#what we consider 'ourselves' is just the left brain

[pathologicalreid]

a special occasion | S.R.

moving your daughter into a toddler bed brings about some interesting conversation

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, the f word, talks about having another baby but not necessarily suggestive, extremely accurate emily prentiss characterization word count: 1.36k a/n: this is the spencer reid dilf agenda: father's day edition! this entire fic was born from a headcanon that spencer is stupid good at building ikea furniture. also, this is technically the family from cryptic, but you don't have to read that fic to know what's happening here. it's just easier than making/naming a new baby every time.

“Emily started trying to teach her to swear,” Spencer told you, pulling a bag of screws out of the cardboard box splayed on the floor in your toddler’s room.

While he started to check whether or not all of the pieces were there, your eyes followed your daughter as she ran around the room, pulling each toy out of her toy box and setting it on the other side of the room. “I think we should consider ourselves lucky that Em waited until she was two to start her campaign,” you responded, thanking your daughter as she handed you a baby doll.

The crib had already been taken apart and was ready to be stored in the basement, and the pieces that were organized on the floor would eventually create a toddler bed. Right now, the floor was just covered in wood and screws – tiny pieces that set your mom instincts on high alert. Looking at the pieces, Spencer raised his head, “Hey, Nellie, can you hand me that screwdriver?” He asked your toddler, pointing at the screwdriver on the floor for her to grab.

You tried to hide your smile as Eleanor picked up the wrench from the floor and proudly presented it to her father. He thanked her, and as she toddled back to her toy box, you slyly passed the screwdriver to your husband. “Welcome,” she said softly, “welcome, welcome, welcome,” she echoed.

After reading about how important it was to involve your toddler in setting up their big kid bed, you and Spencer set out to include Nellie in every step. She picked the bed frame, the sheets, and everything she could possibly need for the bed. “Did you tell Emily not to teach her swear words?”

“Of course I did, but I’m pretty sure she started up again when I left the room,” he informed you, using the screwdriver to attach two pieces of the base together.

Humming, you glanced over to Eleanor, “I’d have thought Derek would be the one to start it,” you muttered, watching as she ducked her entire head in the toy box, obviously looking for a particular toy.

Spencer continued working on putting the pieces together, faltering in his movements as Nell made her way back to where the two of you were sitting. She made her way around the bed parts and unceremoniously sat down next to her father, her pigtails – his handiwork – bouncing as she plopped to the ground. “Hi princess,” he greeted, taking a moment to hug her into his side before returning to his construction work.

Eleanor happily waved the wooden hammer she had retrieved from the toy box in the air, “Help daddy,” she offered giddily, kicking her feet as she watched him complete another step in the process.

“Here, can you hammer this right here?” He asked her, pointing to the part he had just fastened, having her hammer at the screw – she was none the wiser. “Good job,” he praised her before reaching over for the next piece.

Furrowing your brow, you watched him work as Nell hammered at the carpet in front of her, “You’re not even reading the instructions.”

He shrugged, “I looked at them before I started, but I don’t need them,” he said casually, adjusting his arm as Eleanor leaned into him.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t tell me you can just visualize the way the pieces go together in your giant brain.”

“Okay,” he answered simply, a small smirk sprouting on his face, “I won’t tell you that.”

Groaning, you laid back on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling, “I have been building furniture for years and you’re telling me I could’ve just handed it off to you?” Every bookshelf you had put together while he was off on a case, you could’ve just saved it for him.

Nellie had started creating a song about her love of hammers, continuing to hammer at the floor. “Oh, hey, be careful,” Spencer said gently, “those screws are sharp,” he told her.

Your head snapped up to see her reaching out for the pile of screws on the floor, and Spencer was doing his best to redirect her to the bolts. “Sharp,” she echoed solemnly, leaning back and holding her hammer with both hands.

“Can you say hammer?” You asked, pointing to the apparatus in her hand.

Holding it up proudly, she gave you a toothy grin, “Hammer!” She fumbled over her “r” sound, but Spencer assured you that it was a skill that she had plenty of time to develop.

As Spencer finished putting the bed together, you continued asking Eleanor to name the bits and bobs around her bedroom. “You’re so smart, lovebug. You get your brains from your daddy,” you told her.

“But you’re pretty like your mama,” he instantly responded, not even looking up from what he was doing to talk you up to your daughter – as if the two of them didn’t have the same big, brown eyes.

You pulled yourself up to a sitting position, smiling as Nell stood up and walked over to you, “Mama,” she said, turning around and taking a seat in your lap. “Bed?” She asked, looking over at the spot where her crib used to reside.

Switching from the screwdriver to a hex key, Spencer smiled at the two of you, “Almost,” he answered.

Gently dropping a kiss on the top of her head, you smiled fondly down at your toddler, “Do you remember picking your new bed out?” You asked while you pointed at the frame your husband was nearly finished with and the pile of fresh sheets she had chosen.

Nodding slowly, Nellie watched Spencer place the mattress on the bed frame before inviting her to come try it out. He reached out his hand for her, and she took his index finger in her tiny hand before he helped her up on the bed, “What do you think Nellie?” He asked, straightening out her ladybug overalls from where they were getting twisted up.

“Big,” she answered, releasing her hold on his finger and laying down on the mattress. You checked the time on your phone to make sure she wasn’t missing a nap.

Spencer stood up, picking her up as he did so, he held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “You started climbing out of your crib every night, so you got to upgrade to a big girl bed,” he explained to her. You shuffled over to grab the sheets and start making the bed. “Alright, did Aunt Emily teach you a new word last night?”

From the way she smiled at him, you knew the answer to the question and that she had been informed that Emily would get in trouble for teaching her the word, “Fuck!”

Clamping your hand over your mouth to stop from laughing, you heard your husband sigh behind you, “Did Aunt Emily tell you that you shouldn’t say that?”

“Speshul cay-shun,” she sounded out the answer as he let her down, she went back to the bed that you had just finished making. You helped her up on the bed and she proceeded to lay down on the comforter, patterned with multi-colored flowers.

While she explored her new bed, you stood next to your husband, “Shame we have no use for the crib anymore,” he murmured to you, snaking an arm around your waist.

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to look at him, “Oh, you are fishing right now, Spencer Reid.” You were half joking, half scolding as you beamed up at him.

Spencer placed both of his hands on either side of your waist, “I am merely stating a fact,” he said, feigning innocence.

“Pointedly, stating a fact,” you corrected him, “It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Fuck,” a small voice said from behind the both of you, causing your head to snap back to your daughter, who was now making snow angels on her new bed.

You cringed slightly, “Maybe we’ll revisit after we solve this issue.”

He looked fondly over at the toddler, “You have to admit, it is a special occasion.”

[peachhcs]

hughes brothers just seeing sam and will acting all couply and seeing how much the two are really in love

watching their baby sister fall in love

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: the hughes brothers realize their baby sister finally found the guy for her + watch her fall in love

2.4k words

this request was so cutie and i enjoyed writing it :) pls send it anymore requests you guys have for samy and will!

au masterlist

for some reason, the hughes brothers never saw their baby sister's relationship with will coming except luke who was the one still around as the feelings grew and the relationship developed—of course he picked up on all of the signs the younger smith sibling gave samy. him and will were almost the same age, so the teenage pining was all too familiar to the middle hughes.

quinn and jack on the other hand? oh forget about them knowing until the summer they came home after samy finished up her senior year. with them being away for most of the year, they missed every single gaze, touch, and stolen glances between the teenagers as the year went on. plus, luke's not one to talk about his crushes in general, so why would he mention anything about his sister's love life to the two older siblings?

the entire relationship left all three of them speechless when it finally happened. watching samy and will interact at the draft in nashville was the brothers' first indication something was happening. they looked way too close than usual considering will's always been attached to luke or jack growing up. he'd just naturally gravitate towards the boys as they grew up in the summer months together pushing each other off the dock, having diving competitions, and playing hockey in the driveway. neither jack nor luke noticed will slowly attaching himself to their sister instead as the years went on.

when samy and will's first date came a month later, the boys were skeptical. of course they knew will and how he was the sweetest soul on the planet—it was their older brother instincts kicking in. samy was their baby sister and it took a certain guy to be the right one for her and neither of the brothers wanted her to get hurt. sure, will was family, but that didn't mean he couldn't fuck something up.

their teasing was relentless before they let the young couple leave, but really it was all a tactic to see how well will held up under this new dynamic.

"can you guys shut up?" samy eyed luke standing against the wall before glancing at their mom for help.

"what? we're just saying. mom never let us go out to ann arbor by ourselves when we were yoyr age," jack piped in from the couch. will stood beside samy in a nervous mess, unaware of the brothers (mostly jack and luke) eyeing him down.

"guys, just cool it, okay? let your sister be," jim stepped in because he was probably the only one that could shut jack and luke up. the boys shut their mouths after that and samy dragged will out of the house before anymore comments could be made.

"seriously?" ellen eyed her boys.

"what? we gotta poke fun at her too," luke defended.

"you were gonna give will a nervous breakdown," the older woman rolled her eyes.

"it's nothing he hasn't heard before. just gotta make sure he's up to our standards for our sister," jack shrugged.

they were still up when samy came back through the door at around 10:30. they all perked up when she walked into the kitchen with the biggest smile on her lips.

"someone's smiley," jack commented.

"maybe it's too early to say this, but i really think it's gonna work out between us. at least, i really hope it does," samy gushed, a lovesick expression on her features that her brothers had never seen before.

her words turned a gear in their brains. they've never heard her talk about a guy like that before nor had they seen a look like that on her face after she came back from a date. that stuck out to them and for a split second, they thought that maybe will was the right guy for her. maybe.

the start of the new school year had the hughes siblings breaking up until summer again. samy headed off to umich for her first semester, luke flew out to jersey with jack to really begin his rookie year, and quinn headed back out west to vancouver—a captaincy in his near future. with the brothers not there, they didn't see the development of will and samy's new relationship. yes, the siblings were close, but there were some things they didn't talk about in detail with one another. one of them being their relationships and love life.

anytime the youngest hughes was on facetime with her brothers, she only briefly mentioned will and they also never really asked. when summer quickly came back around and the gang reunited, they were still skeptical of will. was he really the guy for samy? was he becoming like every other jerk hockey player the boys knew all too well because well, they were once that guy too.

their relationship was approaching one year and the brothers finally got to see and understand that yes, will was the perfect guy for their sister.

lazy lake days were everyone's favorites because people went and did their own thing whether it was nap all day, tan, or just mess around. luke immersed himself with a conversation with some of his old umich friends. ethan and mark yapped on and on about their hockey season while luke chimed in with details from his rookie year. the boy missed being in michigan everyday, but he was glad he could reconnect with everyone during the summer months for a few weeks.

after awhile, luke needed to go inside to get a new drink. he nodded to some of his brother's friends on his way up the yard before sliding the glass doors open. relief filled his body as the cold ac air hit his skin and cooled him down from the burning 90 degree temperatures outside. he was about to head back outside until voices caught his attention in the living room.

he shuffled that way, not quite recognizing who was talking until he saw the faces. luke met samy and will's friends a few times, but he didn't know them that well. two boys stood by the couch snickering to one another with their phone cameras out. luke raised his eyebrow, trying to peer over them to see what had their attention.

he finally spotted his sister and will curled up on the couch together. samy's head was tucked into the crook of will's neck while his own head laid atop hers. her legs were thrown over his lap and his arm draped over her shoulders. seeing them in that position was still so foreign to the middle hughes.

"gonna have a whole album by the time summer's over," luke was pretty sure his name was ryan. ryan showed him the photo album on his phone titled smitty's so whippedwhich made luke laugh.

"god, they were so insufferable over the phone and even worse in person," gabe teased.

"will was always calling samy like at any chance he got. pretty sure we tried throwing will's phone out the window one time because he wouldn't stop calling her," ryan snickered.

luke's expression settled a bit the more he stared at his sister and will. it almost softened for a second thinking about will constantly calling her to hear her voice. that wasn't something a jerky hockey player did, luke thought in his head.

"they were annoying, but it was cute i suppose. never seen smitty act like this before, it's kind of nice seeing a different side of him," gabe added with a tiny smile.

the boys' words left luke thinking. he thought back to when samy came home after their first date last year and the look on her face he'd never seen before. hearing about will's change too made the hughes brother think maybe will wasn't like every other guy.

later that day, luke crowded around the kitchen island with quinn and jack as the three discussed when they wanted to go golfing and if they wanted to invite anyone. samy shuffled into the kitchen, sleep laced in her eyes still with will right behind her.

"morning," luke laughed a little seeing his sister.

"morning," the girl grumbled back obviously not in the mood for any teasing.

"heard you two had a pretty sound nap," jack chuckled.

"yeah, it was really nice actually. thanks for asking," samy's voice dripped with sarcasm towards her brother.

"jeez, someone's grumpy," the older brunette laughed which made quinn and luke chuckle too. all samy did was give him the middle finger as she bent down to pick up the bottle cap she dropped.

instinctively, will wrapped his hand around the counter edge so samy wouldn't hit her head when she came back up. the gesture went unnoticed by samy since it was in will's second nature to just do that, but the brothers saw it very clearly. they saw how will didn't even think when he did it, he just did.

neither of them mentioned it when they left, but all three of them thought about the gesture for awhile after.

jack wasn't good at falling asleep. his parents liked calling him the night owl in the family since they could never put him down for bed. he'd just jump right back up, his energy bursting to get out.

the middle hughes tiptoed around the guys asleep on air mattresses scattered across the house. he thought maybe some food could make him sleepy, so he started searching the fridge for a snack.

the guy didn't notice samy and will until he let his gaze drift to the backyard while he cut up some apples. his eyes stopped on the gently swinging hammock on the deck and the two people inside. he immediately recognized samy's frizzy curls—very much taking after luke with that gene.

jack wasn't meaning to be creepy, but he crept a bit closer to the back doors to get a better look. will's arm was draped around her shoulder and samy's head was on his chest. he could hear their faint voices through the door and small giggles at whatever they were talking about.

the older brunette smiled to himself briefly before a few tears edged their way to jack's eyes. seeing his sister in love was not something he thought would make him emotional, but after watching her grow up, it all felt bittersweet in jack's mind.

he was always the one samy would go to first after luke if she needed something. he was closer to her age and while she didn't think quinn couldn't give advice, he was six years older. jack and luke were and have always been samy's go to's. jack was emotional in the fact that his baby sister finally found someone who sat in a hammock with her late at night to look at the stars—especially someone she already knew so well.

he left them be after he cut up his apples, retreating back to his room where he'd go to sleep knowing samy was in the right hands.

water guns were most definitely the worst investment for the lake house. the hockey boys went crazy with them full and armed like they were going to squirt anyone who walked by them. somehow, some of the guys and the girls managed to get themselves into a mini water gun fight.

gabe and ryan teamed up against samy and hannah originally. their squealing caught the attention of some of the other guys who quickly ran to join gabe and ryan against the girls. rutger aided in throwing water balloons at them while mark and moldy chased them with water buckets. poor samy and hannah were severely out numbered.

"hey! you can't run forever!" moldy yelled as he chased after the youngest hughes with an entire bucket of water.

"i can and i will!" samy yelled back at him. the brothers found it amusing and endearing that a lot of their friends saw samy as their own little sister they could constantly tease.

will walked onto the deck where samy immediately ran to him as a shield. the blonde grew confused before he saw nick with the largest water bucket he'd ever seen.

"hey, woah. you can't dump that on me," will said as he held his arm out, shielding samy from the impending water.

"i will if you don't move so i can get samy," moldy laughed.

"i'm not a part of this, so technically, i'm a safe spot," will tried negotiating.

"i'm not sure it works like that, smitty. she runs to you, you're on her side," nick shrugged, smirking still.

"get her!" mark yelled as he ran towards the deck with his own water bucket. nick took that as a signal he could dump his water.

samy screamed as will quickly shoved her out of the way and took the hit as two buckets of water drenched him from head to toe. the boys broke out into laughter while samy stared in disbelief that her boyfriend was now dripping wet and she was perfectly dry.

"oh shit. i'm sorry will," the girl couldn't hold her giggles as she covered her mouth.

the blonde shook his hair out like a dog before breaking a tiny smile. "you're taking the hit next time," he mumbled, placing a chaste kiss to her lips.

quinn, jack, and luke had watched the entire interaction from where they sat together at their fire pit. the three of them were laughing watching poor will get soaked for samy.

"he's so whipped if he just took two buckets of water for her," jack mumbled with a smile.

luke and quinn looked his way. it was the first time one of them had ever said something about samy and will to one another since their entire relationship started.

"they're cute. makes me miss being a teenager in love," quinn muttered. "plus, i've never seen her so happy before nor have i seen will so happy either," the oldest hughes added.

their eyes flicked back towards the couple where will was now trying to dry himself off.

"it's a good look for them, isn't it?" luke said after a moment.

"she's happy. like really happy," jack nodded.

"i think he really cares about her. he's definitely sticking around," luke said.

"i mean wasn't he already? he's like family," jack laughed making quinn laugh too.

"i'm just happy she's found someone. i totally saw it coming by the way, so you all owe me still," luke muttered and the brothers rolled their eyes.

[voicesknewmyghosts]

Take A Piece Of Me With You

MINORS DNI  18+ ONLY

Synopsis: Tara finally has you alone.

TW: rough sex, Top Tara, Bottom Reader. 

They are consenting adults in a kinky relationship, they both have safewords and have discussed scenes previously. 

Finally. The apartment is empty. No Sam, no Chad, no Mindy. The silence is almost…deafening, considering how loud this place has been over the months with everyone living together and having game nights and dinners together. Tara places her bag down on the table and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and basking in the silence that has fallen over the apartment. 

It’s been a crazy few months evading Ghostface once again and trying to settle into a somewhat normal life as a college student. You had been her constant throughout it all; her beautiful girlfriend, someone who stood by her even when her anger seemed to get the best of her; someone who served as the buffer between her and her sister Sam; someone who made her feel safe, calm and like the world might still have good people left in it. 

Tara wasn’t one to be the soppy person in a relationship; especially after Amber and the betrayal she experienced; but when you walked into her life? It felt like something had slotted back into place. The anger that had been bubbling at the surface ready to explode dissipated any time you smiled at her. The lonely nights spent shaking after nightmares of being attacked became non-existent with you being there every single time to hold her through any bad night she had. 

You had become her rock, and she wanted to repay you with something only she could give you. 

Looking at her watch, Tara estimated she had around 30 minutes before you got home, so she quickly got to work, getting everything ready for when you walked in the door. She wanted this night to be perfect, and she was going to do everything in her power to ensure it was. 

You’ve had a long day. Your eyes feel heavy, your body feels like you’re dragging it through mud, and all you want to do is collapse into the arms of your girlfriend and let her take it all away. Except, when you walk into your apartment, she’s nowhere to be found. This strikes you as odd, and after the last couple months of being stalked by a killer; you’re high on edge. You quietly put your bag down on the floor and call out for Tara, reaching for the knife on the counter top only to breathe a sigh of relief when she replies. 

You head to the bedroom, heart rate only just returning to normal until you see your Tara; your beautiful, stunning, sexy Tara sat on the bed in the most wonderful set of red lingerie you’ve ever set your eyes on. She looks at you with hooded eyes, and does something that causes your entire brain to short circuit.

She licks her lips. 

Tara outstretches her hand, crooking her pointing finger and beckons you forward. You feel as if you’re on the end of the leash and she’s pulling you to her; all bodily autonomy is forgotten as your legs start moving before your brain even knows what’s happening. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” She mumbles, hands already feeling their way down your arms, squeezing the muscles she feels there. She’s staring into your soul, her dark eyes are blown with lust and the way she’s sitting on the side of the bed with her legs wrapped around yours keeping you pinned in is singlehandedly going to end you, you’re sure of it. And that’s not even including the way her voice has dropped a few octaves. 

Tara Carpenter is going to be the death of you. You just hope it happens after what she has planned. 

“I know we haven’t had time to ourselves lately.” She says, hands still feeling their way around you, electrifying every cell in your body. “I want to make it up to you, my princess. Do you think you can let me do that?” 

No words are capable of being formed in your already hazy mind. A quick, frantic nod makes the girl in front of you chuckle before she stands, hands either side of your face, pulling you down to meet her. 

She places the softest of kisses to your lips, taking her time exploring how you taste, how your lips feel against hers. You place your hands on her hips, gently squeezing and rubbing your thumbs in circles over her skin. 

You could spend forever like this; lost in the feel of Tara’s lips against yours, her hands caressing your face, the soft skin of her hips underneath your fingertips. You completely forget everything that’s happened the last few months; you forget the hard day you had and just let yourself get lost in Tara. 

You don’t even notice she’s started turning you around until you’re pushed onto the bed, tripping over your own feet as you fall backwards onto the soft covers. You don’t even have time to ask Tara what she’s doing before she’s on top of you, using what little body weight she has to pin you under her, keeping you from being able to move. 

Her hands pin yours above your head, her legs pin yours down. You try wriggling only to be met with no movement at all. Tara has you completely at her mercy, and you’re certainly not complaining. 

“There. Don’t you look so perfect like that? Completely at my mercy?” 

Her voice is teasing as she peers down at you. Her eyes are boring holes into your soul, her gaze is so intense it makes you try to squirm away from the attention. Except, she doesn’t allow that. She tsks at you when you try to wriggle away from her penetrating gaze while pushing you further into the bed. 

“Come on now my pretty girl, no need to get shy. I just want to make you feel good.” 

Tara leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss so ferocious your breath is knocked out of your lungs and the heat between your legs becomes unbearable. You whine into her mouth, trying to push your hips up into hers, desperately searching for some kind of friction. 

Tara allows it for a moment; a fleeting moment where you’re able to grind against her leg filling you with the pleasure you’re so desperate for. And then she pulls away, and you have never groaned so loud in your life, whining like a pathetic puppy waiting for their owner's attention. 

The devil above you chuckles as she drags her tongue down your neck, sucking your skin in between her teeth as she leaves marks as dark as the night sky so everyone can see just who the needy mess beneath her belongs to. 

If you were in any kind of right mind you might have told her not to mark you so hard, wanting to save the humiliation of attempting and - ultimately - failing to hide the bruises she leaves all over your neck from the other people in your life. But your mind feels empty; like you’re floating away to another dimension the more Tara sucks and nibbles and bites you. 

You feel her hands caressing your ribs under your shirt, her nimble fingers drawing gasps from you with every gentle pattern she draws on your sensitive skin. Within seconds Tara has sat up above you and ripped off your shirt and bra, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to her ministrations.  Without a pause for breath her mouth is on your chest; her teeth nibbling, her tongue dancing and leaving wet, warm trails all over your skin. Your hands are still pinned; something you’re desperately beginning to fight so that you can feel the devil above you’s skin against yours; so you can scratch marks as red as blood down her back as she tears you apart and builds you back together. You want her to feel how good she makes you feel; you want her to have marks that remind her of what she can do to you. 

Your whining and pathetic attempts to fight the girl’s grip on your arms must have finally gotten through to Tara because she smirks while letting your skin go with a pop from its prison in her mouth. 

“You want to feel me too, hm?” Her eyes are so dark you can’t see the beautiful brown you normally get lost in, and all you can do to answer her is a frantic nod. 

You realise - even though your mind is so lost in the depths of subspace and being at the mercy of someone who has the ability to simultaneously destroy you completely and build you back stronger than you’ve ever been - that you must look like a pathetic, trembling, whining mess of somebody who prides themselves on being an independent, strong woman. You realise that you should probably try to save yourself the humiliation of being Tara’s little play toy, and yet, at the same time, you realise that giving Tara this control over you is just as powerful as being the one in control. You feel safe with this woman, but you are giving her the freedom to do whatever she wants to you; anything at all, and you would be powerless to stop her. And that, in itself, is freeing. 

And then Tara takes her bra off and all thoughts - however fleeting, disappear into the void as she finally lets your hands go. 

Jolts of electricity hit your wet cunt as she takes your nipple into her mouth and gently sucks, swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. You use your newfound freedom to scratch deep marks into her naked back, making her groan and tremble beneath your touch. You wrap your still clothed legs around her back, drawing her ever closer to you, not wanting to risk her trying to move away from you. 

“Tara, please baby.” You are fully aware of how pathetic you sound, but right now, you couldn’t care less. “Please baby touch me.” 

Your voice is breathy and high pitched, but you’re only greeted with a smirk wrapped around your nipple.

“Patience my pet.” Tara practically purrs as she takes her sweet time trailing her tongue down your chest and to your stomach. “Good girls get rewarded, but you have to be patient.” 

You almost cum on the spot as her fingers hook into your pants and finally, finally expose your dripping pussy to the cold air. 

Your head suddenly feels so heavy as you watch Tara lick her lips as she lowers her mouth level with your cunt. 

“Oh my babygirl you are so wet for me.” She purrs, slipping a finger easily through your soaked folds. You can’t help the choked moan that is ripped from your throat the moment you feel Tara’s hot breath against your clit, and you can’t help reaching your hands down to hold her head where you need her most. 

She obliges, nipping her tongue out to draw soft, gentle circles around your clit. Her nails dig crescent shaped holes into your thighs as she holds your legs down, still wanting you to feel restrained even if she’s allowing you the mercy of holding onto her hair. You can’t keep your head up to look at her any longer so you drop it down to the pillow and allow your girl to take care of you.

You’re certain Tara was a torturer in a past life. Her ability to tease you until you’re crying and sobbing for her to finally push you over the edge is unnerving to say the least. Her tongue against your clit and her practiced movements are carefully planned to keep you just slowly coming towards the edge at a pace so leisurely it’s agonising.

“Tara, please-” 

A sharp stinging pain against your bare thigh silences whatever begging you were about to do, and when you risk a glance down at the devil between your legs you’re greeted with a stern look that soaks the sheets beneath you with your wetness. 

You decide that trying to get Tara to listen to you is a losing battle, and so you do the only thing you can think of:

You grab her head and grind.

Big mistake.

It’s shocking to you; just how much strength this five foot nothing girl holds in her tiny body. You always find yourself enamoured by it; whether it’s watching her play soccer with friends, or going to the gym together, or play fighting at home.

But you don’t think you’ve ever been this shocked at her hidden strength.

She has you bent over her lap in a split second; all wriggling legs and frantic hands desperately trying to find a grip on the unwaivering rock holding you down. 

Sharp stinging pains begin to erupt from your upturned bottom; every hit is measured and placed perfectly to produce the maximum amount of pain. Blood rushes to your head; you don’t even hear the loud thwack of Tara’s palm colliding with your exposed skin that echoes around the otherwise silent room. You don’t even realise you’re crying out with every spank until Tara is shoving your underwear into your mouth with a promise to make you regret it if you were to dare to spit it out. 

“I told you,” she punctuates every word with a hard spank, making the stinging pain in your bottom become near unbearable, “patient, good girls get rewarded. It appears you are neither a patient nor a good girl.” 

She lays ten more hard, powerful spanks to your behind before placing your numb, lifeless body on the bed then disappearing somewhere out of sight. You would call out for her if your mind wasn’t as fuzzy as it is, if you didn’t feel like you were floating through clouds on your way to a different heavenly dimension. Instead you lie still, basking in the weightless feeling coursing through your body, content to just take whatever Tara has planned for you. 

You can feel her eyes on your exposed body. You can feel her rake her stare over the skin that’s glistening with sweat in front of her, admiring the state she’s managed to put you in. You feel the bed dip as she climbs on top of you, and when you look up you’re face to face with the person who managed to tear you apart and leave you a trembling, uncomfortably wet mess with no ability to form thoughts. 

The smirk she gives you leaves a sticky mess between your legs.

“How do you feel, pretty girl?” She asks you with concern as she leans down to pepper kisses on your forehead.

“Good.” You manage to croak out, trying to convey through eye contact alone just how much you need Tara inside of you and how much you need her now.

“Oh? Is someone a little desperate, hm?” She teases, beginning the torturous trail of her tongue slowly down your body once again. You try to reach for her; beg her to touch you but your limbs feel like they're encased in concrete and so, deciding (for once) to be her good girl, you lie your head down and relax, much to the delight of the woman currently swirling her tongue through your wet folds.

“That’s my good girl.” She cooes. “Now, I’m going to fuck you like you’ve begging me for, and you are going to take it like my good girl, or I will spank you until you physically can’t take it anymore. Understand?” 

The frantic nodding of your head makes the little devil chuckle, and she doesn’t give you any time to change your mind before she takes your clit into her mouth, sucking it and licking it like her life depends on it. 

The moans that are escaping your mouth are grotesque to say the least; but you can’t stop them, not when Tara is spreading you open and plunging two fingers deep into your heat, fucking you with such abandon that you think she’s going to split you apart from the inside out. Her lips are still wrapped around your clit, her tongue moving at a steady pace and you feel yourself tumble over the edge with a scream, the pleasure coursing through your body already feeling like it's too much to handle. 

You want to catch your breath, let the orgasm ride its way out of your body, but you’re not given that privilege. Instead, your legs are thrown over Tara’s shoulders and she’s entering you with your favourite strap, stretching your tight walls around its length, not letting you adjust before she’s ramming into you hard, using your hips as leverage to get herself as deep as possible. 

You’re certain if she manages she to keep this up for much longer you’re going to pass out, and you do try to tell her you don’t think you can handle the pace but the dark look she gives you is enough to make you keep your mouth, knowing the consequences if you can’t take what she gives you. 

And so you lie there, legs spread lewdly apart, your pussy squelching with every rough movement of your girlfriend’s hips. You fall over the cliff much less graciously than before when she reaches down to play with your clit, gasps and groans being ripped from your throat as dark spots begin to appear at the edges of your vision.

Your body is so numb you can’t even tell when Tara flips you on your front, pulling at your hips to put you onto all fours, and then she’s pushing inside of you once more and slamming her hips into yours. She grabs onto your ponytail, wrapping the roots of your hair around her fingers and pulls. 

Two things happen at once: first, your walls constrict almost painfully once more as the nimble fingers circling your very sensitive clit push you over the cliff into yet another climax, second; Tara pushes your head down into the mattress and ruts into you like a bitch in heat, slamming her hips as hard and as fast as she can.

You can’t take it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body goes completely limp, the ache in your cunt from the rough fucking is pushed so far to the back of your mind you can almost forget its there. You can hear Tara grunting next to your ear - a tell tale sign she’s about to cum - but it sounds like she’s 100 miles away, your senses have numbed, the world around you has become distant and far away, lost to your hazy mind.

“One more babygirl, one more for me.” Tara grunts into your ear. You can tell she’s close by the way her hips are losing their rhythm and she’s getting rougher with every stroke. You focus on the sensation of her expertly hitting that spongy spot inside of you, focus on the dominating weight of her lying on your back as she ruts into you, nails scratching angry red marks into your back as she uses your skin for leverage. 

And then you’re screaming; the constriction of your already battered cunt so painful your head goes foggy, and you let yourself get lost into the haziness as your heavy eyes close and the world goes dark.

You wake to the feeling of warmth surrounding every muscle of your body. Gentle hands are carefully running a soft cloth down your legs, cleaning up the mess she made. You’re so sore, so stiff, and the feeling of even the gentlest of touches down there makes you groan and shift away. 

“Hello sleepy head.” The devil in disguise greets you, leaning down to place a soft kiss to your forehead. You can only groan in response, but you reach out for her, desperate to have something to hold onto as you begin to crash back down to Earth.

“I’m sorry I went so rough, are you okay?” You can hear the concern in her voice and do everything you can to reassure her you’re okay without words, looking up at her with big soft eyes trying to convey every emotion you’re feeling right now. She seems to understand and thanks you with a sleepy smile and a kiss to your lips. 

“I’m going to finish cleaning you up, then I’ll get you out of the bath and we can put a movie on?” You nod in response, letting your eyes close as your girl takes care of you, letting her do what she needs to after a rough scene to make sure you’re okay.

You drift off as the warm water lulls you into a peaceful sleep, and Tara can’t help but admire your sleeping form. 

She picks you up carefully so as not to wake you, dries you off as best she can, gently places you onto the fresh sheets on your bed and grabs water and snacks before joining you back in the bed. She sits there for a while holding you close to her, admiring the marks she left all over you and the way you look so peaceful curled up in her arms.

Tara doesn’t know what she did in life to deserve you, but if she’s sure of one thing; she’ll do everything she can to earn the right to call you hers.

[sweetfire01]

House of hearth brain rot cause i love all the characters involved in it <3 i have never written for agere before so i hope this is good? Im sorry if this seems so long and drags on ;^;  ANYWAYSS you inspired me to do my own take on this idea <333

You were a street urchin. Often living off of scraps and stolen goods whenever possible in the streets of fontaine. You had only lived your life in a small part of the nation, too scared to leave what left you feeling safe and comfortable- not to mention your unsteady income to provide for yourself, you couldn't really risk leaving to explore the nation you lived in. Sometimes there would be street performances, small looks into what the Opera House entailed whenever it was not being used for court trials. There were singers that you could hear from streets above, dancers who hypnotized you with their elegance, but your most favorite of them all- the magicians, specifically the twins Lyney and Lynette. They were held in high esteem in the eye of Fontaine, though their popularity had dropped because of their recent trial and some discoveries that had been leaked through it. Youd hadnt known of what exactly happened, let alone did you care. You were after all a bit too busy trying to survive than to gossip about other people and their own well beings. 

Still, even with all their controversy you had been there for most of their street performances. You always were one of the firsts to arrive, vibrating with excitement and childlike glee to see the twins work their magic. Even with your adoration of them, you realize their performances having become more and more recent, and closer and closer to where you had placed your “home,”- which was hardly any such a thing in the eyes of the twins- having been some makeshift tent in between crevices of homes and stores. 

You felt this time was different though. Their performance this time around was exceptionally close to your home, and way too late into the night to be considered reasonable.  

“My, my! It seems we have ourselves a small crowd tonight, Lynette!” Lyney exclaimed. You looked around curiously, seeing no one else. A bit confused by the antics of this situation, you looked up at them shyly, bringing your hands together to fidget with them nervously. He continued on, “I suppose this would be more of a personal performance then. Shall we get to know our lovely audience!” He looked towards his sister proudly, to which she responded with a short agreement and nod. They made their way closer to you, each one holding a fist with something unknown to you inside. You took various steps back but found yourself backed into the corner of an alleyway. “Such a shy audience member we have…. No worry, we can just ease your adjustment to your new home!” Suddenly, with the quickness of a cheetah, they had both opened their fists and blown dust into your face. Your vision instantly became blurry, and your body weak. You fell forwards, your heart pounding in your throat, and felt the hands of two people catching you, gently petting and coddling your body before you lost consciousness. 

xxx

When you awoke a few days ago, you had been fitted to what had seemed to be a onesie- kitten themed no less. You were quick to realize that you had been abducted by your most admired performers. In a sense, you felt like you had been betrayed and thus your heart having been broken. You wanted to cry. To curl up and sob in a corner of the room they had provided you with, but also  to lash out and scratch their faces in defiance. You were incapable of doing either, however, the two consistency drugging you in your meals since your attempt to do the latter. 

At this point, any sense of control felt like a sort of defiance to them. You refused to talk to them or show them any emotion, holding only a scowl to them whenever they arrived to help clean you or feed you your food by hand. Their only response was mostly to belittle and baby you, saying such things as “Is my poor sibling a little grumpy today? A quick nap will help to turn that frown upside down!” Or something similar. 

You were getting tired of it all by the time a week had passed. You felt as if you were about to snap with all the emotions you had attempted to withhold and bottle up. It was getting harder and harder to isolate yourself from the two as well as these tiring feelings made you in need of the two loving and babying you. It was a cycle, as you only felt as if you were proving their point and therefore attempted to ignore them more. 

One morning came, the drugged meal of last night having been worn off of your body, but not yet your mind. In a routine, the twins came in with your breakfast ready which had been increasingly consistent with softer foods and liquids. This time, they came with a baby bottle of milk. Locking the door behind them, in horror you backed up to a corner as they gained closer to you attempting to coax you closer to them. They cooed at you, awwing and baby talking you. “My wittle baby sibling is so shy today.” Lyney would start, with Lynette only encouraging him. 

 “Theyre still adjusting. Perhaps we’ve scared them with our loud and sudden entrance?” 

“A very reasonable conclusion! Well, no time better than the present to get them used to us.”

Suddenly, the two had sandwiched you between them, still cooing as they attempted to feed you the bottle. In a fit of rage you used your limp feeling hand to knock the bottle far from you and your captors. The two didnt look very pleased. A sigh left the both of them. “Dont make us force you to correct your behavior little one. Just because we are nice now, doesnt mean we dont know how to punish you and put you back in your place.” Lyney, in a hushed tone, threatened you. In complete shock and fear, your body stilled- but out of your will your mouth began running, throwing taunts at them to shame them for your actions. “Y-you kidnapped me! Im- Ive- I dont want to be here, let me go home! You abducted me, you monsters!! I hate you! I hate you!!!” 

“Goodness! Such a big, big word for my little, little sibling. Are you sure youre aware of that words meaning? You shouldnt be using words all of a sudden that you dont know the meaning of, just because you heard it being tossed around without context!” Lyney began speaking almost at you, in something that youd had felt was to be mocking you and your attempt to yell at them. “Tsk, tsk. But no need to be upset, my dear easedropper! Soon enough youll learn the rules of the House of Hearth, and- oh- I just know youll fit right in once youve learned to be nicer to my sister and I. You do realize your actions have made us quite upset and worried!”

Tears began forming in your eyes, snot coming down your nose with your non subtle attempts to sniff it away. 

Soon enough, sobs escaped your voice along with big fat tears rolling down your reddened cheeks. You whined and whimpered as you repeated, “I hate y-you! I-I h-hate you!”

It was almost a switch had flipped in the both of them, returning from their threatening aura, to a caring and loving atmosphere with nothing but smiles as they fetched your bottle and attempt to feed you once more. This time, their grip on you had hardened, less gentle than it was before and more difficult to move, causing only more scared sobs to come from you. 

“Youre only upsetting yourself. Dont fuss.” Lynette uttered softly to you. “Just take the bottle in your mouth and youll feel all better. Less fiesty. Im sure youre just hungry.” She forcefully shoved her index finger into your tightly closed mouth to make way for the the tip of the bottles nipple. You cried out more as she did this, which was only covered up by Lyneys attempt to shush bounce you in his arms. You gurgled up some of the milk in a last ditch effort to refuse the bottle, but that could only last for so long as they kept it in your mouth and cleaned the liquid that had dribbled down your face. 

“Wow Lynette, who would have thought our baby sibling was such a messy eater! Poor baby probably doesn’t understand how to properly drink their bottle.” Lyney cooed, looking down at you as more and more helpless tears escaped. Soon enough, the drugs in the bottle were once again making its way through your system, with your body becoming numb, and whimpers becoming quieter, you eventually had no choice but to keep drinking the milk they had brought you. Your eyes became heavier and hard to keep open as you fell into a deep slumber. The last things you having heard was, “Youre ours now. Nothing you can do can deter us from taking care of our new baby siblings. We will make sure your attitude is corrected when you wake up.”

Oh my

OH MY, IT WAS SO GOOD! YOU'RE AWESOME👏🏻

I love how they both went from caring sibiling to treating you. And then back again to their sweet side. Ooh, they're both so obsessed and full of love for their new little sibling.

Obviously they have to teach you how to behave properly: the rules aren't strict per se, but imagine what could happen if you say you hate everyone - in front of your other new siblings and the Father. Or even worse, if you try to run away! Isn't loyalty the most important rule in the House of Heart?

[drdemonprince]

Recently, I've observed a pattern in my friendships where I connect with people who tend to be people pleasers or are less confident in expressing their thoughts. Given my neurodivergence and direct communication style, I've received feedback about sounding righteous, making them feel unsafe to share. How can I navigate these situations more effectively or seek out individuals with stronger personalities who appreciate straightforwardness?

P.s. it makes me feel so bad every time this happens, it’s not my intent to hurt people and I feel very rejected.

I have a bit of experience with this dynamic myself. Those of us who are read as negative or difficult to please can unwittingly be appealing to people pleasers, because it reminds them of people who have genuinely mistreated them and fraught family or relational dynamics of their past that have dug a real deep groove into their brain. Unfortunately the very qualities that feel familiar to them also burn them, because they want to win us over and soften us, but we're already just being ourselves and not abusive and don't need to soften. I've honestly been on both sides of this dynamic -- the person who keeps accidentally hurting someone's feelings and the one getting hurt with glib comments, incompatible communication styles, or whatever else.

That's just one of many dynamics at play of course. We're both traumatized, othered groups of people who may gravitate to one another because we share so many struggles in common -- but our triggers and sensitive points can be incompatible. When someone expects me to read their mind and pre-empt their needs, for example, it freaks me the fuck out because I've put a lot of work into no longer being that kind of person. At the same time, it's okay and normal for a friend to want you to understand the basics of what makes them comfortable and uncomfortable and to consider their feelings and needs.

Sometimes it's just a conflict one needs to talk through. I have plenty of cherished friends who are sensitive or people-pleasing in nature, and we can make it work because they don't view me in a negative light -- they fundamentally see me as someone they care about and like, and so even if they suddenly feel like I'm making fun of them or have left them out, they are able to check that instinct against the reality they know of me and we can talk about it or they can work on the feeling on their own as the case warrants. If I do say something hurtful or miss the mark, a lot of my closest friends are the types who can tell me, and then it's my job to not freak the fuck out on them or to feel controlled or penned in by them sharing that intimacy with me... sometimes I'm still not the best at it. but lord have i gotten better.

I think one has to just keep endeavoring to be oneself and to communicate early and often. I don't think the solution is ever to censor oneself or to feel that your true self deep down is too cruel or wrong for people to love. I used to really feel that way and still struggle with that sometimes, especially when I hurt people. It can be easy to feel, if you're a kind of negative/blunt seeming person like me, to feel that any time a person shares with you that they are hurt, that they are trying to censor or control you. Sometimes that very much happens. But it isn't always the case. Sometimes a person just wants reassurance that you like them, that you didn't mean the remark in that way, or even just acknowledgement of their pain and that they aren't crazy for feeling how they feel. Not everyone who gets hurt is a crybully or manipulating. Just as not everyone who accidentally hurts people is abusive or cruel.

I used to really gravitate only toward other negative prickly people. I still like that "type" a lot. But there is no type that is wholly trustworthy or safe. I got burned plenty of times by trying to win over the friendship of someone who I thought surely would "Get" me, because they were also blunt and to the point, and I assumed that made them "real," but in actuality they were manipulating people and steamrolling people and trying to make people feel bad. Some people can only be "real" about candid negative opinions. They can't be really contrite. Or curious. or humble. or even tell you directly when they are hurt. They might only be passive aggressive and barbed instead (i have also been that person).

As always I think it's most important to look to a person's actions and the impact they have on others, as well as their own capacity to both self-advocate and to admit fault. Can this person reflect? Can this person say they were wrong or that their opinion changed? Can they own that they might see things in a biased way? That they have their own triggers? That they need things? Do they help people the way those people want to be helped? Do they behave in accordance with a consistence values system you can admire? Do you like how they think things through? Can they understand their own emotions to at least a responsible extent? Etc etc etc. Some people who tick off all the right boxes on these questions will be someone who is pretty sensitive and people-pleasy but working on it. And some of them will be people who are patholdogical demand avoidant naysayers with a chip off their shoulder but who can also be vulnerable. And most of us are all of those things I think.

[missluckycharms]

Mary On A Cross.

Summary: A priest who can't keep his word and a woman who likes to test everyone's patience.

Content warnings: talks about religion (not much) use of religious words, doing unholy things in a church, if you're not comfortable with this please click away now, I won't be offended <;33

Smut warnings: oral sex.

A/N: this is somewhat inspired by Fleabag, it isn't dark Harry so don't worry!! I don't condone this type of behaviour but it's all fiction!

Part two.

Y/N would consider herself to be a good person.

Sure she would, we all think we're good people no matter what we know about ourselves. We love to tell people about our good sides, leaving the not so good sides tucked deep down in hopes they never get remembered.

Y/N did in fact have a not so good side, one she knows if people in her small town found out about, they would for sure have her hunted out of there faster than she could even blink.

It wasn't the people who lived around her that she worried about figuring out this side to her, no, it was her family; they don't need to know this side to her, they never will know this side to her.

Only one person knows about this side to her and that's her best friend, Florence. She never meant to let her in on the side of her that would have everyone looking at her weird, but one night it just slipped out.

"I want to fuck a priest."

Florence didn't even bat an eyelid when Y/N confessed this, she simply sipped her wine, placed it down onto the coffee table and sat back in her seat, looking at her best friend before speaking her next words:

"Catholic?"

Y/N nods.

"A good one?"

"Yes." She speaks quickly, trying to judge her friends reaction.

"Looks good in the ..." she says while gesturing to her lap that was concealed by her blush pink nightgown.

"Yes." Y/N blurts out, looking away from Florence.

"Mmmh." Is all Florence says for a few seconds as she leans forward, downing the rest of her red wine in one gulp.

"Do you want to fuck a priest, or do you want to fuck god?"

Y/N doesn't know what to say to that, she sits back on the sofa, hand clutching her wine glass in true shock and confusion as she lets Florence's words sink in.

"Can you fuck god?"

Florence shrugs and opens up another bottle of red wine, the cork popping making Y/N jump back into reality as she sits in Florence's home.

"If you fuck him, it might feel like you've fucked God."

That sentence hasn't left Y/N’s brain for weeks now, even as she sits in church, beside her family as the priest she's been drooling over for months now speaks the word of the lord, his eyes scanning the people sat before him as they listen intently.

It's when his eyes land on her for a split second that she feels her entire body freeze, her mind goes blank as she stares down at her lap.

"Y/N, let's go say hello to the Father, thank him for such a beautiful evening." Her mother shakes her from her thoughts, did an hour really go past that fast?

Before she knows it, she's standing in front of the man she's been dreaming and fantasising about, dressed in all black as he smiles his award winning smile, dimples popping out as his gelled back hair sits neatly on his head, and when one strand comes lose and dangles on his forehead, Y/N knows one thing is for sure.

She doesn't want to fuck god, she wants to fuck him.

"Thank you for attending Miss, did you enjoy the congregation this evening?" His attention is now on her, her face turning red as she listens to his deep British voice echo around her.

"Yeah it was, great Father, thank you." She tries to shut it down there, her hands as sweaty as anything as she tries to get away soon.

"Please, don't call me Father after my job is done, unless you want to."

Did that come across as sexual? It did.

Or maybe her mind is just thinking that way.

"What should I call you then?"

"Harry, only if you want to." He smiles brightly, turning on his heels to head towards another group of people but not before shooting her a glance over his shoulder, making her nearly melt on the spot.

She needed him, in ways that are far too unholy.

—

"Should I go to confession?"

"And what? Confess you want to suck his dick?"

"It could be easier, than saying it directly to his face."

Florence laughs, setting down a plate of food before Y/N as they settle in to have a meal together, something that happens once a week, mainly to gossip but for the last three weeks, it's been about Y/N's reoccurring urge.

"I'm not saying you should, but it could be way to see his reaction, if he's appalled; you just leave and the worst case scenario is you get denied communion."

Y/N had not thought about that part, what would she tell her Mother when it was time for communion?

'Sorry, but I confessed to the priest I want to fuck him and he doesn't even want to look at me anymore. But hey, praise the Lord!'

"Best case scenario, he fucks you on the alter." She bluntly says, eating her food from the fork with an unbothered expression, not matching Y/N’s panicked one.

That's how Y/N found herself here, sat in the confession booth, wall between her and the priest as she awaits him to speak first, her hands clammy with nerves as she tries not to move around too much.

"Good afternoon."

His voice comes way too quick for her liking, her throat drying up as she tries to force a greeting from between her lips that feel as if they're cemented together.

"Good afternoon, Father." She coughs slightly, hoping he hadn't heard her as she swallows down every ounce of anxiety running through her veins.

"What brings you here today? Whatever is spoken in this booth, is between us and the lord only."

He's gonna regret saying that, sorry to the big guy upstairs.

"I just need to get something off my chest."

"That tends to be what this is for." He chuckles softly, the sound making a sweat break out on her forehead.

He has no clue.

"I've been having these reoccurring thoughts lately."

The silence she's met with urges her to speak on, knowing he's listening as she bows her head in almost shame before speaking her next few words.

"I'm sorry for the language I'm about to use but, my thoughts have been consumed with the urge to ... fuck a priest." She rushes out the last few words.

Again, she's met with silence, the sound of rustling before it's silent again. She's sure he's left, she's fucked it all up now, waiting to be asked to leave by him as she sits in her own pity.

Her head flies up when light trickles in on top of her, the sound of the booth door opening echoing around the church, revealing Father Styles before her, looking down on her as she sits inside.

A beat of silence passes before he speaks one word that has her heart racing faster than it has the last few minutes.

"Kneel."

"Excuse me-"

"I said, kneel."

Before she can speak another word, she's obeying, kneeling down as he comes to step into the small booth with her, shutting the door behind him, leaving them in the near dark together.

"It's time to repent your sins, you better start praying hard, because I don't play nice."

The sound of him unbuckling his belt is sure to make God himself roll his eyes and sigh but for Marianne? It makes her mouth water and stomach erupt into butterflies.

She doesn't even need to find his cock as he softly takes her head, waiting for her reaction before guiding her to it, his breath shaky as her lips come into contact with it.

"You need some good punishment huh? Fantasising about sucking and fucking the cock of a priest? Filthy girl huh? You're right where you should be ... down on your knees for me ... fuck-"

Hearing him say that word has her opening her mouth wider, his hand in his hair gripping tighter as she swallows around him, loving the feel of him on her tongue as she goes lower and lower for him.

"That's it, suck it like a good girl. Christ, you're an Angel." She nearly laughs at his words, but when he lets out a deep moan, one that she wants to hear again and again, she focuses on her task at hand.

His other hand that's not in her hair, slaps against the wall of the booth, the clear sound of his rings clinking against the wood has her eyes rolling and a soft moan escaping her own lips.

"Like that huh? Like having a priests cock down your throat? Like knowing your sinning and that if anyone knew about this, we'd both be fucked?"

His mouth is dirty and she loves it so much, she's not surprised really, she was hoping he'd had a dirty mouth but hearing it in reality? She's a little shocked but it makes the whole thing so much hotter.

A man that devoted his life to God, sworn to never have romantic relations and would be stripped of his title if anyone found out his cock was down a church goers throat?

Yeah, this is so much hotter than her dreams.

"Bet you look so pretty right now, lips around my cock, your pretty eyes probably tearing up over how deep it's in there ... a fucking dream." He moans out, throat dry and his words raspy as he sighs out in pure bliss.

It's only a few more minutes of filth being spewed from his mouth before he's cumming into hers, making her take it all with a firm hand on her head as he buries his cock in her throat, rutting his hips until he's rode out his orgasm to his liking.

"Now, go home and say twelve Holy Mary's, to repent your sins." He says while buttoning back up his trousers, the sound of his rings against the metal of his belt filling the booth.

"Thank you, Father."

He leaves her on her knees in the booth, his smirk widening as the light shines on her once again, mascara smudged under her eyes, along with her messed up red lipstick followed by her messy hair.

"See you next week."

And that he will, he definitely will.

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

I'm so glad I found your account! You guys are very talented <33

I know canonically Mortdecai isn't, uh, amazing with kids but what if a Marigold members daughter started hanging around the building (like Ivy did when she was younger) and she reminded Mortdecai of one of his sisters (Esthers moodiness or Roses cheeriness)? I'd love some headcanons about the scenario^^

I wasn't going to write this until later but I absolutely had to jump ahead of schedule and write this because it nagged at my mind almost all week. You even started an AU for the other mods and I, anon. This little idea is so tasty and adfghfgferhrj

You are the biggest brain and I hope you don't mind that me and Iphiko (and maybe even Rory!) had a little taste of this drink ourselves first. Different bottle, don't worry, we haven't touched any of what's in your hand right now

Also thank you so much for your kind words! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying these things (as if the inbox flooding wasn't proof enough), it makes us Lackadaisy Moonshiners so happy and gives me an excuse to keep writing. You're all awesome!

At first, it almost stings. He still remembers Ivy, after all; her wandering around following Viktor or whoever caught her eye whenever she could. It was cute. Adorable, even.

But Mordecai seems to be the target of this little beast's attention. And no amount of waving her off, gently pushing her away with his foot or annoyed threats will get her to pick someone else.

The Savoys are enamored with the little bugger. Serafine started calling her "Bébé Couteau" (Baby Knife) after being allowed to teach her some knife tricks (why Asa let them put a knife in the hands of a kitten, Mordecai will never know) and Nico picked up the habit of startling the little girl by picking her up and spinning with her...Which slowly evolved into throwing her across the bloody bar into Serafine's arms after an accident that resulted in the kitten getting yeeted by a distracted Nico (apparently she loved it (and to Serafine's credit, she ran like Hell to catch her); so it's not exactly safe but it's okay??)

Several speakeasy attendees mistake her to be Mordecai's kitten since she's always hanging around him (and especially so if she's a Tuxedo cat). It probably doesn't help that he loudly objects to the twins throwing the kitten back and forth like a football and has even ripped her out of their arms once or twice

They also (correctly) assume that he calls the shots when it comes to her. If she's making trouble or is heading somewhere that she shouldn't be, someone has to work up the courage to tell that ferocious shadow of Asa's. It's him, the queen cat that looks like she's constantly considering stabbing you or the heartthrob at the bar vicious son of a bitch who always looks like he knows that he's better than you

It's an unspoken rule between the three that Mordecai's word is law when it comes to the kitten. He hates this and is sure that they just use this as another excuse to tease him.

Asa scares the Hell out of the poor little thing. He tried greeting her once and she burst into tears and ran to Mordecai so he could protect her. The twins thought this was hysterical: the kitten adores the ground Mordecai walks on, laughs at Serafine's threats and thinks Nico throwing her at a soft target as hard as he can is the bee's knees; but Asa Sweet-the big fat cat with the softest features out of all of them-scares the living daylights out of her.

Mordecai thinks the kitten has a good judge of character sometimes. If it wasn't for her love of the chaotic duo he'd say that out loud

They brought the kitten along to a "meeting" once when she were sick with a fever. She cried when Mordecai left the car and Serafine refused to leave until she was comforted or at least sleeping, so (after some arguing and sweet-talking) Mordecai went back for her. When he didn't leave the vehicle for a few minutes, the Savoys went on without him.

They came back to find him reading a book, the kitten snuggled up against his side and sound asleep tucked under his coat and arm. The soft look in Morde's eye told Nico that maybe this wasn't the time to be teasing him.

This didn't stop Serafine. Mordecai hasn't heard the end of that event. (Asa also gave him some Hell for leaving the twins to do the dirty work, but Serafine and Nico shut him down pretty quickly-they found whatever crate he wanted, no witnesses are around to tell the tale, the job was done just fine and the kitten needed him more than they did. Shut up, Mr. Sweet.)

Whoever's daughter the kitten is, they'd better learn to deal with Mordecai becoming her guardian angel of death. If she doesn't have a parent and just wandered in somehow, she's gonna end up with something better: an aunt that'll teach her to kill and how to stay strong, an uncle that'll toss her around like a hot potato and teach her to be fearless and another uncle that'll pretend to not care for her until someone looks at her the wrong way.

Mordecai, Serafine and Nico. Probably the worst-fitting cats to be any kind of parental figures, yet ones that will guard a mutually-adopted kitten until their final breaths-whether they'll admit to it or not.

[seraphicsouq]

Mindset and Appearance

Ok so its my first post in my life about all this midset and appearance kinda stuf so if I sound cringe and awkward please forgive me!

NOW to the point ladies and gentleman!

I have been in subliminal community even before rose drama if any of you remember and some sweet submakers who left the community now like Nunchi affirmations and Isa subliminals. Yes i have been in this community even before all of them so you can say its almosr 6 to 7 years even before since i first found about subliminals but never have ever posted about it in my life.

First reason being anonymity. Many of us do want to keep this shit to ourselves so we do not seem weird in society and I am one of them. And second being i was to lazy to do so.

But now i am posting because i want to share something will all of you there.

So. the thing is I am a pakistani girl and a muslim, and in our religion LOA is haram, also surgery too. But keeping ourselves well maintained and fit is also preferred in our religions. Allah loves it in fact.

So here is the shit, intead of doing LOA and all these laws, i believed in power of my brain. We all know that neurons and mainly our nervous system controls each and everything in our body and it is mainly controlled by our brain.

So why not manipulate our brain and neural system to morph my body in my desired appearnce?

Its not haram because i am not asking from universe and all that.and For some people like me who like to find logic in everything, it also is most logical thing, right?

so i started writing affirmations to manipulate my brain to change into my desired appearance.

Mind you all, i prompted chat gpt to do that work for me, and it turned out great.

AND HERE IS THE MAIN DEAL GIRLIE!!!!!

I experimented with subliminals. Here's what i did-

1. I downloaded all my fav subliminals in wav format. 2. Stacked them in capcut. (Just stacked them, you can call it layering too, no speeding up subliminals. Just pure layering and repetition. 3. Recorded my own neural, genetic, cells, tissues and dna based affirmation and layered them on top of all these subliminals 4. And on top of al that, i recorded one simple affirmation, I have have mmy desired appearance and layered it on the top of all that content.

No, i do not have nay desired face but i have desired features. I listen to only that buble/subliminal right after MOAB booster and right after all that i actually do face exercise for thise desired features (like nose exercises, eye lift exercises and so on.) Now imagine power of all these things working together. subliminals + mindset + exercises

IT WORKED GREAT FOR ME.

For the first time I saw results, and they are great. I was always considered pretty one in my family but now, i am starting to find my self pretty. For all those who try to find logic in subliminals, here's is it. I gave it to you.

MANIPULATE YOUR BRAIN AND NERVOUS SYSTEM.

It worked awesome for me and it can be for you to.

Here is an example of affirmations I wrote for myself!

In addition to thse i wrote for waist, matabolsim, dimples, nose too. All those were neural manipulating affirmations. The subliminals i used were from many different creators. I can link there channels, as they worked great!

Mermaid Vetala AliraAleyaPink smoothieQs stimuliVulgardoll Skyler Chrysis lilith/ valerie Valeriemakesart

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Five)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Thank you so much for all the support I've had on this story so far <3 I cannot express to you how much my lovely friend @greeneyedivy helps with this story. I very much consider it our story, because while I do the writing, her brilliant brain cells come up and help with so many of the ideas and plot points, so she deserves just as much credit<3

Warnings: None for this part!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“A masquerade?”

Two weeks later, Dion strolled beside you, sliding his hands into his pockets. A considerable distance was kept between you as the two of you braved the crisp air.

“It’s a type of ball where everyone wears masks—”

“I know what it is,” You cut in, snorting. “I’m just not sure why we’d be invited to a masquerade ball in the Spring Court.”

“We are…tentative allies with Spring. And Lucien is a friend of the High Lord, Tamlin. We were invited out of courtesy.”

Lucien seemed to have friends all over the place — something you’d only learned from your snooping, brought about entirely by boredom, over the past fortnight.

You’d certainly noticed a change all around — namely, and gradually, in Dion’s behaviour. It seemed that without the staring eyes of gossiping nobles, he no longer felt the need to be so openly affectionate towards you; as though the public displays of your courting throughout the festival had merely been for show. The touches had begun to become less and less, few and far between. Gone were the subtle brushes against your hand, the kisses to your temple, the sweet remarks laced with suggestion. By now, all of it had been replaced with behaviour much more appropriate in a platonic relationship. You were acting like friends.

And you found yourself not even slightly bothered by that. Whether that spelled doom for your nuptials, you hadn’t decided.

“It’s seen as an honour — for one court to be invited to another’s event.” Dion said. “And it’s also not a bad thing for us to present ourselves as a good ally to their people. We’ll be decked out in Spring Court attire as a mark of respect.”

Spring Court attire. You didn’t know what that looked like. You’d never seen another court — never even glimpsed another High Lord. The idea of leaving the lands you’d grown up in and seeing, hearing, smelling an entirely new place…it almost made you giddy with excitement. It was almost enough to tune out that ever-present panic and sorrow gnawing at you.

Because Dion’s change in behaviour over the past two weeks hadn’t been the only difference that had jarred you. It was how quickly you’d been thrown into wedding preparations — how only the day after you’d sparred with Lucien, you’d been subjected to a lesson by Beron about all the important members of his court, all the vital people who would be coming to your wedding and where you would have them sit. That same afternoon, you’d pored over gown materials with the Lady of Autumn. All of it had taken off so damn fast, and had made for a chaotic two weeks that’d left you grasping, in your own time, for some sense of self. You knew you’d pushed the limits a few times – that the High Lord himself had spied you wandering places you had no business going, and taking horses out for rides without his permission. You’d even offered, at times, to help the servants with their work. To do anything that you had chosen to do, that made you feel normal. And if Beron got sick of your behaviour and sent you back to your family…well, you certainly wouldn’t be complaining.

So — yeah. You could really use some fun.

“So I get to dance and enjoy myself?” You knocked your arm into Dion’s. “Or do I have to stand by and be a pretty piece on your arm?”

“Well,” His grin was wicked. “That’s the beauty of the masks, isn’t it? They offer you enough anonymity to throw caution to the wind.”

True, you thought. You may never have been to a masquerade ball before, but you could imagine what a tantalising combination the masks and the wine and the dim lighting were. A real chance for you to let your hair down; you could have cried with relief.

“In that case,” You slowed to a stop, turning to Dion. “Perhaps that night, we can just…be Y/N and Dion. No pressure on us. No worrying about who’s watching. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

His mischievous grin softened into a gentle smile, and he nodded. “I like the sound of that. Just Y/N and Dion.”

⤲

You were so excited, you couldn’t possibly sit still.

Already, you could feel the urge to dance rippling through your bones. Could feel the draw to a night of freedom that awaited. You wanted to slip your mask on and be somebody else for a while.

Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, did not do things by halves — a fact you became all too aware of a week before, when he’d sent his own personal designer, tailor and seamstress to the Autumn Court to have you all appropriately outfitted for the ball. It was the first time in a while that you hadn’t cared about being poked and prodded and rotated while your measurements were taken, and a sketch of the gown you were going to wear was brought to life. The first dress in a while that you were excited to put on.

Anyone could be forgiven for thinking you were a Spring Court female, you realised, as you stared into the mirror on the night of the ball. The tulle gown was a soft, sage green, tight-fitting at the bodice and pooling to the floor in a swish of gauzy material that felt light and easy to move in. It was more daring than the gowns you wore in the Autumn Court — with delicate, off-the-shoulder sleeves that left most of your arms and shoulders exposed, and a neckline that dared to dip a tad lower than your usual dresses, you’d never felt so—

Sexy. You felt sexy. And light on your feet, and airy. And the mask that had been made to match the gown — an utter artwork in itself. It covered half of your face, and was of the same green shade as your dress. Adorned with glittering petals and jewels and stones, you’d spent a while just admiring it before you’d allowed the dresser to fasten it on your face. And perhaps your most favourite feature — the flaring green feathers on one side — possibly those of a peacock — that swept brilliantly upwards towards your hair, styled into an immaculate updo and accented with little vines of green Spring Court leaves and butterflies crafted of painted glass.

Now this — if you could wear this to your wedding, you’d marry any of the damn Vanserras.

A light rapping on the door had you straightening yourself out. You looked up, half expected to see Dion in all his finery.

Your stomach twisted a bit when the High Lord sauntered in.

You watched, in the mirror, as he approached you from behind. He didn’t yet don the mask that had been made for him, but the tailored green-and-gold brocade suit was undoubtedly a thing to behold, giving a hint of the sculpt of muscles underneath. Beron Vanserra was, indeed, a handsome male.

But inexplicable nausea always arose in you whenever he was around.

He stopped behind you, a mere hair’s-breadth away. The warmth of his breath fanned your exposed neck, and you felt yourself go rigid, taut.

“High Lord,” You greeted quietly, dipping your chin.

“Look at you,” One corner of his mouth quirked up, his eyes raking over your reflection. “My son is certainly a lucky male.”

You swallowed, wondering how subtly you could inch away. “I appreciate the compliment.”

“Hmm, I’m sure.”

You watched – watched so carefully as he slowly circled your body, stopping in front of you. Dark, empty eyes stared down into yours. Assessing. Cold.

“I don’t suppose,” He hummed, reaching out to touch a stray curl that hung loose from your hair, “that I need to remind you not to embarrass my court tonight.”

You lifted your chin. Stared up at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

His lips twitched into a calculating smile – like he didn’t believe your words for one second. “I would hope not,” He said. “But I’ve had my eye on you these past two weeks, since your family returned home. It would seem that you’ve been a tad restless. Perhaps you’re trying to cause trouble in the hopes that I would call off this engagement and let you leave?”

Your eyes narrowed at him. Had your behaviour, your thoughts, truly been that blatant? It threw you off – made you feel less confident before him.

And he could see that; he seemed to be aware of every minute expression on your face. The way your features were begging to be kicked up into a sneer that his mere presence naturally provoked.

He smirked, letting go of that one curl he’d been toying with. But his hand only moved inches, settling at your neck, his rough thumb sweeping strokes over your throat. “If you miss your dear family so much, we could always invite one of your sisters for another visit.”

Knowing him, he was fully aware of the tensions that existed between you and Molly – would probably send for her just to spite you–

“The youngest one — Willow, is it?” He tilted his head. “You seem to be quite fond of her. And I’ve heard she’s had some…marital issues. What a poor situation for the poor lamb to find herself in. Our court is always open, should she ever crave a higher echelon of Autumn males.” That wolfish smirk widened. “I think Jareth got quite taken with her, too.”

You knew you’d frozen, gone entirely rigid – and not because of his hand still brushing your neck. Sickness unfurled inside of you like a wave, and you wanted to reach, to grab for anything to steady yourself. For Beron to be so aware of your closeness with Willow…for him to have already concocted calculating thoughts about it, to now be standing in front of you with a glimmer of threat in his eyes, his voice…

You swallowed. Eased yourself back a step. “My sister is unavailable for the foreseeable future. But I thank you, High Lord, for your thoughtfulness.” Gods, the pleasantries were nauseating. They physically pained you.

And Beron could see that. He seemed to be trying to rein in a laugh as he flicked his gaze over you once more. “I’m glad we have an understanding. If you behave as you’re expected to, I’m sure no measures will have to be taken.”

Such clear calculation in his words and his tone. And yet all you could do – for Willow – was dip your chin in acknowledgement. That you understood his threat. That you would heed it, like the obedient little female you were.

“Come.” The High Lord straightened himself out, offering you his arm. “I shall escort you to the sitting room. The others are waiting. We don’t want to be late.”

⤲

They were lined up in a row. All five of them.

And yet you stopped dead in the doorway. Gaped at them. Eris was the only one you could pick out immediately – only because he favoured having his hair cropped much shorter than that of his brothers’.

But the similarities between the other four were almost frightening. They all wore the same tailored outfits – a deep green, velvet version of Beron’s, accented with leaves. All had the same green-and-gold, cat-like masks that covered half of their faces, leaving the full lips and sharp jawlines as the only real visible things. And with Dion, Lucien, Jareth and Rian all leaving their long, red hair unbound, cascading around their shoulders, it took you a moment of intense scrutiny to actually pick your fiance out of the four of them.

Took Dion stepping out of line, towards you, for you to be absolutely sure.

“Mother above, look at you.” He grinned, his eyes flicking over you in appreciation. “I hope I get to dance with you before you’re stolen away from me.”

You smiled, inclining your head in thanks. “You clean up quite nicely yourself.”

He reached a hand out to you. “Shall we?”

His hand was warm, as you slid yours into it – not at all like Beron’s touch on your skin. And you found yourself sidling closer to Dion, found yourself wanting to make sure you didn’t catch yourself alone again any time soon.

“Let’s go,” Beron stepped forward. “I’ll not have us being late.”

And so Beron joined hands with the Lady of Autumn. Eris with Lucien and Jareth with Rian. And in a sweep of lurching darkness, you each jumped from Autumn to Spring.

⤲

The smells hit you first. Crisp and floral. Like freshly mown grass and rose petals.

Your group came to a stop on what appeared to be the lawn – though the size of it was more like a damn field. And as your eyes took in the sights before you…the pinks and oranges as the sun set over Tamlin’s estate, the expertly-trimmed hedges, the masses of different plants and flowers and trees, flowing fountains and pristine walkways that wended throughout it all…the only thing you could do was gape in utter awe.

If it looked like this in the dying light of evening time…you could only imagine its beauty first thing in the morning. Or bathed in warm afternoon sun rays.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Dion smiled, also drinking in the sights.

Behind you, Jareth scowled. “If it doesn’t make your nostrils sting, yes.”

“I seem to remember you complaining about that the last time you visited, Jareth.”

Every one of you turned at the deep, gravelly voice that came from behind. And it took only one sweep of your eyes to know that this — this was Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.

You’d heard about him, of course. Heard that he was quietly handsome and rugged. Heard that he could shift into a beast on command. You believed that was entirely possible as you studied the broad expanse of his muscles. The male was huge.

And looking directly at you.

He, too, was showcasing what you were quickly realising was considered Spring Court Green. And he looked every bit the High Lord with his golden locks flowing around his face and the glimmer of emerald eyes you peeked through his mask of the same colour.

“You must be Y/N.” He greeted you politely. “Welcome to my court.”

You dipped your chin. “It’s very beautiful.”

“What, I don’t get a special greeting anymore, Tam?”

You glanced round — just in time to see Lucien step forward, the biggest smile on his face you’d ever seen. It was glowing, breathtaking. All you could do was stare.

“As if you don’t visit often enough and eat all my food?” Tamlin’s answering smile was just as broad. He clasped Lucien’s arms. “You’re looking well, friend.”

You watched the interaction, trying not to gape…because in the time you’d been at the Vanserra Estate, you’d never seen Lucien show the tenderness for his family that he currently displayed, unguarded, to Tamlin. It stirred something inside you that you couldn’t quite place a finger on.

Maybe…maybe there were other places that Lucien felt more at home.

“Thank you, again, for the invite, Tamlin.” Beron stepped forward. His strained voice told you just how rarely he thanked anyone for anything, but he squared his shoulders and forced himself to be pleasant.

“It’s my pleasure.” Tamlin smiled, and you tried not to gawk at the pure radiance of it. He turned to you and Dion. “And, of course, myself and my court extend our deepest congratulations on the news of your engagement. Shall we go in?”

Huge he may have been, but he was a picture of utter grace as he turned and headed towards the ginormous doorway – that was, until Lucien playfully shoved him, and then draped an arm around his shoulders. You watched the whole display as the rest of you followed; read the ease and lightness with which Lucien walked. An ease and lightness he never seemed to possess around his blood.

You glanced at his brothers. All of them had seen, and yet none of them seemed to care.

The thought made your shoulders slump slightly.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dion slid a hand to the small of your back. Misread your demeanour entirely. “Remember what we said. Just Y/N and Dion.”

You tried not to think about how odd it sounded as you followed him to the wine.

⤲

Such a brilliant thing – faerie wine. Not that you’d ever had the opportunity to try much else, but Linden had once told you of a time he’d drunk human wine – and likened it to muddy water.

But within two hours, every reservation, every worry, every sad thought…just gone. The other masked, dancing people around you didn’t matter as Dion spun you around in his arms, and the two of you laughed and chatted like there was nobody else in the huge ballroom. You were…euphoric. On top of the world. And if this was what it was like to be on Dion’s arm…you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

He gripped hold of your hand, spinning you with a fluidity that he, himself, didn’t quite match. He wasn’t a bad dancer by any means, just…not a natural. Not light-footed and nimble like Eris had been when you’d danced with him on the final night of the festival. But with the wine, with the music, the masks…none of it mattered. You felt like you were walking on air.

“Shit.” Dion snorted as he watched his own steps, his back and shoulders stiff. “I’m definitely not a natural dancer.”

You grinned up at him, a laugh bubbling from your lips that was barely loud enough to be heard beneath the music. “Not a natural, no. Not smooth like Eris.”

He scowled playfully, his hands landing on your hips. “Eris is a show-off. He practises this shit in the mirror – do not tell him I told you that.”

You couldn’t help laughing again, throwing your head back and leaning into the pure joy you felt in that moment. It felt good to enjoy yourself. To enjoy someone else. And even though you were flushed all over, and giddy, and the mask was tight on your face and the dress too hot on your body, you thought you might like to stay like this forever. To dance, smile, laugh, forever.

The room was big enough that you only got the odd glimpse of Vanserra hair – but aside of recognising the short length of Eris’s, there was no telling which brother passed you by, or which was dancing with the pretty Spring Court girls, or which was necking wine at the tables pushed against the wall. And you liked it this way – the anonymity. Having a night where no eyes – not even Beron’s – were interested in following you.

“How about,” You grinned up at Dion, placing a hand against his chest, “you go and grab us some more drinks, and when you get back, I’ll show you how to relax your posture.”

Dion snorted, brushing long, orange locks from his face. “Alright — deal.” He squeezed your waist. “I’ll be back.”

Pressing his lips to your fingers once, he released his hold on you and disappeared into the sea of people, the sight of him becoming swallowed up immediately by flamboyant masks and extravagant gowns and the slick dances happening around you. You stepped just slightly out of the way, watching from the sidelines, in utter awe of the lethal precision of the moving bodies.

It only occurred to you – as you waited and waited for Dion’s return – just how thirsty you were. But you wanted to get back out there, to throw yourself into the hands of the music and feel alive. You fidgeted restlessly as one song drifted into another, the beat quicker, more frenzied. When it was nearing the end, and Dion still hadn’t returned, you scowled and pushed your way through the crowd. No doubt, he’d got distracted talking to somebody.

Hands grabbed for you as you passed, trying to pull you into dances that you politely declined. Your eyes scanned for every flash of red and orange in your periphery – bouncing over Eris, who was dancing expertly with a light-footed female, and a woman wearing a mask bedecked with glistening rubies; another who twirled around in a gauzy gown of a burnt orange colour. Another song was starting by the time you finally spotted your fiance – sure enough engrossed in a conversation with a Spring Court male, an almost-finished glass of wine in his hand. He turned away from the male as though he’d sensed your approach.

“Hey!” You reached him, grabbing his hand. “Come on. Don’t worry about the drinks. I wanna dance.”

You didn’t wait for his reaction – didn’t wait for him to finish his conversation, prising his drink from his hand and setting it aside. You were light as air and euphoric as you dragged him back onto the dance floor, twirling your way around the other dancers and finding your way to the middle. You preferred it there – felt more secure. More…anonymous.

The two of you fell into the dance easily, that extra glass of wine having done wonders for his fluidity. One of Dion’s hands clasped yours whilst the other was secured at your waist. His grip on you was firm, pleasant, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so good as he pulled you around, matching your steps and keeping up with you. Clearly, you hadn’t given him enough credit – he was a much better dancer once he relaxed and let go.

“I love this one,” You shouted over the frenzied tune, barely loud enough to reach him. “The rise and fall of the notes – all of it. I love it.”

“You know this music?” His voice floated to you as he spun you around confidently, brilliantly, all earlier reservations about his dancing gone.

“I never cared much for dancing as a girl,” You fell into step, your front pressing against his, “Because it was something I had to do, I didn’t like it. But when Linden began to train me, he made me realise that what I wanted to learn from him, and what I hadn’t wanted to learn from my dance teacher, were actually very similar things. He took me to a dance, once, to prove it – and this was played there.”

“And you enjoyed dancing that night?”

You smiled at the memory, nodding as you moved with him. “I did – I think for the first time ever. Because I had chosen to go with Linden that night. I had chosen to dance that night. And I realised that was all I’d wanted.”

“Choice.” Dion stared intensely down at you, your glazed eyes snagging on the moving lights and shapes behind him. “Because choice makes a whole world of difference – doesn’t it?”

It did. And to hear him say it meant more to you than he probably realised. To know that he understood…that you may not have been each other’s choices, but he understood, still, what it meant to you.

He got you. And you…you thought you got him.

It made some small, fiery thing alight inside you. A thought that perhaps…perhaps this didn’t need to be doomed, just because you hadn’t chosen it for yourself. That you didn’t need to oppose it on mere principle.

Dion was a good male. A good male who listened to you, who got you. And here, like this, in his arms…his hands touching you, his hair splaying around him beautifully as the two of you spun around, his presence that felt safe and right…you thought that maybe you could choose him.

Thought, for the first time, that maybe you wanted to.

You stared up at him, the upbeat song coming to an end and transitioning into one that was slower, much more sensual. Both of his hands immediately tried to pull you into a more languid dance – but you stilled him. Met his gaze with your own.

“What is it?” He cocked his head.

You didn’t answer. Merely cupped the back of his neck with your hand and pulled his face down to yours.

The dancers around you didn’t spare you a glance as you caught him in a searing kiss. Burning. Passionate.

And without even a second of hesitation, he was kissing you back immediately, his hands sliding around your waist.

The kiss was deliciously hard as he lifted you just slightly, enough for your body to press against his. Enough for you to slide your hand into the silken strands of his hair and somehow pull him closer to you, to press his mouth firmer against yours.

It was the most delicious, heady kiss you’d ever had. And you wanted more – to taste his tongue around yours, to inhale that delicious scent – the familiar, earthy smell that all Autumn males seemed to have, but tinged with something different tonight. Something that bizarrely made you think of early morning daylight, wrapped up in crisp bedsheets. Perhaps the result of Autumn and Spring mingling. Whatever it was, you wanted to gulp it down greedily.

But neither of you had taken a breath. And only when you were both gasping for air, huffing into each other’s mouths, did you pull away.

You stared at each other, chests heaving, breaths panting. Dion glanced at your lips again.

“More.” His voice was a deep growl as he took your face in both of his hands and leaned in, the music seeming to encase that one, daring word just between the two of you–

But his kiss didn’t have a chance to land as another dancer backed into you. As she stumbled, her wine flute slipping from her hand and tipping towards your dress. Dion tried to pull you out of its path, but the liquid had already sloshed over one side of the gown.

The young female blanched, blinking at you. “Oh gods—I’m so sorry—”

Her eyes caught the vibrant shade of Dion’s hair, and you could see — see the fear in her eyes, her mind already considering what Beron Vanserra’s reaction might be to someone embarrassing a member of his court — even by accident.

“It’s absolutely fine.” You tried to make your face as reassuring as possible behind your mask. “No harm done.”

“Your dress—”

“It was an accident,” Dion leaned down, collecting the fallen flute and returning it to her outstretched hand.“We were…distracted.”

The woman’s wide eyes tugged at your heart enough for you to gently lay a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about it — really. I just need to clean up.”

She dipped her chin in thanks — looked so grateful, you thought she might well up. You turned to Dion before she could, shooting him a flustered gaze, your eyes once again snagging on his lips.

“I’ll meet you back out here once I’ve sorted this.” You said.

He nodded — and glanced at your lips, too, before you turned from the mass of dancing bodies.

⤲

It took so long — so long for you to wash the wine out and dry your dress that by the time you returned to the ballroom, some of your intoxication had lifted. You felt clearer, less foggy — and just as ready to dive into the dancing as you were before.

Your lips were still tingling from Dion’s kiss. And the fact that he so readily, so greedily, wanted to kiss you back…you liked it. Felt the undeniable tug of something deep inside you that was thrilling and giddying and beautiful. You wanted more of it. To kiss him again. Feel his big, steady hands clutching you again.

The formation of dancers was far different when you returned. Instead of couples filling the floor, small groups clustered in circles all around the room, their hands joining. You frowned, searching for the brilliant orange hair of your fiance — and felt a warm, gentle hand grab yours.

“There you are,” Dion’s voice filled your ears as he leaned down. “The circle dance is just starting. Come on.”

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “The what?”

“A Spring Court dance,” His answering grin was wicked. “You have two circles, see?” He pointed to the group closest to you. “An inner circle and an outer circle.”

Sure enough, inside the ring of dancers — around ten of them joining hands — was another identical one. They each faced the person in front of them.

“The music plays, and one circle dances clockwise while the other dances anti-clockwise,” Dion explained. “And then when the music stops, you have to kiss whoever is in front of you.”

You snorted, smiling up at him – and almost blinked at the dusting of pink creeping up his neck. The way he swallowed hard – nervously, his earlier confidence gone. It warmed your heart, and you knew…knew that your eyes said it all, that they were reassuring. That you were going into it knowing who you wanted to kiss when the music stopped. That you wanted to kiss him again.

“It’s starting.” He smiled, tugging you over to the group. “You join the inner circle, I‘ll join the outer.”

And so you did just that, joining hands with two Spring Court females as Dion stood in position in front of you. And then the music began.

It was like…taking off. You wondered if this was what flying felt like, as you gave over the control in your body and allowed yourself to be pulled into motion. Your surroundings blurred, the speed of the dance picking up with the tempo of the music, and then there was nothing but you and light and music and flashing shapes. You could feel yourself laughing, feel your head falling back in ecstasy as you spun and spun, and you didn’t know how you hadn’t been entirely lifted off your feet — nor did you care. Not as you became the music.

And then as fast as it had taken off, it stopped. The music halted, and you were yanked to a standstill, your head still spinning as you forced your feet to ground you. Your laughter mingled with that of the other dancers.

With that of Dion’s, who had stopped in place before you.

“What a coincidence,” He chuckled deeply, gazing at you as the other partners leaned towards each other.

You snorted, stepping forward. Your hand reached for his, fingers brushing. “That it is.”

That one hand latched onto yours, the other coming to cup your jaw. Dion stared down at you, and he seemed to be…to be nervous, as he swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and released a breath. Because this was different — not the heat of the moment first kiss you’d shared earlier, when no one had paid attention. It felt more naked, somehow, now. Like he was trying to grasp for any scraps of his earlier confidence with people watching — expecting — this kiss.

You smiled reassuringly — communicated, with your eyes, that you wanted this — again. And the room seemed to melt around you.

He leaned down. Pressed his lips to yours. You reached up to touch your free hand to his cheek.

It was a different kiss…to the one you’d shared earlier. Not as passionate or searing, but…soft. Sweet. How you supposed your first kiss should have been, unlike the surging need you’d shared in the middle of the dance floor. Dion’s lips were almost tentative, careful…and maybe it was just because of the many other people around you, or perhaps because you’d sobered up a bit, that it was just…different. Not bad. Different.

But you didn’t care; not as the lightness in you continued. The best you’d felt in weeks. In a year.

You buried your fingers in Dion’s hair, deepening the kiss just slightly—

And he broke away – no, was pulled away, you realised, as he was yanked into a different circle of dancers. Your heart was thudding, mind reeling and cheeks scorching as you touched your fingers to your lips, just managing to dodge out of the way as a Spring Court female tried to tug you closer.

You smiled politely, stepping back. The room was heavy, pressing, and you knew if you didn’t feel the brush of fresh air on you soon, you may just collapse.

“Fresh air.” Was all you explained, before turning on your feet.

You’d already lost sight of Dion completely, the music once again picking up as you wended your way through the sea of bodies, some still dancing, some still kissing – some just talking. You didn’t have a clue where you were going, but the press of cool night air and the sudden influx of floral scents told you that you were headed in the right direction. You turned a corner, pushing through a pair of huge double doors, and found yourself stepping out into the sprawling gardens.

An inky, starry sky bore down on you as you came to a stop on a private patio. A few people milled about, strolling through the hedges, but nobody seemed to care that you were there. It helped you to relax as you pressed your back against the wall, feeling the cold bite of the concrete seeping through your dress.

You gazed up at those stars, breaths still heaving as you smiled to yourself. Tonight had been…fun. The best night you’d had in a while. Perhaps even the best night you’d had since you’d found out you were to be married, over a year ago now. Your mind had been so crowded since that day Barric had come to your family’s estate; crowded and suffocating, with barely any relief.

But tonight had been a relief. Tonight, you’d felt more like yourself than you had in a long time. The feeling was beautiful, familiar, and you were excited to carry on that way, to lean into the euphoria and light you’d craved for so long–

Until someone snorted from beside you.

You started, pushing off the wall. You turned back to the doors to find Lucien leaning against the frame, no longer wearing his mask. He stared at you with an unreadable expression, cocking an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Stared back at him questioningly. “Problem?”

“You know,” He chuckled, stepping out onto the patio, his boots clipping against the concrete, “For someone who claims to not want to be caught with her hand between her legs, you sure seem eager to replace that hand with the first male that walks by.”

You gawked at him.

Gawked at him, and clenched your hands at your side.

You’d barely run into him over the past fortnight. Certainly not shared a word between you, and his glances were sparse and scathing, too.

And yet here he was, mouthing off. Again.

“What did you just say to me?” You demanded.

Lucien shrugged – the picture of ease, as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think you need me to repeat myself, Lady.”

“If you have a problem with me kissing my soon-to-be husband,” You snapped, “Perhaps you should peel your eyes away and go annoy someone else. It’s not like we won’t be doing far more than that on our wedding night.”

Lucien snorted again, shaking his head. “At least you know what’s expected of you, I suppose. I see you’ve really thrown yourself into the role.”

You were entirely lost for words as he stared at you, his lips twitching – perhaps to smirk, or perhaps to sneer. You didn’t feel like waiting around to find out – especially not if he seemed hell-bent on ruining your good mood.

So you squared your shoulders and brushed past him.

“How about minding your own damn business, Lucien?” You murmured, and slipped back inside, the warmth enveloping you immediately.

And you didn’t look back to find out which one it was – a smirk or a sneer. Or perhaps both. His eyes remained on your back as you strode away, and something told you that he probably knew–

That for whatever reason, his words got to you far more than they should.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

all acotar tags: @moonfawnx @writingsbychlo @moonlitcelestial @orangecreamsicle54 @saturnspoet0711 @andahugaroundtheneck @nightscourtt @mysticalcheesecakemiracle @luckypersonmentality @nobody00sthings @kristalhi @tencrushesperday @janzquu @we-were-beautiful @thewarriormoon @cirwin2013 @mrs-azriel @the-kwami-of-fandom-frustration @libraryofathousandstars @daily-dose-of-sass @pixiestix13 @basicbittywitty @simplefan-638 @highlady-ofillyria @false-desire-182 @fictionalcharacterlereasigim @theofficialmadman @kemillfreitas @sledgehammer21-1 @shannonsaid @jtargs @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @new-adventures-everyday @positivewitch @crushedcloudsx @cartoonnerdgirl @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ssmay123 @linduzmunna @ruler-of-hades @kennedy-brooke @peachyandmoon @ariaaira @topaz125 @blitz-fall @azrielsbbg @gracedarr @goldentournesol @localhopedealerr @swagfreakatheletemonger @sfhsgrad-blog @lo0oserlex @ruleroftides @mayabennett03 @vera0124 @mich0731 @balam-sen @luciensbxtch @holywolfsstuff @chloesgoneposts @margssstuff

[sophieinwonderland]

Sweet Tooth fan here. Reading your posts (and the posts of others you’ve shared) has made me reconsider the show and think more about whether or not there is still misanthropic sentiment left in me.

I feel like if Gus was a real person and watched the show, he would be critical about the “all humans are bad” trope as well. Gus knew several humans that clerely didn’t want to watch the world burn, and showed he was desperate to see humans and hybrids coexist within the last few episodes of season 3, despite reaching peak misanthropy after Birdie died.

Ultimately, instead of making Big Man, Dr. Singh, and Mrs. Zhang go bye bye, Gus lets nature decide (or something like that), which results in the total eradication of the H5G9 virus, leaving the remaining humans spared.

As much as I like to think of the natural world before modern humans as some sort of lost paradise, I don’t wish to be too pessimistic of humanity. If the creators of show tried to convince me that David Suzuki, Carl Sagan, Greta Thunberg, Bob Ross, and Fred Rogers are automatically bad people because they wore clothes and emitted carbon dioxide, I would be devastated and disappointed by Sweet Tooth.

I appreciate having found your posts.

I totally agree that Gus probably wouldn't agree with the show's message.

I also feel that the idea of Earth before humans as a lost paradise sees nature through rose-tinted glasses. Nature is as violent and cruel as it is beautiful. Evolution is a process defined by a constant string of death and renewal, leading to where we are today.

Something else I need to mention, seeing how much of what I post is focused on disability and mental health... nature also has a tendency of being extremely ableist. We as humans, for all the our faults, have learned in the past decades to be kinder to those with disabilities.

Many animals, including past humans, have a tendency to just straight-up kill disabled children. And if they don't kill them, they'll at least often be abandoned.

I think as humans have become more developed, we've generally become better and more socially-aware than our ancestors.

One thing I find fascinating is to try to step outside of ourselves and consider how an extra-dimensional being might see us.

When we as humans look at the constructions of our vast cities and planes and amazing feats of architecture, we see things that are clearly unnatural because they're human-made.

But yet, we see a spider's web as natural. We see an ant colony as natural. A beehive. A bird's nest. A beaver's dam.

I understand that humans can be a bit... extra... when it comes to feats of construction, but to me that makes humans all the more fascinating as specimens of nature.

We are nature evolved to be capable of studying and understanding itself in a way never seen before.

I think of the now as an incredible and unique moment in the history of the world that will never come again. We are living through a snapshot between the beginning of the internet era which has morphed the globe into what's practically an interconnected brain with each human as a separate neuron... and a new era that may become dominated by genetic engineering and artificial intelligence which may become its own sort of life.

This single moment in the history of the world has never before existed and is likely to never come again until humanity has passed from this Earth.

For all the destruction we caused to get here. And for all the destruction we continue to cause, I see a beauty and wonder in humanity and our place in the world.

And returning a moment to morality, we see so many people, including those you mentioned, who are out fighting to make the world a better place in whatever ways they can. Whether it's fighting for the environment or for human rights or to make the world they leave behind better for their children.

There are so many good people in the world.

And for one final note...

I wonder what Gus would think if he saw humans at our best.

Because in the end, the world of Sweet Tooth is a deeply traumatized world of broken people who watched loved ones die and the world around them crumble to dust.

I'm rambling now...

All in all, I think we humans look at other parts of nature through rose-tinted glasses too much, and that humans are actually better than we give ourselves credit for.

[issacballsac]

Never One Without Two!

Octavian

Male Reader

-

Gleaming the streets with your self deprecating nature shining through your chosen circle. Where he went so did you and vice versa.

Today had happened to be one of the few days the both of you were not plaguing the lives of everyone around you. A simple hangout day.

Deviating from typical augur duties the frail boy sat with you in your bedroom watching various sitcoms. Though there wasn’t much watching on your part as his avid need to chime in with his verbal opinions on the characters’ decisions made it impossible to hear anything else much less concentrate.

Several sighs later and the two of you switched to scrolling aimlessly on TikTok in search of something, anything entertaining to watch.

“…Packing my tumblr to go on a…hot girl walk?”

“Y’know this is the only time I actually wanna hear your thoughts on this.”

“I don’t have any thoughts to share with the likes of you. But, honestly is all of that really necessary?”

“EXACTLY.”

Only stopping with criticism to stalk the rest of their page to see what else they had to offer, before you sprung up an offer of your own.

“We should play Murder Mystery.”

“Can’t, I’m still banned, it ends tomorrow though.”

“Damn why can’t you not be banned for a day that I actually wanna play a game.”

“It’s not like I was in the wrong, the moderation is just stupid.”

You couldn’t even escape Octavian’s rash decisions ruining your plans in the digital world much less the real world. So with dwindling activities to participate in your brain for the first time in a while went into overdrive.

“Alright get up, we’re going out.”

“Why would I go out with you?”

“You wish you could get with me. But, I’m talking about actually going out, like outside.”

“Where?”

“If I tell you it won’t be as exciting. Now stop asking me questions.”

Grasping his dominant hand the both of you flew out the door. With your eyes dead set on the mysterious hangout location.

“A cafe? Really?”

“It’s a casual thing, consider it a date.”

“Why would I want to go on a date with you?”

“I love you too man. Anyway we seat ourselves here, so, sit down.”

Reluctantly your date to be sat down and shut up for a graceful minute, overlooking the menu. Keeping a longing stare above the menu.

“Y’know I’ve never realised how freaky your pearly blues are. They’re really piercing through my soul.”

“Quiet.”

“Look I love ‘em on you but it’s kinda crazy. Deadass.”

A silent scoff left his breath. Just as a waiter picked up on your situation and swung by.

“Good afternoon, what can I get for you boys?”

“Hello, I’ll have a cup of mint tea and—maybe a croissant or lemon cake?”

“I highly recommend the cakes here they’re absolutely amazing.”

“So he’ll have that lemon cake, and I’ll just have a coffee, cappuccino.”

“Good choices I’ll get that out in for you guys!”

“Thanks!”

With a short pastime the beverages and cake is bought out. Granted with a simple ‘enjoy’ the waiter swayed from your table.

“Everything looks so good!”

Clasping your hands together paired with closed eyes in thanks. Your short thanks ended abruptly as your eyes opened to see a spoonful of your cake missing.

“What the fuck.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ’hm’ me you big back bitch. Order your own cake.”

“There is enough for the both of us, why do you think she gave us two spoons? Sometimes your intellect escapes you I swear.”

“No you ass. She gave ME two spoons. One for my cake and one for any sugar to put in my tea.”

“You don’t put sugar in your tea. So the spoon is for me.”

“Yeah? Well she wouldn’t know that. So the spoon is mine. If you disagree any further I will drop your skinny ass right here and now.”

“Crude and intimate. Just hurry and eat your food, so I can leave I have work to do.”

His harsh words would’ve come across in a more offensive way if he truly wanted to leave hastily. So you sat in a comforting silence enjoying your food, occasionally giving him some of your cake.

Idk how to end short stories ngl

[mattoidmeerkat]

as the number #1 brain parasites truther on here, i'm curious on your feelings about the upcoming bobby plot. do u trust that they're gonna do right by our boy? or do u think it's possible the brain parasites might strike again? 😭

obviously i'm sooooooo excited to get more bobby lore, but there's just a tiny little part of me that's scared we might end up getting some bullshit ass story that's entirely ooc for bobby. ik he's been safe so far w/ the characterization, but idk man. i always get a little anxious when i hear a character's getting new lore drops

Not sure how I feel about that title. 😅️

I have been unhappy with a Bobby arc before. This was at the end of Season 5 after we had seen him struggle with being there for everyone, clearly heading to a breaking point, and then the resolution of his arc was basically a footnote in Eddie's storyline. (With Athena's visible concerns just being forgotten about completely.) This was the first time I was really disappointed in a storyline involving Athena and/or Bobby. (Sure, never dealing with any of his injuries considering his past has always been annoying, but this felt different.) I told myself it was the end of the season, and they just ran out of time to address Bobby's arc properly. The episode still annoys me, but I've made my peace with it because it left enough space for us to fill in the gabs. (There are some amazing writers out there who wrote their takes on how Bathena managed to go from 5x18 to 6x01, and I'm so grateful!)

Then Season 6 aired and that just felt very thought through. The setup for the Tanya storyline was great and 6x03 amazing. While focused on Athena, the story still showed and developed her relationship with Bobby as well. Hoover (my beloved) then also helped explore their new dynamic as empty nesters. We got episodes like What's Your Fantasy? showing us how comfortably they'd settled into their empty nest leading into the Wendall arc (that we all wished had been set up earlier for more emotional impact of his death) which really showed us how far those two have come together and individually. (Athena's approach to addiction and AA in Season 4 vs. attending a meeting with Bobby; Bobby trying to keep Athena out of his AA life vs. inviting her into his this part of his world)

The back half of Season 6 showed us even more of their development and growth. The blind faith in Recovery? Excellent. The adorableness and sexiness of Mixed Feeling? Perfect. The bitter-sweet anniversary in Love is in the Air? What an amazing way to show us how far they've come. Pay it Forward? *chef's kiss* We saw them really grow into a deep, stable relationship where they enjoyed spending time together not only around others but especially finally also just by themselves.

And then 7x01 happened. Abandon 'Ships. What a fitting title. This episode was no comparison to 5x18 because back then the end of the season productions stress and time constraints played a big role. None of that really applied here. They came off the longest hiatus ever. The actor's strike was still going on when the writers came back. It was the beginning of the season. There really was no other explanation for what they did with Athena, then they actively and purposely decided to put a plot they wanted to tell (Athena's increasingly erratic behavior confusing Bobby for what I assume was the laughs?) above who the characters were at that point in time. And that really struck me. This was the old showrunner coming in and just not caring about the previous episode(s) and season(s).

So now we are here, looking forward to (or bracing ourselves for?) this new Bobby arc at the end of an extremely condensed season, with them still filming much later than usual. With a showrunner who under much better circumstances just recently has shown that he will blatantly ignore established timelines and character development when it stands in the way of the particular story he wants to tell. (And I'm not saying he's not entitled to do that. It's his show.) So I'm setting my hopes and expectations very, very low. Because I'd rather be positively surprised by a brilliant continuation of Bobby's character arc than be deeply disappointed by another case of the brain parasites.

[blackjackkent]

OK, took a long rest before resuming Hector's adventures; a couple of interesting camp developments:

First of all, there was no cutscene, but when we woke up, Jaheira announced, apropos of nothing that I could discern, "Turned to mist. The spawn share in some portion of their master's power."

I'm not sure what to make of this. Was there a cutscene that got bugged out? Or am I supposed to interpret this to mean that Cazador's people were hanging around our camp and got spooked by the sun rising? Perplexing.

Second, I just noticed that Volo hasn't been around since Act 3 started, and apparently he left a note!

LOL. I'm not surprised he finally bailed. All he ever wanted to talk to me about whenever I tried to interact with him was his ocular surgery plan, which Hector was never going to go for. I guess this means we'll run into him again somewhere in the city though.

Third, a brief dialogue option with Jaheira. Hector said, "You mentioned there might be another way to find Minsc," and she answered, "There might be, but... it is not a path I'd tread until we must. Let it wait until the city proper. Perhaps I'll have had a better idea by then."

Apparently my assumption that we were in the city once we got past that first watcher at the gate was incorrect. Sadly this also seems to mean we can't immediately boot finding Minsc to the top of the priority pile since I don't yet know where the entrance to the "city proper" even is yet.

Fourth, a VERY interesting conversation with Astarion:

Hector: "I want to discuss the Astral-Touched Tadpole."

Astarion: "We both know what it is capable of. But I'm not touching it."

Hector, more than a little surprised by this: "Unlike you to be so unwilling to receive a new power..."

Astarion: "That was before I knew the cost. Before I knew it meant transforming into some grotesque beast. I remember how it hurt when I turned into a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last. I-- I don't want to turn into anything else. I can't do that again. I can't watch my body be taken over."

He looked, and sounded, SO incredibly upset, the poor guy. :(

Hector, to be honest, was more than a little relieved because he has considered Astarion the most likely to want to indulge in the illithid powers (and control the elder brain, later) no matter the cost. But he also feels terrible for having gotten him so upset, and of course quickly backed off. "All right, I will speak no more on the matter."

"I had nothing for so long. Nothing. Not even my own body. I will *not* give it up, now it's mine again."

Poor guy. :(

Also had a quick chat with Wyll about Stelmane. He doesn't believe that she was actually willing partners with the Emperor, just that it must have made her an offer she couldn't refuse. He also mentioned having met Stelmane twice; that she was lively and beautiful when he first met her as a boy, but weaker and struggling when he met her later. He said his father explained it as her having suffered a stroke. Hector had enough insight to gauge that Wyll questioned this story somewhat, but not enough persuasion to pursue the discussion any further right now. So we'll tuck that away for later.

Finally, Gale had an exclamation mark over his head. According to the dialogue history screen, he had a whole speech here: "So the devil himself is pursuing the Crown. As for whether it's truly the Crown Karsus forged? Well, I think it's safe to assume we shouldn't take anything Raphael utters at face value. We *must* claim the Crown of Karsus for ourselves, before anyone else does."

Which is a perfectly reasonable bit of dialogue, but the speech glitched out and so all that happened when I clicked on him was that he stared directly at Hector and snapped, "We *must* claim the Crown of Karsus for ourselves, before anyone else does!" without any other context. Which was pretty funny. XD

Anyway, back to city explorations!

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

201 Dialogue Prompts (almost)

Hello beautiful people! So, over the years, I've been collection writing prompts (mainly dialogue) and I wanted to put them all in one place. So here are 201 writing prompts! Feel free to reblog/use them yourself.

Unfortunately these are not really sorted into categories, so reading through these might be a bit messy. Hope you still enjoy them tho!!

Some of these are pretty old, so I tried to rewrite them to include 3 pronouns, but if I missed any pls dm me and I'll fix it! 🤍

My requests are not currently open, but my asks are. Meaning I won't do requests, but if you sent me something and my brain goes "oooh yes!" there....there's a good chance I'll do it 😅

"You have alienated everyone you loved. And now? Now you're all alone."

"In my defense, I was left unsupervised."

"I trusted you!" "Now, now. Don't blame me for your poor life choices."

"I said to make a SMALL fire! This is NOT a SMALL fire!". "You know, size is really just relative. You can hardly blame me."

"So, what's your plan?" "My plan!? My plan was to follow your plan!"

"That is a terrible, horrible, incredibly stupid idea. Let's do it and see what happenes."

"I lied because I didn't want you to know how much it hurt me."

"Do you trust me?" "No." "Smart kid."

"How do we keep on getting ourselves in these kind of situations?" "[A number] years of friendship and I still don't know."

"I hate you." "Why? I'm lovely."

"I don't know if I should kiss you or shove you of a bridge." "Can I pick?"

"By the gods. You love her, don't you?"

"I didn't have these kind of problems when I was dead."

"Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to stay alive."

"B-but.." "You made your choice and I made mine. Just because you can't live without me doesn't mean I can't live without you."

"If you were logical, you would have killed me already."

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I'm only telling the truth when I say that you have not behaved completely as a gentleman in this matter."

"What? I meant it as a compliment."

"You found it on the beach? You know, when most people take a walk on the beach, they pick up seashells."

“Look at me. I love you.”

“I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I'm afraid we can't allow ourselves to do that."

“Don’t hesitate, just kiss me.”

“People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, I think fate was being harsh on you.” "Well, then it's good that I don't believe in fate."

“You don’t know half of the things you do to me.”

"So you're not going to say anything?" "No." "I think you should. You'll regret it if you don't."

"Wait, don't pull away... Not yet." "Forgive me if I'm misreading this, but do you want to make out?"

"Can you quit being sarcastic, it's the lowest form of wit"

"I don't believe in never," he/she/they said. "I don't believe in always," he/she/they countered. "Well, opposites attract." "Never," he/she/they raised an eyebrow. "Always," he/she/they finished, smirking.

"One day, you will underestimate me again. And you will regret it."

"I'm right here, completely at your mercy. Why don't you just kill me?" "While it would make my life a lot easier, it would also make it a lot more boring. I prefer the world with you in it... for now, anyways."

"Love is scary. This feeling of falling terrifies me. The only way it ends is with hitting the ground." "Not if I catch you." "You can't catch me if you're falling with me." "Darling, I started falling long before you did."

"What one soul conciders evil, another might consider righteous. But black and white can become gray so easily. "

He/She/Theyfound the note he/she/they left him/her/them, his/her/their name written finely in pitch black ink. He/She/They read it once. Then twice. Then eight more times. After folding it neatly, he/she/they took one last look, set it alight, and walked away.

"You think your better than me." "I don't 'think'. I know."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I thought you didn't want me."

"But the way I feel when I'm with you... it's... indescribable."

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"I simply can't stay away from you."

"I promised, didn't I?"

"I love you a lot more than you believe."

"What you're doing is wrong."

"You almost got killed! And for what? An artifact that shouldn't even belong to you."

"You seem a bit tense."

"Your hands are cold."

"You have something in your hair."

"You can't just leave me behind like everyone else you used to love! Not this time!"

"I don't know how I lived without you for so long."

"You deserve so much better than me."

"You know what? You're right. I do. But I don't want better than you, I want you!"

"Well, I might hate you more but I'll never love you less."

"Loving you was never easy," he/she/they acknowledged. "But it was fun, right?" He/She/They asked, raising his/her/their eyebrows. He/She/They looked at his/her/their feet, trying to hide his/her/their small smile. "Fun... That's one way to describe it." "How else would you?" "Chaotic and dangerous and peculiar?" "Sounds like fun to me."

"How can you call it love when it hurts you so badly?" "It was love because it was worth it."

"You are not a person one simply settles for. I would consider myself lucky, if I ever had a chance with a person like you."

"Oh man, I've had the worst day ever."

"Apologize. Right now."

"No, it's really not that complicated. He's a bad person."

"I haven't tried this on a human yet, but it should be very similar."

"Humility is not one of my many virtues."

"The next time you shoot a guy, maybe don't do it on national television."

"Grief is the prize you pay for love."

"Let me drive for awhile.”

“It reminded me of you.”

“No, no, it’s my treat.”

“Come here. Let me fix it.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Have a good day at work.”

“I dreamt about you last night.”

“Take my seat.”

“I saved a piece for you.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You can have half."

“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Can I have this dance?”

“I made your favourite.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Watch your step.”

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“You can borrow mine.”

“You might like this.”

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Just because.”

“Look both ways.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Try some.”

“Drive safely.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“One more chapter.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“That’s okay, I bought two.”

“After you.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I like your laugh.”

“Don’t cry."

“I made this for you.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Is this okay?”

“I picked these for you.”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“What do you want to watch?"

“You can go first.”

“Did you get my letter?”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“Are you sure?”

“Have fun.”

“Sit down, I’ll get it.”

“I made reservations.”

“I don’t mind.”

“It brings out your eyes.”

“There is enough room for both of us.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Wow.”

“Happy birthday.”

“I’ll pick it up after work.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“It’s two sugars, right?”

“I’ll help you study.”

“Stay over."

“I did the dishes.”

“You didn’t have to ask.”

“I bought you a ticket.”

“You’re warm.”

“No reason.”

“I’ll meet you halfway.”

“Take mine.”

“We can share.”

“I was just thinking about you.”

“I want you to have this.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Do you want to come too?”

“I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

“Is your seatbelt on?”

“Sweet dreams.”

“I was in the neighbourhood.”

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“The key is under the mat.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re important too.”

“I saved you a seat.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“I noticed.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I hope you like it.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I believe in you.”

“You can do it.”

“Good luck.”

“I brought you an umbrella.”

“I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Take a deep breath."

“Be careful.”

“I love you.”

“Come over here and make me.”

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

“Please, don’t leave.”

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“I almost lost you.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Teach me how to play?”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Kiss me.”

"Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

“No one needs to know.”

“Boo.”

“Well this is awkward…”

"What's your issue?" "WHAT'S YOUR ISSUE?!"

“You say you love me. So what? You wouldn’t be the first and you certainly won’t be the last.”

“I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.”

“Despite what many think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

"Take one more step in that direction and I will kill you.”

“How funny. You thought I cared.”

“This is what I was trying to avoid! All of this!”

“I am not a prize to be won.”

“Nothing matters anymore."

“Tell me what happened. Tell me why everything changed.”

“You can’t keep hurting me and then demand I apologize instead!

“Jesus, you’re acting like you don’t even want to touch me!”

“All the money in the world can’t make you happy. How am I supposed to?”

“You’re so determined to protect yourself and your feelings, but what about me?”

“You betrayed me!”

“I’m trying, can’t you see? Isn’t that enough for you?”

“You’ll die and I can’t watch the person I love die.”

“I don’t love you. I never have.”

“Do not try and spin this to be my fault instead of yours.”

“For once, stop pretending you’re okay! Just talk to me!”

"Are you sober?" "I'm moderately functional." "I'll take that as a no."

"This is going to sound controversial, but I think that went pretty well."

"I'm fine." "You don't look fine." "Then stop looking at me."

[tellthatbrokebitch]

snippet from chapter 5 of the zombie apocalypse au

She holds him gently and murmurs nonsense words into his hair, along with telling him he’s okay and she was so worried and she loves him so much.

And suddenly he realizes that, for all the maudlin thoughts that ran through his head (yesterday? today?) not once did he consider how his mom would feel. It seems like they’ve barely spoken in the past few months since their fight, and the last thing he said to her was something passive-aggressive – words he can’t recall, but the sight of her crestfallen expression burned into his brain. And then he almost left her, chose to leave in a way, without making things right.

“Mom,” he chokes out, as those tears finally well up and spill over, making her hand falter mid-stroke. “I’m sorry. That fight was so stupid. I was just. It was dumb, I just lost my temper and said stuff I didn’t mean-“

Joyce shushes him, pulling back to frame his face with both hands in that same familiar way she does. “Hey, no, sweetie, none of that,” she chides gently. “You don’t need to apologize. You weren’t wrong, Will. Maybe you were a little harsh, but… that’s okay, too. Sometimes we need to stand up for ourselves, and sometimes that means we need to yell.” She tugs the hem of her shirt up and begins to carefully wipe at the tears and snot and god knows what else on his face. “As for your temper…” She smiles ruefully. “I can’t be angry at that. You get that from me.”

“I… not from Dad?”

She shakes her head, a scowl flashing across her face. “Absolutely not. Your dad didn’t get angry, he got mean. And when he did apologize, he never really meant it.” She gives him a warm, gentle smile, and the love in her eyes is unmistakable. “You’re nothing like him, sweetheart.”

“But – the way you look at me sometimes, when I go out on runs – when I have my gun – you really don’t think I’m like him?” The confession comes out rushed and the words are barbed, delivering a thousand tiny cuts as they tumble out of his mouth.

“Oh, Will-“ Her face crumples in on itself with the force of her grief. “Never. I promise you, I have never thought that. You’re a good boy. Will, you’re so sweet and kind, and your heart – you couldn’t be like Lonnie if you tried.”

When she tugs him back into her, he goes willingly, burying his face in her abdomen and letting himself break down, just for a bit. An indeterminate time passes this way. He’s forgotten about the others in the room – hadn’t even looked around to see how many others are in the room – but when he finally pulls back, only El and Jonathan remain. El is leaning against the wall against the door, watching him with overly bright eyes, and Jonathan is sitting Indian-style on the floor by the bed.

This strikes him as odd, and he has to take another look around before he realizes why. “This is Mike’s room,” he says.

“He insisted.” At Will’s blank stare, Jonathan shrugs. “We thought you could use the space.”

Joyce gives his hair one last stroke, then untangles herself from Will. “I’ll go get you some water, honey,” she tells him, kissing the top of his head again before leaving, pausing to press her hand briefly to El’s shoulder and offer her a kind smile. Then she’s gone, and Jonathan hasn’t looked away from Will once.

He hesitates before finally stretching out his hand across the sheet palm up, and Will doesn’t hesitate to reach out. “You really scared me yesterday,” he says, which answers at least one of Will’s questions. “When Erica rushed in to report you’d vanished-“ His voice breaks on the first syllable of the last word and he cuts himself off to take in a shaky breath.

“Jonathan. I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Before Jonathan can retort – and he wants to, Will can see it in the tightening of his jaw – the door opens. Claire and Mike walk in. Will doesn’t care if it looks weird to the rest of them, he holds out his free hand and Mike is immediately there, taking the spot by his side that Will is only now realizing wasn’t empty, but reserved. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” Mike says, quiet enough that Will has to strain to hear it.

Now that he has Mike back where he belongs, by his side, Will finally feels ready to face this – or as ready as he’ll ever be, at any rate. “It’s okay,” he replies, a beat too late. “Really, you just missed me throwing up and breaking down.”

Mike pretends to be put-out. “Damn, that’s a good look on you.”

“You’re so gross.”

[bintturaab]

Normally I'd consider having breakdowns as a waste of time and a nuisance, berating myself but mostly my brain for being triggered by the most random things ever that I never saw coming and then having a huge dramatic reaction that I cannot find any justifications or reasons for, that even I'm left confused by (so let alone even attempting to explain anything to anyone else).

But, subhanAllah, in Ramadan, even the biggest breakdown over the most unexpected and random thing, feels like it has a purpose and it's not a waste or a nuisance. It feels like your heart is just wanting to be torn open in front of Allah for Him عز وجل to mend the wounds even you can't make sense of; to mend your heart that has been broken in such a way that you don't even remember any of the origins of any of the scars, they've just been there since what seems like forever.

I think, of all the possible times to break down, Ramadan is the most ideal time to break down in front of Allah عز وجل, because this is the month of dua and this is the season of healing and this is the month of Qur'an and we feel a closer connection to our Lord and our Deen than we usually do throughout the year. So even after we break, there's no better time to pick ourselves up and return to Allah with whatever of ourselves and our hearts that remain. Because nobody except Allah can mend and heal us from our deepest traumas and fears and insecurities. May Allah have mercy on us all ameen.