having kept it from you. But the two of you know that you have no time to dwell on petty arguments, so you table the argument you’d planned on having last night for another time.

“Could that be it?” You push, looking to Jane who looks a little confused by the tension in both your and Thor’s bodies.

“It might be.”

“What threat?” Jane wonders.

“What’s the matter, Cherub? What’s got you all worried?” Tony shuffles over, probably having heard the bit about the threat.

You give him a quick glance before you look at Jane, “What kind of energy reading was it? Cosmic? Solar? Celestial?”

All of the Avengers who had begun to make their way back into the common room for breakfast along with Thor, Tony, and Jane stop to look at you, several of them with mouths open and in complete surprise.

The silence is deafening, pressing in on you from every direction. Thor takes a step towards you and seems to be the only one unphased by your question.

“I don’t know that Jane would be able to determine the type of energy at this distance.” And yet, he turns to look at her once he’s spoken. “Jane?”

She blinks, still completely in shock by your knowledge, “Uh, I might be able to find a way to determine...how do you know about-?”

“As soon as Thor formally asked me to marry him I started to make a list of things that would probably be good to know in my position. Loki helped me um…” Wait, shoot...maybe you shouldn’t be so open with them?

“The weird sister helped you what?” Tony asks, casual disdain in his voice for the younger Asgardian prince.

You frown at him.

“Nevermind.” You cross your arms across your chest and sit down on the seat right behind you.

“He didn’t mean that, cherub.” Thor cuts in, moving towards you he pulls the seat beside you out to sit down, facing you. “Isn’t that right, Stark?”

“No.” You frown, really not liking the way some of them seem to really hate Loki.

Part of you knows that you can’t blame them. Loki did a lot of bad the last time he was here for an extended period of time.

He killed a lot of people and wreaked havoc on New York. They have every right to be angry at him. Even though you know this, you can’t find yourself letting them get away with their open hatred for him in front of you.

Thor looks at Tony with a pleading, his large hands on your knees as he strokes your legs softly to try and soothe you.

You see Tony roll his eyes from the corner of your own and with a silent exasperated sigh, he throws his hands out in front of him to physically push away his words.

“Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry. He’s made amends, right? He’s spent the time since he came back doing right by those people that he hurt. You’re right.” The longer Tony speaks, the more it looks like it physically hurts him to say sorry.

“Wait, you actually like Loki?” Jane asks, her smile in slight disbelief.

“Didn’t he save your life before?” You throw at her, having heard all about her infection by the Aether and how she’d helped Thor save many worlds.

It’s intimidating and not a story you’d easily forget.

At the time, you’d wondered how you’re ever going to compare to that. She’s helped Thor save Earth twice. What can you do?

Your words have the desired effect, and she quickly deflates as you meet Thor’s eye and sigh slowly.

“They don’t mean anything by it, cherub,” Thor promises, his voice soft and gentle and soothing.

You see the way Jane’s head twists in your direction at his pet name for you but he reaches up to take hold of your chin and turn your face towards his.

“Loki is lucky to have your loyalty.” He praises, looking genuinely happy about it too, but the smile leaves quickly in favor of his curiosity. “But how did you learn about different types of energy?”

“Loki hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe when I told him that I wasn’t sure that I was up for the task of being Queen and wife of an Avenger since I knew almost nothing about anything. I-I did a lot of reading.” You admit, heart in arrest as you gauge everyone’s reaction to Loki’s deceit. “But he only did it because I was crying and really worried and I was almost having a straight up panic attack, and he wanted to help so he offered me a place to learn and I couldn’t-I didn’t have it in me to say no even when he told me how he was going to get me the info so if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me because I was feeling so inadequate and he was just trying to make me feel better.”

Once again, the room is left in silence, save for Thor who smiles at you and reaches around to grab the back of your neck and give it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s alright. We’re not angry. Any of us, right?” As he looks around at everyone, they all nod quickly, giving you reassuring smiles save for Tony who has his arms crossed over his chest now, hand covering his mouth as he shakes with silent laughter.

“You’re angry?” You ask him, and he startles slightly when he realizes you’re talking to him.

“Me? Oh, no. No, I’m not. I just can’t wait to tell Fury that Loki hacked into his servers.” Tony bursts into laughter and has to turn away from all of you and move back into the kitchen to get a hold of himself.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, reaching down to take hold of Thor’s hand, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, love. Never.” He smiles at you, then pulls you down to kiss your forehead before rising and moving to stand behind you. “Can you get to work on detecting the type of energy it was that destroyed your instruments?”

Jane straightens up out of her slouched pouting as she realizes that he’s talking to her, “Yes. I can. That’s kind of why I came here, to get some help from Bruce. It could also be gamma, so I wanted to consult with him before I made any decisions.”

Bruce lumbers forward between Nat and Bucky, waving Jane over, “We can go now? I don’t exactly have an appetite at the moment. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Jane shakes her head and moves for him as he turns to lead the way.

Before she can get too far, she stops and turns to look at you and Thor as he moves back to take his seat next to you, your hands pulled up to his lips.

“Uh, congrats again, both of you,” With a firm nod, she turns and leaves you all to your breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We don’t have to cut our honeymoon short?”

“Definitely not.” Thor frowns, “I would quit my job as King of Asgard if we had to end our private time.”

You smile, despite the pit in your stomach, “You can’t quit, silly.”

“I can. Loki would be more than happy to take over.”

“Well, I won’t let you quit. You’re an amazing King.”

“You’re my wife. You are clearly biased in my favor. I can’t believe a word you say.”

You chuckle at his playful banter, but after a few seconds, your worry for the people of your kingdom takes over.

“But really, Thor. If the threat coming is the same thing that destroyed Jane’s equipment, shouldn’t we go home and, I don’t know, deal with it?”

Thor breathes in deep, considering your words as he finishes pulling off his armor, tossing the last piece onto his red cape leaving him in a plain dark shirt and pants.

In a clear attempt to distract you, he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a distraction.

Mmmph!

“I already have Sif and Hilde working on it. Loki is managing things with the palace, beefing up security for when we get there and until Tony and Bruce can come and make their own modifications.”

“Then we can enjoy our last four days?”

“Enjoy them?!” Thor moves to you, slipping his hand down around the waist of your skirt where it intertwines with the lower piece and with a firm tug, he rips through the fabric leaving only the bodice.

You gasp, hand pressed to your chest as you laugh in surprise.

“I’m going to impregnate you in the next four days if it’s the last thing I do.”

Oh my.

“No, turn around for me cherub, so I can finish ripping this dress off of you.” He coaxes you around and leans down to press a kiss to your back, then rips down the back of your bodice with more firm tugs that shake your body.

His lips trail open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, hands gripping the flesh of your thighs with a possessive squeeze.

Despite your worries, it doesn’t seem like seeing Jane has affected his desire for you in any way. Somehow you’d never believed his devotion to you, until now.

With meeting Jane now that you’re married out of the way, and Thor’s cock still solid as he rutts into you from behind as he strips you, you feel a lot more secure in the emotions and passion you’re able to summon from him.

Almost like he knows you need it, “Tell me you love me, cherub.”

How can he doubt it?

“I love you, puppy.” It just slips out and Thor freezes.

You panic, turning to look at him because you hadn’t meant to say it, and it was something you’d just been calling him in your head in secret because of that look he gives you when he’s begging you to give in for whatever he wants in the moment.

“I’m-” He cuts you off, smashing his mouth down onto you, open wide as he delves into you, tasting you, tongue searching and coaxing.

“Mmmph,” You whimper, wrapping your arms around him to grip the back of his shirt tight.

He suddenly tosses you back onto your bed, pulling his shirt over his head and then shoving his pants down before he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the edge. With wide splayed out hands he pushes your thighs open and settles between them, two fingers run up along your slick slit making you quiver.

“Tell me again,” he orders, voice so deep you feel it in your toes.

“I love you, pu-AH!”

[sirikenobi12]

This Capt' goes down with her Ship

I’m honestly amazed at how many messages I receive both here and on Twitter that ask me why I ship Obi-Wan with Siri Tachi over Satine Kryze. I guess I’m mostly amazed because I can’t believe people actually care enough to take the time to message me about my character preferences, that’s just really fascinating to me. 

But, since I’m getting tired of writing this out in individual messages I thought perhaps a blog would be a good idea so that way I can just reference/link them to it later - it’ll be much easier. So, bear with me while I get a little self indulgent (and Satine stans please don’t come at me, I will explain below how I really have nothing against Obitine). 

This is going to be really long, and I’m not expecting anyone to actually read this, but here we go! 

I’ll begin by answering questions that are sitting in my inbox:

1. Who the hell is Siri Tachi?? For those who don’t know the character of Siri Tachi, she was a female Jedi who was two years younger than Obi-Wan. She was originally from the Legends young reader book series Jedi Apprentice and Jedi Quest (written by Jude Watson). She was in many of the same Padawan classes as Obi-Wan even though she was two years his junior because of her advanced skills. She could hold her own against him in a lightsaber duel even as they grew up. She was chosen as an apprentice to Jedi Council Member Adi Gallia at age 11 which was very impressive given how young she was and the fact that a Council Member chose her.

(I don’t know why she looks like Brittany Spears in this drawing, not my fave)

She did have a hard time fitting in with her peers when she was younger though because she was so focused on her career as a Jedi which didn’t always make her the friendliest person to be around (it was really her masking her insecurities) and it was only after she was paired on several missions with Obi-Wan that they even became friends. 

She and Obi-Wan over the years grew very close and eventually discovered their feelings had crossed the line from friends to something more while on a mission when they were older Padawans (Obi was 18). They had been separated from their masters and nearly died while on that mission. So, before they “died” they each confessed their love to the other, but when it turned out they didn’t actually die they decided they’d wait and figure out what their relationship actually meant once the mission was over - putting duty above their feelings. But Qui-Gon and Yoda intervene before the two of them could have the conversation and the Masters reminded Obi-Wan of his dedication to the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan argued that he and Siri would be able to find a way to be together while still being active Jedi, that maybe they could be an exception to the rule or even change the rule entirely. Both he and Siri did end up choosing their commitment to the Jedi over their relationship in the end, because each of them realized they’d regret not being Jedi more than anything, but it did put a strain on their friendship for many years. 

At 23 Siri was secretly knighted and her first solo mission was sent undercover to infiltrate and take down a huge pirate slaver operation and she spent 4 years on that mission, all on her own with limited communication with the Council.

In order to do this she had to pretend to have a falling out with her Master and “leave” the Order entirely, everyone thought she had fallen to the dark side. Obi-Wan was devastated, and he spent several months looking for her because he refused to believe she’d actually fall. It was also clear that he was heartbroken that she left, especially knowing what they had given up in order to be Jedi. Upon ending the mission she returned to the Jedi and was then often sent on other undercover missions throughout the rest of her career (including one where she and Obi-Wan had to play a royal married couple which was super cute). Her actually being a Jedi Shadow is not official and is a fanfiction creation - but, it’s one that I 100% headcanon because it just makes sense. 

Siri was very different when she returned from her long undercover mission, she had lived as a pirate for 4 years and so she was not as uptight and rule bound as she had been in her youth. She began to wear tight unisuits/flight suits instead of the traditional Jedi tunics and she had grown to be a bit more irreverent - even showing up late to Jedi Council summons.  Obi-Wan didn’t seem to mind the change and the two became a formidable pair as Knights and they were sent together (with their Padawans who hated one another) on several missions.

Obi-Wan and Siri were always written as being equals, never one more powerful than the other. They often shared flirtatious banter (nothing new for Obi-Wan) and they seemed very much in sync on missions that it was clear they shared some kind of bond. They never seemed to let their failed romance stand between them and their duty, and only brought it up once more as adults to admit that they still loved each other, but were content to just be friends because it would be selfish of them to turn their backs on the Jedi simply for their love. Then upon Siri’s untimely death (she of course died in his arms) she told him that she’d always be with him. And he nearly fell to the dark side due to his anger, but stopped himself from killing the man who was responsible for Siri’s death because he knew she’d not want him to fall because of her. 

In canon there isn’t much about her (yet), except that Siri is said to be the girl Obi-Wan would hold hands with under the table during mid-day meals which suggests that they had a bit of a secret affair/flirtation for many years.

2. Why don’t you like Satine? This is a bit of a loaded question because even though I tend to write fics centered more on Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the character of Satine or that I don’t swoon over their relationship from time to time thanks to some very well written fics ( @mahizli​ I’m looking your way). I just tend to write Siri more than Satine because I can relate to Siri more as a character, but in truth I also feel Siri and Obi-Wan’s relationship is a bit more well rounded than his and Satine’s 

*ducks to avoid things being thrown at her*. 

Satine and Obi-Wan have a beautiful love story, don’t get me wrong. But for me personally I am a little sick of the Romeo & Juliette/star crossed lovers angle. And that’s totally what they are - She’s a Mandalorian, He’s a Jedi, it’s a forbidden love not just because of his code, but because their “families” were mortal enemies. And I guess I’m just not super inspired by it. Not to mention that they met as children (apparently only 15 years old according to canon), confessed their undying love for one another after a year of knowing one another in a life or death situation and then pined for each other for the next 20 years until they were reunited...I just have a very hard time finding this story relatable (and hate to say it, plausible). Not that they couldn’t have felt love for one another as teenagers (especially in that situation), but that they still felt that same level of love 20 years later without ever seeing one another...at least with Siri they still had to interact with one another on a regular basis so it would be harder to push those feelings aside. 

The other reason I have a hard time writing Satine and Obi-Wan is because the romantic love they seem to have in TCW is written to be very one sided in my opinion. While Obi-Wan clearly cares for her, and admits to having feelings for her at one time it’s only ever Satine who actually seems to want something with him in the current sense. Which honestly makes their relationship feels a bit cringy to me, it doesn’t feel like it’s on equal footing - and makes it seem like Satine is a bit obsessive (I don’t blame her, it is Obi-Wan after all). This is a similar argument I have about Padme’s character, I feel like we’re presented with these incredibly strong women characters who for whatever reason still fall apart when it comes to love...I think it’s a reflection of men trying to write women and it ends up being a bit of a fantasy (the sexy/badass woman who secretly needs a man to save her). So, to sum up - I really do  love Satine’s character outside of her relationship with Obi-Wan. 

Again, this is just MY interpretation of Satine and Obi-Wan’s relationship...I get other people tend to feel very differently and that’s wonderful!! 

I will say, the thing I do like about Obi-Wan and Satine’s relationship and very much appreciate is how it is an opposite parallel to Anakin and Padme’s relationship. And it shows what a Jedi should’ve done - how you can’t have both a commitment to the Jedi Order and a marriage, but you can still care deeply about another person. I do very much appreciate that aspect of their relationship and it’s very well done from that perspective.

3. So, why SiriWan after all these years? Well, I’m drawn to Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship for several reasons, but mostly because they are written as equals/partners (as I had mentioned above), both have moments where you can see the love they hold for one another - their feelings are very much shared and not one sided, but above all it’s not the main defining factor of their relationship. They are Jedi and friends before anything else, and I love that! It may not be as flashy or maybe even as passionate as say Satine or Cody but to me it’s more full and well rounded. I can also see their relationship growing and changing over the years, they aren’t stuck in one place or in the past.  

I also tend to find the Jedi culture more fascinating than the Mandalorians. I know, I know, I’m a heretic. That’s not to say, again that I don’t think Satine on her own isn’t fascinating, I just am a little tired of Mandalore’s importance in virtually every aspect of Star Wars these days and I feel like there is only so much you can do with Obi-Wan having feelings for a Mandalorian, where as him navigating a relationship with another Jedi is more interesting. The Jedi are allowed to be intimate with people, contrary to popular belief they are allowed to love, they just can’t become possessive/attached - I feel like two Jedi would have an easier time navigating that than someone who wasn’t raised with that same code. I think Siri and Obi-Wan have more opportunities to have a more realistic and adult relationship and I like writing/exploring that. 

The other thing I like about Siri and Obi-Wan specifically is the fact that neither ever really considered leaving the Order for the other. They knew how important being a Jedi was to the other, and I think having a love interest that Obi-Wan didn’t consider leaving for is an important distinction. 

Instead he thought they would be able to change the rules/code because he assumed it would be obvious that their love was pure and not an attachment. Now, obviously they both realized later that it was just foolish/young love talking (because I’m sure teenagers have to be extra careful of forming attachments), but what I really adore the concept that Obi-Wan “by the code” Kenobi had loved Siri so much that he’d even remotely consider the idea that he’d want the rules to change for her/them (and Siri “by the code” Tachi felt the same about him). There is something incredibly romantic about that - naïve, but romantic. 

I also believe that romantic love doesn’t automatically equal “true love”. I personally feel that Obi-Wan and Siri have a love that is on such a deep level that their relationship doesn’t always have to be romantic. They simply just love one another, in whatever form that takes at any given period in time throughout their lives, sometimes it takes the form of just friends, sometimes lovers, sometimes romantic. And I wish we saw more relationships like that in various media. But I get why we don’t, they are harder to write and less overtly sexy/dramatic.

Also, when someone says the phrase:

“Forgive me if I still think I know you better than anyone.” (Siri)

And it’s followed immediately with:

“You do”  (Obi-Wan)

My heart just melts, because that to me is love!!

4. So, you actually think Obi-Wan loved both Siri & Satine? Yes, I do...100%. I think they all loved other people at different points in their lives. I personally feel that most of Obi-Wan’s various ships (with exceptions of Master/Padawan ships...sorry, just not my bag) actually happened. I could see a young Obi-Wan having a fling with Quinlan Vos (I doubt they could handle more than that), I could definitely see him have an attraction/affection towards Cody (I don’t think given the power dynamic Obi-Wan would ever allow anything to actually happen between them though), I even believe he and Ventress had a rather confusing and passionate night together (maybe even more than one), I can see him easily having a relationship at one point with Taria Damsin (to which Siri would give him endless crap about because he seems to have a thing for Jedi Shadows). I’m sure he even had a relationship with Annileen on Tatooine to help find some comfort during his exile. To me all of that makes so much more sense than him (and Satine) pining away for one another for 20+ years. 

Allowing Obi-Wan to have multiple loves in his life also helps showcase the idea of non-attachment. It’s not that Jedi promote promiscuity - though they won’t judge anyone for it (I see the Jedi very much in the mindset of: it’s your body/your choice) it’s that the idea of attachment means possessing someone, thinking you own someone and also putting that person’s value over others. The idea that Obi-Wan could find love and value in a multitude of lovers to me shows him capable of loving without attachment - He is able to let these people go when the relationship has run its course...it’s very healthy. 

Not to mention that realistically people tend to have multiple relationships and loves throughout their lives. To only ever love one person is incredibly unrealistic, unhealthy and frankly screams attachment to me *cough Anakin, cough*.

In conclusion: If you’re still reading this (did you not have anything better to do with your time???) I do hope you have a bit more of an understanding why I personally like to write Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship instead of his and Satine’s. Though if you read my fics (thank you if you do) I hope you realize that I try to not make the stories all about their relationship - yes, it pops up here and there, but I try not to make it the focal point. I believe both Obi-Wan and Siri are so much more than just a romance and that’s what I really love writing. 

But I raise a glass and toast all of those who prefer to ship Obitine or CodyWan or Ventrobi (or whatever Obi-Wan and Quilan’s ship name is) - I love reading your take on those relationships and I hope you don’t mind if an old SiriWan shipper joins the fun!

Phew, rant over...man, does anyone else have to defend their OTP preferences to strangers?? It’s just so odd to me! 

Thanks for reading, and if you’re a Siri, Obi-Wan or SiriWan fan drop me a line - I can seriously talk about them for hours! 

[whatanoof]

Cold Hands and Warm Bodies

Merry Christmas! This is a Secret Santa gift for @autumnleaves1991-blog!

There’s a sequel now!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Whiskey x Reader

Word Count: ~4.7k

Content: fluff, dancing, swearing, oral sex(female receiving), rougher sex, fluffy, smut, there’s a part at the beginning where Reader rejects a man’s advances but it doesn’t get past name-calling

A/N: I liked the idea of a lonely Christmas in a new city turning into something much better through unexpected events, especially since so many are going to be celebrating with less people than normal due to the pandemic. The music referenced is Gasoline by Halsey from her Badlands album.

Your parents had begged you to not complete the move over the holidays, surely it could have waited a couple of weeks so that you could celebrate with your family. But you were decided, and the timeline of your new employment was not up to you. Staying in LA for Christmas wouldn’t have benefited anyone. The confidential nature of your job meant you couldn’t talk about your job with your family, and that’s all that families really want to know besides if you have a boyfriend yet. This left more rumors flying between the aunts than bullets around a battlefield. At this point, you’re pretty sure that your own mother thinks that you’re a prostitute.

Alcohol is an easy option to curb loneliness. The drink burns on the way down, but you savor it. It’s been cold in the new city, and you haven’t been able to shake the chill since moving. Your current choice of atmosphere is the bar closest to your house, leaving you with the freedom to slam as many drinks as would let you forget how alone you are at the time of year when no one should be alone. You don’t have to drive home this way. But now, inside and looking around at the excessive Christmas decorations, you begin to wonder if this was the best way to avoid the holidays.

There are Christmas wreaths all around, draped over as many surfaces as possible. Mistletoe hangs near the corners of the cleared section of floor, and you wouldn’t be surprised if some of those corners were soon occupied by drunk dancers. Lights dangle over the bottles behind the bar, and the bartender is wearing a Christmas elf headband. And to top it all off, most everyone inside has a partner, making you stick out like a sore thumb. Your sole point of luck is that the bar isn’t Western based. 

“Well, hello good-looking.”

The moment is shattered by the stranger’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you too close for the small amount of liquor in your body. The brunette man smells like spearmint, but his breath clearly reveals his state of mind. 

“The name’s Grey. Now, I heard a little birdie that told me that you’d be coming home with me tonight.” His grin appears genuine, but something glitters in his eyes that sends an icy distrust through your gut.

You turn away. “No thank you.” Better not to give him any attention, drunks are never reasonable if you let them believe for even a second that they have a chance.

“Now that’s not very kind. I was being civil, and you rebuff a poor man who just wants a warm bed tonight. May I at least get the lady’s name so that I can address her properly? Where’s the Southern hospitality? ” You catch a concerned look from the bartender, though there’s no need to worry. This isn’t your first rodeo.

“Nonexistent, Grey.” You grab his wrist, yanking it off of your shoulder. 

For a blissful second, the contact is gone, then it returns, and now his fingers are digging into your bare skin. His hands are cold. The handheld taser in your pocket is burning, and you reach for it as he snaps, “Now, there’s no need to be a bi--”

“Hey now,” The new voice is sudden, but there’s a distinctive Southern drawl to the baritone voice that sends pleasant tingles down your spine. Now that is a voice that you could listen to the rest of the night. “The lady said no. And last I checked, Southern hospitality doesn’t apply when said person isn’t Southern.” 

The arm around your shoulders vanishes and you slowly reach for your bag. Angry voices echo behind you, but you’re too preoccupied with leaving to worry yourself with the brewing argument. Goddammit you had only come for drinks, and now you might have to duck out before a fight starts.

But the angry voices lower and the normal barroom din returns. You slowly release your bag to rest once again at your feet, and a new man appears on the stool at your elbow. 

“Good evening.” It’s the rumbling voice of your faceless Southern gentleman. 

He saved you, but that doesn’t mean you can trust him. Feigning disinterest is more difficult now, but you take a sip of your drink and focus hard on how the light from the glass catches the amber liquid. “Thank you for stepping up. Doesn’t happen often.” 

“Unfortunately. Mostly for the men if you end up pulling that taser.” The casual observation catches your attention.

You turn and finally look your gentleman in the eye. Oh. You weren’t prepared for him to be so-- gorgeous. That’s really the only word you can summon to your scattered brain at the moment because, damn. Dark hair brings out darker eyes that glimmer warmly in the lowlights of the bar despite the cowboy hat. A mustache accents plush lips. Tan skin and bold features draw you in, and you don’t want to stop looking except he clears his throat and you realize that you’ve been staring for much longer than the appropriate time.

“Is there something on my face?” Your eyes dart back up to his face and you’re struck by how unfair it is that someone can be so effortlessly attractive.

“N-- no!” Stammering, really? Dammit you’re a full grown woman, pull yourself together. “How-- how could you tell I’m not from around here?”

He beckons a finger to you, and you lean in. “I am an undercover operative working with an American based agency that deploys me worldwide to handle top-secret missions.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back to take him in again. The jacket over the tight shirt shows his athletic build rather well, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, “Really?”

“No. It’s the accent.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. The pleased smile spreading over his face matches the one sneaking over your own. “You’re right, I just moved here.” A thought strikes you, “What are you doing alone in a bar during the holidays? No family or friends to visit?”

“None left that mean enough.” The statement is casual enough, except there’s a tension in his voice that makes you hesitate. “And I could ask you the same thing. What motivates a lady to move to a new city, all alone at Christmas?” The tension passes and he waves at the bartender, who immediately turns and starts making a drink. He’s a regular here, apparently.

“A job,” You swirl the remnants of your drink lazily before finishing it, “I’m starting tomorrow.” The last dregs slip down your throat, and the burning buzz will last for now.

“Ah, a beautiful woman and a hard worker. It’s too much for my heart.” 

“If that alone is too much, then this is going to be a short evening indeed.” The subtle innuendo doesn’t fly over either of your heads, and you don’t miss the smile spreading across his face when you flirt back.

“I think I may surprise you, darling. We’re both willing to work for what we want.” His drink arrives, and he takes a sip. Heat pools in your core at the implications. “If this evening is going to continue, may I have the lady’s name so that I can address her properly?”

You hum low in your throat in response. You’ve never brought a man home at the first meeting, never allowed flirting to be anything more than that on the first night. But something’s different about this one. In a split second decision, you give it to him. 

He repeats the syllables after you, rolling them around his tongue in a way that sends a thrill through you as you wonder what else he can do with it, “Gorgeous. George, another drink for the lady, on my tab.” 

You tilt your head back, catching his eyes, “And may I then have the gentleman’s, so that I may know the name of my fearless knight in… shining leather and spurs?”

He laughs, “Jack Daniels.”

“Jack Daniels, like the whiskey brand?” 

“Something like that.” His grin is mysterious and seems a little too practiced, but that’s fine with you. You smile back anyway. Your drink arrives, and you raise the glass to Jack as you take a sip, though you find that the burn of the whiskey doesn’t leave you with the same satisfaction.

A song starts playing in the background, and you straighten up and glance over your shoulder at the dance floor. “Wait, I--”

“--love this song.” You both finish the sentence together. You look back at him hopefully, and he looks at you with a bit of a challenge in his eyes. 

The stool scrapes across the floor and he rises, extending a hand to you, “Would you care to dance, sweetheart?”

“Depends. Are we going to square dance?” 

“Only if you want to, darling.”

“Yes to the dancing, no to the square dancing then.” You accept his hand and walk with him to the center of the dance floor. Your drinks remain abandoned at the bar.

The bassy thrum of the music and crooning vocals keep your hips undulating against his, but Jack has other ideas. He hasn’t let go of your hands, and your arms are crossed over your chest when he draws them up and over your head. Your arms extend and you spin, meeting his eyes as you grasp his hands. 

The alternative pop song doesn’t translate perfectly to the style that he brings, but you can hardly complain. Around you, people are grinding against each other, but a small space clears for him to sway and turn with you. It’s surprisingly fun compared to what you knew of night dancing in a bar. 

The tempo slows and you step inside his reach so that your back is against his chest. 

‘Are you strange like me?

Lightin’ matches just to swallow up the flame like me?’

His breath catches hot and heavy in your ear as you press back into him, savoring every breath and drop of sweat that is your effect on him. The verse fades, and you allow him to lead once again. The melody swells in your head, drowning out everything around you until it’s only him and you. But this time the lyrics make you wonder about the man holding your hands.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

The music ends with a crescendo and a final spin, and you’re left panting as your gaze locks with Jack’s. He’s holding you firmly, one hand on your waist, and your bodies feeling like they’re steaming in the chilly air. The spell breaks with a single glance upwards from him. 

“Well that’s a fine addition to an already wonderful night.” There’s a tinge of amusement in his voice, and you follow his gaze.

The mistletoe hangs directly overhead. You glance down, a thrill of nerves running through your body at the intensity in Jack’s stare. Something must have shown in your eyes or body language, because he relaxes and loosen his grip on your waist.

“Only with your permission of course, darling.” He’s fighting it, but disappointment clouds his tone, and he withdraws. “I understand if it’s not something you wan--”

You cut him off by snagging his collar and pulling him close. The surprise on his face gives way to a smirk as you quip, “Don’t mind if I do, cowboy.”

Then his lips are on yours and you’re melting into him. The bar fades into the background and you lose yourself in a man that you had met three hours ago. He tastes like your drink. Tingles spread through your body as he deepens the kiss, warming you to the tips of your fingers.

Then you’re being pressed backwards until you hit the wall, hands instinctively flying up to tangle in his already messy hair. Something soft and firm brushes your fingertips, and you snag it on instinct, lifting Jack’s hat to plop it on top of your own head. He breaks the kiss, a soft smile spreading over his face when he pulls back to look at you. 

“Do I make a good cowgirl?”

“Looks better on you than me, darling.” He kisses you again, hands sliding over your waist down to your ass, and you don’t think that’s a lasso pressing up against you. A low moan rumbles out of his throat, and you stifle a whimper at the sound. He chuckles, “Want to get out of here, cowgirl?”

“Yeah.” Lust boils in your stomach. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his kiss-swollen lips that part ever so slightly so you can see his tongue flick over them.

“Got any friends to notify of your immediate departure?” His breath ghosts over your skin and his dark eyes flick up from your lips to meet yours, warming your body as you lose yourself in the deep brown.

“No, too new to the city.” You whisper back, the noise of the club fading into the background while a wave of heat crashes over your body, swelling between your legs.

“Your place or mine?”

---

Funny enough, Jack didn’t bring a car either, but he doesn’t explain and you don’t question it. You don’t regret walking the short five minutes to and from the bar, especially when Jack pulls you close to his side as you walk. You’re just passing under the bridge on your street when he stops walking.

“Stop, do you hear that?” You instantly freeze, eyes darting around for any perceivable threat. There’s too many potential hiding places, the shadows of the bridge supports could hide a man of any size and--

“Listen closely…” He hums the tune from the bar and steps away, tugging you forward a couple of steps. He pulls you back into him, and you’re able to hear the melody through the vibrations in his chest. 

‘You can’t wake up, this is not a dream.’

You find your rhythm. The tempo picks up, only a shadow in your mind as you sway to the invisible beat. He matches you easily, and the two of you move with an unpracticed ease out from beneath the shadow of the bridge into the streetlight glow. The melody swells, and you laugh when a breeze ruffles your hair. You sing the last line to him.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

You end up back in his arms, breathing hard and smiling up at Jack. His fingers slip down to interlock with yours, “I can help with that.” You should be freezing, but heat throbs under your skin in time with your racing heart. 

He leans in, but just before his lips touch yours, you whisper, “Jack? We’re here.”

His eyes shift over to your front door briefly, then back to you. He grins. “Nice place.”

---

You laugh as you stumble through your front door, your back hitting yet another wall when Jack pins you to the side of the living room. Heated kisses trail down your neck and a muscled thigh slides between yours. You shudder at the contact against your clothed pussy, your heartbeat throbbing between your legs fiercely.

“Jack, bed’s that way.”

“Oh sweetheart, that would be the end goal for sure.” Hands support your rear, and you fold your legs around him. You’re vaguely aware of him walking you towards the door that you indicated, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention when he’s licking into your mouth and he’s so close and so warm and right there for you to enjoy. He lays you gently on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. 

“You want this?” The question is so starkly unexpected that you blink and sit up for a moment. He’s standing there between your legs, hair disheveled and shirt half unbuttoned. His pupils are completely lust-blown and his shoulders are heaving with the heavy breaths he’s taking, and you’re struck with the thought that this is the first time someone has thought to ask. But you’d have to be half-dead to say no now. 

“Yes.”

And then he’s undoing your pants and dropping to his knees in front of you. Warm breath ghosts over your exposed skin after he gently peels your pants off. You squirm as large, warm hands rub over your inner thighs. “Beautiful.” But he is too, with the way he glances up at you from between your legs. He’s absolutely beautiful, as he carefully pulls your panties to the side and drags his tongue through your folds. 

“You taste better down here, sweetheart.” He immediately concentrates around your clit, tracing lazy circles around the sensitive nub and you forget how to breathe. 

Your hips roll against his face, trying to gain more friction than what he’s giving, and you whimper as his mustache leaves a tingling trail on your skin. The heat pooling within your core is begging for more, and you’re close to doing the same as he continues to patiently taste you. 

“Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. I’m going to make you feel so good, darling, you’re going to be screaming my name.” A thick finger rests against you, gathering your wetness and continuing to massage against your clit while his tongue finally dips to press against your entrance. You flutter in response, a whine scraping against the back of your throat. His tongue presses deep into your core, and you clench around the insistent pressure.

“Ja-Jack I’m go-gonna--” The words refuse to come smoothly, but he seems to sense your urgency. His tongue returns to your clit, sucking and kissing the flesh while his finger slips into your pussy. 

“Come, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Every flick of his tongue against your clit pulls another whine from you. Fuck, something inside you snaps and then heat is burning through your body. The wave crests, and you dimly hear a choked moan when your floor muscles convulse and heat drips from you.

He continues to taste you long after you’ve stopped convulsing, while the light fades from you vision and you regain feeling in your limbs. And you understand something. He’s tasting you simply to taste you, giving for the sake of giving. You know why you allowed it to get past the flirting stage.

“You doing good, darling?” He climbs up over you and kisses you, lips molding to yours like they were made to. He tastes like you.

You can’t respond, don’t want to when it means pulling away from this moment right now. The only thing you want right now is to stay like this, to stay in this perfect warmth, where the only thing you know is that he’s kissing you and you’re floating on the sheer feeling of being able to give because you feel like it.

Then he shifts, and you feel his erection brush against your thigh. And your gut tells you it’s his turn now. You move your leg, bringing it up between his thighs. It bumps against his length, and he tenses, pulling away and dropping his head to the crook of your neck. And you take the moment to flip the two of you, straddling his hips. 

“Give me a second, darling, have to find a condom.” His arm reappears from the edge of the bed with his wallet, but you stop him.

“I have an implant. Are you clean?”

“Last checkup, yes. And I haven’t been with anyone since.”

You smirk, “Well then I see no need.”

He exhales, arms going behind his head as he grins up at you, “I’d have to say, as enjoyable as that just was, seeing you like this?” He shakes his head, “Best part of the night.”

“It’s about to get better.” His dick is velvety hard between your thighs, and you can’t help grinding down on it just a little. 

“I’ll believe it when I feel it.” He groans, head falling back against the pillow. 

The challenge floats in the air, and you grab both it and his length in a single moment. He’s going to be saying your name soon. Notching it at your entrance, you sink down in a single motion. He drags against your insides so perfectly, fitting to you and filling you so completely. Your back arches at the burning stretch, but all you can focus on is Jack’s groan when your butt meets his hips, how his body seizes under you, and how his hands fly to clutch at you. 

But his cock inside you isn't enough, you need more contact, need to know that he’s right there with you. You grab his wrists and drag his hands up to your breasts, relishing the moan that escapes him as he squeezes them.

Your name echoes through the air, followed by his gasping breaths as you raise yourself off of him and sink back down. The heat starts building inside you again. His hips jerk up into you, seemingly unintentionally. “God, fucking perfect. Feel so good around me. Not gonna last, not after earlier, please sweetheart.”

You grind down onto him, finding your rhythm again. The fire inside of you is constant and overtaking you. It swells on its own without needing anything else besides Jack, who’s looking up at you like you’re the only star in the sky. 

“You look so good bouncing on my dick, cowgirl, but I’m going to have you under me, squirming for me while I get you to keep making all of those cute noises. I’ll be-- fuck!” His breath catches and his hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and a voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re going to have bruises tomorrow. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

You fight to retain your own rhythm, but it’s unsustainable, and your screaming muscles wear down in the face of Jack’s strength. They give out, and you’re caught in the rhythmic slapping of skin as Jack takes over.

“Ja- Jack! Fuck!” You can’t organize yourself enough to think, let alone acknowledge him while he continues to drive up into you. The ragged cries ripped from your throat lose all coherency. It’s too much, and the orgasm rising through your body is taking your mind with it. A hand detaches from your waist and presses directly against your clit, rocketing you further towards your climax. “Jack!” 

“Come on sweetheart, I know you’ve got another in you. Let go. Let me take care of you.”

Your own orgasm hovers at the edge of your mind, but you shove it away in favor of tripping his. His breaths are coming heavier now, and his hips continue to slam upwards into yours. He’s going to outlast you at this rate, unless--

A hand grips your neck just enough that you register the pressure, and he drags you down against his body. The world flips around once more, and then you’re underneath him instead and his arms are planted on either side of your head as he-- fuck. The pace increases, no it must multiply by some large number because your body is shaking with every thrust, and the headboard is slamming against the wall and you’re glad that you don’t share these walls with anyone else. Your cry is muffled by his mouth, but the new angle causes him to drive up against something inside you that you swear makes you see a corner of heaven.

It spikes with a fury, driving you over the edge as you clamp down around him. Your body seizes, arching against Jack as the shockwaves claim your body. You’re rocketed somewhere high above the clouds for the second time tonight, and all you can really comprehend is how happy you are that you brought him home. And through the haze, you faintly hear him purring in your ear, “Good girl, pretty girl, gorgeous. Gorgeous.”

He keeps fucking you through your high, and you need him to cum. You need him to feel the same bliss that you do, and you know how to do it. The idea barely crosses your mind before your body accepts it, and your floor muscles clamp down almost of their own volition. He falters, and a gasp is the only sound you hear before he’s coming. His hips piston out and in one last time, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

When the light fades from behind your eyes, you feel yourself being shifted. Your combined juices trickle down your leg as he pulls out, and your back is pressed against his chest. You drift, blinking in and out of consciousness. You feel him rise from behind you and then hear the sound of running water. He returns moments later, and there’s a damp cloth cleaning between your legs before he’s back in bed behind you, arms locked around your waist and pulling you close. His fingers intertwine with yours over your belly, and as they brush against the skin of your stomach, you realize that they aren’t cold anymore. He drags the comforter over your bodies.

The world around you is dissolving in a haze of exhaustion, but his voice rumbles through the fog. You’re so comfortable and warm, and by all rights you should be asleep. But you force yourself back to the world of waking, enough to hear him thanking you as he plants slow kisses along the back of your neck. The delicious warmth of his skin against yours draws you farther under and stifles the confusion at the statement, and you finally surrender to the exhaustion pulling at your body. 

---

Your phone alarm wakes you the next morning to an empty bed. 

Realistically, you shouldn’t have expected him to be there, shouldn’t have hoped that it could have been more than a one time thing. Right? You’re a certified badass, a top-rated handler at Statesman Distillery who has guided multiple agents and friends through life and death scenarios. You deal in realism and pessimism. You have had one night stands before, none of which led to any kind of connection. You don’t need emotional connection to function. This shouldn’t be any different. Right?

Except you know how you normally feel after one night stands, and this isn’t it.

You’re on autopilot as you shower and dress for your first day. All you can think about is the warmth of his hands as they ran over your skin, his smirk as he caught your eye, mouth glistening with your release. His quiet ‘thank you’ last night as he curled his body around yours before falling asleep. If you could have had a say, you would have wanted more than one night. A second chance, maybe, but it’s not like you get many of those these days.

Statesman Distillery is across the street from last night’s bar, and the brisk air helps to clear your head and prepare you mentally. As soon as you walk through those doors, you’re Agent Seltzer, not a girl pining for a man whom you barely know beyond his name. You hesitate under the bridge on your way to work. The music echoes in your ears and chest. You keep walking. 

The receptionist directs you to your new office. Top floor, third door on the left. It’s roomier than your last one, though now you’re at HQ, not the LA branch office. A woman meets you at the elevator. She is slight, but her steely composure and short cut hair give her an air of maturity and ability. 

“Good morning and Merry Christmas, Seltzer.” She’s holding a basket with a label that reads ‘Happy First Day!’ “I’m Ginger Ale, the head overseer of the base-side handlers, and I’ll be giving you the basic acclimation on your first day. Sorry that it had to be a holiday, but an impending crisis in Chicago has just taken a turn for the worse. The mission briefing has been sent to your tablet.”

Your brow furrows slightly, and she continues as if she could read your internal question. “This isn’t usually my job, but it’s the holidays and most of the other agents trained in onboarding are on leave. We’re throwing you into the deep end on your first day, unfortunately, but your superiors at the LA branch assured us that you would take to it naturally.”

She sets the gift basket on your desk, and you notice the largest item in the basket is a bottle of the famed Statesman whiskey. You idly take it out and study the label. “Interesting first day gift.”

Ginger shrugs with a faint smile, “That’s directly from your assigned field agent, Agent Whiskey. He gifts those to his new handlers.”

“Any reason why?”

“He--” She seems to start to say something, then stops herself, “It’s an early apology. He’s experienced, and he operates as he sees fit. He burns through handlers faster than a hot knife through butter.”

The challenge floats above your head at the explanation, and you take it. “I’m assuming that I will get to meet Agent Whiskey before our official briefing?”

“Yes,” Ginger checks her watch, “In about… two seconds.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice is achingly familiar, and memories of last night crash over you like a heatwave. Second chances, hm?

Part Two if anyone cares for it

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression radio version - Ep 26, March 2016 - Ideal female body shape, Child daycare shortage, Ban on beards.

After introducing Joe, Kaoru immediately welcomes Dobashi onto the show from the beginning. He then asks listeners to contact the show as always, and says he will send stickers to people who send interesting comments. Kaoru then reads out a message from a fan who says she was very impressed hearing about Joe's interview with Urasawa Naoki, and shares a similar kind of feeling of 'understanding' when she sees Dir play live. She also thinks Kaoru and Joe are good at talking, they are very clear with thier meaning when they talk, and they don't speak pointlessly. Joe feels happy to hear such praise, but Kaoru thinks they do actually say a lot of pointless stuff. He agrees thay they do talk a lot though. Dobashi thinks their off-mic talk is more fun. Kaoru says thier off-mic talk contains a lot of outrageous stuff. Even just before recording the show they were talking about stuff that couldn't ever be broadcast!

Kaoru's first news pick is about the net service 'Superdrug Online Doctors' which gathered data relating to the ideal female body type in 18 different countries around the world. A photo of the same model was given to each country, to be photoshopped into thier ideal body type. (Perceptions of Perfection - https://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/us_55ccd2a6e4b064d5910ac3b0)

 Looking at the 18 images, Joe suggests they each choose thier fave, starting with him. Joe's favourite is the photo of the ideal female body type from the Ukraine. His reason is that she looks like she has just the right amount of 'meat' on her (i.e. not too thin, not too fat). Dobashi chooses the image from Serbia, because she looks like she has strong thighs. He doesn't like the thighs too big, but if they are too skinny, they don't do it for him. He wonders how they would feel wrapped around him 🤭 As for Kaoru, he feels a bit wierd looking at them, but chooses the image from Spain. He gives no reason for his choice. Joe says it really shows how each country's perception of beauty differs. It reminds him of a joke about a sinking ship with many nationalities on board. The Americans says, 'If we jump now, we'll be heroes!', the Italians say, 'If we jump now, we'll look cool'..etc etc, the Japanese say, 'Lets all jump together', and the Osakans say, 'Hanshin won!'. The point of this being, that standards differ around the world.

Moving on, Dobashi's first news story is that of an anonymous blogger who posted, 'My child didn't get into daycare! Die Japan!'. The post has attracted a lot of attention. It read along the lines of, 'What is going on in Japan? 100 million socially active. I've worked hard, paid my taxes, and my child can't even get a spot in daycare?!'. Many people sympathised with the post. Dobashi points out that although daycare  workers have a very demanding job, thier salary is very low. He says working conditions need to be improved for them, and thier numbers need to be increased. So much money was wasted creating the Olympic logo alone. Why can't they spend that on daycare centers? Kaoru brings up the topic of abuse in aged care home which had been in the news at that time too. He thinks this is also a big problem. He wants to take up these issues and increase awareness. Joe suggests they could make a show dedicated to this and discuss issues facing the listeners. They could really shake up the administration. The atmosphere is very  serious until they break out into laughter after realising how serious they got.

Dobashi's next story is about how two subway drivers are suing Osaka transportation bureau over thier new policy that drivers must shave thier beards. The two drivers in question did not comply, and had thier driver evaluations lowered as a result, which in turn lowered thier bonus payments. The policy was the brainchild of the Mayor of Osaka at the time, Hashimoto, who wanted city employees to engage in proper grooming, so banned beards. The two  employees were of the opinion that having a beard does not imply inadequate grooming, and they decided to sue. Kaoru says  that Hashimoto must think that beards are unhygenic, but he himself does not think this. He says Hashimoto is probably trying get society to fit with his own expectations. Joe says that this issue is at the level of beards now, but if it expands it will get into the territory of other types of discrimination, like racial discrimination etc. He says that what Hashimoto is doing is not right.

Dobashi mentions that it can be seen as smart/cool having a beard, especially in Europe. Its not obscene, says Kaoru, its fine to have one. Dobashi imagines a beard like Dostoevsky's, and Joe thinks the Osaka subway would be cool if the drivers had beards like that. Kaoru wonders whether beards just didn't suit the two drivers in the story. He can understand sports personalities etc not being allowed to grow beards if they have to maintain a certain image for thier sponser, but isn't so sure about forcing regular people. Dobashi feels uneasy about the idea of imposed 'grooming standards'. Joe says these things change so often over time too. Most of Japan's past leaders all had beards. Kaoru comments on beards in Spain, not that he has a thing for Spain though, he insists.

He says these beard rules remind him of school rules. Dobashi says at his high school, they carried out inspections on students' hair. If curls etc were spotted the students were forced to bring in photos of thier hair when they were kids, so that the school could check if it was thier natural hair. Kaoru says his school did this too. He was told his hair looked brown. He actually had dyed it brown though. They then comment on the culture in Japan of making everyone the same, and not letting anyone stand out. Standing out or doing your own thing is seen as a disturbance to the group, whereas overseas this is not always the case.

Kaoru finishes by saying he will give a sticker to the commenter from earlier in the show. He then says he is creating some BGM for this show using his blog by getting subscribers to make recommendations, and he has other plans for the show which he will announce next week. He then plugs his live Dvd and new single.

 Songs - Dir en grey/Inconvenient Ideal, Smashing Pumpkins/Stand inside your love.

[duchessofferia]

Isn’t she just delightful?

Catherine of Aragon has one of the more fascinating media legacies of anyone in the Tudor period, not in terms of how her image has fluctuated over the years, but because of how notably it hasn’t. Other hardcore Catholics of the Henrician court are inevitably vilified in stories from Protestant perspectives - Thomas More, Cardinal Wolsey, Jane Seymour and above all else Mary I, to name a few. “Protestant perspectives” doesn’t just refer to reformation texts, it includes books from the perspective of Protestant figures; usually Anne Boleyn or Elizabeth I, and more recently Thomas Cromwell with Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall books. Despite her unwavering faith in both the Catholic Church and her own position, Catherine’s reputation has, up until the past twenty years or so, remained close to stellar; her marriage into the English monarchy at a young age did well to divorce her from her parent’s religious persecutions, and her death some fifteen years or so before her daughter took the throne kept her from being tarnished by association to Mary’s resurrection of medieval heresy laws.

As a Tudor queen, Catherine has largely gone down in history for her irreproachable conduct, even after that history began to tilt towards the side of a religion she opposed - she is known for her charity, her piety, and her belief in her husband’s good nature no matter how vile his behavior grew to be, even at the expense of her own self image. According to Chapuys (who in this case there is no reason to disbelieve) she went to her grave questioning wether Henry’s actions after their divorce was her fault, wondering wether, if she had given him what he wanted, he may not have felt the need to break from Rome, mistreat their daughter and execute two men - one a long term friend and one his own grandmother’s religious advisor. Catherine is a noble figure, she is a tragic figure, she is most of all a dignified figure, and in Tudor media she is always given at least a sympathetic nod if not a complex or three dimensional portrayal. 

The key phrase there, though, is as a Tudor queen. Whatever else she was, Catherine was decidedly not a modern woman, just like all of her female peers living five hundred years ago were decidedly not modern women; her unflinching religious beliefs, her many attempts at producing a male heir and her devotion to her marriage are admirable traits of a female noble of the sixteenth century, less so of a twenty first century wife or businesswoman. She was a product of her time, and modernized or semi modernized Tudor media’s attempts to portray her - specifically the brand of modern Tudor media that sets out to depict Anne and Henry’s relationship as one of Sexy High Romance - always end up turning Catherine into a misogynistic caricature of herself, historical legacy be damned. The blog anneboleynnovels describes it best:

“Catherine’s greatest hurdle has been not Protestant novels, but modernized ones. These are the one subgenre in which her character at best is severely degraded and at worst is completely unrecognizable. It’s not surprising that it should be like this — finding modern corollaries to Anne and Henry, whether in an office, a Hollywood mansion, or a high school, is doable. As for most of the people who surrounded them, while some some people are harder to wrench into modern poses than others, it’s relatively easy to cut and alter those characters to make them work better in a modern setting. Catherine, however, is completely lost here. She needs to exist, or else the central conflict disappears — but she simply doesn’t have a real modern equivalent, at least not in the kinds of societies that modernizers write about; her determination that God had put her in her position and that she had to safeguard her daughter’s legitimacy, and thus her inheritance, is impossible to convey fully, especially since Henry’s historical behavior — taking a presumed inheritance from Mary, forcibly separating the two women, and confining them in residences of his choosing — can’t be precisely replicated in a modern novel without making him at best a creep and at worst a criminal. In neither case would that Henry be an appealing love object for a modern Anne, so his behavior is inevitably made more standard — he’s simply a wealthy man divorcing his wife of twenty years, and instead of taking her settlement and moving on, his wife just refuses to let go.”

As the post on Catherine’s fictionalized history points out, attempts to judge her through a modern lens, particularly in stories that center around that grand, not-at-all-murderous love affair of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn inevitably fail to produce a balanced assesment. Susan Bordo’s highly modernized study the Creation of Anne Boleyn treats her like a footnote at best and a self righteous fool at worst, while the Catherine of Suzannah Dunn’s The Queen of Subtleties is disgustingly nicknamed “Fat Cath” (stupid cow, how could she let herself go like that after six pregnancies?) and features its leading lady, another ahead-of-her-time portrayal of Anne Boleyn, going out of her way to condescendingly paint Catherine to the reader as vengeful and delusional. Anne of Hollywood and Anne and Henry present the worst portrayals, one a hideous, deliberately unsympathetic drug addict and the other a teenage psychotic forced on Henry by his father, leading her poor, brow beaten boyfriend by the hand.

That’s not to say it would be impossible to write a well rounded modern Catherine of Aragon, but most modernized Tudor novels simply don’t care to try and make her well rounded; she exists solely to be the convenient road block to Anne and a whitewashed Henry’s happiness, a flat example of the Hysterical Woman trope rather than a Queen, a mother, or a politician. It isn’t Anne Boleyn’s fault that this happens (she can’t exactly object) but this version of Catherine never fails to rear its ugly head in Tudor media that aims to portray Anne, literally or figuratively, as a “woman of the future.” Since that reading of Anne has gained momentum over the years, this Catherine inevitably does so too.

What makes the Spanish Princess so unbearable is how blatantly Emma Frost is trying, and egregiously failing, to flip the script on this. Whatever her personal dislike of Anne Boleyn, she is very obviously trying to take this fictitious version of Anne Boleyn that has sprung up over the past few decades - that of the rebellious, sexy, pseudo feminist Modern Woman™ - and apply it to Catherine of Aragon, who was neither rebellious, a feminist or, after six pregnancies, five infant deaths and a battle with heart cancer, all that sexy. The intimacy and very real affection she and Henry shared in the early years of their marriage is stilted and unemotional, replaced by an absurd number of sex scenes and a very out of place “warrior kween” nickname. It isn’t enough for Catherine to organize a massive military campaign and give a speech to an assembly of soldiers while heavily pregnant, real life accomplishments of hers which have gone largely unacknowledged - no, the Catherine of the Spanish Princess needs to literally fight in battle, pregnant belly armor and all, subtly implying that her many miscarriages were the result of her own behavior, never mind the fact that Henry’s later wives had miscarriages as well. The deeply devoted friends Catherine actually had, one of whom served her for decades and risked royal punishment to be with her on her deathbed, are either erased entirely or put into invented conflicts with her. Her relationship with the only one of her children that survived infancy is perverted into a cold, uncaring motherhood, marked by disappointment and a refusal to even hold her daughter, let alone personally teach her Latin, commission scholars to write books for her, and request those same scholars take charge of her education.

In place of all these details, the things that make the historically minded audience love Catherine in the first place, several sordid aspects of Anne Boleyn’s fictional representations are assigned to Frost’s Catherine of The Upside Down: the ~unnatural~ blowjobs and poorly designed French hoods, the general air of cattiness, the excessive nudity, the hatred of her daughter, the inability to sexually please her husband, and the weird sense of anger at all the women in her life all stand out as hallmarks of Anne Boleyn’s less flattering portrayals, but so too do the clear attempts to pander to a feminist audience and sell itself as new age and progressive.

The fouler examples of Catherine as a modern woman aren’t yet the prevalent perception of her; a gaggle of misguided twenty first century books isn’t enough to erase the near spotless reputation she’s maintained for half a millennium. But the Spanish Princess fails to depict a more positive modernization of Catherine because it’s lazy in the attempt - it sees the habit of trying to turn sixteenth century queens into anything but sixteenth century queens and tries to replicate it by taking a handful of theatrical trends and having their protagonist perform them. Those trends have been apart of Anne Boleyn’s portrayal in the media for so long it wouldn’t be that strange to see her acting that way on screen, no matter how historically inaccurate they may be, but to assign them to someone with such a vastly different public history as Catherine is just jarring. She wasn’t like that, nobody thinks she was like that, Tudor media has always known her as being not like that, and the result is something that’s confusing at best and outright offensive at worst. It’s not fun to watch, but it’s interesting to examine, broader context in mind.

(Also credit to @queenmarytudor for that image of Meg and Mary, and seriously, check out anneboleynnovels. They’re great.)

[conservativetradlife]

Hi! I’m a feminist who would like to dedicate her life to intellectual/spiritual/humanitarian pursuits (think St. Hildegarde, haha) as opposed to a domestic calling, but enjoy your content nonetheless. I hate the amount of people (many of whom are men) who use the “trad” label and quote Ephesians ... all while posting internet porn, or say disgusting things like “women’s holes are for *insert disgusting porn-addled comment here*”

I had written out a long response to this a few days ago, but pressed a bookmark when I was pulling up a tab and lost everything I had written. I was frustrated and decided to take care of this ask at a later point, and today feels like an appropriate day to do so, due to what I am seeing on my Dashboard today. Some of my points will be controversial. I get that, but please be respectful in answering, arguing or messaging me about my points.

Firstly, I want to encourage your choice of lifestyle and life goals. If your general pursuits for life, if its something you are truly passionate about (not simply attempting to personify a Saint while forgetting your own interests and desires outside of your perceptions of St Hildegarde) then all the more power to you. I think its a noble pursuit and the world is better off with more focus being directed towards Spiritual and Humanitarian activities. I will keep you in my prayers :)

I like to believe that my content is less centered around the ideals of domesticity and more towards intentional living. I started this blog wanting to idealize the Homemakers of the 50′s, and I have slowly began to realize what Traditionalism means to me and what kind of content I wish to put out into the world. I am idealizing my own life and hoping that those who share a similar vision for their futures (even if its without children or marriage) find comfort in my content.

Now, when it comes to the sexualization of the Traditional lifestyle (or at least, what some people believe to be traditionalism) I want to say very briefly that I understand what ‘kink’ is to people, but I also know what BDSM is supposed to be and the general servitude of women to their ‘Dominant’ halves is the only thing that rings even slightly familiar with what BDSM actually is and stands for.

To me, the sexualization of the Trad Women (someone who wishes to take up the classic ‘cultural norm’ of being the homemaker and Mother. Someone who relies on their husband as the prime breadwinner and finds self worth in their role in the home as Mother, Wife and Homemaker) is a sad example of where we as a culture have degenerated to. To know that men are craving a woman who WANTS to be wife and mother, who WANTS to be a stay at home woman and feels fulfilled by these pursuits, rather than what modern media has exposed as desirable. Women who are in media, exposing themselves, using their sexuality as their confidence and their general demeanor being viewed as crass and unattractive, in comparison to the modestly dressed religious wife, who stays home and bakes cookies and is waiting at the door when they get home.

When in history have we, as a society been so over-sexed? 

When has pornographic content and sexually motivated news been so easily accessible? It is literally at our fingertips (via our cellphones, or simply looking at our various socials.) Its no wonder that someone would find sexual pleasure in the counterculture of someone who is the visual polar opposite of what they are blasted with daily. Someone who keeps their sexuality exclusive, who is honorably modest to themselves and to God, but most importantly, keeps what is meant to be sacred between a husband and wife (or between partners) private and sacred. It says a lot about our culture when that becomes the case.

Unfortunately, I find the vast majority of people who sexualize the lifestyle of a Traditional Women, are suffering from what my husband calls ‘Porn Brain.’

We feel as though we have to justify the fact we are attracted to modesty and Traditionalism, by throwing in scenarios that can be sexualized. One cannot simply enjoy what is, without having cherries on top (i.e attaching the sexual aspect to child rearing, preparing dinner, caring for ones husband.)

CARE to some people is defined in specific ways instead of a broad manner. I want to believe that some of the women in this sub-culture realize that to have a family, one needs to engage sexually with their husband if they wish to naturally conceive their children. Without medical intervention, or specific methods of delivery (to be crass, haha 😛) having sex with your partner (one who has testicles, sperm and a penis - to be 100% clear) to their partners ejaculation into their partners vagina (one who has a vagina,  menstrual and ovulation cycle, uterus, fallopian tubes and egg laden ovaries) is the method with which one can conceive children. I don’t think that needs to be explained in the grand scheme, however, I feel as though a lot of Traditional women forget that this (if they wish to be mothers to children they have carried in their wombs, and birthed into the world) is a natural, important part of the process to becoming a Mother. 

I can already hear the masses arguing that you don’t need to have sex to have children. That some people can’t have children (either by their own choice, or because of trauma or physical incapability) and they choose to adopt children, or go through IVF which doesn’t involve sex. Yes, thankyou. I don’t need to be reminded of this fact. What I am trying to express is that Sex is a natural part of a marriage (and there is nothing wrong with that, neither is not having sex for one reason or another. Every marriage is unique and the business of those who are married, not the scrutiny of those around them.) I want to believe that if someone is going to marry their partner, they are comfortable enough to have sex with them. If a pair want to have children the ‘natural’ way, then I assume they go into the marriage understanding that to do so, they need to have sex. 

HOWEVER!! SEX IS NOT THE RELATIONSHIP. Sex is not (and should not) be the focus of a marriage between two people.

 When people fetishize Traditionalism, I find that sex is the main factor that comes with it. They have some of the points that come with what encompasses Traditionalism to some people, but their focus isn’t on what makes a marriage work for both, rather simply looking at the sexual aspect, which is one point of what is part of marriage. It isn’t about the whole, but rather about the woman giving her body over to her husband for sex. It isn’t about the conceiving of children, but rather about mindless self indulgence. To preach religion while one does this, is bastardizing what the unions (both sex and marriage) are meant for.

Linking BDSM terminology with the fetishization, by boiling down the gender roles that come with Traditionalism (the woman is submissive to her husband in trusting that he can care for - financially, emotionally etc) into simply ‘Domination and Submission’ isn’t Traditional. There are equal parts expectation in the Traditional lifestyle, but also in the D/s relationship. The Dominant figurehead of a relationship (in both dynamics) is not simply the one who receives pleasure, while the submissive rolls over to their every whim. To simply view the submissive (usually female) in this role, is grossly oversimplifying a complex relationship between both roles. Just with how a Wife partakes in her role, the submissive does so as well. The Dominant doesn’t just DO what they want without thought of what the submissive wants, just as the husband doesn’t just DO what he wants without thinking of his wife, and that’s where I find problems with how Trads view BDSM, and how fetishists view Traditionalism. Equality is important for both roles, both partners have a say, BOTH partners can consent or decline things they don’t want, sexually or otherwise. If that equality doesn’t exist in either dynamic, then it isn’t a good marriage, nor a good D/s dynamic.

At the end of the day, sex is meant to be between two consenting partners. I believe that sex exists for a purpose and we as a society have been so exposed to it that looking back on relationships when it was sacred and still HAD purpose is incredibly alluring. In the hookup culture world we live in, sex is a commodity, and birth control exists so that the purpose of sex is forgotten. Men who fetishize Traditional Women aren’t looking at Traditionalism as a whole and what it means to be traditional. Its simply over sexed porn brain telling them that ‘once I have a wife, we’ll have sex all the time and she’ll take care of me. She’ll be sexy only for me and want sex with only me, while taking on the homemaker roles.’ 

These people aren’t looking for an equal partner. They are looking for a mother that they can have sex with. Someone that will take care of them, selflessly because they actively WANT to do so, with zero understanding that they themselves have things they want and need to make this an equal partnership.

I’m not going to get into the generalities of BDSM couples (nor how some traditionalists have a BDSM relationship ongoing beside their roles as husband and wife.) I will say that people who are in these relationships, aren’t in it simply for their own pleasure. There is nothing wrong with unconventional (kinky) sex between two consenting adults. What goes on in the bedroom of two people isn’t anyone’s business. Whether you like vanilla sex or whips and chains, its not anyone’s business but the people who are having sex. BDSM is not what’s wrong with these fetishists. Selfishness is what is wrong with these people, who think that having a traditional woman means their sexual needs will be met along with their household and human needs, while they themselves can do nothing.

Now, before I get jumped with another possible argument, about preference, let me quickly say that there is nothing wrong with having preferences in a partner. Some people like maternal women, women who love God, women who prefer to dress modestly, women who are Traditional. However, there is more to a woman that simply being Traditional. My husband loves me for more than just my goals of being a mother and homemaker. He also loves that I can sing, that I do funny dances when I eat good food. That I read books before bed or all varieties and have a dark sense of humor. He’s under no illusion that I am a perfect Trad all the time. Sometimes I want to watch True Crime documentaries instead of doing the dishes and he’ll bring home a frozen pizza for dinner. 

Some people might be wholly dedicated to being Traditional and that can be appealing to people, there isn’t nothing wrong with dedicating your life to something you are passionate about, be that, as you (for example) said, intellectual/spiritual/humanitarian pursuits or otherwise. To do so can be a preference they have, but if that is ALL one thinks encompasses a person or partner and they can’t have interests or things they do otherwise, you find a problem. I am more than just a Tradwife and Mother. So are others.

This has turned into a very long winded explanation to a simple question, and I apologize for going heavily into depth about this. Simply put (or TL;DR) fetishizing Traditionalism isn’t right. There is a purpose for sex and forgetting that is only showing what is wrong with our modern ‘porn brain’ addled society. Linking BDSM to fetishists isn’t right either, because there is a difference between a D/s dynamic and someone who is looking for a doormat. 

Preferring a partner who is Trad and nothing else diminishes a person into basic traits that dehumanizes them into an object that serves ones own selfish needs (”my partner will keep house, have sex with me and be happy because they want to. They’re supposed to be Trad. I’m the man of the house and they cater only to me.”) Woman are more than Trad and more than a sex object. People who forget that aren’t worth the time or energy to engage with and should be blocked on principle so not to circulate false truths about BDSM or Traditionalism. It gives a bad name to both of these kinds of lifestyles.

Thankyou for being patient with me in answering this, if you want to discuss this in depth, my messages are open and I’m more than happy to explain further if there are any questions or counter-arguments to any of the above. 

God Bless and I’ll Keep You in My Prayers 💕

[victorromeofox-blog]

VRF Website and Community

VRF Website and Community - Soft Opening Coming Soon!

I've been a little less active here in the last little bit, but have been working behind the scenes to build up the VRF website and planning around community-building.  I'm just about ready to start opening the site to semi-public access and start inviting trusted people to the Discord within the next week!  There is some information below introducing some of the content and features of the site and Discord server.  Please contact me (Ask or email preferred) if you would like access - I recommend reading the rest of this post before you do, but it is not required.

If you’re looking to better understand BDSM and kink, participate in a community of rational, respectful, and conscientious kink practitioners, and contribute to protecting, uplifting, and helping others - while still enjoying some fantasies - you are exactly the type of person who would be a great fit for this space.

If you’re “just here for the porn”, this website and community are not going to be what you’re looking for.  They are specifically a pushback against that very mentality, and the rampant toxicity and problematic discourse in the online BDSM/kink space, especially CNC kink, and your needs will be better met elsewhere.  Same goes for those who are just out to get nudes, roleplay online, organize hookups, or find a submissive - there are other spaces geared toward that.

In the meantime, I'd like to explain what this all means to me, where VRF is headed next, and what factors I'm taking into consideration as I continue.  This is going to be a fairly reflective post - almost like a letter of intent - but I'm putting it out there primarily for transparency and also for those of you who want some insight into my thoughts and process.

VRF - A Quick Recap

When I started VRF in 2015, I didn't really have a goal.  I was just looking to curate the kinds of porn I enjoyed the most on Tumblr and occasionally added some captions that came to mind as I did - and accidentally cultivated a sizeable following.  As the blog grew and began to have more interactions with others on the network, I realized that I couldn't stay in-persona all the time - not without sending a potentially dangerous message - so I started answering asks and giving advice out of character, as myself.  These "real" interactions, as well as the reality checks that kept rolling in, set the tone for what VRF would become - and made me feel much more comfortable with running a blog featuring questionable content.

I stepped away from the blog and went on hiatus in 2016; I saw a sharp rise in hateful, bigoted, and violent voices online and no longer felt comfortable that my posts would remain firmly in the realm of fantasy for the majority of readers.  Although the original @violent-rape-fantasies was terminated in 2019, I made a fairly complete backup of the entire blog before it went down.  I returned in late 2020 to start again from scratch, try to rebuild my following, and reconnect with the community - that effort was terminated by Tumblr in 2021, leading me to the two blogs I currently have (@VictorRomeoFox-blog / @violent-rape-fantasies-2​) and to create a self-hosted website containing the original VRF archives with major quality-of-life improvements to the Tumblr experience.

This process made me consider what my goals are for VRF, how I want to achieve them, and what promises I make to the community as part of that journey.  

VRF - Mission and Values

VRF's mission is to be a safe, inclusive, and collaborative space that promotes affirmative consent, healthy relationships, and conscientious kink, where consenting adults can explore their kinks, enjoy fictional fantasies, and uplift one another without overbearing guilt or shame.

Let me quickly break some of this down:

safe: I want people to feel comfortable consuming and interacting with me and my content - not only the kinks and acts depicted in the fantasies, but in the entirety of the space that VRF projects, including knowing that their personhood, privacy, anonymity, and emotional safety are important to me.

inclusive: although I focus primarily on male-on-female scenarios, people from all walks of life are welcome so long as they are good citizens of the community and conscientious kink practitioners.  This also means rejecting hate, bigotry, and willful ignorance.

collaborative: VRF is discursive, both in-persona and out-of-character; the content and direction I take is often influenced by the conversations I have with followers, the asks and submissions I receive, and the state of the community as I see it.  I want to always be in conversation with the community to understand its needs and goals so that I can better meet them.

affirmative consent: as discussed in a previous post, I highlight affirmative consent because it centers around positive action as opposed to consent, which can be a passive state.  I believe this is critical for conscientious kink.

healthy relationships: the relationships we hold shape who we are, who we become, and how we interact with the world around us.  I believe that healthy relationships build healthier, happier lives - this concerns all relationships, from friendships to families to romantic or sexual partnerships.  I have seen less emphasis in this community on relationships, and interpersonal interactions in general, and think that this is a major oversight.

conscientious kink: kink can be dangerous or harmful when not practiced with care and consideration - not just for physical health, but for mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.  It requires reflection, introspection, and communication in order to form intentionality - the understanding behind what you do, how you do it, and why you do it.

reducing guilt: this is one of the concerns I get most often from followers - how to reconcile their guilt for enjoying consensual non-consent, and whether it is morally wrong or an indication that something is wrong with them.  I believe that CNC, like most kinks, can be practiced in a conscientious way to reduce and mitigate the potential dangers, but that it requires consistent effort, education, and research.

Aside from these, I identified values which are important for me to maintain in order to meet the mission.  Some of them are:

transparency: I try to be as transparent as I can, while maintaining my privacy and anonymity, so that people know that I have nothing to hide.  I cannot build a safe space without building trust, and I can’t build trust without being honest and transparent.

leadership by example: if I am positioning myself as a resource and giving advice to others, I must embody the values I put forward and lead by example, not by words; otherwise, what I say is worthless and lacks substance.

data- and research-driven: I want to provide people with a deeper understanding of themselves and their kinks; while anecdotal information can at times be helpful, I want the things I posit to have weight and justification behind them.  This means an intersection of data, research, and analysis around all of the factors involved, including moral philosophy, psychology, sociology, and biology.

care and patience: these kinks are difficult and hurtful to some people, and confusing or conflicting to others.  I need to be caring, considerate, and patient in order for people to feel comfortable engaging with my content and interacting with me.

contextualized: these kinks and fantasies don’t exist in a vacuum and must be contextualized in order to remain conscientious of the relationship it maintains to the real world.  This means that I don’t want fantasies misrepresented as reality or reality misconstrued as fantasy, and the onus is on me to ensure that followers are seeing both sides of the equation.

quality over quantity: I have a limited amount of time that I can dedicate to VRF work, and want to make the best possible use of that time.  I want to focus on high-quality content, both in-persona fantasies and out-of-character advice, research, and resources, without worrying about how much or how frequently I’m posting.  It also means that I care far less about the number of followers and viewers I have, and much more about whether I am cultivating the kind of followers that match my vision for VRF and its community.

There are other factors and values as well, but these are the biggest ones for me.  They drive how I present myself, how I interact with the community, and what kinds of content I put forth.

VRF Website - Content and Features

What does the website allow me to do that I couldn’t on Tumblr?

No censorship, frustrating filters, or threat of termination - I can focus on my content without running into blockers at every turn, or worrying that I’m going to lose all my work without warning.

Better content controls, organization, and layout - I can group posts logically and have different ways for users to access and view them instead of being one monolithic stream of posts.

Tagging and search - I’ve tagged my archive with kinks, features, toys, actions, positions, locations, and more to make it easier to both find content that you want to see and avoid content that you don’t.  The VRF site features granular search controls, including tag combinations, so you can engage with the site how you choose.

Random Post/Random Caption - sometimes, you’re in the mood to mix things up.  Instead of seeing a temporally-sorted feed of posts, you can go to a random post or caption from the menu bar.

Clear disclaimers and view control - instead of my content being blended into a sea of posts, which creates difficulty in carving out that safe cognitive space for engaging with these kinks or necessitates rapid context-switching, all of my posts will be in one central repository with clear disclaimers where I have control over how things are viewed.

The VRF Archive - the content from the original @violent-rape-fantasies blog have been restored to the VRF website.

There are some downsides, of course - like the lack of network discovery, limited server space and resources, cost, maintenance, and effort.  But the benefits greatly outweigh the additional overhead.

VRF Community

What’s the VRF Discord community all about?

This is a new idea I’m playing with - I’m not new to Discord or community management, but combining that with VRF is a new endeavor for me.  Since I’m going to be shifting my focus from Tumblr to the VRF website, some of those network and community interactions from Tumblr will move to Discord instead, such as interacting with followers, taking requests, feedback, and suggestions, and delving deeper into kink philosophy, fantasy, and practice.

I’ve set up the Discord in a way that different sections can be partitioned - like general discussion, BDSM/kink discussion, CNC fantasies, member content (submissions), and so on.  The different sections are accessible to different levels of membership and verification to maintain that safe, inclusive, and collaborative space.  For example, agreeing to the rules and guidelines gives you access to the general discussion section; verifying your age gives you access to BDSM- and kink-related sections; and being an active and trusted member who contributes to the server over time gets you access to the private sections.

This will also be a much easier way to get in contact with me, and keep the majority of my interactions with the community in one place, instead of hunting across Tumblr messenger for both my accounts, Asks, Twitter, Discord DMs, Telegram, Kik, and email.

VRF - Next Steps and Future Work

In the next few weeks, the VRF website and Discord community will soft-open and move toward general opening.  This is a new direction for me, but after assessing my priorities and goals, it is the solution best suited for what I want to achieve.  I will continue to use Tumblr, but will likely be focusing the majority of my time on the website and Discord.

The mission and values I’ve identified leave quite a bit of room to explore various ways to express these kinks and share knowledge.  I’m not hard-set on VRF being a blog with porn and captions, and could see changes or pivots in the future.  I would love for this work to be able to generate some modest revenue in the future in order to cover basic operating costs, support survivors of abuse as well as kink education and safety, and commission custom content.  As an aside, if you read all of this, please start your request for access with the word “potato” in all caps to let me know you got this far.

I also want to move toward a more ethical and sustainable model of captions and fantasies.  My first step toward this is in creating gifs myself and fully crediting the source, which I started doing when I returned from hiatus.  Concurrently, I am working with my partner, who is an artist, to develop illustrations and animations to accompany captions instead of commercial pornography - we’re still in the R&D phase for this, but hope to share some early content soon (including a fantasy and sketch that we’re working on to accompany a follower submission).  Ideally, we would be able to collaborate with submitters and sex workers to create fully original, credited, and compensated content - but that’s a huge stretch goal for the future.

We are also considering other formats for fantasy and knowledge delivery, including a visual novel format or interactive media (i.e., games) if the art development turns out well and proves sustainable.  We’re both fairly busy people in our personal and professional lives, and in situations where we have to maintain a fairly strict separation between kink involvement and our everyday lives, so carving out time for VRF work is challenging at times!

I look forward to seeing folks on the VRF website and Discord community soon!

[lady-of-disdain]

Disdain Does a Book Review

So I’m mostly doing this book review because I feel that my 100% Inuyasha/anime fan followers will enjoy this book too. 

I’ll put it under a cut so it won’t clog up ya’lls dash, but in short if you enjoy cold, heartless (seeming) inhuman (fae-like) Lords, who start off as very clear villains, and slowly (I mean SLOWLY) become redeemed throughout the narrative (Sesshomaru). And self-centered, foppish, vain human mages (this one’s also a prince, bonus) who made questionable deals with fire demons and need to be rescued from their own bad choices (Howl), then you’ll love this book.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

So this book features three female protagonists that are all absolutely amazing, and I love all three. They each have their own story arcs and character growth they go through as the story progresses.

In short this is a retelling of the Rumpelstiltskin fairytale. Miryem is a young woman with such good business sense that she makes the claim she could turn silver into gold. Unfortunately this figurative statement is overheard by the Staryk, a fae-like race who are the main antagonists of the story, and who raid human villages to steal gold. The king of the Staryk shows up, and having taken Miryem’s statement literally, wants her to turn the silver he brings her into gold. If she fails, she dies, but if she succeeds she will become the queen of the Staryk.

The “reward” here being an outcome that neither of them actually wants, but because the Staryk is bound by his word, when Miryem (of course) succeeds at her task (she doesn’t want to marry the Staryk king, but she DEFINITELY doesn’t want to die lol) she is whisked away to the Staryk kingdom and becomes their queen.

The relationship between these two characters is VERY combative, and full of sass and fighting from both sides. This is very much my cup of tea, because I love Belligerent Sexual Tension. However if you’re looking for something fast and smutty this isn’t going to satisfy you. (This is my SFW blog, what did you expect?) Their relationship is very much mutual hatred throughout most of the book, with the Staryk king slowly gaining respect and admiration for Miryem as the story unfolds, and any romance between the two is reserved for the very end. A VERY slow burn.

Irina is the second female protag who is the daughter of a duke. She is described as being very plain looking, and that the duke will have difficulty marrying her off to improve his station. However, he cooks up a plan to try tricking the Tsar, Mirnatius, into marrying her using enchanted jewelry (made of the Staryk silver Miryem has been “turning into gold”) that makes the wearer beautiful, and irresistible to others.

Mirnatius is a very cruel, self-ish, and vain man, and Irina absolutely doesn’t want to marry him, but the good news is that the jewelry doesn’t work on Mirnatius because he is being possessed by a very powerful fire demon who takes control of the Tsar at night. The bad news however is that the fire demon wants to eat Irina, so he makes Mirnatius marry her anyways.

Thus Irina is taken away by the Tsar and has to find ways to avoid the fire demon at night, and keep up appearances that her and the Tsar are happily married by day. Another unwanted marriage for both parties, as Irina only knows the tsar as sadistic and cruel because of the demon, and Mirnatius is actually vain all on his own, and only appreciates beautiful things and people, and CANNOT for the life of him understand why everyone thinks Irina is so beautiful. (One of my favorite scenes in this book is when Mirnatius makes several very accurate life-like sketches of Irina, which even she admits are very good, and goes around showing them to people, asking, “Is THIS the Tsarinna that you keep calling beautiful???” and everyone is just politely confused lol.)

The relationship between these two is once again one of mutual hate and antagonism that grows into something more, and their interactions remind me strongly of Sophie and Howl, if only it turned out that Calcifer was not as loveable as he was in the movie, but actually a truly horrible being bent on the destruction of all life. ;P

The third main protagonist doesn’t have a romance story arc like the other two, but that’s ok, because her story is also one of my favorites. Wanda is a poor girl who lives with her two brothers and abusive, alcoholic father. Wanda is described at first in the story as simple-minded, unattractive, and burly, the only value she holds for herself being that of a beast-of-burden. 

However as the story progresses she shows not just compassion, but intelligence, and bravery as well. Her arc is one of found family as she goes from working for Miryem’s family, to escaping from her father with her two brothers and finding a new loving family with Miryem’s, and helping to protect them.

Anyways that’s all I’ll divulge of the story so far. All in all it’s my kind of story. I tend to be someone who likes a rich plot and well-rounded characters before any romance elements. I’m actually just as happy if the romance aspect of a story is smaller in comparison to the plot. I certainly like romance, but it can’t be the whole focus of a story for me all the time. If you are the same you’ll probably like this book. If you prefer the romance to be first and foremost however, then you may not like it as much.

I’m also a slut for hate-to-love, and all the tropes that comes with, and BOTH of the couples in this story were this to the extreme, so I was cackling like a maniac through all their interactions. xD

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

alpha - drew m / roman r. [m]

Note:

Okay, so I’ve seen a few of these floating around now and then and I know that as a reader, I personally enjoyed the experience. And that little showdown between Roman and Drew really... Got to me and lives in my head rent free. My original idea for this was so much different than what this is going to shape up to be, but honestly, I feel like it works better this way. As much as I dislike even thinking Randy Orton’s name. Adding that particular variable into the mix made this a lot smoother than my original idea.

I’m actually really excited about this. It’s a choose your own smutty ending. I think the first person I saw trying this was @glowrioustrash​ and it was last year, for Halloween, I think? I enjoyed reading that, so I kinda wanted to try my own hand at it then. I just never got around to it. I even asked them if it was okay if I did it, back then, I think? Anyway... Last night’s Smackdown just gave me ample inspo to FINALLY get off my ass and try it, and make it a part of my year-long smut one shot series. Bet ya’ll thought I completely forgot about those, huh? Well I didn’t. So... here we are.

This part is the beginning to both of the smutty parts I’m going to write for this, so it’ll be linked on either post and either post will be linked here, once I have them all done and posted on the blog.

LIFE EDIT: Eventually, loves... I’ll get around to posting the smutty conclusions to both men. When I do, those will be linked to this post.

Enjoy this teaser, hopefully?

HUGE SHOUTOUTS TO : @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure and @schizoauthoress​ (your suggestions and that helpful input at the end, ahhh.. i owe you my life)  as well as @wardl0w because I have probably bugged the living hell out of all three of them as I attempted this and they were seriously huge helps to me with this.

Characters / Pairings:

Drew McIntyre / Female!omega reader - version 1, coming soon

Roman Reigns / Female!omega reader - version 2, coming soon

Warnings:

This is an attempt at me, writing alpha/omega again. So there will be knotting, mate bite marks, etc. In addition to that, there will be smut in the second part of these, whichever man you guys choose. There’s also hints of unwanted confrontation between Orton and Reader to start this off with and it gets... handsy, ewwww. But I had to have a way to work in both guys and make it work, so.. here we are. There’s also gonna be swearing. If I need to issue any other warnings those will be on the follow up posts.

Tagging:

@kyleoreillysknee​ @rampagewriting​ @writertoo18​ @thatnerdwriter​ @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​ @chasingeverybreakingwave​ @waywardwrestlewritingwaif​ @sassymox​ @champbucks​ @hungmanhorsecarriage​ @wardl0w​ @ryantaylorgirl​ @dilfmoxley​ @hotyeehawman​ @darbysallin​ @gabbynorth98​ @bec0m​

@linziland13​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​ 

Other Stuff:

[ about my writing - masterlist - tag list doc ]

[ Roman ] or [ Drew ]

The scent was absolutely intoxicating. So understandably, when it filled my nose for the fourth time that night, I found myself standing. Making my way out into the hallway. Shoving people out of my way. Now, I wasn’t running or anything, because my grandma always told me it’s better to be chased than do the chasing but… I was power-walking.

And, as per usual, not paying a lick of attention to where I was going or my surroundings. I was solely focused on this mysterious scent because deep down inside, I knew exactly where it was going to lead me and damn it, I might put up one hell of a show about being independent, but heat cycles are hell and yeah, maybe I get lonely as of late. Maybe I’ve been longing to find my Alpha. Maybe I want the comfort of knowing that I’m not doomed to be forever alone and I do have a mate out there, somewhere...

It hit me then, around the same time that my thighs absolutely flooded with slick and I started to feel all woozy. I hadn’t taken suppressants. In fact, I had somehow managed to completely forget about my heat cycle’s speedy approach.

I mean, between moving and getting called up to the main roster, life has been a whirlwind for me lately. And tonight I hadn’t taken them before I came to the arena because I was excited. Tonight was my first night on the main roster. And in the excitement of that, I’d forgotten my suppressants… again.

To be fair, I haven’t ever really adhered to taking them steadily to begin with, so there you go...I never really had anyone constantly riding me to do so growing up. I was mostly left to my own devices, free to do what I wanted and make my own choices. So, yeah, this isn’t my first rodeo with a surprise heat cycle.

I shoved all the thoughts out of my noisy mind, pausing my walk to attempt focusing. Centering myself so that I could really fix on the scent and the direction it came from. And in my distraction, that gave Orton the perfect opportunity to slither up and corner me before I even had a chance to properly respond.

“Doll.”

“I have a name, you prick.” I rolled my eyes as I shrank away, nose wrinkling at the oversaturation of his scent as it invaded my nose and momentarily drowned out that heavenly aroma I’d been attempting to follow before I got distracted like a dumb bitch.

He chuckled, putting himself closer to me. Leaning down a little. And the audacity of this fucking man, he even had the nerve to reach up and move my hair away from my neck, his nose burying there as a lewd growl rose up from the depths of his chest.

I shoved at him and cleared my throat. “I was kind of in a hurry, do you mind knocking it the fuck off, jackass? Go sniff someone else, ew.”

“C’mon now, hon… You know what’s happening to you. You know you need me.”

“Like I need a bullet wound to the head, Orton. Fuck off.” I tried to duck beneath his arm but his other hand caught on my hip, keeping me pinned between him and the wall. By now, the scent of him was so overpowering and gross that my stomach was lurching. My consolation thought as I began to panic a little and tried to think of a quick way out of this confrontation was that maybe if I just threw up on the asshole, he’d get away.

Somehow, I didn’t see that happening. Orton doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who picks up on cues, verbal or non-verbal. Likes to assert that dominance he fancies himself to have.

He chuckled again.

Then suddenly, the scent was back and it was overpowering his stench. ,, Thank God.” I thought to myself, daring to mutter the words under my breath. I found myself peering over Randy’s shoulder, waiting on whoever the intoxicating scent I’d been following originally to show themselves.

And when he stepped out behind Randy and into view… If I thought I was wet before, whew… I was absolutely flooded beyond all hope now. I swallowed hard, biting my lip, locking eyes with him. Randy seemed to realize that my attention was wandering and this of course, only made him up his game.

His hips brushed boldly against mine and I cringed, pretending to gag when I felt the way Orton strained at his trunks. At the moment, Randy was completely and blissfully unaware as to what fate awaited him if he were stupid enough to turn around and honestly?

I’m enough of a bitch that I was hell bent on not alerting Randy to it, either. Instead, I took a few shaky breaths and stared up at him defiantly. “Why do I need you, Orton? They make vibrators bigger than that fun sized Tootsie Roll I’ve heard you’re packing every day of the week. I don’t need you. Or anyone.”

I knew that part was a lie because as all this was going on, my body was in a literal frenzy at the sight of my Alpha. My skin was tight, I could barely breathe. I was doing good to think straight and form words, honestly. I was a split second away from being overwhelmed. Because thanks to my Alpha showing themselves, my heat cycle went from a mild annoyance to almost intolerable within a split second.

I needed to get away from Randy. I needed to get somewhere and calm down. But I wanted to stay exactly where I was, curious to see if my Alpha was here for the reason I’d ventured out of hair and makeup in the first place.

So far, all he was doing was standing there. Watching my little confrontation with Randy. The tension in his body quickly gave away his feelings on the matter, however. And that’s what kept me quiet. Allowed me to let Randy keep digging his own damn grave.

Because it amused me.

And I needed to know that my Alpha was actually a good Alpha. I needed to know he’d protect me, no matter what. I also needed to know that he knew when to fuck off and allow me to handle things on my own.

I wanted to test his boundaries too, if I’m being perfectly honest.

Randy bit his lip, staring down at me as if I were food and he was a starving man. He raised a hand and rubbed his chin in thought, eyes not leaving mine for a second. “Why do you need me? Well, it’s like this, doll. I want you. And you’re not in the mindset right now to turn down any Alpha who offers himself up, just goin off of that sweet little scent you’ve got yourself right now. Just drop the act, princess. You and I both know that if you don’t find an Alpha, things are going to get real messy back here. Real fast. And I don’t think you want that now, do you hon?”

,, what I want is for you to back the fuck away. Find a tube of toothpaste or some cologne or a shower, something… anything to rid yourself of the stench you’ve got yourself.” the thought came but I was treading carefully, so I kept it internal, choosing only to give a soft laugh and roll my eyes at Randy instead.

“You know exactly zilch about me and my ‘delicate state’, first of all. Secondly? I wouldn’t choose you for my Alpha if you were the last one on earth.” I managed to get the words out. I managed to keep my eyes off of my actual Alpha, who still stood by watching intently, fists clenched tight now.

When he gave a quiet growl and started to approach, the flood in my panties only got so much worse.

And naturally, Randy thought this meant that something he’d said was getting through and that I was just playing hard to get… He pressed me against him, a hand going to my cheek as he gave a smug grin and let his gaze settle on me thoughtfully. “I knew it.”

“Like I said, Randy, you really don’t have a single fucking clue.” I tried to squirm free from his grasp but the fever raging in my body and the overwhelming scent of my true Alpha as he grew angrier and angrier combined with the slightest panic I was feeling at being fucking cornered like an animal by Orton, those were all working against me and I couldn’t extract myself.

His answer was to smirk and chuckle again. “You realize I can scent you and I know exactly what’s on your mind right now, right?”

“Good, then you know I want to stab you in the eyeball with my stiletto. Or reach down, grab that little shrimp dick of yours and twist til it comes off in my hands?” I quipped, a sweet smirk on my face as I boldly met his gaze. When I picked up on him, slowly inching his face closer to mine, I swallowed hard. It felt as if my throat were closing up and it was quickly becoming clear to me that if I thought I had this under control, I really didn’t. Randy wasn’t going to stop or go away. And he wasn’t going to let me get away either.

Desperately, I found my gaze shifting over Randy’s shoulder. I locked eyes with my Alpha and mouthed, “Any day now?…” almost impatiently. I wanted Randy the entire fuck away from me. And I was really starting to realize that I couldn’t achieve that on my own. I was fully in over my head.

Typical of me, I’m afraid.

I have to admit, the fact that my Alpha had yet to actually do anything had me in an internal uproar. It had me thinking that maybe I’d gotten the wrong read on him when I watched an earlier promo in the night.

Before I had a chance to consider it fully, that my Alpha might not be a good guy either, two things happened. One, Randy’s hand left my cheek and his mouth closed in even more, rough lips almost about to brush mine and disgusting stench for a moment blocking out the scent of my Alpha. His hand settled on my hip and he was pulling me against him. 

I planted a hand firmly against his chest, palm down. “What the--?” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence because from behind Randy, my Alpha’s throat cleared.

Randy grumbled to himself, picking up on the presence of my Alpha. But it was too late.

My Alpha locked eyes with me and nodded, indicating that I needed to move now, while Randy was distracted, and trust me, I wasted absolutely no time doing that. I extracted myself from between Randy and the wall I’d had my back pressed against and not even a split second later, my Alpha’s fist went smashing into Randy’s face and he had him pinned against the wall, a forearm across his throat.

And I didn’t think, I just ran.

I ran until I was out in the parking garage and then I stopped, catching my breath. It passed through my mind that maybe I should go back inside and at least attempt to be there when the brawl taking place in the hallway was over, but honestly?

I needed to get myself together. To get calm. To process and catch my breath and try to puzzle everything out.

And yeah, maybe parts of me were curious. Wondering if my Alpha would seek me out, or whether the incident in the hallway was just him stepping in because I asked…

The door to the garage flew open a few feet away and I rose up slightly, eyes darting around. The scent of my Alpha filled my senses and I bit my lip, taking a few shaky breaths right as he started to call my name. I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came. His footsteps were getting closer and closer.

My heart was racing and his scent hung heavily in the air around us, making me dizzy as the heat took over in my body. He touched me, and almost the instant I felt his hand on my shoulder, I could feel my body cooling down. This wave of relief washed over me and all I could think was that if this is what his touch felt like, I’d absolutely love more of it.

I inhaled deep, preparing myself to turn around…

[ roman ] [ drew ]

[avidrawsthings]

I lost track of how long this took me from start to finish but I’m very impressed with the final result. I can’t recall the last time I’ve drawn a line-up like this and actually finished it. That aside, Reina is meant to be very tall for her age, like at least a head taller than most kids her age, but here she looks to be of average height...XD

This is my take on the MC Through the Years Challenge (I think that’s what it’s called lol) by @leah-demarco 

My contribution to the MC Childhood Challenge is right here! The stuff above can be regarded as a continuation from that.

Ties into the Future MC Challenge here!

(If the letters on my blog are difficult to read on the PC, use CRTL + to zoom in. When I tried increasing the font size on my settings, all it did was make the letters overlap horribly)

1984-1985 (11 years old)

After bonding with Ricardo (Jacob) over the past 3 years, Reina made up her mind to attend Hogwarts just for the sake of being closer to him. Since he never told her or her family about the vaults in order to keep them safe, Reina was completely expecting him to be at Hogwarts starting off his 6th Year. It wasn’t until after she met Rowan did she learn the truth. Upset and shocked as she was, that gave way to her absolute determination to find him and bring him home.

As Ricardo never mentioned having a sibling to anyone except Dumbledore and Chester, Reina was only ever seen as the friendly foreign transfer student from the Dominican Republic. She hit it off quite well with her fellow classmates, becoming popular in her own right, second to Penny. With dreams of owning her own bakery one day, she decided she would have a mini baking business while at school that became a hit with her classmates.

Much like Penny, Reina proved herself to be skilled enough at Potions to also be on Snape’s good side. She views brewing Potions in the same manner as she does baking, knowing the importance of having the right ingredients and the proper way to mix them. Despite enjoying such a positive atmosphere, it didn’t stop her from having to deal with Merula’s shenanigans. 

Since Merula didn’t have the excuse of MC’s relation to their sibling to get away with messing with them, she often faced the consequences for her actions. The other students viewed her actions as quite malicious because as far as they knew, she was attacking the transfer student for no reason.

1985-1986 (12 years old)

With encouragement from Rowan, Reina tries out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team and becomes their newest Chaser. She also meets Andre around this time and the two bond over their love of Quidditch and how they were taught by their respective grandparents, Andre with his grandma and Reina with her grandpa. 

Rowan effectively took Penny’s place for all the Quidditch stuff, as her own involvement stemmed from her family’s tree farm also making wood for brooms, and she wanted to see them in action. This helped Rowan break out of her shell, especially after hitting it off very well with Murphy.

Activities aside, Reina was still determined to get involved with the vaults for the sake of bringing Ricardo home. After meeting Bill for the first time, Reina unknowingly latched onto him due to seeing him as an honorary big brother figure. Once the Ice Knight had been dealt with and the Ice Curse broken, Reina would be left in shock upon hearing what she thought was Ricardo’s voice for the first time in 2 years. He begged her to not press further for her safety, but she wasn’t having it, promising him she’d rescue him from wherever he was.

1986-1987 (13 years old)

Develops a big time crush on Talbott after meeting him in group study sessions, and goes out of her way to help him when realizing he’s going through something. Merula’s constant spying nearly destroyed the chances of Reina and Talbott becoming friends, but in the end they succeed and the two become quite close.

With the Vault of Fear causing Boggarts to run amok all over the school, Reina knew she’d run into one eventually. What often puzzled her was that she’s never encountered one before, and isn’t exactly sure what her fears are. She got her answer when walking down a hall on the way back from the courtyard. It would take the form of a woman she wasn’t familiar with, but insisted she was Reina’s mother. The sight alone caused Reina to collapse with a high fever.

While she already knew her mother was abusive, the woman died when Reina was a toddler and her memories of the woman were wiped to spare her from the trauma. As the Boggart couldn’t figure out what Reina feared at the moment, it appears to have latched onto her subconscious. While she wasn’t sure why her mother’s image would cause her to have a fever, it gave Reina and her friends all the more incentive to break the curse as soon as possible. In time, of course, they succeeded.

1987-1988 (14 years old)

Reina pays less and less attention to Merula’s nonsense, and goes as far as befriending Ismelda after helping her deal with heartbreak regarding her feelings over Barnaby. Reina then attends the Celestial Ball with both Ismelda and Rowan as a girl group.

Some time after the Celestial Ball, she starts dating Talbott and the two are head over heels for one another. They do keep it private, however, as Reina herself is still very popular second to Penny, and Talbott would rather not be the center of attention.

After meeting up with Torvus, she befriends the Centaur much faster thanks to him not knowing of her relation to Ricardo. She has some familiarity with Centaurs as a herd of predominantly female ones live a short distance outside of her hometown. Progress is made and the Sleepwalking Curse is broken.

1988-1989 (15 years old)

Her 5th year proved to be a major turning point in Reina’s life. With newfound responsibilities, she now had to balance Prefect duties, her side baking business, Quidditch, detention and figuring out how to solve the newest curse. Reina’s emotion-reading abilities allowed her to be aware of Rakepick’s wickedness, and she refused to go anywhere near the woman to the point of avoiding her classes entirely. This didn’t go unnoticed by her friends.

The group found themselves divided over Reina’s choice to avoid the woman. Some of them (including Ben, Rowan, Talbott and Tulip) sided with Reina when she shared her concerns, while the others (Bill, Charlie and Penny) had doubts. Bill felt very appreciative of not only Rakepick teaching them actual important things, but the fact that she’d secure a Curse-Breaking job for him once he graduated. Charlie, of course, sided with his brother, and Penny herself was desperate for whatever help was possible to free Beatrice from the curse.

When questioned if her current levels of stress was affecting her ability to read the emotions of others, Reina couldn’t provide an answer, but stuck by her gut instincts regardless. Things reached a breaking point near the Christmas holidays. Penny (with some manipulation by an opportunistic Merula), took Reina’s refusal to cooperate with Rakepick in the worst possible way and angrily lashed out at her friend. The ensuing argument led to a vicious falling-out between the two. Some weeks later Reina would suffer a stress-induced mental breakdown that left her bedridden for some time.

Prefect duties were given to Rowan with Sprout’s approval, she was excused from detention and couldn’t take part in Quidditch until further notice. Her condition also prevented her from having her Quinceañera, which deeply upset her for quite a while. When Merula failed to get the painting from Peeves, Reina had to do it for her despite her weakened state. She recovers enough that she’s approved to enter the vault with the rest of the group. 

After Rakepick revealed her true colors and went as far as trying to kill Reina, the group fights back and forces the woman to flee. She reunites with Ricardo and the two have a heartfelt reunion. He joins the group in heading back to school. While Reina would fall into a coma for a week (even clinically dying for 4 minutes), she would eventually recover. With Ricardo safe and sound, and the Portrait Curse being broken, Reina made it clear she would no longer be involved with the vaults. The injury she sustained from Rakepick would leave Reina in a wheelchair for most of the upcoming summer.

1989-1990 (16 years old)

After the emotional fallout from everything she went through the previous year, Reina fell into a very deep depression. It was so bad that it darkened her hair and left her in a lethargic state. She barely interacted with anyone outside of her family, Rowan and Talbott. She only took 4 classes (Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology) at the N.E.W.T. level as her future career of running her own bakery didn’t have any required classes to go with it. 

She had no energy for her extra-curricular duties, so Rowan officially replaced her as Prefect. Reina had also stepped down from Quidditch for the same reasons, and ceased her baking side business as well. In her downtime she’d often be sleeping due to her near endless exhaustion. She even found a way to switch off her Empathetic abilities and kept them off due to not caring. With Ricardo tackling the final vault, Reina stayed true to her word by not getting involved when the next curse broke out.

She would remain in her slump until one night when she had a nightmare of Rowan getting killed right in front of her by Rakepick. It scared Reina so badly that it took a Calming Draught for her to be able to relax. While it didn’t break her out of her depression right then and there, it proved to be the push she needed to eventually make a recovery and get her inner fire back. What definitely added to it was how prophetic it felt. The same night she had the nightmare was when Ben and Merula went to the Forbidden Forest by themselves and encountered Rakepick, but were saved at the last minute by Ricardo.

Reina and her friends outright believe that despite the teachers’ best efforts to tackle the current curse, they weren’t getting anything done. The group would take matters into their own hands, but Ricardo would act as their guide, using his own experiences to help them out. 

1990-1991 (17 years old)

By this point there’s no sure way of knowing how the vaults would be dealt with, but they would be dealt with. Reina by that point would feel a sense of relief that she could finally put the vault stuff behind her and go back to as normal of a life as possible. She’d graduate with the rest of her friends and together take the next step toward the new stage of their lives. 

After graduating, Reina would head back to her home country and work under her family to learn how to officially run her own bakery.