#this has been in my drafts for over a week haha

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ❤︎ | yandere!xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

art by @/syaden8 on twt!!

⟢ cw: a failed escape attempt from them... yandere, dark themes, petnames, mutilation (xiao, scara), violence, drugging (scara) etc. please proceed with caution! thank you.

⟢ "your order's denial is causing me trial !"

"Ah."

XIAO's lips moved, and it was that single noise that escaped.

For your room lay barren, empty, cold, the harsh winter breeze drafting through the shattered window, the bars covering it having been forcibly bent aside. "It..." For a moment, his body swayed, his own legs unable to support his weight. Then, his balance stabilized, his once by a fraction wider eyes having narrowed. "It seems my songbird has escaped."

Unacceptable. The word repeated in his head, like a mantra, a prayer, resounding within his ears, despite the silence, despite the cold that bit at his skin as he trudged through the snow, his spear at his side. A tiny, devilish voice that tugged on his ears and whispered out tales of his sin.

"Found you."

"N-No- please-" His gaze sharpened in annoyance. Desperate, your voice hoarse and cracking by the syllable, hurling yourself forward one more step, just one more, your bloody, bare feet scraped and bruised. This wasn't right, how come you seemed so distressed?

No, you of course sounded better as his songbird, in a pristine little cage, singing for him, and only him, happy tunes of joy and pleasure.

"...And as a songbird can live with its wings clipped, surely you'll understand if I...?"

The shackles locked tight around your wrists, and your useless, wretched legs, bones shattered by a single blow.

It's an unfortunate predicament, but it's the only way. ❤︎

"Oh, so the chase is on?"

CHILDE shouldn't be laughing, but oh, he was.

It's a twisted sound, with the corners of his mouth distorted upwards in a haphazard smile, his eyes blown as a dark flush of red descended upon his cheeks. "So you've decided to play this little game of cat and mouse. Very well, if that's what you want, darling!"

You aren't making this difficult enough. His keen gaze spots all the traces you've left behind, broken branches, ruffled leaves, a torn piece of the clothing he had gifted you... it's all imbued with your essence, honey sweet on his lips.

Why would you even want to leave him?

It's that thought that makes him pause upon finding you, your trembling form sprawled across the bloodied snow as he stands over you, his own shadow casting you in darkness.

That's right, why would you? He's been nothing but loving. He's catered to your every need, has he not? He's bought this house for you, all the clothes you wear, the food you eat, the bed you sleep in... what right did you have to defy his affections, now that he had made them ever so clear?

If anything, it was insulting.

Oh, but did he truly feel insulted? After all, an offended person wouldn't have taken you like that, wouldn't have knocked you unconscious and wouldn't have carried the delicate you in his arms back to home.

Maybe a better description would be "longing." Longing for your praise, longing for your thanks, longing for the smiles you'd send his way... how come your eyes have faded, since then? It's strange, he's never seen you look so... determined before, not since today.

Ah, but what did it matter?

This puny escape attempt of yours... his tongue tasted bitter.

It wouldn't happen again. He'd make sure of it, so please, don't mind the chains, would you? ❤︎

"They... dare?"

SCARAMOUCHE's expression contorts to one of rage, his brows sharply angled downwards and his violet eyes wide, quivering.

Haha... what a fool he was. He should've been more attentive, how had he not noticed your strange movements? The way you gave him a forced smile everytime he returned home, the way you'd greet him at the door with the dinner you made, and he had finally thought you had accepted his confession all those weeks ago, he finally thought you had gotten used to and started liking your life here, finally thought-

And then he thought nothing at all as his body swayed and fell to the ground. The audacity, to go and dig through his things, to go, find, and use the very drug he had used to bring you home.

By the time he awoke, the house was but a cold expanse, barren of your warmth, and he clenched his fists so tightly, his nails kissed red crescents into his skin that weeped with every flex of his fingers.

"To pull such a parlor trick against me like this... ah, doll. Don't think you'll get away with this leniently."

When he found you, not "if", he'll make sure to reprimand you properly. If breaking your spirit wasn't enough, then he'd have to break your mind too. He's already decided that he'll reshape the pure thing with his own, dirtied hands, into something that will burn only for him.

Surely, a couple missing limbs, here and there, wouldn't obstruct that light, would it now? ❤︎

(a/n) as i said on my sideblog, something about writing for toxic mentally distressed emotionally broken and heavily reliant yandere characters who turn to violence to show their love is. just so. oddly... comforting?? was going to make this longer and then some shitty shit shit went down so. yay. tears.

if you enjoyed please consider following me or leaving a note on this post!! they are very appreciated, and i am very close to hitting a follower goal that i want to reach before the new years ! thank you.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[disneyprincemuke]

daylight * mv1

it’s been 2 years since that fateful night in christian’s home, here’s how life is currently going for you and max

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: fluff smh

notes: HAHA u really thought i'm over midnights yet here i am! this has been sitting in my drafts for like weeks but i got really really carried away by my femdriver series like its crazy

(series masterlist)

(prev)

your hands are on your hips, shying behind the doorframe away from max’s camera. he climbs out of his simulator’s seat and freezes when he meets your eyes.

“darling!” he greets you with a wide smile and open arms.

you step away right before he can pull you in for a hug, giving him a knowing stare. “don’t ‘darling’ me. you know what you did.”

max slumps his shoulders with a sheepish smile as realisation slowly dawns him. “i’m sorry. i was streaming and i completely forgot about the dishes.”

you sigh with a small smile on your face. “i’ll let you off this one time because you’re very polite about it.”

“i’m always polite to my darling,” max says airily, leaning forward with his lips puckered out. you raise your eyebrows in amusement and tilt your head. he frowns. “give me a kiss!”

“no way!” you laugh, turning the other way towards the kitchen. “you didn’t even wash the dishes! naughty boys don’t deserve kisses!”

“if i wash them, will you kiss me?” max asks, chasing after you. he rests his forearm on your shoulder and grins.

“yeah, cause then you wouldn’t be a naughty boy.”

“alright, i’ll go wash them,” max grins, puffing his chest out as he stomps past you to the kitchen. “come watch me wash the dishes like a good boy.”

you throw your head back, laughing as you follow behind him. you’re still in your office clothes, hair pinned back in what’s deemed a professional style and makeup still caking your face.

“how was work?” max starts, starting to wipe away at the dishes with a soap-soaked sponge. “what did you have for lunch?”

“it was alright,” you shrug, lips pressed together into a small grin. “i had some pasta for lunch down the street from the office. we should really go — it’s very good!”

max raises his eyebrows with a small grin. “it must be very good — you’re not much of a pasta person.”

“yeah, but they convinced me to get pasta. told me it was really delicious,” you nod excitedly, hopping up the counter to take a seat right by him. “and i have to give it to them. they’re so right that i’m taking my 5-time world champion fiancé with me to eat there.”

max had surprisingly proposed to you one evening while you going around singapore together after the race. you had spent the entire evening with friends at dinner and spent a good part exploring the country in the late hours.

you wound up in bed exhausted from all the walking, and max walked out of the hotel room’s toilet with flushed cheeks and an expression on his face that you’d never forget.

he was teary eyed recounting the night of your breakup — you don’t speak about it anymore — and talked about how he was so scared to lose you for good at the time.

you were so confused, not knowing where all the emotions had come from. until he fished for something in the pocket of his sweatpants and dropped down on one knee.

completely unexpected — the last time you talked about potentially getting married was a couple of months prior. never to be brought up again.

as far as either of you were concerned, there was no need to rush into something like marriage. as max said before, it didn’t really matter as long as you were together.

he walked the paddocks with you, hand in hand with the goofiest smiles on your faces all weekend. he was just so glad that it’s another year he spent in singapore walking out with you.

you rested your head on his shoulder as you awaited your friends and he instantly knew that he had to ask you that night. he would have asked you on the spot if it weren’t for the ring resting comfortably in his suitcase back in the hotel room.

max scoffs jokingly, flicking his head to the side to act like he’s flipping his air. “ugh, your fiancé?” he scowls slightly. “did he even get you a ring?”

you gasp, your hand held up to your chest, the diamond on your finger reflecting the soft lights off the kitchen ceiling. “of course he did! my fiancé took days finding the perfect ring for me!”

max squints his eyes to look at it.

“ugh, he sounds pretentious.”

“he’s perfect,” you say calmly, a hand resting on his shoulder. you inch your face towards his with your lips puckered. “he’s my favourite person in the whole wide world.”

max presses a chaste kiss to your lips, blood rushing to his cheeks as he does so. “i love you.”

“i love you more.” you pull back and press your back against a cabinet. “how was your day, love?”

“it was great. went to the gym, came home and fed the cats. then i streamed with the guys for a little bit,” max grins. “have you had dinner?”

“not yet. what do you have in mind?”

“charles told me about this restaurant he ate at with alexandra the other day. just opened up — small business and all,” he explains, wiping his hands on his shirt. he steps over to you and props himself up on the counter with his hands on either sides of your thighs. “they’re open ‘til really late. we can have some food, a couple of drinks…” he raises an eyebrow. “talk about the wedding…”

you hum with a smile on your face. you lean in and let your noses touch. “the wedding? already?”

“absolutely,” max nods, eyes glimmering at the thought of watching you walk down that aisle towards him. “aren’t you excited? we can throw the most extravagant wedding if you want. my treat.”

“ah, ever so generous with your money, my love,” you laugh. “we can spend all that on our honeymoon.”

“spend all my money on both,” max mutters. “my money is all yours.”

“what about my money?”

“also yours,” max says. he leans in, pressing his lips against your nose before pulling away. “what do you say? let’s go on a date?”

“okay, but i get to drive your pretty new and expensive car?” you bat your eyelashes as you hop off the counter, swaying side to side with your hands clasped together. “promise i’ll be careful.”

max presses his lips together, hand on the small of your back as you walk out of the kitchen. “i told you that you can drive the car whenever you want.”

“yeah, but that car isn’t mine.”

“might as well be.”

“doesn’t make it mine, max.”

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever @lokigoeschoki @cherry-piee @eviethetheatrefreak @hrlzy @dear-fifi @telengraph

[janaispunk]

end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.27

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat’s been more than exhausted these past few weeks as she drafts up argument after argument that she can use against the government to justify why she and her fellow Avengers shouldn't be put on a leash. She knows it’s a long shot and she doesn’t have enough witness accounts or evidence yet but she’s been hearing about the crime rate spike through the rumor mill and she hopes that soon enough she’ll have enough to come back.

She can bring her family back and finally have you. If you’ll still have her after all of this is over. She knows you’d have every right to be mad but she hopes you’ll understand enough to at least let her take you on one date.

The rain pelts outside of her window as it has been for the last three days and she sighs as she lies back on her pull-out bed. If it were under different circumstances she might’ve been able to appreciate the break from the city and the pressure. Maybe she could even come back to these woods with Clint, or Wanda, or…You.

She’s working hard to make sure her family is safe, yes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t working this hard to also see you again. To finally know what it feels like to hold you, to run her fingers through your hair, and hear you laugh again. The thought of you has been the only thing that’s brought her comfort these past few weeks.

Her computer dings with an email and she shoots up immediately, grabbing the shiny object from the side table next to her and pulling it onto her lap. She wasn’t expecting any emails while she was out here and her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: they’d found her location.

The email is from an unknown sender which only makes her more uneasy and she’s more frustrated than anything that she’ll have to find a new place to hide when she recognizes the encrypted link hidden in the email's coding.

It was a website Clint had created just for the two of them to communicate in case there was ever a situation similar to this. She’s afraid to admit just how comforting it was to hear from someone close to her after weeks of no contact. She quickly opens the website and reads the messages.

Clint-

Hey Natty, hope you’re having fun wherever you’ve parked that trailer of yours, Tony’s been a real pain in the butt but we’re trying to negotiate some better terms with some government officials. I know you’re probably working on a solution of your own but I’ve got to at least pretend like I contribute to this group-

She snorts at the self-jab, knowing her fellow Avenger couldn’t care less about the insults people say about him being the least skilled Avenger. She always admired that about him.

Clint-

Anyway, your phone’s been blowing up. I think Tony is getting suspicious so I took it and hid it in my room. I think you’re gonna be in deep shit with your girlfriend when you get back haha. 

I attached the voicemails you’ve been getting, I didn’t listen to them but I saw who they were from. Thought they might be important.  

Nat’s heart pounded as she stared at the attached files, there were at least 30 voicemails from you varying in different lengths and part of her was scared to open them. There was no doubt a few of them were just you yelling at her but even then she’d missed the sound of your voice so much that she’d take your irritation over anything else.

She hesitates over the first voicemail with her cursor but clicks it before she can sike herself out. There’s a little bit of silence and she wonders if you’re going to talk before she hears a small sniffle and her heart breaks. She swore to herself she’d never make you cry and now she’d failed, the sound of your quiet crying echoing throughout her trailer only amplifying her defeat.

It's another thirty seconds before your voice finally breaks through. It’s rough and raw and she can tell you’d probably been crying for a while.

“Nat? Where did you go? Why’d you leave? Listen- we don’t have to meet if you don’t want to. We can keep texting forever just don’t ghost me like this. Please.” It’s short and by how broken your last word sounded she can tell you were probably thrown into another fit of sobs after you ended the message. 

Nat doesn’t know what to do with herself, her body feels frozen and her heart won’t stop sinking further into her stomach. She’s never heard you sound so unsure of yourself before and it tears her apart that she’s the one who made you that way. It takes her a few minutes to muster up the courage to click on another one.

“What kind of person just says ‘I’m sorry?’ I deserve a better explanation than that! You couldn’t have at least lied to me about going to save baby animals in Africa where there’s no cell service? At least then when you stopped responding I could’ve felt better!” She’s not surprised that you’re mad at her, you deserve to be, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her chest when she hears how irked you are.

The next few are similar in the fact that they’re either angry or spoken through tears but they slowly begin transitioning into something else. Eventually, you stop talking about her leaving and start talking about yourself. What you did that day, what you’re making for dinner, the cat you’ve been visiting at the cat cafe. There’s still a hint of sadness in your tone but she can tell the calls are a form of therapy for you. A way for Nat to be there when she’s not really there.

She wants to be there. She wants to be the one you’re talking about your day with, wants to cook you dinner while you sit on the counter and visit the cat cafe with you. It hurts that she can’t do that and as she’s listening she feels her eyes burn with tears. She refuses to let them fall. She’s not the one who gets to cry in this scenario and yet her eyes refuse to give up their unshed tears.

There’s one last voicemail from a day ago and she clicks on it expecting it to be like the others but much to her surprise you’re talking about her again.

“I think I’m mad because I can’t even bring myself to hate you for it. I know you’ve probably got some shit going on. I understand that, trust me. But- I don't know you could’ve… maybe it’s too much of me to ask you to fill me in on the situation- or let me know when you’d be back… Is this goodbye?” 

 Your static voice rings out into the silence and Nat hates how you sound. Reserved- almost accepting. Like you’ve convinced yourself she’s never going to respond again and she hates it. She hates that she made you so insecure that you think she isn't spending every hour thinking of you and how to get back to you. 

The sound of your voice fills her with even more determination as she begins redrafting her court argument. She was going to come back to you, you just had to wait for her a little longer.

Pt.28

A/n: Aww Nat :( ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime

[yaekiss]

#mailroom open! i hope the event is still open —if not, feel free to disregard !! i’m looking to send a letter to cyno confessing my love, and looking for a letter w/ yan + nsfw themes back! i love the petname bunny, but any are fine with me!

letter and gift below the hearts. congratulations on 400 !!!

the letter is scrawled on parchment paper, the handwriting a bit messy and hurried. the craftsmanship looks like it was a draft of many — is it possible the sender sent the wrong version of the letter?

“to cyno,

to think it has been merely two weeks since my departure from under your watch. i understand i’m supposed to be focusing on my work, completing my assignment and coming back, but i keep getting distracted.

i wouldn’t say it’s my fault in my entirety, because frankly, it’s you who is distracting me from the duties you sent me on. my mind keeps racing back to thoughts of you, you, you, and it’s impossible to look forward when all i want to do is have you order me around again in the desert.

leaving you was a pain. i didn’t want to go. i crave to be curled against your side and to really, truly love you, but it’s so inappropriate of me. insubordinate.

i’m writing this because i know i can never send it. my thoughts, my emotions — i would be jeopardizing my station. i need to focus, but it’s hard when i know you’re so far.

how embarrassing of me to write this to you. it’s childish of me to think you would really ever take notice.

i should throw this letter away before i fall asleep at my desk and mess it up with the one i really want to send you.

signed, your wannabe beloved.”

the letter makes no mention of the gift that came wrapped with it. it seems that the author really did send the wrong version. the gift enclosed was a bottle of wine, some photos to be included with a report, and some paperwork regarding the assignment they were on in liyue. when opened, it smelled faintly of perfume. “for filing, so they don’t get lost.” read a note attached to the papers and photos.

꩜ Letter Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Yan! Sub! Cyno, no gendered terms for reader, Cyno calls you "bunny", implied abuse of authority, unhealthy obsessive and possessive relationship from Cyno, lmk if I missed anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: You wouldn't believe the number of puns I had to listen to... they were all rabbit related too... ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

There’s a cardboard box dropped off at your hotel doorstep when you return from your day’s duties.

It reminds you of the kind you see hugged in your colleagues’ arms when they transfer out of your office and to a different jurisdiction or during the bittersweet retirement of a senior staff member. For a moment, the thought of Cyno, the General Mahamatra, taking offence to your confession letter cruelly crosses your mind and you dejectedly bounce the notion of getting fired from your job around in your head as you move to go pick up the box. 

However, you soon discover that it is anything but a termination, evident from a heart-shaped envelope that rests shyly on the top of the box. A sense of hope bubbles up in you and you quickly move everything inside, eagerly opening up his letter. Inside the romantic envelope is his response, folded flawlessly into a heart as well. After unfolding it and doing your best to smooth out all the creases in the paper, you rake your eyes over the parchment, noting how his handwriting is identical to the one you always see in official reports. But to see such a font spelling out his love for you has you in disbelief. His letter reads:

“A reply to my dearest bunny. Can I call you bunny? Or should I call you mine?

Starting off, I need to reciprocate your confession, it won’t be ice of me to leave you in the cold. Haha, I wish I could’ve seen your reaction at that joke. On a more serious note, I would be lying to say that I don’t have any feelings for you. You caught my eye when I first saw how admirable you truly are, bunny. Now, you might not think so yet yourself but I’ve personally witnessed it in the little things you do, in your passions, in your dreams. Truly inspiring, bunny.

Thank you for the timely submission of your report again, bunny. Impeccable work as usual, I can always count on you for a job well done. The wine was a thoughtful gift too, if only I were able to share it with you in person. Perhaps I should reward you for being such a hard worker, I could be all yours to use, if you’d want me. Gods, I might be the General Mahamatra but the power you have over me is unfathomable. Would you allow me to lay my head in your lap, to let my hands trail up your calves and thighs, to bury my head between your legs? Maybe you’ll even have me call you General for the night instead, perhaps I’ll scream your title until daylight. I can satiate you in any way you’d like, I’m giddy with desire for you, bunny.

You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get closer to you, it was simply fated that you were transferred under me a while back, bunny. That previous superior of yours wasn’t the best either, always so harsh on you, aren’t you glad you’re under my watch now? If I can be frank (even though my name is Cyno), I never wanted you to take up the Liyue assignment, it wasn’t my idea in the first place. I loathe that I had to send you for it. What if you got hurt? What if you went missing? What if you fell for someone else? It simply won’t do, bunny.

Thankfully, I’ve managed to find someone to relieve you of your post in Liyue. Let’s just say that they needed this “learning opportunity” more than someone as experienced as you. In the box are all the required paperwork for you to hand over your duties and return to Sumeru. I expect to have you back by my side within a week. Don’t keep me waiting too long, I want to finally show you how much I’ve yearned for you all this time. I just hope you’re a hands-on learner, my bunny.

Fated to be yours,

- Cyno -

P.S.: Would you ever show me the version of the letter you originally meant to send?”

Lifting the cover off the cardboard box, you see an assortment of gifts he prepared for you. Bundles of your favourite snacks, little trinkets, and a small journal tucked to a corner. Opening it up, you glance over the different lines scribbled on it and realise that they’re all cheesy pickup lines and puns from Cyno. There’s one that says, “Nobunny (nobody) compares to you” and another that reads, “You got my heart jackrabbiting for you”. A lewder one says, “Let’s fuck like rabbits” At the bottom of the first page, he wrote, “I save my best jokes for you, bunny ♡”.

Additionally, what also catches your eye is a holographic copy of a TCG card of you in a durable clear casing, it produces a brilliant iridescent sheen when you slowly turn the card side to side in the light. Did he specially commission one of you? Setting the card on your bedside table, you continue going through the box. 

True to his words in the letter, there’s a neat stack of paperwork stowed carefully in it. Flipping through the pages, you discover that it comes along with paid for travel arrangements from Cyno. A closer look reveals that all of them are scheduled to get you back to Sumeru as fast as possible. Just as you want to place the stack back into the box, a loose scrap of torn paper slips from it and flutters onto the floor. 

The only few words on it you can unfortunately make out are “pulled strings”, “transfer”, and the crossed out name of your previous superior.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[lil-binuu]

“𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒆.”

Elias saves you from a creep

570 words

enjoy!

“You’re very skilled at this, how long have you been working here?”

You smiled, slightly embarrassed at the sudden compliment, “oh, haha, i’ve only been working here for a little while..”

As a result of the Brewhouse incident, the Warden set up another coffee house as reimbursement where you were guaranteed a job. You had only started a couple weeks ago, and settled in nicely with Elias and the Warden himself checking up on you to make sure you were safe at all times.

Most customers tended to be friendly, and it made the job enjoyable - especially since it was your strong suit; attentiveness and making good coffee. You always found it easy to interact with people and meet them halfway. Although, while it didn’t happen often, you’ve had your share of rude customers. It can be difficult to deal with, but you shouldn’t worry as your boyfriend protector would always be there for you.

“You know, it’s surprising that someone like you would be working in a cafe. With your looks, you could be on a magazine.” The man continued, trying to get your attention.

You could only laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. What you thought would have been a friendly interaction with a customer turned into unsolicited ass-kissing and it only made you feel uncomfortable.

“No, I’m being serious. You’re an attractive person.” The man insisted, “I wonder if you have a boyfriend, hmm?”

The question almost sounded threatening.

“Yeah, I do.” You replied. It was true. And while you wished he could be here, for now you could only hope that this would stop the customer from making any more comments.

You were wrong. He scoffed, “Oh don’t give me that. I don’t know why people these days always turn us nice guys down.”

Not sure how to respond, you turned around to sort out the drink you were in the middle of making.

“Don’t ignore me, you little bitch.” The man raised his voice. The sudden anger in his voice frightened you.

A sudden figure stepped forward. Elias’s furious eyes caught his, his strong arm pushing its way between the man and you behind the counter and forcing him to step back.

Elias towered over him, his serious face warning him to choose his next movements carefully.

“And what the fuck is your problem?” The man exclaimed angrily.

“My problem, is you.” Elias replied in a lowered husky voice. His narrowed eyes intimidating the angry customer, leaving him with no choice but to back down.

“Apologise.” Elias demanded.

The man scoffed again, “What? Who do you think you are?”

Elias’s grip on the man tightened. He swallowed, unsure if fighting was worth it.

“I don’t think you heard me, I said apologise.”

He tried to argue back but was shut down immediately.

“You think that you can just say whatever the fuck you want to them and get away with it?” His voice raised, filling the silence in the cafe.

The man attempted to push Elias back and after failing, hurried towards the door, cursing under his breath.

Elias turned to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded.

He made his way around the counter. “Has he come in here before?”

You replied, “I think so, yeah.”

“You let me know if he bothers you again. Him or anyone else, you tell me okay?”

He tucked hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead.

i’ve had the first draft of this in my inbox for absolutely ages without knowing how to write it out but i finally managed it!! honestly i don’t know how this happened lmao, originally i wanted to write something where elias gets jealous but then it morphed into this as i wanted to experiment with elias being more protective. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed!

[kasienda]

Fanfiction Year in Review 2023

I fill this out every year. It’s become a bit of a tradition for me. Allows me to reflect on everything that I’ve written and kinda think about where I want to go next. And I like it better from the ask games because I don’t have to wait for asks to come in and can compare my answers from one year to the next. ^_^

1 List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

Displaced (Ladrien oneshot)

No Regrets (Ladynoir oneshot - smut)

You Don’t Have To Pretend With Me (Platonic Adrino oneshot)

Representation Reveal (S5 Adrinette oneshot)

Kisses in the Rain (S5 AU Love Square - technically multichapter, but it’s shorter than many of my one-shots)

Would Trust You With Everything (Adrino multichapter)

Just An Ordinary Girl (Marichat oneshot)

Love Remains (Ladynoir multichapter)

Spin the Bottle (OT4 with cour four - technically oneshot, but it’s longer than Kisses and has more kisses in it. Haha!)

2 Number of words written: 

Written: 166,114 words

Published: 151,018 words (more than twice 2022’s number!! Go me!!) 

Those numbers are incredibly close together because I haven’t been redrafting as much. Those numbers include six one shots, three completed multi chapters. And another four multi chapter WIPs saw at least one update.

And in another fun milestone! I broke a million words published on Ao3 just this last week!! (I've been writing fic since 2003 and everything I've ever written is on Ao3!)

3 Your most popular fic:

Not Part of the Plan - I suspect that this is mostly because being a teen pregnancy fic, it’s my most tropiest story this year. Haha! 

4 Your personal fav:

Aftermath - This story has usurped Right Behind You as my favorite. I’ve been able to connect to the raw hurt and grief in this story, and there’s something very raw and human about it that others seem to be able to connect to as well. I think it’s some of my best work, and that is also thanks to an amazing beta in @ladyofthenoodle who has lent her expertise in more than one way in making this one more true to lived experience. 

5 Your fav scene:

It’s so hard to pick a favorite!! I narrowed it down to my three favorites in no particular order. 

The last scene in Ch 5 Love Remains - Chat Noir give amnesiac Ladybug a geography lesson from space. It’s got Whole New World vibes, and I just loved the imagery of it.

Ch 4 of Aftermath - I’m particularly proud of Marinette’s panic attack when Adrien tells her she doesn’t have to keep coming over. Like it feels like it comes out of nowhere, but it just totally makes sense. And how it manifests and how she soothes herself (it’s not healthy, but it’s so GOOD!)

Ch 7 of Would Trust You With Everything - The scene where Chat Noir tries to tell Nino who he is, but inevitably doesn’t. And how Nino reassures him through all that. This scene feels so raw, but so heartwarming in light of Adrien’s fears. And I don’t know - it’s beautiful to me.

6 A fic or scene that challenged you:

I really struggled with Right Behind You this year, though it wasn’t for lack of trying! I had started out the year hoping to go back to an update a month here and I only updated it three times throughout 2023. 

This was incredibly frustrating because the initial drafts of scenes would come pretty easily, but I couldn’t seem to make them pop the way the earlier chapters did. The good news is I think I figured out what the issue was. Most of my writing this year has been speed writing. And a big part of that is just where I’ve been emotionally. I’m very very out of practice in editing and redrafting, which this story and Aftermath both definitely need. 

I’ve only been able to edit Aftermath because I’ve had a ton of help. (Thanks Noodles!) Sadly, it’s harder to find betas for rarepairs, but I have succeeded! (Thanks@coffeebanana!)

7 A line of writing you’re proud of: 

“She wanted to be there to see it. To see him.”

This line is way better in context, but I’ve made myself cry about three times with it. And I refuse to explain it because that would give its power away. Guess you’ll just have to go read Aftermath. 

8 A comment that touched you: 

I can never answer this question without mentioning several!! 

Would Trust You With Everything - this story had a ton of enthusiastic followers - way more than rarepair work usually gets, and I wrote this story right after my life fell apart and all the commenters here made throwing this story together just that much more joyful during a time when I REALLY needed it. (I'm looking at you, @bittersweetresilience, @bbutterflies @flightfoot @coffeebanana and so many others that I don't know your tumblr name!!!) Not Part of the Plan Comments - I added sex ed lessons to the end of each chapter here because there’s so much about fertility and pregnancy that people don’t know if typical pregnancy fics are anything to go by, and this seemed to inspire so many people to share their pregnancy stories!!! And these have been so cool because I’ve learned that these stories just don’t often have an opportunity to be shared. And it’s neat that this story with its accompanying lessons could create a space for that!! Aftermath comments - lots of people who have really struggled with moderate to severe depression have apparently felt very seen by this fic. And that a story that is essentially about two characters who feel very alone and like no one can understand can help people feel LESS alone and MORE understood is simply amazing!! I love this story so much!! AHH!! Here's one from @neurovascular-entrapta that meant a lot to me.

9 Something that inspired your writing:

Grief and the need to feel things in a distant abstract-these-are-story-book-characters kind of way so I don’t have to feel my actual feelings as closely every moment of the day really kept me writing the whole year long.

10 Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

My writing has been really raw and messy this year, and I can’t keep tenses straight to save my life. But there’s something powerful about the rawness that I really like even as all the grammatical errors and the lack of effort on the technical side of most of my stories has driven me nuts. 

I am proud of myself for being able to get back into the big projects in these last few months after not being able to face them from April to October. And I’ve started participating in a few writing events here and there again in addition to working on my own pet projects. 

11 Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

Well, I wanted to finish Not Part of the Plan in 2023, which didn’t happen only barely! So hoping the last chapter and the epilogue make it out within the next month. Once that’s done I think I want to try and make Aftermath and Right Behind You my primary focus projects this year. And of course, I’m sure new plot bunnies and writing events will take over my brain on occasion. Last year, I said I wanted my writing to become a reliable mental health tool for me again, and I’m glad to say that it definitely was that for 2023. I hope I’m able to use my writing this year to continue my healing journey. 

And maybe go and proofread all of the fics I finished in 2023 to fix all the inconsistent tense issues to prepare them for being bound eventually!

12 Anyone you would like to thank?

SO MANY PEOPLE!

@jennagrinsoverml for being one of my oldest fandom friends! For becoming a real life friend for all that we haven't actually met in person. For all the times you vented to me and listened and sent me pictures of your family and gushed over pictures of mine. I'm lucky to know you!

@ladyofthenoodle - for showing up in my DMs, For being a most insightful beta, for dragging me into a larger community over and over again, for listening to both my real struggles and my first world problems, for being my friend!!

@thelibraryloser - I don't know how to put this into words. But I very much look up to you. For your resilience through difficult times - you are role-model for how to handle this world with grace and kindness. Thank you for your stories!

@coffeebanana - for being so enthusiastic in the creation process before and after! When I have a story that is getting no attention one comment from you makes it so it doesn't matter. You give me all I need.

@bittersweetresilience and @wackus-bonkus-maximus for just being so kind and enthusiastic and supportive of any idea I happen to be talking about in any given moment. I guess for enabling me. Haha!

@blur0se and @mila-beedoodling for sharing your ideas and inspiring me to create new things!!

@asukiess, @chocoluckchipz, @sariahsue, @miabrown007 for creating so many beautiful things and for being kind and engaging in so many conversations!

And now, I'm really nervous that I'm forgetting someone because this is the first time where I feel like I've had more than three fandom friends. Haha! It's a good problem to have I suppose. In general, thank you to the miraculous community for helping me to survive this year. <3 <3 <3

Happy New Year Everyone!!

I invite anyone who wants to, to fill this out! (Or something similar because I think it can be modified for artwork pretty easily). But if you do, please tag me, so I can be a cheerleader for all you've accomplished this year!

[romaritimeharbor]

i’m giggling at the idea of the house of the hearth kids thinking of the other harbingers as aunties and uncles. mostly scaramouche (pre-archon quest ofc) being increasingly annoyed at being called uncle balladeer by a group of kids. (he’s lying when he says he dislikes them. bro has a soft spot for kids he can’t fool me.)

OHHH AND CHILDE. childe who is canonically a great brother, he would make such a fun uncle. he’d feel so overjoyed if any of them called him that to his face. he would also give them planets of treats and sugary snacks and then send them back to arlecchino LMAO

pantalone would be amused by it i think, he’d probably buy them lots of cool stuff to win favourite uncle. (also pantalone’s child and house of the hearth [name] would get along so well oml. they’re the cousins that are just besties.)

anyway i’ve also been thinking non-stop about parental!arlecchino ajhdjsksjdjalakjfl i already have started two more drafts 😭😭

AWW HAHA THIS IS SO REALLLLLLL i fucking love the dysfunctional harbinger family........

SCARAMOUCHE TRYING TO ACT LIKE HE'S ANNOYED IS THE REALEST I SWEARRE it's okay buddy we know you care for the kids ❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️ he can pretend like he hates it all he wants but one time childe and arlecchino caught him napping with a bunch of the kids, who were all thrown over him like across his torso and on his lap and now they won't let him live it down... and then he erased himself from history 😔 bro wanted to escape the teasing SOOOOOO bad

NOOO LMAODJDJSBSJ CHILDE'S SO FOUL FOR THATTTT SENDING THE SUGAR-RUSHED KIDS BACK TO ARLE but also real bc he SO would. he would also be so thrilled if any of the kids gave him literally any familial term of endearment. he would love that sooo much!!!

oh yes i think he would find it funny, if not a little endearing too!!!!! he's so uncle coded i do NOT care what anyone says LOOK AT HIM BRO ❌️❌️❌️❌️ that is a rich uncle who gives shitty relationship advice if i have ever seen one!!!!!! he has a petty little competition going with the other uncle-ified harbingers about who is the favorite and he is determined to win just so he can hold it over childe's (him specifically. SPECIFICALLY childe) head. like. he's the favorite and you're not, TARTAGLIA ❗️❗️ how does that make you FEEL ❗️❓️❗️❓️❗️❓️ AWWHWHWHW THEY SO WOULD BE STOPPP they are literally bestie cousins real and true

so valid parental arlecchino crosses my mind multiple times a week 🙏🙏

[stranger-nightmare]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x (female) Reader

Summary: Rhett is injured from a fall whilst bull riding, so you offer to take charge for once and ride him…

Warnings: mention of injures, it’s porn with the bare minimum plot, smut, unprotected penetrative sex (m+f), creampie, cum play kinda?, fingering, bit of praise kink, minors DNI

A/N: this has been sat in my drafts for ages I swear but we finally got there, enjoy my first Rhett fic, I’m sure there will be more once I actually come up with some more ideas haha! I hope you like this <33

“Fuck, I want you so bad,” Rhett groans deeply against your lips. “I need you,” he pants in a strained whisper.

He kisses you fervently, his tongue invading your mouth and claiming it as his. His lips are rough against yours, pushing against you desperately, teeth clashing and your shared moans mixing. He kisses you so hard and so intensely it makes you dizzy, your mind going fuzzy to match the feeling in your stomach. His hands frame your face, holding you in place as he attacks your mouth with his. His large body is pushing you against the wall, his hips pinned against yours. But he leans back slightly, careful to not let his torso rest against yours. 

“Rhett,” you sigh as he starts to kiss down your jaw to your neck.

You let your head tilt back slightly, bumping against the wall behind you as you let Rhett have better access to your throat. When the edge of his cowboy hat hits your forehead as he leans down to kiss your skin, he quickly tosses it aside, not stopping his assault on your neck.

“Baby, we can’t,” you whine as he attacks your throat with hot, open-mouthed kisses. “The doctor said you need to take it easy. Your ribs are bruised, Rhett. You need to keep resting or you won't be better in time for next week’s tournament.” 

Your words are telling him to stop and yet you can’t seem to stop yourself as your hands slide up his neck to fist into his hair. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you arch your back off the wall he had you pinned to, wanting to push against him but being careful not to hurt him. 

“You need to take it easy,” you repeat half-heartedly. “At least- at least until next week,” you whisper, your mind becoming foggy as Rhett sucks and bites at that spot below your left ear he knows drives you crazy.

“I can’t wait that long,” he groans, all the time he continues kissing at your throat hotly. “I’m sick of taking it easy. I’m sick of jerking off into my own hand because I’m not allowed to fuck you. I can’t. I need you. Please baby, I need you. Need to be inside you,” he practically whines into the crook of your neck.

You moan at his words, the urgency rolling off his body as he grinded his hips against yours. You can feel his aching need through his jeans, his cock poking into you, and it was enough to finally break through the last of your resolve. You let out a groan of defeat and you can feel Rhett smile victoriously against your pulse point.

“That’s my girl,” he hums proudly as he starts to guide you towards the bed, his lips staying connected to yours, his hands still cupping your face.

But you shake your head as the bed hits the back of your knees. 

“Not there,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Wh-“ Rhett’s about to question but you crash your lips back on his.

You fist your hands into his shirt and start to guide him, leading him over to the corner of the room where a large armchair was situated. 

“Here,” was all you stated as you spun the two of you run until Rhett was stood with his back towards the chair.

“Sit,” you instruct lightly. 

You repeat your instruction before he has the chance to question or argue again. 

“Yes ma’am,” he smirks at you with a cocky disposition.

But he obeys your command, sitting down slowly into the armchair. He lowers himself carefully, easing himself into the seat so as not to move his ribs too much or too quickly. His face grimaces lightly as he finally settles into the space of the chair.

“You okay?” You look down at him worriedly. 

“I’m good,” he nods with a smirk. “Even better if you were on top of me though,” he adds with a charming wink. 

You chuckle at his comment as you take a step forward, your legs slotting between his where they were spread wide open, his hand palming his crotch. His eyes look up at you expectantly as his other hand reaches out to grab at your hips. You smile down at him just as you reach to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your naked chest. The deep groan that rumbles through Rhett at the sight goes straight to your aching pussy. You had to admit, you were just as desperate and needy for him. You quickly shuck off your jeans and panties too, leaving you completely naked in front of Rhett.

You can see he literally has to fight the urge to sit forwards, to lean towards you and grab you. He groans deliciously as you climb into his lap, your legs straddling his. As soon as you’re in his lap his hands are on your hips, pulling you against him. His lips attack yours greedily again, your moans mixing. Your hands slide down his neck, making their way towards the button of his shirt. You keep your lips moving with his as your hands work to undo his flannel shirt. 

Once it’s open you gently push it down his shoulders. You break the kiss only to help guide his arms out the shirt as he struggled to twist and lean forward. You hear him suck in a sharp breath and hiss in pain. 

You freeze on top of him in worry, looking at him with a silent question in your eye.

Rhett just shakes his head, letting you know he’s fine, even as his face is still plastered with a grimace. You feel your own face drop with sadness, concern, as your eyes land on the external bruising that still littered part of his torso. One of your hands involuntarily reaches out to touch the purple and blue marks lightly, your fingers dancing over the stained skin. After a second Rhett’s hand covers yours, his fingers wrapping around your own. He guides your hand away from his stomach, moving it to rest on his nape. He shakes his head lightly again and you get the message this time; he’s fine, he wants this, he needs this. 

His hands then quickly grab onto your hips again, fingers digging in harshly. He starts to move your hips with his hands, making you grind against him again, his silent plea for you to just keep going. You let out a breathy moan as the rough fabric of his jeans rubs against your cunt. He pushes his chin up, his lips searching for yours. You kiss him deeply again, both of you groaning into each other’s mouth.

Your fingers finally reach down and fumble with the fastenings of his jeans, quickly undoing his thick belt in the process. You let your hand reach inside his open jeans, palming his hardened cock and stroking him gently. Rhett all but shivers at the contact, the feeling of it being your hand wrapped his dick.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “don’t tease me baby. I can’t take it. I fucking need you. I need to feel you around me. Your fucking perfect tight pussy. Please,” he groans into the crook of your neck, burying his face in your skin, his lips moving feverishly over your throat. 

A wave of electricity shoots through you at his words. The sheer desperation in his voice, in his body. You had to admit, you kinda liked hearing him beg. 

But, for now, you’d take mercy on him. Afterall, you were just as desperate to have him fill you up again too. You shh him lightly, purring against the shell of his ear as you carefully pull his jeans down his legs, part way down his thighs, just enough to free his already leaking cock. Not a moment is wasted before you’re shuffling yourself forwards, lining yourself up to be seated just above Rhett’s waiting length. You grab him with one of your hands, your other gripping onto his shoulder to help support you. Both of you moan simultaneously as you finally line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down on him. You hiss lightly at the stretch, your pussy almost forgetting the feeling of how good Rhett stretched you open, how full he made you feel. A gasp passes your lips as you sink even further, taking him all the way to the hilt, the metal of his belt buckle biting into the skin of your ass.

“Oh, fuck,” Rhett groans, throwing his head back, eyes screwed shut, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of your hips.

“Shit, you alright? Did I hurt you?” You ask worriedly.

Rhett lets out a tiny chuckle as he brings his head back up to face you. He brings up a hand to brush away a stray strand of hair back behind your ear. He shakes his head lightly to answer your question. 

“No,” he smiles at you lazily, "you just feel s’fuckin’ good,” he drawls, his smile twisting into a smirk.

A smirk grows on your own face before you place a quick kiss to his lips again. Then, slowly but surely, you start to move. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you steadily start to move your hips, keeping with a gentle rocking motion as first, not wanting to start bouncing on him just yet. You were testing his limits, not wanting to cause any pain or further injuries. Rhett groans deeply, his brows furrowing in pleasure as you rock gently on his cock.

“Shit I’ve missed this,” he groans deeply. “Missed how good you feel. So fucking tight for me.”

You moan at his words, your hips starting to grind a bit faster.

“Such a good girl for me. Making me feel so good. Always takin’ care of me,” he hums as one of his hands slides up your body to grope at one of your breasts.

“Rhett,” you whine out his name as he pinches and squeezes your nipple, rolling it between his fingers in the way he knew drove you crazy. 

His other hand moves lower down your hip until his thumb was pushing against your folds, the pad of his finger starting to rub messy circles over your clit. He leans forward, letting his lips find that special spot where your neck meets your shoulder, the special spot he knew made you weak in the knees when he sucked on it. He was playing your body every way he knew how, trying to rile you up so you would get right down to fucking him, instead of slowly rolling your hips on him as you currently were.

“C’mon baby please,” he groans, looking up at you pleadingly. “I need more. Need you to fuck me. Please,” he pouts, those baby blue eyes looking up at you.

The urgency in his voice, the pitiful desperation in his eyes, it has the last of your resolve breaking down. An almost begrudging moan escapes your lips as you finally give in. You plant your feet on the chair, on either side of his thighs, and use the position to start bouncing on Rhett’s cock, feeling him slide in and out of you. Pleasure flares through your body, your head tossing back as another moan rips from you.

“Fuck yes, that’s it baby,” Rhett groans with a smirk on his face as he watches you, “just like that.” 

You reach up and hold his hand that was still palming your breast, keeping his hand on you. You use your other hand to grip onto his nape, fingers twisting into his hair. Pulling yourself forwards again you arch over Rhett, letting his face be buried in your chest as you cradle his head. You switch your tactics, combining your bouncing motion with a slight rocking motion, moving frantically in Rhett’s lap. His arms move to your back now, his palms flattening against your shoulder blades, holding you tight against him. You feel him shift his hips, trying to buck up to meet your movements. But he quickly stops, a painful groan sounding from him, his body tensing and lurching forward.

“Shit,” he curses through clenched teeth.

“Shit, baby, you okay?” You stop moving for a moment, taking his face between your hands.

“Yeah,” he nods grimly, “just probably shouldn’t have tried that” he chuckles as he finally starts to unclench his body, leaning back in the chair again.

You roll your eyes playfully with a sarcastic sigh. You gently but firmly pin his shoulders back against the chair.

“You just sit still,” you tell him seriously, “let me do all the work. Like you said, I always take good care of you,” you smirk with a quick wink.

Rhett takes a deep breath and rolls his neck. He didn’t like giving up control, you knew this. But if he wanted to get off, to have you keep fucking him without hurting himself anymore, he’d have to. Rhett nods curtly, letting his arms fall lazily to his sides, his hands resting on top of your thighs.

“Good cowboy,” you tease with a chuckle as you slowly start to roll your hips again.

Rhett is ready to quip a comeback at the pathetic pet-name, but he’s quickly lost in the feeling of you riding him again, your cunt clenching, squeezing him. All coherent thoughts and words vacate his mind as he finally lets himself get lost in the feeling of you. You quickly lose yourself to the pleasure too; you just feel so full, so full of him, so happy to finally be connected in this way again. 

Rhett lets out a litany of curses and praises as you speed up your movements again, frantically riding him towards both of your highs. By the tight edge in his voice, you can tell he’s starting to get close. You bring a hand down between your bodies, your fingers quickly finding your clit, wanting to work yourself quicker towards a climax so that you could finish with him. But your hand is quickly swatted out the way, your finger replaced by Rhett’s thumb.

“Allow me, ma’am,” he drawls, looking up at you with a cocky smirk.

You just smirk back at him, letting a content sigh fall from your lips as you revel in the feeling of his thumb working your small bundle of nerves, the feeling of his cock moving deep inside you as you grinded in his lap. His thumb works your clit expertly, just like he’d done many many times before. You moan, feeling your cunt clench tightly over him.

“Oh fuck baby,” he hisses. “You’re gonna make me cum. Feel s’good. Shit, shit I’m gonna…” he cuts off with a deep grunt as you feel his cock twitch inside you.

“Fu-uck,” he drawls out as he spills himself inside you, each roll of your hips and clench of your pussy milking him for all he was worth. 

His head is thrown back, his face scrunched with pleasure, his chest heaving with his rapid breathing, his fingers digging into your hips so hard they’d bruise. The thumb on your clit had a stilled as he’d cum, as he’d lost all focus on everything other than how fucking divine you felt. You gently rock him through his orgasm, steadily slowing down your pace. You dip your head to gently kiss and suck marks onto his beautifully exposed neck, humming with pride against his skin. “Shit,” he curses again. “Darlin’ I’m so sorry. You didn’t… you didn’t-“ he lifts his head to look at you again.

You shake your head, flashing him a gentle smile.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, letting a hand rest on his cheek, thumb stroking his cheek.

“Like hell it is,” he huffs, sitting up slightly, doing his best to hide the grimace as he does so. 

Rhett lifts you up by your hips, guiding you off his slowly softening cock. 

“Rhett, what-“ you go to question him but he cuts you off.

“Want you to cum, baby,” he practically pants, “need you to cum for me.”

Next thing you know his cock is replaced by two of his fingers sliding into your cunt. You both groan at the sinful wet sound of him pumping his fingers, finger-fucking his own cum back into you. His thumb once again connects with your clit and it has you lurching forwards in pleasure, just barely able to catch yourself on his shoulder and hold yourself up. He curls his fingers inside you, letting his fingertips rub against that particularly sensitive spot. 

“Oh fuck, Rhett,” you moan as you quickly feel your release start to build inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it sweetheart,” he hums deeply. “Cum for me baby, I need you to. Need to feel it.”

Your mouth hangs open limply, gasps and moans falling from your lips, as the wave finally breaks, pleasure coursing through your body. Your fingers dig roughly into his shoulders as he pumps you through your orgasm, keeping up the circles on your clit, letting your body exude every ounce of pleasure it had to offer until your start to buck and jerk from the overstimulation; only then did he let up. He hums in satisfaction as he looks at you, his face simultaneously smug and also completely fucked-out. 

He pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper at the loss of contact. Your whimper quickly turns into a pathetic moan as you feel his cum leak out of you, streaking down the inside your thighs. Rhett flashes you a wicked grin as he holds up his hand, showing off the glistening coat of his cum and yours that covered his fingers. Your breathing hitches, a groan getting caught in your throat as you look at the deliciously filthy sight. Before you can think about it you’re leaning forwards to take his fingers into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around, sucking his fingers clean, tasting the mixture of his release mixed with yours. Rhett lets out the deepest groan you think you’d ever heard from him as he watches you wide-eyed.

“Shit, you’re so fucking filthy,” he croaks, looking at you with a mixture of delighted shock and incredulity. 

You hum, a smirk tugging at your lips, as you release his now clean fingers from your mouth. You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, enjoying the half-shocked, half-cocky expression that decorated his face. The next thing you know his other hand is gripping you by the back of the neck, pulling you down until your mouth collided with his. You both moan into each other’s mouth. His tongue invades your mouth swiftly, searching for that taste of both you and him that lingered in your mouth. He kisses you roughly, deeply, devouring your taste.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ve missed that. Missed fucking you.”

“Hmm,” you hum your agreement, pulling back to look down at him. “Well, you know, if you stopped getting yourself hurt whilst riding bulls, we’d be able to fuck more often.” 

Masterlist

A/N: idk why this was so difficult to write, like I’m so down bad for this man and write for him like non-stop atm but idk, this was so hard to churn out and I don’t feel like it’s my best work but whatever, I hope you guys still enjoyed it tho

Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi

[cat--comic]

blog 1. happy birthday

welcome to the new cat comic blog! if you're reading this on tumblr, hello! if you're reading this on neocities, i love you more. page looks pretty snazzy, right? check out the very pretty melankorin.net, this page looked a lot more plain before i ate that page's design aesthetic.

ok.

it just so happens that yesterday, the 13th of april, 2024, was cat comic's first birthday. this comic is officially one year old! goo goo ga ga! it makes me glad and more than little scared that i've been working on this for so long. it's my longest-lived project to date and still going strong, which means a lot coming from my bloody trail of abandoned projects.

what the hell is cat comic about?

cat comic is a story born out of a lot of my fears vis-a-vis my creative projects. it's a story about creation, whether that deals with art, identity, or culture, and about the history that doggedly stamps itself on any creation, and about the problems of indie projects. it's a story about a cat and a dog and some other various animals who get into lots of trouble, and it's mainly a story about the end of the world.

i think you can tell that there's a lot of throughlines to my other work (unfinished or otherwise), which is pretty thematically appropriate. actually, cat comic was originally reusing far too much of eyrie, an old comic idea of mine. eyrie followed an aspiring paladin and their little buddy as they made their way to the shining capital of a theocratic nation, delving into a mirror world that reflected public perception of things along the way. it was a pretty fun concept.

anyway, it informed a lot of cat comic's original premise—it began with an ascent from belowcloud to a shining city in the sky. huh... sounds familiar. like eyrie, it also dealt a lot with divinity, mirrors, and perfection (as in: perfection in the eyes of society, not cat comic's current sense of it). it's fun looking back at these early drafts of cat comic because you can clearly see all the influences i was pulling on, big or small. i was pretty fine with doing this because, as it pains me to remember, cat comic was to be a "fun" and "short" project where i could "do whatever". haha.

cat comic's changed a lot since then and it's also hardly changed at all. a lot of the original ideas are still there in the batter, but it's also evolved into something pretty different and much closer to my heart. and it will continue to change and evolve! although perhaps not quite so drastically as it has over the last year.

what's the plan with this thing?

i had a conversation with a friend a while ago (hiii ardenna i know you're reading this. love you) about our respective story projects and our problems working on them as single creators. i don't have a team for art or writing—it's all me, babey—and that means everything about this project is going to take what we in the industry call a "long time".

this time next year, i want to have a comprehensive plot. that might sound like a lot of time for not a lot of work but believe me i need it—i'm doing a bit of a unique format for this story and i want to put the time in to make sure i stick the landing with it. my secondary goals for the next year also include finalizing designs for all of the main cast and making sure they're all fleshed out... basically, by next year, i want to be able to start actually drawing the comic. i don't want to start drawing it then but, just, you know, be able to.

as of last week, i've handed in my senior project (and passed with flying colors, thank you), which means i can start turning my attention to things other than that. i've already talked a bit in my 2024 blog post about my plans for the year and how i would like to devote the rest of the spring to exercising my comic muscles. i would like to stick to this plan, despite the fact that school is trying to murder me.

right now, i only have vague ideas of what those exercises will be. once i'm completely done with my senior project (report handed in at the end of this month) i'll start workshopping them. again, my priority with them is not telling a story so much as working on coloring, panelling and figuring out my workflow.

and, apart from my year-long goals and season-long goals, i just want to flesh out these pages a little more. i kind of rushed getting these up because i wanted to hit the birthday (and i didn't even manage that LOL). i want to get some more of my brain bits out on canvas! but they never tell you how hard it is to figure out how much you want to share and how much you want to keep to yourself for now. i'm making little lists and i think i'm doing a pretty good job.

final notes (SAPPY WARNING!!!)

thanks to my friends (hi again) who are very excited about my comic. it means an immeasurable amount. friendship forever

and to everyone else... remember: birds can't fly with wet wings. goodbye for now!

[youhideastar]

Fit for Purpose Deleted Scenes V: Jiang Cheng

Today's deleted scenes from Fit for Purpose deal with Jiang Cheng - a topic I know a lot of commenters were curious about. Other deleted scenes posts are linked in the masterpost. I hope you enjoy!

Jiang Cheng haunts Fit for Purpose like a ghost. He barely shows up “on screen”—his only significant appearances are in the Xuanwu Cave scene and subsequent rescue—but his expectations of WWX and WWX’s desire to meet them are a driving force of the story. A big reason WWX can’t accept LWJ’s love at first is that WWX feels he needs his family’s permission to have a life of his own, and he’s sure as hell not going to get it from JC; even if, ultimately, JC might be willing to accept WWX having that life, he’s not going to say it. In the end, WWX gets that permission from the only other surviving member of the family he was raised to serve: Jin Ling. But part of the reason Jin Ling’s permission “works” is that, when he speaks, JC is speaking through him:

“Idiot,” Jin Ling says again, rolling his eyes. It’s so familiar.

Wei Wuxian smiles. His vision is blurry with tears, and he doesn’t care. “Jin Ling?”

“What?” Jin Ling scowls as he says it; that, too, is so familiar it makes Wei Wuxian’s chest ache.

Only once WWX has been “released” from his duties as a beta (as he sees them) by JL and, by proxy, JC, can he accept the happiness he’s being offered by LWJ. (Btw, the discovery that I could get around JC’s emotional constipation by having JL say things that JC wouldn’t was life-changing. 🤣 I’m definitely using my newfound power for evil in future fics haha.)

Ultimately, I’m really happy with the way that JC looms over the story, discernable mostly secondhand or in glimpses, not seen or heard directly except once. But there was a period where I felt like that was a bug, not a feature.

There came a point where, to preserve the structure of the story (alternating present day with flashbacks) I needed to come up with one last flashback scene, which would be the final flashback chronologically (the JYL flashback, which is the final one, is the only one out of chronological order – it had to be that way). I convinced myself that that missing flashback scene needed to have to do with JC, precisely because he shows up so little. Plus, I knew readers would be very curious about what JC’s take on all the beta stuff was (and comments confirm this!) I rewatched the entire post-resurrection arc, trying to find a scene that I could use. Ultimately, I realized trying to feature JC was a mistake, and I went with the Episode 50 NHS scene instead, where WWX thinks about how NHS brought him back to life in order to use him. But I wasted a week of drafting trying to get JC to talk about his feelings, and here’s how it went:

First, a take on the scene where WWX and LWJ bow in the Jiang family shrine. Because this follows the “I do not want to be to Wei Ying what others have been”/So then what do you want to be to me? scene, I liked the idea of WWX very blatantly discounting the idea that he could possibly be marrying LWJ.

As they complete their bows in the Jiang family shrine and sit back on their heels, Wei Wuxian half-laughs under his breath as something occurs to him: three bows, in front of his—well, the fact that Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen aren’t his parents is only one of a long list of things that separates these three bows from a wedding, starting with the fact that Wei Wuxian isn’t qualified.

“Wei Ying.”

He turns. Lan Zhan is watching him patiently.

“It’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head. He’d been so cavalier about that when they were kids – messing with Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon, trying to touch it all the time. He knows better now.

He wants to be careful with Lan Zhan, now.

JIANG CHENG SHOWS UP.

“Bad enough you go wandering around Lotus Pier like it belongs to you,” A-Cheng snarls, as Wei Wuxian scrambles to his feet. “But you come to disturb my parents, my sister, with this… this farce?”

Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, understands perfectly that this is meant to be a wedding.

“A-Cheng—”

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

WWX calling JC and JYL “A-Cheng” and “Jiejie” is one of the subtle but extremely key worldbuilding motifs. He gets that extra piece of intimacy, compared to canon… but oh, the price he pays for it.

“Jiang Cheng. Lan Zhan and I just came to pay our respects—”

“Is that what you call it?” A-Cheng looks away. “You always had to be so extreme. It’s not enough for you to abandon Yunmeng Jiang Sect and our family – you have to do it right in front of my parents, and expect them to bless this—this—”

“I’m not asking Yu-furen and Jiang-shushu to bless anything. We just came to light incense.”

“That’s not what I saw. You never had any shame. But you, Lan-er-gongzi – everyone says you’re so upright.”

JC thinks of WWX marrying mostly in terms of him leaving the sect (although he also calls a wedding involving a beta a “farce”). Hypocritical, since WWX has very much already been kicked out and made unwelcome! But a JC who was of only one mind about whether he wants WWX to come back would be, frankly, totally unrecognizable. The ambivalence is baked-in.

Ultimately, that scene was not contributing to the arc of the story for a number of reasons, starting with the fact that it was way too long, and it pulled the focus away too much from LWJ and WWX. JC has a way of taking over scenes that he’s in. 🤣 He’s so loud!

So then I’m like, okay, let’s do the climactic convo in Guanyin Temple. One advantage: it’s so salient to fans that I barely need to do any setup to establish where and when we are.

“Wei Wuxian.” The flickering light of hundreds of candles plays over A-Cheng’s face, taut with rage. A drop of blood falls from the wound on his chest onto the temple floor. “Do you want me to bow down in thanks for your selflessness? Should I put my face to the floor and apologize for not acknowledging your noble sacrifice—”

“It wasn’t any of those things,” Wei Wuxian says. His hands ache, clenched in his lap. “It wasn’t noble, or selfless, I didn’t do it to be acknowledged, I—it was my duty, A-Cheng, that’s all it w—”

“I don’t want your duty!” A-Cheng screams, his face a mask of pain. “I want—”

He chokes. Coughs. Blood trickles over his lower lip.

Before he can finish wiping it away, Jin Guangyao returns. There’s no time, then, for A-Cheng to finish what he meant to say.

It doesn’t make sense, Wei Wuxian thinks, remembering it later. What was the whole promise of the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng about, if not about duty?

I was pretty sure that it would be clear to readers that JC is saying he doesn’t want WWX’s duty, he wants WWX’s love. If I could have gotten this scene to write, it would have been a really nice complement to the final Jin Ling scenes – showing that WWX’s inability to understand that he is loved unconditionally ultimately sabotages his family relationships as well as his relationship with LWJ.

But the scene would not write, partly because JC is wrong. Yes, he wants WWX’s love, and wants WWX to stay with him and serve him out of love. But he also wants WWX’s duty. He wants WWX to keep his promises. He wants WWX to fill the role that society has ordained for him, just the way JC himself feels constrained to do, for all his life. Again: the ambivalence is baked-in.

And I trusted readers would know that – that they would have the same question WWX has at the end of this scene. But having WWX flag it both felt clumsy and failed to provide closure to the scene. And not flagging it at all, letting JC’s statement to unchallenged, would have damaged my credibility with readers who might think they were expected to take JC’s statement at face value.

Undeterred, I took another swing at Guanyin Temple.

“Wei Wuxian!” In Guanyin Temple, the flickering light of hundreds of candles plays over A-Cheng’s face, taut with anguish. “Do you want me to bow down in thanks for your selflessness? Should I put my face to the floor and apologize for not acknowledging your noble sacrifice?”

“A-Cheng. Stop,” says Wei Wuxian. He’s so tired. He wishes they’d never come here. “That wasn’t—it wasn’t noble. It was just… what I owed to Yunmeng Jiang—”

“What you owed? What you owed us was to stay!” A-Cheng snarls, eyes wet. His clenched hands rise to his chest. “That’s what it means to have a beta, they stay – A-Jie got married and left, we knew she would get married and leave, but you—we were supposed to be everything to you. You promised… we’d be everything to you.”

He looks so young, for a moment; breakable. Wei Wuxian aches.

Then the lines of age and pain carve themselves into his brother’s face again. “Your home, your family… that’s enough for every other beta. But not for the great Wei Wuxian,” A-Cheng finishes bitterly, as he turns away.

Wei Wuxian aches. “You were enough, A-Cheng—”

“No,” A-Cheng spits, low. “You had to have your heroics. You had to have him.” He jerks his head at Lan Zhan, who looks coldly back. “The great Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Laozu, could never have been just a sect leader’s subordinate. Every other sect has betas who act like a beta should act. Who know their place. I’ll never know what Yunmeng Jiang did to deserve you.”

I think this scene is on the right track, actually. But it raises issues that just cannot be resolved in a little half-page vignette. You can see me trying to bring the focus back to Wangxian at the end of this bit, but it’s not enough – JC is yet again taking up all the air in the room, bless his heart. And it would have been a distraction.

It was at this point that I realized that I didn’t need to shove more JC into the story, because he’s already so present, even if only by implication. And if readers were curious about his role, it wouldn’t do the story any harm to let them come to their own conclusions.

For what it’s worth, my take is that JC has no problem with the way that society treats betas – and why should he? He’s been raised to believe that this is all totally normal. And don’t forget, WWX’s sexual availability is framed by alphas and omegas as a benefit to WWX, something they’re jealous of, “oh, how lucky for you that you can have sex with whoever you want instead of just your spouse!” It’s not that he sees WWX being taken advantage of and is okay with it—he does not perceive WWX to be taken advantage of in the first place. And that makes sense, because neither does WWX! But, at the same time, JC loves WWX very much, and he demonstrates with his actions again and again that he doesn’t buy the idea that WWX’s life is worth less than his, or that it’s WWX’s purpose to sacrifice himself for JC. To me, that’s peak JC: do not expect him to challenge structural oppression, but by God, he will walk to hell and back on bare feet for the people he loves.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Tomorrow's batch of deleted scenes specifically focus on Wangxian.

[imagionationstation]

Slskskdk ur rants and dissections of any scene with the bros are so GOOD. I be disintegrating like that gif from the post I reblogged sslsk. I always go back and rewatch them with a new understanding and I'm kicking my feet and giggling like a maniac over it.

Thank u 4 ur service soldier🫡 ur work is a astounding and a key component 2 the tmnt fandom/ecosystem with the others. Goodness knows where we'd be without them🫡

(Also sksksk u knew👁️👁️ I WAS thinking about u when I saw that post)

Aforementioned disintegrating gif link here.

HAHA! Not only am I prideful, but I was RIGHT!

That feel good. I love the dopamine of success almost as much as the dopamine of “you believe that? NICE! I DO TOO!”

Also I love validation because there’s so many scenes that have me kicking my feet and then rubbing my hands like HECK YEAH LOVE AND BONDING like this one scene from the Squirrelanoid ep that has been on loop in my brain this week that’ll be just SO SATISFYING to share when I find the time to take screenshots and write thoughts.

Before Tumblr, I usually had “it’s cute that you like that but it’s not that big a deal” people to rant at and it’s nice that they let me rant, but the knowledge that there were humans out there that felt the same way??? Who wanted more?? WHO CARED DEEPLY???

Didn’t cross my mind as a possibility until I grew more comfortable online. Now I can’t shut up about turtles. TIS THE BEST!

*salutes* I do my best to serve the community! The fandom and the show deserve nothing less than the best I can offer.

Even if that means ticking people off because I will not pretend to be cool with certain tropes like Mikey is abused fans wish me too.

I have other rants and observations lined up, but I keep working on all of them at the same time and now I have, like, five asks in my drafts of unfinished essays. (You guys are amazing. I appreciate every one!)

I need to prioritize one but I love them all. The struggle is real.

Anyways~

You followers and rebloggers and pokers of the like button-

You all seriously rock! 2012Fandom is alive because of you!

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Ianthe’s Makeover Through a Femme!Harrow Lens

“This seems like a good week to post about how I relate to Harrow as a fellow androgynous-femme,” I say, taking cover behind an industrial strength blast shield. (Joking, joking.)

But in all seriousness, this post has been in my drafts for a while. I’d seen the makeover scene in HtN described as “confusing” when it comes to Harrow’s gender, and I honestly thought it was too on first read.

So I wanted to take a closer look!

Spoilers: I don’t think it’s as simple as Harrow being uncomfortable with wearing dresses in the abstract.

Rather, the main aspect that stood out to me as making Harrow curl up like a shivering wet cat is the loss of control and the sexual haze permeating the whole affair. And I really do want to underline the latter aspect, because even before Dios apate Minor enters the picture, Ianthe herself repeatedly frames what she’s doing in terms of making Harrow more sexually desirable. More fuckable, if you will:

"God, what's this? That's a bit risqué-" You grew desperate. "Let me pick." Harrow the Ninth, p264

"Not even one of the Emperor's fists and gestures could give Harrowhark Nonagesimus a sexy makeover. Sometimes I think you look like a twig's funeral. In the right light, though-" Harrow the Ninth, p264

"You look just good enough that I'm proud of my handiwork, but not so good that I'll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl," she said. "I walked a fine line, and I walked it admirably." Harrow the Ninth, p266

But Ianthe also emphasizes: not too fuckable, Harrow shouldn’t misunderstand and become confident in her body, because Harrow is such a pitiful charity case that the only beauty she can ever hope to attain will be scraps distributed at Ianthe’s mercy. She’s… she’s literally doing the High School Mean Girl schtick of “I’ll help you look pretty as a favor, but don’t you dare challenge my place in the pretty pecking order.”

Which, to be honest, probably says a lot more more about Ianthe and Coronabeth and their issues than anything about Harrow! Like, tell me more, Ianthe, how do you feel about constantly being described as the lesser twin to your face? I’m sure that’s never hurt you and you’re not projecting here at all, haha.

But regardless of its effectiveness, to me this strategy reads as an attempt at a very femme-vs-femme power play. You want to talk about gatekeeping femme identity? Surprise surprise, so does Ms. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss!

As a result, Harrow, being a delightfully contrarian and passive-aggressive little shit even in the depths of having her agency denied, protests this in whatever small ways she can still find:

As an act of meaningless rebellion, you applied the sacramental skull of the Priestess Crushed Beneath the New-Laid Rock, the least beautiful skull in the canon. Harrow the Ninth, p266

“Fuck you and fuck trying to win your rigged game I didn’t even want to play,” essentially.

But note that Harrow doesn't wear a masculine-coded skull to protest Ianthe’s dress. (Are there gendered skulls in the canon? Muir could easily have made one up here, or had Harrow wear a pattern normally used by her father, Crux, or Ortus.) It’s not being seen as feminine or femme that she’s objecting to. Instead, Harrow goes for the ugliest skull, the “I don’t want to be perceived as desirable from any perspective” option.

And this actually reads very true to my own experiences! I’m somewhere between an androgynous and a non-mainstream feminine presentation myself, and I’ve had basically this exact same fight over what to wear at a social event. Right down to finding subtle ways to make myself less attractive to subvert the other person's attempt to control my appearance. Better something ugly that I chose myself than something playing by the rules that femme = signing up to be judged on the fuckability scale.

(Not, to be clear, that there’s anything wrong with pursuing or enjoying sexual attractiveness! Just that being forced into it feels really awful.)

Now, the topic of what does and doesn’t count as femme is… fraught and basically impossible to definitively nail down. But presenting as femme and/or feminine as part of one’s queerness often involves being in dialogue with other forms of femininity, picking and choosing which aspects to keep and which to reject. I’ve seen lipstick lesbians talk about their over the top makeup as a way to mark themselves as different from the heterosexual “natural look” norm. I myself love the gothic lolita look, because I like the idea of being seen as “feminine” in a transgressive way, but also potentially in a way that strikes other people as less sexual. (Though the nuances of lolita fashion could be a whole other discussion…)

Harrow’s presentation preferences aren’t quite the same as mine (she does not enjoy being seen as smaller or more childish), but she seems to share the desire for her unusual femme aesthetic to implicitly deflect from sexual interest rather than attracting it. She’s using her religion as a socially acceptable shield against Ianthe’s advances. Because given Ianthe’s reactions to the subject, flirting with a nun seems to be at least a little as taboo in TLT as it does in our world:

You simply said, “I have always slept alone.” “You don’t say.” You heard the primness in your voice when you said, “I am betrothed to the Locked Tomb, Tridentarius. I slept on a cot in my cell.” “I always forget you were an honest-to-God nun...” Harrow the Ninth, p260

Ianthe is an asshole who ignores Do Not Touch signals, but I think Harrow’s desperate clinging to her nun robes is, in part, another assertion of this implicit boundary. So I read the makeover scene as Harrow having an allergic reaction to being sexualized and objectified against her will (and to the entire idea that correctly performing as femme requires one to aspire to such), rather than disliking being perceived as femme or even feminine in general.

.

A second layer to this scene is the slimy cultural aspect to what Ianthe does. If the paint and full-body coverings are the Ninth's version of proper female attire, then Ianthe is forcing Harrow to perform to a very Third ideal instead:

“Will you take off that grotesque skeleton corset?” “No.” “What about your face paint?” “No.” “I do not know why I ask these questions,” she said. Harrow the Ninth, p265

I'm always wary of assuming modern racial dynamics apply to TLT’s universe, but y'all... this scene is a white woman forcing a brown woman from a stigmatized, minority religion to perform a normalized Western standard of femininity. Up to a rebuffed attempt to remove her face/hair coverings. Regardless of how much this dynamic applies in-universe, the real life parallels are not exactly subtle! Harrow could be the most feminine femme to ever gender within her culture, and what Ianthe does would still be extremely gross and coercive.

It’s also another direct callback to GtN - Ianthe forcing Harrow into fashionable Third norms is an inversion of the scene of Harrow forcing Gideon into Ninth facepaint. The same way that Harrow’s demeaning “Griddle” gets a dark reprise in Ianthe’s “Harry” and several other echoes in HtN of Harrow having to endure similar treatment from Ianthe as she once abused Gideon.

Ianthe is insisting that in order for Harrow to meet the dinner party’s standards, she must compromise her own culture’s standards. That Harrow’s own ceremonial robes aren’t expensive or nice enough to pass in a formal setting. She can be a well-dressed femme, or she can be a Ninth nun, but not both. Again, I don’t see Harrow’s objections to this treatment as being in conflict with Harrow having a femme-leaning identity, so much as Harrow being made wretchedly helpless and humiliated by having her Ninth heritage erased to fit Ianthe’s Third tastes.

.

Still not convinced? Finally, let’s contrast Ianthe’s makeover with the scene of Harrow getting ready for Abigail and Magnus’s anniversary in GtN:

She put on her best and most senescent Ninth robes, and became a skinny black stick swallowed by night-coloured layers of Locked Tomb lace. She fiddled with long earrings of bone in front of the mirror and repainted her face twice. Gideon the Ninth, p168

In any case, both she and Harrowhark turned up, gorgeously gowned in their Locked Tomb vestments, painted like living skulls, looking like douchebags. Harrow clinked when she walked with the sheer multiplicity of bonely accoutrement. Gideon the Ninth, p169

Here, Harrow is dressing purely according to her own decisions, and she actually doubles down on the more stereotypically feminine lace and jewelry rather than aiming for something wholly androgynous. She also does her best to appear neat and presentable here despite being a scruffly gremlin most of the time. Perfectionist that she is, Harrow is still nervous about her ability to perform it, but she’s confident in the specific femme aesthetic that she’s aspiring toward.

(Side note: You know who else wears an excessive amount of jewelry at Canaan House? Coronabeth. Was Harrow trying to look more like Corona, and if so, why? More crunchy gender food for thought…)

Ultimately. if your takeaway from the Ianthe makeover scene was "ah, Harrow would have been more comfortable if Ianthe gave her a suit" …I wouldn’t say that’s unreasonable. You could certainly do an alternative read of the scene as Ianthe force-feminizing a butch or nonbinary-leaning Harrow. (And if someone writes that essay I would love to read it!) But I don’t think that’s the only valid interpretation, and my personal read of the scene is that Ianthe is trying to coerce Harrow into a sexualized and gatekept definition of femme that Harrow strongly rejects.

It’s the pain and powerlessness of being told you’re doing your own gender wrong. Then having someone “helpfully” show you how to perform it right …only to look in the mirror afterwards and recognize yourself even less. And at that point, starting to miserably wonder if you’re even allowed to be your gender at all. Does that make sense?

Well, even if it doesn’t, thanks for reading to the end! 🖤 💀 🖤

[swaps55]

Warning, super long ask incoming! I suppose this is just a letter of fangirling in all honesty, and apologies if I accidentally already sent a half finished draft of this lol

I just wanted to let you know that I value your writing so much. I feel that I’ve fallen in love with Sam and Kaidan’s love, and that your writing is one of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading, both within fanfiction and published works. Your writing is so compelling; the romance, the world building, the characterisation, everything! Every one of your characters feel like real people with patterns and behaviours that suit them and their motivations, they’re so believable and I love following them on their journeys. I think what I love most about your writing is that you’ve mastered show, don’t tell. When I’m reading any other fiction, I feel like I’m constantly searching for what you’ve portrayed in your work. You can really tell that you’ve put such love into Opus (and your other works, I’ve reread so many of the multiverse fics too), from the research of engineering and battle strategies, to bug behaviour even!

Essentially, I just needed you to know that someone out there is thinking of your writing daily. How incredible is it that this world that lives and breathes inside of your head, has now made a home in mine.

I also wanted to ask if you would ever consider publishing any original works in the future? I would read literally anything you wrote, your art holds a very special place in my heart now, I’ve even started learning the constellations and how to cross stitch because of you!

Thank you for your patience and I hope you have a lovely week ahead ☆♡

MAN, y'all are out to kill me with kindness.

You have no idea how much it means to hear this, especially right now. Back in March I hit a burnout wall running at full speed, and have been feeling some tremendous guilt over not making much progress on Mezzo the last few months. It's hard not to constantly fret that people will immediately assume I've abandoned the story and abandon it, too, and hearing this is a reminder that's not true.

I love this world and these characters, and it's the best thing ever that not only do others love them to, but they specifically love my versions of them. That's WILD. And amazing. You're so right about how incredible it is, so thank you so much.

As for original fic, years ago, I thought that's what I wanted to do, and I worked on some original projects. But here's the problem: I love sci-fi, I only want to write sci-fi...and I'm a terrible world builder. Give me a sandbox and I will happily build a castle, but I just don't have the right skillset to construct the sandbox.

That's why I've been so happy as a fanfic writer - I get a pre-built sandbox that I can go to town in and make whatever castle I want out of it. I have thought about trying to file the serial numbers off Cantata, but the world is such an integral part of that story that I wouldn't know how to do it and still have a story that means as much as Cantata does.

HOWEVER, never say never. I am not a world builder, but I married one. Real Life Romance Option is a phenomenal world builder, and a lot of his ideas can be found in Opus (you can thank him for the Can, for instance). He is happily building his own very cool sandbox, and it's entirely possible that one day I'll tell stories in it.

But Opus comes first! I still have Mezzo to finish, and two more stories to write to get Sam the happy ending he deserves, and I'm gonna do it, no matter how long it takes.

(Also, thank you in particular for calling out the bugs, because yes, I read a lot about bugs for Mezzo, haha!)

[theosconfessions]

You are super cool and awesome and neat, yay! Also do you want to share more about growing up in a haunted house? ;)

omg you are the sweetest!! i was just putting in some drafts for the week coming up and i seen this and was like I SURE DO. now my mom has more stories than i do. BUT one that i still have reoccuring dreams about to this dayyyyyyy and im in my 30s.. is the apartment we grew up in when we first moved out here with my mum [ my dad was there too at the time but not really so literally just my mum in this]. so heres the thing. me and my twin never discussed this with my mum and she never discussed it with us until a few years ago . so its like we all validated out own stories and it made sense to her why she kept having experiences in that place. so. when we first moved there me and my sister were super young.and to help paint a picture of the place there was an adjoining closet that connected both rooms. our bedroom and our mums bedroom. this had a wall seperating them but it was technically the same closet. the first night we spent there she told us she woke up to a man in the closet... with a fucked up neck if you get what im saying. i dont want tumblr to get me haha. she told him he wasnt welcome here and to leave [she is a nurse and she was used to seeing shit . especially working night shift so this really didnt make her flinch here] now cut to us dumb ass little girls in our bedroom .. i remember one day seeing a boy come to us. we invited him to play barbies with us. and we named him andrew. and we remember there was something wrong with his neck. even as we grew up and we stopped seeing him physically we sensed shit in that closet and also..there was weekly occurances of what we called 'the radio men' which really sounded like a muffled group of guys talking from the living room. like they were on the radio but really really low. needless to say we spent a good bit of nights in our mums bedroom growing up. i still have dreams either trying to get out of that place or get to it for some reason. and i actually live like a five minute walk from there and often wonder how the people who are there now are doing. i like to think that my grandparents keep me protected from whatever that was now. but it still is pretty strange that now in my 30s im still dreaming about that place. likei said though my mom has stories for DAYS. this is just one. also a super short one... this isnt a ghost story per say because hes not a ghost but we were always close to our grandparents.and at the time we were in middle school they lived in south carolina. we live in pennsylvania. so its a bit of a way. i remember we went to see my grandpa in the hospital about a month before he passed and on our birthday week [me my sister and my grandpa all shared the same bday within like 4 days. his wa son the 11th ours is on the 15th] he seemed GREAT for what he was going through and i see now its because we were there.when i say this man set a prescendence in how a man should treat anyone i mean it. i still hold what he says in me to this day. fr. dont accept any less. so back to the story we were TIGHT with him. ride or die . the day he passed away we had a volleyball game we had no idea he died. i remember looking over my shoulder and seeing him in the stands. i thought hmm.thats weird. hes in south carolina [and also had cancer ] my mum came and got us and when we got home she told us that he passed away. but clear as DAY. i remember seeing my poppop in those stands. the veils always been kinda thin on this end of things. i think i get it from my mom haha. but thats just some of them~ lemme know if you have any!

[galaxygirl8880]

My original draft:

'Cale notices scars that he had as Rok soo are popping up on his body and takes a potion to hide them every few weeks (months?) He forgets to refill his supply because of a battle, or someone removes the potion effects mid battle and he has to explain after. (He says it in a way that makes it seem like he doesn't like how he looks and then everyone feels bad and are like "you don't have to hide from us young master :(" and Cale's still iffy about it so he gets Ron to pick up his refill's anyways and Ron is like "you're making this old man sad" so Cale is like "... I won't take them as often anymore just give me them pls")'

And what I wrote ⇩⇩⇩

---

"..Young master?"

".... Please get out"

'This is an odd situation, I don't smell any blood...'

Right now, Ron is standing in Cale's room staring at the bundle of blankets where Cale would normally be sleeping. Instead the lights and curtains have been closed and turned off while Cale refuses to turn and look at him.

"What's wrong? Are you injured or not feeling well?"

'Even if he was sick, this is still very odd behavior..'

Ron took a light step forward and paused when a small whirlwind shot across the room and picked up a pen and sheet of paper.

When the paper got back to the shifting bundle of blankets, there was a soft sound of a pen writing on paper.

Ron walked forward until he was at the edge of the bed and sat down. The blanket pile flinched.

Cale shifted the blankets and shot out a hand towards Ron, holding a folded piece of paper in between two fingers. Ron didn't miss the three obvious scars on the small bit of Cale's exposed arm and quickly grabbed his wrist instead of the paper.

With a surprising amount of strength, Cale snatched his wrist back into the blanket and pulled them closer to his body.

"Get. Out."

"Young Master-"

Ron didn't get to finish his sentence because another, much larger, whirlwind picked him up and placed him down outside of the room.

Only when he heard the door slam behind him and a soft 'click', did he react. The slip of paper from before was in between his uniform jacket and shirt.

Ron didn't have time to be amused about how the puppy was getting confident because of the overwhelming worry that drowned it out.

'I've helped change and bathe him many times and I have never seen those before'

The scars looked old. That was an undeniable fact. But why cover his entire body?

He takes out the slip of paper, and begins to read it.

It was the name of a shop, the location, and an order number..

Ron huffs out a breath and begins to walk, intending on going to said shop.

If one looked closely enough, you would be able to notice worry in the usually neutral face of his.

---

(A/N: Haha, how am I doing so far :D?)

---

*Knock knock*

"Young Master, I have returned with your order"

Ron is once again standing in front of Cale's door, although this time he's there with the two cat tribe members that were adopted taken in by Cale.

"We tried getting in earlier but he told us to leave~"

"It was very weird of him" they both complained.

"Did you, per chance, see him at all?"

"No Nya"

"Nope!"

Ron suddenly noticed some faint shuffling from the other side of the door. Then, a soft 'click' and the door opened.

"Hand it over please"

"Young Master, May I ask what you need potions for?"

There was a noticable pause before a sigh was heard and was accompanied by a low, defeated 'just get in.'

Ron quickly moved inside the room with the bag of potions and the kittens on his shoulders. When the three moved to look at Cale on the bed, they were shocked.

Cale, instead of his usual red locks, had streaks of black accompanying them on his head. That wasn't the most shocking part, what made the kittens gasp and Ron's eyes widen were the sheer amount of scars covering his body.

Cale, to his credit, didn't look as phased but Ron took note of how his pupils shook and his hands move to shift the blanket up to his shoulders.

The kittens wordlessly jumped off of Ron's shoulders and hopped up onto Cale's lap and shoulders and cuddled him. ( 'they're shaking, do I... look that bad?')

Ron gave him a look, which he responded with a flinch and slight nod. Cale gently nudged the kids off of him and stood up in front of Ron. Ron immediately began unbuttoning his white shirt and the air was.. tense.

When his shirt was off, on flinched and Hong gave a small whimper. To say they felt bad would be an understatement, they felt horrible. How had he gotten injured this much? There were... a lot.

"The potions.."

"I use them to hide.. this."

Ron skillfully buttoned his shirt back up and took the bag before Cale could get to it.

At his questioning glance, Ron went back to his usual self (his knuckles were white under his gloves).

"How often do you need to take them, Young Master?"

"Uh- Once a week. Its supposed to be every day but I take enough to last a week"

"..Right. I'll take these and start serving them around your afternoon tea time." Ron took a bottle with an orange liquid and placed it on his bedside table.

['Cale, why didn't... Why didn't you tell us..?'

'...'

'..I didn't want you to be afraid.'

They all slept closer together that night. (Raon was very confused because he spent the day with his mom)]

---

@neominthe I saw your post and had a similar idea so this was slightly inspired by your art :>

(Also I'm kind of proud! I probably could have ended it better but oh well- tag me if you write something to go along with this pls (◕ᴗ◕✿)