#yes this is the first time i read that items description

[alteredsilicone]

So, there are two Ayatan sculptures on the desk in the Sanctum.

Turns out one of them is basically a custom made Entrati sculpture meant to record their shared memories...

This is prime fanwork content (not to mention the fact that it's empty).

[wandasfifthwife]

such a bad girl ₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺

— wandanat x fem/afab!reader

༺ tw || SMUT MDNI, hot tub sex, dom!wandnat, sub!reader, top!wandanat, bottom!reader, threesome, making out in a moving car, mean dom!wanda for a minute, degration/praise, dom/sub relationship, reader is described to be wearing a scandalous bathing suit that’s easy for them to undo, mention that W has a glass of wine (no drinking description), r’s neediness changes her shy personality, fingering (v & anal ; r receiving), mention of oral if you squint, exhibition kink if you squint, grinding, orgasm denial, NOT PROOFREAD

༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference

— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ 3.9k words₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part 🌻—

Their text coming in during your long shift was a savior because if not for it you would’ve collapsed. None of your designs were accepted. Each time it got rejected you felt your motivation slip from you, the negative tension in the building getting to you. That was until Natasha’s contact information came in. It was as simple as ever, but it made you smile. The text read, “pack a small suitcase and meet us at our apartment at 7PM.”

It sparked an interest in you to do your best despite the recurring turn out. The knowledge of a weekend trip with them was exciting, providing you with a sense of purpose to finish the day well. You pulled your suitcase out of hiding after arriving home, stuffing in whatever clothes looked most appealing.

Your phone then dings, home screen lighting up to show her second text reading, “pack a swimsuit.”

At the time you didn’t think much of it, packing whichever one was at the top and throwing it almost the other strewn together outfits. Once it was reaching the edges you shut it, dragging it behind you. Natasha was the first to see you, smiling up at you when you enter into their apartment room.

“Hi kitten—how was work?”

“Oh, it was fine,” you slide your shoes off, “where’s Wanda?”

“Working in our bedroom.”

Her words have you looking over to their room, finding the skinny white door shut. She pats the seat beside her on the couch, adjusting the laptop on her lap for you to see.

“Wanda has an event in the mountains and during her time there they’re paying for her stay at this cabin.”

Natasha flips through the pictures, stoping when you point out the hot tub, “is that why you asked me to bring a swimsuit?”

“Might as well take advantage of it seeing as we get it all to ourselves for a day.”

“How far is it?”

“About a two hour, thirty minute drive. I’ll be driving a majority of the time since Wanda will have to work.”

She shuts her laptop, setting it aside so she can guide you to lay your head on her lap. You shiver at the feeling of her fingers moving lightly around your neck, drawing chills down your back.

“Wanda has an important call to take during our drive—you’ll need to stay quiet for her, understand?”

“Okay.”

When she doesn’t say anything after you fear you’ve upset her. You crane your neck to look at her, finding her eyes set on yours. The expression on her face tells you what’s going unsaid.

“Okay, daddy.”

She hums, leaning to press a kiss to your lips. Neither of you wish to pull away after, enjoying the small moment of intimacy. Any chance to deepen the kiss flies out the window when Wanda returns.

She looks to her watch, “we have to leave now if we want to make it to the cabin before sundown.”

She greets you both with a quick kiss as she works to remove her work coat.

“Did you pack everything you need?”

“Yes,” you point to the corner of the room where your suitcase lies, “I packed everything you asked me to.”

Ans you had, everything that lied packed away in the suitcase was what they asked for you to bring. Everything was, but you’re unsure about the specific contents of the items mentioned—such as your bathing suit. You’re excited as well as nervous to see their reactions if you ever end up utilizing the hot tub.

Natasha took both hers and your suitcase to the car, denying you any chance of carrying it yourself. The garage is connected to their apartment complex. It’s a public garage, each spot set to each individual resident. Their car was left on third floor, to the right of the elevator.

“Where do you want me for the drive?”

Wanda looks up from her phone momentarily, “uh—I prefer it if you sit up front so I can set up in the back. I need to use the charging ports.”

Once Natasha’s finished putting the suitcases in the back she slides in the drivers seat. Her hand lies behind your seat so she can look behind, helping her back the car out from the spot.

“My meeting isn’t until four thirty. Once it’s over I’ll verbally say when you can begin to speak again,” Wanda says from the back, sounds of the keyboard clicking as she gets situated.

“How’re you feeling,” Natasha asks her, looking back at her through the rearview mirror.

“I honestly just want this to be over with, this company has miserable employees. Anything I send out they never respond until days later and then they blame us for the problems they’ve been coming up.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds rough,” you add.

“Not your fault,” she gives you a short smile.

Natasha makes short conversation with you, asking about random things and laughing at some of your answers. You keep looking back at Wanda, feeling guilty about the way her eyebrows are furrowed.

“Is there any way I can help you?”

“No,” she sighs, “I’m sorry, I’ll be a lot better tonight once everything is over.”

“Don’t apologize. I just wanted to ask, see if I can help in some way.”

Through the mirror the two make eye contact, one that you can’t decipher. It was too quick for you to come to terms with what was being discussed.

Thirty minutes pass, the countdown until her call coming closer and now is only twenty minutes away. Natasha’s pulled to get gas, wanting to fill up and not stop once you’ve reached the cabin. It was right after she had shut the door that Wanda had begun to speak again.

“Come sit in the back with me.”

It was simple enough. It’s only an invite to come sit with her, but you highly doubt it’s to cuddle. You grow nervous, glancing around at the people wondering about at the gas station. The gas station is large enough, decent amount of distance between each pump, but there were still people. You’re still in public.

“I—Wanda.”

“Wasn’t a question.”

You’re climbing out immediately, avoiding eye contact with anyone who may look over at you. Nothings happened but already you feel like it has, you feel that others could sense the tension arise and how your body’s burning with need.

You sit in the seat by her, separated by the drink console. Her laptop is set on top, the console being used as a makeshift table.

“Look at me,” she says, only continuing after you do, “do you think I want you to sit there?”

“Uh—no, sorry.”

“Then fix your mistake.”

She makes no effort to help and doesn’t look remotely concerned when you have to slide out of the car again to climb in where she’s seated. It’s uncomfortable at first, but you find a comfortable position straddled over her thighs, facing her. It’s a small fit, the positioning forcing you to be pressed up against her body. All it’s done is make you warmer, the heat between your legs growing as you eagerly wait.

“I don’t want a single sound from you,” is all the warning she gives as she begins to pull up the work call. It’s on zoom, and you begin to panic about the video screen.

“Wands, they’ll see—“

“They won’t see,” she says, turning her screen off, “but they can hear. Can you be a good girl for mommy and be quiet?”

You nod and she’s surging forward to connect her lips to yours. Her hands are under your thighs, using her grip to pull you closer onto herself. Wanda’s lips are smooth when brushing against yours, feeling better each time they come back against yours.

A breathy moan escapes when she flicks her tongue against yours, eyes open and set on you. It’s the only sound she allows from you as each one following earns a pinch to your thigh. You wonder if she’s paying any attention to the call seeing as she’s working her way around intentionally to make you squirm.

“—agreed. And Wanda do you have anything to add, you’ve been mighty quiet.”

The call goes silent, everyone shown to be focusing in on her screen for a response. Instead of responding she’s hiking your shirt up, lips glossing over the soft spot on your neck. There’s an attempt made to pull her back to reality, that being tugging at her shirt but it’s misunderstood. She takes it as continue, too far consumed with you to care about some boring work meeting. It wouldn’t go anywhere if she replied, so instead she’s putting in the effort on you—enjoying the way you try and hold back your sounds while the call’s still silent and waiting for Wanda’s reply.

“If you dont reply in the next five seconds we’ll be moving forward,” he says, but her attention is still fixated on you.

She continues her ministrations, playing mind games that get you heated but do not satisfy you. All of Wanda’s needs are met with your quieted reactions—pulling at her hair, gasping into her mouth, grinding your hips down on her thigh for some friction.

“Okay, moving on now—we have a short time together so I hope to see you at each event scheduled while we’re here.”

You’re incredibly thankful the call ends there because if not they would’ve all heard your choked moans—what’s worse is the screen would’ve showed Wanda’s in the middle exposing her. Yet it didn’t happen, you were safe now to whine when she rubs you back and forth on her leg, fingers teasing around your nipples from where they lie under your t-shirt.

Once she realizes the calls ended, she stops everything, pulling back to check her phone. She leaves you sitting on her lap, needy and waiting.

“Don’t be a brat,” she sighs, not looking up from her phone, “I never said I’d get you off.”

She clicks her tongue when you look back at Natasha for sympathy, her fingers gripping your chin and pulling you back to face her.

“She’s not going to do anything because she knows you’re in the wrong. I’ll repeat it again so your little dumb mind can understand—I never said I’d get you off.”

This side of her isn’t helping the heat burning within you, setting a blaze in how harshly she’s treating you. Shes right, and it’s turning your thoughts into nothing.

“Darling,” she says, tapping your cheek with her finger, “how’re you feeling?”

“Good—I’m good.”

She smiles at your confirmation before returning to where she was a second ago. You make a sound of protest when you feel her adjust you on her lap, motioning for you to slide into the seat beside her.

“Sit here and be a good girl for us until we arrive at the cabin.”

“But that’s so long.”

“If you continue to act up I’ll extend it until next week.”

You shut up. The sound of the AC whirring about and the smoothness of the car running lulls you to sleep, head resting against the window. It’s a deep sleep you realize once you’ve awoken to spot the red marks lining your arms. Wanda’s the one who wakes you up with a hand resting on your arm, rubbing the skin softly until she sees you stir.

“We’ve already brought your stuff inside,” she starts, slowing when she notices the slowness in your movements, “wanna be picked up?”

She laughs when you confirm your needs. Natasha comes behind the two of you to shut the front door, asking Wanda about her schedule for the rest of the day.

“There’s really only two today that are mandatory, every other one I can skip. With the others present on this trip, I’d rather stay here.”

Natasha hums, coming by to kiss Wanda quickly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says, laying you down on the bed, “it’s a part of life, can’t avoid stupid people.”

“Am I stupid,” you ask, eyes half open and blearily looking at her, “you called me stupid earlier—so mean.”

“You’re such a tease,” she leans to slap your thigh, smile widening at the sight of you moving away with a laugh.

Natasha sits beside you, watching Wanda wonder about the room. You’re still half asleep beside her, looking around the room but always trailing back to the two of them as they discuss a plan. So far it seems you’ll be staying at the cabin with Natasha until Wanda returns, then dinner, and then you have plans to relax here.

“I do have to leave now, but I’ll be back once it’s all over. I’ll send you a text,” is the last thing she says before the front door shuts.

You hear the sheets rustle, feeling Natasha get up. She hears you whine her name out, fingers still holding onto her wrist.

“Sorry,” she kisses your wrist before removing it, “I’m on strike with you too until she’s back.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“Still no.”

You groan, sliding off the bed and following suit, “then why, I’m-“

“Don’t care what you are. I’m also in charge,” she starts, rolling your suitcase a short way until it’s in front of you, “take this to our bedroom.”

She points you with a look when you cross your arms, standing stubbornly in your spot.

“Please take it to our room, I’m not doing anything in return. Either that, or I’m moving it to a week.”

“Just wanted a kiss.”

She looks suspicious, but leans in close despite it. She falls for you easily, both of you finding yourself pressing each other up against the corridor’s wall. The wall’s texture is almost engraved into your back with how close she is to you, breasts pressing against yours. You’re growing dizzy, tilting your head to kiss deeper. It’s when you moan that she’s moving back, slowing her movements.

“No!—daddy please, I’m so needy.”

“Later.”

She walks away, something she continues to do for the remainder of your time. You do spend some time together like making a late lunch and cuddling on the couch as Natasha reads a few emails.

The sun’s falling on the horizon when Wanda returns, flinging her high heels off, “sorry, I know I said I’d be here earlier. Have you guys had dinner yet? I already had gone ahead with the team and got some.”

“We made a late lunch, we’re fine,” Natasha responds from the living room. You remove yourself from her hold to find Wanda, hugging around her waist.

“Hi Kitten,” she mumbles against your skin, “how was your one on one time with Natasha?”

“Rude.”

“I’m not rude for sticking to a rule.”

Wanda coos, “needy still?”

Natasha responds for you, listing off your attempts at getting the attention you crave. From how it started in the corridor to where it ended in the kitchen, Natasha settled between your thighs. By now you’re dying, wishing for it to be over and for the two to cave in and sooth the ever growing need.

They don’t give any answer as to when, leaving you to be good despite such a vague answer.

What you hope to happen is a small miracle. There’s a reaction you wish to spark out of the two of them with an outfit packed away in your suitcase. You’re almost in your knees hoping it works. It wasn’t the original plan, the outfit originally was a last minute throw in but now it may be your saving grace. Twenty minutes have passed since Wanda’s arrival, and you’re growing restless. You feel greedy, bad almost to interrupt the two of them but the need has consumed almost every other thought, thighs rubbing against each other after being edged for hours.

The slightest thing is a trigger. Their hand resting on your thigh, seeing the two kiss lovingly, or noticing how the top buttons to Wanda’s blouse has been unbuttoned. It’s entirely possible that they notice the cloudiness in your eyes, your lust for them showing else than your thighs moving against one another.

“Mommy,” you whine, surprised the plea came out loud enough, “can we go in the hot tub?”

“Do you need help getting ready?”

Oh they know about how you’re feeling. The sympathetic expression and tone is welcoming, but it’s not what you’re looking for.

“No,” you state, getting up on shaky legs.

In the zipper compartment you find the swim suit you packed earlier in the day. The fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. It was small, showing more skin than necessary. Originally the outfit was bought with your friend years ago for a trip and since then you’ve not pulled it out as you felt it was too much for most pubic places. But tonight at a private cabin was perfect.

You slide the glass door, stepping out onto the back patio. The wind outside was a tad cold. You tried to warm up by wrapping your arms around the top half of your body. Wanda and Natasha had yet to come out, and you wondered momentarily where they were as you sunk down into the hot water. You sighed once inside, closing your eyes and letting your muscles relax. There were crickets in the back making an appearance.

It was dark save for the white lights in the hot tub, the glow reflecting on the roof above and creating a fun shaky pattern.

“You got ready fast,” Natasha states, keeping the sliding door open for Wanda, “how’s it feel?”

“Amazing.”

She makes her way in, moving at a quicker speed than you had been. After the water has reached past her shoulders, she stands to reach for her phone set on the side of the hot tub. You can’t help the way you watch her, eyes following the water droplet as it trails down her neck and between her breasts. It’s entirely attractive, reeling you over the edge.

“‘tasha.”

She hums, looking over from her phone when you’ve gone quiet. What she finds is a mess, eyes darkened and chest heaving air in. The moving jets create enough conflict in the water, the bubbles hiding the swim suit you have on. You’re just above the water for her to already notice how far down your swimsuit goes, cleavage already on show for her.

“Fuck what’re you wearing?”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out.”

Her eyes come to match yours. She’s shutting her phone off, moving towards you. With how you’re sitting she’s towering over you, using it to her advantage when she leans down to connect her lips with yours. You’re moving to lock your arms around her neck, hoping with every part of you that she’ll stay this time till the end. Her fingers trail down your chest, feeling until they bump against the small cloth covering your nipples.

“Could’ve just walked out naked,” she says, slipping it off you and pinching at your hardened buds. You gasp, chest pushing into her. Your movement exposes your neck, giving her room to press featherlight kisses.

“Please—I can’t wait anymore.”

“Need me?”

“Obviously,” you state, wincing after from the pinch she lands on your thigh.

“So mean. Who knew you had this in you.”

She shuts you up when she moves to kiss you breathlessly again. You could kiss her all day and never grow tired of the action, each time she does you feel you’re being poisoned with need. You’re pressing back harder each time until she’s grown tired of your attacks and completely takes over.

Wanda follows about later, closing the door with a huff, “you both let a few moths in.”

There’s a moment of realization. The wet sounds and gasps, also the image reflecting in the door all bring her to turn around and witness it in real time. She had been too focused on not spilling her wine she glazed over how the two of you were connected, wrapped in each other.

She sets her glass down on a table, rounding the hot tub to sit behind you. The wooden floor of the patio is cold, but it’s bearable with the bit of hot water splashed out from the tub due to the two of you. You gasp in Natasha’s mouth when she lifts you up, sitting you on the edge of the hot tub.

It’s overwhelming feeling the both of them touch you. Natasha’s hands slipping under your bottoms to push them off, Wanda spreading you open. You fluster, hands moving to cover yourself. Natasha shushes you, gentle removing your hands.

“You’re beautiful,“ is all she says, eyes focusing in on your cunt. It’s drenched, but it’s hard to tell seeing as you were just lying in the tub a second ago.

You’re resting back on Wanda’s chest, legs resting on either side of Wanda’s thighs. Your bathing suit top rests lazily on you, clothes moved to the side so both can see how puffy Natasha’s sucked and rubbed the skin.

Wanda leans in close to your ear, “what do you need.”

“You, both of you—”

“How?”

“Don’t care, please—oh!”

Natasha takes the ‘don’t care’ literally, finger moving to press and rub against your clit. After hours of being stimulated, just a bit of friction brings you into your heavy mindset. Natasha runs her fingers around your puffy lips, gathering the wetness there and pushing it up against your clit again. She draws her finger lower, confusing you for a second until it circles your other hole.

“Fuck wait—!”

It’s too late, her finger’s already pushing through. The size of her single finger already provided such a stretch. She wiggles it around, eyes entranced by how you pull her in.

“When did you last finger yourself here?”

You look at her, eyes teary and almost feeling guilty, “last night.”

She hums, already moving cleared with adding another finger. You take it easy, hole wrapping around her fingers. Wanda’s moving her left hand, fingers reaching your wet cunt to draw the wetness onto your clit, circling it to provide a stronger sense of pleasure as Natasha continues her ministrations.

You’re flinging your head back on Wanda’s shoulder, gasping, “ah! Oh—please! please!”

Wanda’s hesitant, fingers hovering over your entrance until you nod. The second hers slide in, the pleasure is melting you into the floor. Nothing but how good they’re making you feel flooding your mind. They both have two fingers in, pressing in hard and fast. You’re gripping Wanda’s hand, broken ‘ahs’ spilling from you with each deep thrust.

“Ah-ah! Feel so good, ah!”

“Needy slut,“ Natasha mumbles, pressing her fingers up so they collide slightly with Wanda’s.

They don’t string you high this time, leaving you alone with your near-orgasm. Wanda’s finger is moving fast, the added rubbing brings you to your orgasm faster. It was sudden, two thrusts later and you’re wetting their hands until it drips into the water below.

You pant, fingernails still digging into Wanda’s wrist as you come down from your first high of the night. Wanda’s frustration from work leads her to fuck you mercilessly in the shower after, energy and lust on similar levels to you. Natasha’s since passed out, snores sounding from her in the bedroom when you and Wanda creep back in.

“Moving forward, I’m adding a rule—in the morning we can confirm with Natasha if she wants to make a dual rule,” she whispers, chills appearing in your body from how gentle she rubs your shoulders.

“What is it?”

“Can’t touch yourself without our permission.”

“I didn’t do that today?”

“No— it wasn’t specified so at the time you could’ve but you chose to be good and listen and wait.”

“Because I only want you, only you satisfy me.”

— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ taglist below₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part🌻 —

@simpforlizzie @maggieromanov @angelbeingatitspurest @cerberus-spectre @olicity-boo @huggingkoalas @wandasbunnyy @babykingslayer @marigoldenblooms @godhatesgoodgirls @evmaximoff @tobiaslut @lzzysfreak @caporaI-nino @mommysfavouritegirl @gemz5 @dorabledewdroop @foxherder @madamevirgo @natashaswife4125 @peaceitsnaee @radcherryblossompainter @sagesayshi

[2soulscollide]

my favorite free tools for writers

hello, hello! hope you're doing well.

today i am bringing you another list with my top 3 favorite (free!) tools that I find helpful for each phase of writing a novel.

brainstorming phase

Fantasy Names Generator - not only for fantasy (you can also generate real names). this website is just... amazing! it helps you come up with names for characters, places and locations, descriptions, generate traits, outfits (yes, outfits!!), and probably something else you could ever think of.

The Story's Hack - this one is so cool! you can generate names for everything, create your own generator, and practice writing through writing exercises! plus, you can save your generated names to see later, and you earn coins for each idea generated (you can later buy themes - dark, snow, forest, etc)

RanGen - my last favorite generator on this list is RanGen! you can generate plots, appearances, archetypes, love interests, cities, worlds, items, and more.

developing the idea phase

Bryn Donovan - in this blog you can find master lists under the tag "master lists for writers". it is so helpful when you first start developing the characters and need to find the right words to describe them and to find some quirks and flaws!

Writers Write (350 character traits) - again, this is so helpful!

Story Planner - ah, the number of times I've talked about this website... please, PLEASE take a look at it, you won't regret it. this website has literally everything you need to fully develop your idea with outlines for you to fill in step by step.

writing phase

Colleen Houck (80+ barriers to love) - need more romace conflict? there you go!

Cheat Sheets for Writing Body Language - so, you know how your character's feeling, but don't know how he'd physically act? check out this list!

Describing Words - honestly, this is a lifesaver. don't you struggle to find the right word to describe something? well, with this website all you have to do is to type the object you're trying to describe and see which description fits better to you!

revising phase

Language Tool for Google Docs - i know we all have heard about google docs before, but the truth is, it's almost impossible to find free softwares to check grammar and spelling. so, google docs is useful, because it automatically revises it for us, and it's completely free. plus, you can add adds-on, such as "language tool".

Unfortunately, there's only one (free) tool that I actually enjoy for the revising phase. if you know some others, please let me know so that I can try them out and feature in this list.

exporting phase

Google Docs - i find google docs very easy to format and export to .epub, so i'd recommend using it as a free tool.

Reedsy - this is also a free tool available online. all you have to do is to write down each chapter (copy and paste) or import your word document. it will format the document to your liking and export it to pdf, epub and mobi.

that's everything for now! i hope this post was somehow helpful or inspiring!

if you want to see more master lists full of resources, check these:

WEBSITES FOR WRITERS {masterpost}

BEST accounts to follow as a writer

BEST SITES & SOFTWARES TO WRITE FICTION

DIALOGUE IDEAS TO GET RID OF THAT WRITING BLOCK (masterpost)

Useful Resources & Tips for Writers

also, if you are a notion lover just like me, check the free template I just released with everything you need to develop and write your novel!

thank you so much for reading! hope to see you around, and have a nice day <3

[lesinquietes]

You come in for a job interview with the number one hero. The description specified that you would be doing a lot of physical work in your new role, but you didn’t realize that also entails giving yourself to your boss whenever he demands it. Your training starts today ❤️

Tw; 18+ dubcon smut // endeavour x fem!reader

—

“I know you’ve been waiting for this,” he chuckles darkly, fingernails digging into your plush hips. “You’ve needed a man to show you how this is done for a while now, haven’t you?”

He bites back a heavy groan when he finally slides his fat cock past your silky lips, filling your greedy pussy as deeply as you can take him. His tip nudges against a particularly delicious sweet spot, drawing a sensual gasp from your throat. Your tongue hangs from your mouth like a thirsty dog; it’s fitting that he’s made you his bitch. You might not have planned for this to unfold, during an interview no less, but you can’t pretend you’re upset by this steamy result.

His digits entangle themselves in your tresses, yanking you so you back arches the way he fantasized it would when he first laid eyes on your pretty body. He holds himself inside you for a time and flexes, intent on getting your narrow hole used to his girth. Your toes curl at the way his member twitches on command. It teases you just long enough to distract you.

He reaches around to your torso and slips his hand beneath your shirt. Then, he rips open your blouse. Buttons fly across his office, disappearing under his desk and ricocheting off the wall. He’ll buy you a new one if you’re upset about him ruining it; material items don’t at all matter right now.

“Why did you decide to wear this today, hmm?”

His large palm finds your breast, cupping it over your white lace bralette. Maybe you expected to seduce him. With a body like yours, so unique and beautiful in its natural form, you were correct to anticipate that he would be interested. Yes, satiating himself with you is precisely what he needs. He decides enough is enough.

He tears your bra off, tossing the ruined fabric across the room. It strikes one of the tall windows. Your eyes widen when you realize that you’re exposed for the world to see. It’s nighttime and he didn’t pull down the blinds. What will people say if they happen to glance up from the sidewalk and see you, offering your body for a high salary job to the number one hero in Japan?

“Don’t worry about them,” he growls, as though reading your thoughts. “Focus on what I’m doing to you.”

He starts to thrust. His fingers latch onto one of your nipples and tug on it. You whimper at the sensation. This is horribly wrong. He’s freshly divorced and— and he’s going to be your boss! You can’t be doing stuff like this with the man in charge of overseeing your pay checks; you wouldn’t want him to think this is going to be a regular thing. You certainly wouldn’t want this to become a habit.

But that’s clearly not what Enji thinks, as he busts a huge load in your pussy, stuffing you to the brim.

[rinixo]

cherry waves

Din Djarin/Reader | 3.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, sex pollen trope, description of illness, vaginal fingering, first time

In hindsight, that caf did taste a little off.

--

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

read on ao3

The quiet murmur of the crowds were faint in the back of your mind as you sat underneath the shade near a small food stand. In front of you on the table were various datapads, and as you sipped on your caf your eyes darted from one to another, analyzing the information.

Off in the distance, The Mandalorian entertained the child by walking him past the various shops and stands. The baby had been distracting you from your current task, so the metal man had graciously pulled him away to ply his attention with shiny baubles and roasted skewers.

The market you were on wasn’t particularly large or well known, but it suited your needs well enough. The three of you needed to stretch your legs and breathe non-recycled air after a couple of weeks being cooped up in the Crest. Being able to stock up on some basic necessities was a plus, especially in a place where you were unlikely to be noticed or tracked by the various bounty hunters and imperial remnants out to find you.

However, supplies and fresh air were only second on your list of priorities. What you really needed, and what eventually led to you sitting there surrounded by datapads was a reliable Holonet connection.

A few days ago, you had approached Mando about your current progress on tracking down information on the Jedi Order. You had stockpiled terabytes of records and information prior to fleeing Naboo, which had been helpful, but could only get you so far.

“I need to cross-reference the variables against the network in order to extrapolate the most relevant data points and establish the locations with the highest likelihood of success,” you had explained. Mando had turned slightly in his seat, and you guessed that under that helmet he was frowning.

Smiling apologetically, you tapped your nails against the side of your datapad. You had the tendency to get too technical when it came to your passion. “I need a stable connection to the Holonet so I can plug in the info we know about the Jedi against recent mentions or sightings so I can narrow down where we should be looking.”

That seemed to make sense, so a few days later there you were, hooked up to the Holonet on some planet you had already forgotten the name of. For the past hour, you had been running the data, searching for info points on your keywords – ‘Jedi’, ‘laser sword’, ‘space magic’, etc – hoping to find something that would get you closer to your goal.

A while later, your search had yielded a half dozen promising leads. Pleased, you shut off your data pads and began to pack up your items up as Mando waltzed back over.

“Any luck?” He asked, and you nodded as you stood.

“Actually, yes. I found some relatively recent data that I think is worth investigating.” The two of you (and the baby, tucked away in his pouch at Mando’s side) began your short journey back to where the Razor Crest was docked while you continued to speak. “The New Republic has removed most of the Imperial censors on the ‘net, but a lot of the data on the Jedi has just been purged completely. It’s not so much that the information is censored at this point – rather, the information just doesn’t exist anymore. At least not in a format I can access.”

“But you found something?” Mando asked, and you detected a tinge of hope in the timbre of his voice.

Reaching into your pack, you pulled out one of your data pads and pulled up some coordinates. “Yes, several locations that have mention of information or remnants of Jedi history, and in some cases alleged sightings of actual Jedi.” Mando took the pad from you as you approached the Crest, climbing the ramp into the belly of the ship. “One of those places is just one jump away, actually.”

Mando handed the pad back to you, and began to head towards the cockpit. “Good job. We’ll start there.”

You set your things down among the recently re-stocked supply crates, hoping that turning your face away from the man was enough to hide the heat in your cheeks and the shine in your eye from the compliment. Your halfhearted attempt at dampening your crush on the armored man had failed, and your heart continued to race every time he praised you or brushed up against you.

You had acknowledged that Mando’s first priority would always be the child, which you respected and agreed with. You often wondered if the subtle hints you sent his way, in your body language and voice, made it through the beskar armor. He was still as stoic and unflappable as he was when you first met, but his replies had started to come easier and it felt like he would now go out of his way to spend time with you, instead of the wide berth he had given you half a year ago. Part of you knew that it was due in no small part to the trust the two of you had built, but the romantic in you also liked to wonder if it was something a little more.

A sharp pain in the back of your neck pulled you out of your wistful thinking, and you winced. Chalking it up to too much caf too quickly, you decided you finish putting your things away and take a nap. You didn’t want it to turn into a headache or migraine, and a nap was usually enough to stave such off.

 --

Several hours later, you remained awake in your cot, head aching and body burning. You had slept in fitful bursts until the burning under your skin forced your eyes back open to the low light of the hold where you lay. Sweat trickled across your skin, and you let out a low moan tinged with pain. You felt like your very blood was made molten, chugging sluggishly through your veins and pooling uncomfortably between your thighs. Every slight movement of your legs and your body sent shocks of sensation to your most sensitive nerve endings.

Hoisting yourself up with some difficulty, you shuffled slowly towards the refresher, thin tank sticking to your clammy skin. Pushing open the door, you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, someone you had a hard time recognizing staring back. Your skin was slick with sweat, your pupils blown dark and wide. With a shaking hand, you turned on the water and tried to relieve some of your pain by splashing it across your face. It did nothing to help, and merely splashed your already sweat-soaked top with ice cold water.

Shutting the water off, you turned to return to your cot, only to bump straight into a broad metal chest. The impact wasn’t very hard, but in your fragile state you fell to the ground, legs shaking underneath you. Your head pounded, and you groaned and covered your eyes.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so good,” Mando inquired. You rasped out a ‘no’, throat dry. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew that you definitely did not feel well. Your pussy throbbed at the sound of his voice, which would normally not feel so bad. In your current state, it was almost painful.

Mando turned, looking for something, and returned shortly with a cup of water. He knelt to be closer to your level, and held up the cup to your lips. He helped you sip, and you downed the water gratefully, feeling the dryness in your throat ease some.

“What happened?” Mando asked, and you sighed.

“I don’t know,” you said weakly. “Maybe I’m sick? I felt fine until we got back to the Crest. I had a bit of a headache so I tried to sleep it off, but it just kept getting worse and worse.” A low ‘hmm’ emanated from the beskar helmet, and Mando pulled off a glove to place the back of his hand gently against your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, thankful for the coolness of his skin against your blazing cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Mando said, concern evident in his voice. “It’s odd that you’d get this sick this quickly.” You let out a whine as he removed his hand, letting you head lull to the side. A sudden thought rushed through your head and you looked up at him in panic.

“You – and the baby – I don’t want you two to get sick,” you breathed out. “You should get away from me, and keep him away.” Mando stood, and pulled a datapad towards him. Frustrated that he seemed to ignore your concern, you tried to pull yourself up and found it more of a struggle than you could attempt. Choosing instead to crawl towards him, you pleaded for him to return to the cockpit.”

“Hush,” Mando commanded, and it was like every cell in your body stood at attention to obey him. You shut your mouth and rested your head against his armored thigh, closing your eyes to ride another wave of the burning in your blood that seemed to both come from and end up between your legs.

“Did you have anything to eat when we were in the market earlier?” Mando asked. You shook your head weakly.

“N-no…just a couple cups of caf…”

His helmet tilted sharply to look down at you. “Caf? Are you sure?”

Confused, you shrugged. “I…I think so?” Now that you thought about it, it had tasted a little unusual, but you had assumed it was just some kind of local variety. “It was a little…spicy…?”

A muffled expletive was all you heard as Mando set the datapad down and crouched to get at your eye level again. He grasped your chin gently in one hand to steady your head, and you felt your blood sing. You could faintly make out your reflection in his helmet, your pupils so dark it felt like your vision should be black.

“Wha-?” you said in a hushed voice, confused. Mando sighed, and let go of your chin. He remained in a crouched position, arms on his knees and hands opening and closing into fists as he struggled to explain.

 “I think you’ve been poisoned,” he started slowly. Your head shot up, panic evident on your face. “Not on purpose,” he clarified, “at least I don’t think so. I don’t think what you were given was caf. That planet is known for an herb that – in some people – elicits this kind of reaction,” he gestured at you. “I’m guessing that it was in what you drank.”

Your mind raced. Poisoned? Herb? None of it made sense in your addled state. All you knew was that with every passing moment your body throbbed with need and you were edging closer and closer to shoving your hand into your pants right here in front of the Mandalorian.

“Is there an antidote?” You moaned. “How long does this last?”

Mando shook his head. “Not that I know of. From what I’ve encountered, it can last a couple of days, but I’ve never seen someone have such a strong reaction,” he explained sympathetically. “I don’t know how much you had, so I don’t know how long this will last.”

“Is there anything to relieve this feeling?” You practically begged. “Mando, I’m desperate, this is unbearable…”

The man cleared his throat. It was clear he was struggling with something.

“There is,” he said lowly. “But it’s…it’s not something that…” he trailed off. You stifled a sob and crawled closer to him. One of his hands came to steady you at your shoulder.

“This reaction – the herb – it affects your libido,” he continued calmly. You grit out a short, strained laugh.

“No shit.” Something about him acknowledging he understood what you were experiencing was almost liberating. You felt like the more he talked to you, the more he touched you, the closer you were to him the clearer your head felt. The burn under your skin was still there, and the desire pounding through your veins, but your mind and attention were more focused.

“Yeah. So you can work it through your system faster by, uh…” he stumbled over his words. “R-releasing…”

You wanted to sink through the floor and float off into space, never to be seen again. The idea of getting off here with Mando knowing was mortifying. Sure, you were attracted to him, but this was not the way you had fantasized about approaching the topic with him.

“Damn it,” you murmured. “Damn it.” You looked up at Mando, debating your options. It seemed you could either ride this out, not knowing how long it would last, or get off until it wore off. Mando made it sound like it would be at least a few days before it was out of your system naturally You already felt at the end of your rope after just a few hours, so you crossed that off your list. That left you with one option.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you sat back on your haunches. “Can you help me up?” You asked, voice trembling. “Get back to my cot so I can, uh…”

Understanding, Mando moved towards you. Instead of sampling helping you stand, you let out a small squeak as he hoisted you up into his arms. The feeling of your skin against his cold armor was both a relief and a trigger, sending more need through your body.

He walked you over to your cot, and gently laid you down. You let out another (mostly) involuntary moan as his strong embrace lessened, and you desperately wished he would continue to hold you.

“Thanks,” you gasped out. “I’m so sorr-“

“Do you want help?”

You closed your mouth, not knowing to believe what you thought you just heard or not. He had said it so suddenly. His helmeted gaze was fixed on you, and you propped yourself up on one elbow.

“H-help?” You gulped. “H-help how?” His gaze remained steady, and there was a tension radiating off his body like you hadn’t seen before.

“I could…touch you,” he clarified. “Help you…release. Only if you want to,” he added. “Never without – I’d never presume –“

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. Your body hummed with desperation and need. “Please, yes, Mando.” His concern for you was intoxicating, his hurried explanation endearing.

Mando slowly moved to sit on your cot. While your sleeping space wasn’t exactly tiny, his bulk took up most of the space as he leaned against the wall, spreading his legs slightly. “Lay against me,” he said gently. Your body immediately obeyed his command, and shot up to crawl between his legs, settling between them, back against the cool structure of his chest. You felt dwarfed by his body and his presence, and that in and of itself was sending notes of gratification through you.

He shifted you slightly, so that your legs could spread wider. The feeling of his gloved hands against the soft skin of your thighs made you gasp sweetly, and you closed your eyes and leaned your head back.

A short rustle, and then his hands were back, this time bare. “Can I touch you?” He asked again, one hand on your thigh, the other hovering over the waistband of your bottoms. You nodded, and let out a hushed ‘yes’. Despite your enhanced state, you felt fully in control of your senses and cognizant of your decision.

Mando slipped his hand under your shorts, and cupped your dripping cunt. You spread your legs further, bumping them up against his. His hand on your thigh rubbed soft, soothing circles as his other prodded your folds and clit carefully.

You were so pent up and sensitive your first orgasm came embarrassingly fast. Mando slowly caressed your swollen pussy as you bit your lip and whimpered.

“So soon?” Mando joked breathlessly. Your hands came up to grip his pants, fisting the material as your lower half writhed.

“M-more Mando, please…”

He obliged you, putting pressure on your throbbing clit. You chewed on your lower lip, trying to move your hips in motion with his ministrations. His hand ventured lower, two fingers slipping inside you as the heel of his palm rubbed your clit. You opened your mouth in a silent ‘ah’ as he began to stroke in and out of you – not too deep, just enough to make your legs begin to shake.

His unoccupied hand came up to rest on your lower stomach. You marveled at how hands so calloused could feel so soft against you. You looked down at where he continued to pump in and out of you, cheeks burning. You were wetter than you had ever been before, and the sound of Mando touching you was nearly obscene.

You could feel another orgasm approaching. Your hands gripped his pants harder, and you arched your back, trying to get Mando to fill you more. His hand on your stomach stayed firm, holding you in place as he methodically fingered your dripping cunt.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice husky and low even through the vocoder. “Let me help you-”

“M-maker…” you gasped. He ground his palm against your mound, and you were on the precipice. Your thighs shook with the effort of trying not to writhe so much that he lose his grip. You wondered where he learned to do this. Maybe it was the effect of the herb making you more sensitive, but it was like he was playing your body like an artist perfecting a masterpiece.

Your orgasm built like chain lightning, and rolled over you like thunder. Your thighs snapped closed, trapping his hand between your legs. Your head fell forward as you wailed, Mando coaching you through your second release.

“Yes, good girl, you’re doing so well-“

It felt like your release lasted two lifetimes before your thighs began to part. You felt extremely sensitive as Mando slipped his fingers out of you, trailing them up over your clit. Your body jerked from the sensation, and you panted, eyes closed.

“Feeling better?” Mando murmured, hand rubbing soft circles on your tummy. You nodded, voice not found. You were feeling lightyears better in fact – the burn was still there, but so much more subdued and your head no longer pounded.

“Mmm,” he said. “I guess your exceptional reaction results in exceptional completion.”

You let out a laugh. “Is that your hypothesis?” Mando’s hands returned to your thighs, and you bit your lip as he teased the soft skin there.

“Perhaps,” he mused. “I think it could benefit from more investigation.”

“Agreed,” you breathed, letting the pleasure wash over you as he resumed his attention dutifully.

 --

pt 2 but with din getting sex pollen’d.....? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)

[fuck-customers]

So this customer placed an order late last week and one of the items was special order (listed as such on the website, with an estimated timeframe) so I sent them an email letting them know we'd send the rest right away and restating how long the special order would take.

They email back upset that the website didn't say the item was "backordered" (again, it says right on the website this is special order and takes longer to ship, also special order is not the same thing as backorder) and demand that we cancel that item because they're in a hurry. I tell them we can do that if they want, but it will actually make the rest of the order take significantly longer, because instead of some items going out that day or the next and the special order going out later, we'll have to take the whole order out of the queue and put it on hold until the refund is processed and an updated invoice is generated, which can take 2-3 business days, and then it will go back into the queue at the end of the line, which will be another 2-3 business days to get through shipping again. I ask them to confirm that knowing this, they still want to cancel the special order item. They say yes, they definitely want to cancel it.

Today (three business days later) right before closing they call in blazing mad that their order hasn't shipped. I pull up the order and recognize it, and tell them hey, looks like it got held up for a bit because there was a request for a partial cancelation, but the refund has been processed, it's back in the queue and based on its position it will probably go out tomorrow.

Customer loses their mind yelling that this is insane and next time she'll buy direct from the manufacturer (who is on the other side of the planet and only sells through dealers, but never mind) explains slowly and loudly that "slow is BAD" like she's talking to a toddler and hangs up on me.

Like, yeah it sucks that we're so short handed it takes a few days for cancelations to be processed, but YOU waited until the last minute to order your stuff, YOU didn't read the estimated shipping time frame on the product description before ordering, and when I specifically told you the cancelation would cause a significant delay YOU confirmed you understood that and still wanted it done. If you hadn't gotten impatient it would have gone out days ago. Heck, even the special order would be halfway here by now. We might be slow, but the extra delays on your order were entirely caused by you and your unwillingness to read or listen. We're transparent about how long things will take and have actually consistently been within the time frames we provided to you since the order was first placed.

Also screaming at me after shipping is closed for the day speeds up nothing, it literally cannot go out until tomorrow, which is when it would have gone out anyway at this point if you hadn't called and thrown a fit. There is nothing I can do to make it get to you faster.

Posted by admin Rodney

[tinybirbwrites]

The Ultimate Strategy (Astarion & Reader)

This is very silly. Set rather early on in the game. Nothing romantic, just silly and fun. Gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, sort of implied player!reader. Sort of graphical description of someone being set on fire? Not too graphic but it happens. 1,6k words.

People would often think you’re stupid—Astarion could tell by the way they looked at you or talked to you. He himself thought you weren’t the brightest of the bunch when he first met you. Ohh, but you weren’t stupid at all. Yes, maybe some logical thinking and some puzzles proved a challenge for you, and sometimes the subtext was too hidden for you to see, but you could read people quite well. You could tell when they were trying to fool you; there was always that little knowing smile on your lips and that glimmer in your eyes when you knew exactly what they were trying to do, and yet you went along anyway to humor them, only to beat them at their own game. 

Sometimes Astarion wondered whether you were a master diviner, someone who dreamed about the future every night, because he swore some things you knew shouldn’t be possible. He would see you buy or collect some strange item and think “how unnecessary,” only to be proven wrong a little while later. 

“Humor me,” he said to you one morning, making you look up from your bowl of leftover food from the evening before. “Why are we collecting these?” Astarion gestured over to the big pile of barrels, each either containing oil, smokepowder, or firewine. Quite hazardous, which is why it was being kept far away from Karlach’s tent. You had insisted on collecting each explosive item you could find and carry it back to camp, and because everyone had grown to trust you, no one argued. Because, just like Astarion, the other companions had also noticed your futuristic insight and fondness for ridiculous yet clever strategies. 

You beamed at him. “I’m so glad you asked, Astarion.” Putting your bowl down for the time being, you instead took a stick and drew some lines into the dirt. “Using your wonderful imagination for a moment here, you would see that this,” you tapped the middle of your drawing, “is the place right outside the grove. You know, where we first encountered the goblins that were attacking the tieflings and humans outside the gate.”

He tilted his head, then went to stand directly behind you to look over your shoulder. “I can sort of see it. What about it?”

“Well, my dear friend,” you turned your head and grinned up at him, waggling your eyebrows. “What if I told you that there will be a big confrontation, and we could easily solve it with the right means.” You nodded towards the barrels. “Just imagine; the whole field, full with explosive barrels. One little bolt of fire and they all go boom.”

Astarion imagined it, and yeah, okay, that sounded like fun alright. “And who are we blowing up, exactly?”

“The goblin army, of course,” you said, as if it was obvious. Noticing his frown, you quickly explained, “Everyone keeps talking about ‘the big goblin problem’ this and ‘the goblin camp’ that. Obviously there will be a confrontation at some point, and I just wanna be prepared for it. We’ll probably find out more once we go to the goblin camp ourselves.”

He raised an eyebrow, partly impressed, partly doubtful. “And, what? We just put barrels all over the field and hope they won’t notice and just walk right into the trap?”

You pursed your lips. “Okay, good point. Either we bury and hide the barrels, or we, uhh… Maybe we could put some illusion spell on them? Surely Gale knows a way.”

Astarion stared at you for a moment. “You’re only thinking about this now? You honestly thought the enemy wouldn’t notice—” he looked over at the pile and roughly estimated the quantity, “thirty-something explosive barrels standing around an open area?”

You cleared your throat and put the stick away to keep eating. “... Maybe. But, hey, thanks to you, we can prepare for it now. Thanks, Astarion.”

He could have made more indignant and snarky comments, could have teased you more, and usually he would have. But your smile was so earnest and genuine and bright, all he could do was make a small noise at the back of his throat and shake his head.

Turned out that Gale did indeed know some good spells to disguise the barrels, by putting an illusion on them to make people think they were something else, like a bush or a piece of wood or a big rock. After a few hours of setting everything up, you declared a job well done and that you all would infiltrate the goblin camp the very next day. 

Again, things worked out more smoothly than Astarion thought.

You’d revealed the grove’s location to the drow, Minthara, much to the other companions’ shock. When Karlach took you aside to question your decision, you had assured her that everything would be fine. “I planned for this, remember? It will all work out, trust me. They won’t step one foot into the grove, I won’t let them.”

Astarion personally didn’t really care either way—he had absolutely not grown fond of the tiefling refugees or any of their thieving children, thank you very much—but he was very much invested in your strange plan at this point.

So when the time came, tieflings and druids warned about the goblin army (with most of the refugees actually preparing for the fight, while the druids hid away like cowards inside the caves) and everyone stood up on the hill by the big horn, and you watched as at least a hundred goblins, big and small, together with their blood hungry pets marched up to the gate, you were confident. Perhaps even a little smug.

Minthara was on higher ground, the hill near the middle of the field, and Astarion remembered how you had insisted on carrying several barrels up there as well, fretting about their exact positions. Again, he was convinced you must have somehow known about this. This couldn’t be just a lucky guess or coincidence. 

Some of the goblins even carried little explosive barrels on their backs, which were lit up like a bomb as they ran towards the gate to blow it up. Before they could get any closer, you had already given Astarion the order to shoot the fucker down and let it explode next to one of your own hidden barrels. 

He held his breath, and everyone watched as the chaos unfolded so very beautifully. It was a wonderful and perfect chainreaction; one barrel exploded, immediately setting off the next, and then the next, the fire and explosions taking all of the goblins with it. Before Minthara could react, you quickly told Gale to throw a firebolt at one of the hidden barrels near her position as well. It hit, and Minthara was soon blown off the hill and hit the oil-covered ground. She screamed as she was burned alive, trying to put herself out and sort of succeeding. 

“Karlach, Wyll, can you take her?” you asked. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Karlach growled, taking her greataxe in hand. 

“With pleasure,” Wyll nodded, drawing his own weapon. Again, under your command, they drank a Feather Fall potion to jump down, and Gale used some spells to put out the flames so neither of them would get burned to a crisp. They were resistant to fire, but not immune, and everyone knew you didn’t want your friends to get hurt. 

With fresh burns and wounds all over and her ears ringing from the explosions, Minthara could barely put up a fight. She tried, of course, and she did better than most in her position would have been able to. But with both Wyll and Karlach, still at full health and energized, she didn’t stand a chance. Merely a minute or two later, Minthara was dead. The tieflings cheered loudly, some patting you on the back while Astarion did his best to avoid the praise. The gate was opened to let Wyll and Karlach back inside, and you laughed as you were hugged and picked up by several people (sadly, Karlach still couldn’t touch anyone, otherwise she would have probably done the same). 

“That was incredible!” Zevlor laughed. “We barely even had to do anything, and not one of us got hurt!”

Later on, as you cleaned up the battlefield a little with some others, looting the goblin corpses, you eyed Minthara’s armor, then looked up at Astarion with a critical eye.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively. 

“Do you think this would fit your frame?” You gestured at the armor—it was rather beautiful, golden and dark gray, the shapes of the plates reminiscent of spiderwebs, fitting for a Lolth-sworn drow like her. 

“Maybe,” Astarion said slowly. “Why? You want me to wear it?”

You shrugged. “I think it would suit you nicely. If you want it, it’s all yours. Maybe Dammon could modify it a little if it doesn’t fit, before he leaves the grove.”

Astarion looked down at what he was wearing now—armor mostly made out of leather, good for stealth, but not the most fashionable, in his humble opinion. Then he looked back to Minthara’s corpse, humming thoughtfully. “Oh, by the Hells, why not? But I want it thoroughly cleaned, I can still smell the smoke and oil all over it.” 

You grinned. “It looks so good, right? I kept eyeing it when we first met her.” 

Reluctantly, Astarion relented. “Well, you’re not wrong.” Hesitantly, he asked, “You really think it will suit me?” He wasn’t self-conscious about his looks, of course. He just hadn’t seen his own reflection in quite some time, and he barely had any idea what colors suited him now. Though he supposed he was doing something right, because most people still swooned when they saw him—including even you.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, trust me. Gold, silver, black, red, blue… all of it would suit you. I think you could make any color work, if done right. But this armor is just… perfect for you.”

Astarion did not blush—he wasn’t even sure if he physically could. But whatever the case, Astarion didn’t blush, ever, for anyone or anything. Absolutely not.

[romanarose]

All right, I lied I’m talking about it again

CW for mentions of sexual assault, CSA, supposed, pedophilia, fandom, discourse, kink, etc, etc

First, let me explain to those confused, what happened and then I’ll defend myself and then we’ll leave it there because once I go through everything your opinion is just going to be based on your point of view and I can’t really argue you out of that which is fine, so just go ahead and block me if you think I’m a creep weirdo or anything else that Radiohead says

Today as I am in class packing up my shit to leave right after my presentation I get a notification from a Tumblr mutual that said that a Tumblr blog I’ve never heard of or interacted with is posting about me in a harassing way so I go and I check it into my surprisethey posted screenshots of my most recent fanfiction. I miss you Mr. Miller.

The post explicitly called me a pedophile. I’ll share the screenshots, but the username as far as I can tell has been cropped out of everything. If you want to send and ask to this person and say your peace, I can’t stop you, but I ask you not harass this person, and simply report the post, if you know who it is

In one of the re-blogs or an answer to an ask, they called for mass, reporting my blog

No, I don’t say this to say that people who have been through what I’ve been through can’t be pedophiles or abusers, because they absolutely can but I say this to say why I had such a reaction to this and why I write the things I write

I have been a victim of child, sexual abuse was stocked, threatened and sexually harassed by an older man. When I was 17, lost my virginity to rape and 18, and then was raped again at 19 so believe me when I say that throwing around these words is shocking to me to just call me a pedophile. I write the things I write, innocent, reader, virgin reader, daddy kink, because of the things that I have been through sometimes as a reclamation of the experiences that I have suffered, sometimes as coping sometimes as comfort depends on the story.

No, let’s talk the specific issues

1. Shoes. Before I saw any of this, someone had DM me politely mentioning the shoes saying that they looked like child feet and that they wanted to make sure they were adult feet. I responded back that when I found the shoes on Pinterest they didn’t say anything one way or another, but I specifically look at the descriptions of clothing items because I don’t want to use clothing items that aren’t made for adults. If I can help it however, reverse image search shows that those are in fact an adult size and an adult model.



2. The dress once again, when I found the dress on Pinterest, I had already sorted out several dresses that I liked that first glance, but when I look at the description they said, teen or tween. It’s hard to tell right away it was certain styles there’s no model the dress is meant for what age I remember in my young adult hood when I was still dressing feminine and was a much smaller size. I sometimes found clothes at thrift stores. I thought were cute and would later find out they were meant for teens or twins, such as life.

2 Readers. Reader is 21+. Me personally I don’t put reader is 18+ in all my stories or my age gap stories, nor do I expect to see them when I read age gap stories in other peoples works, because I just assume everyone is an adult unless there’s some thing that tips me off against that, however, straight off the bat, the idea of being fucked in your childhood bedroomI feel like implies that she is one no longer a child and two doesn’t live there anymore. A couple chapters in, her and Joel are at her apartment and she was buying a new mattress having an apartment in itself implies at least 18 buying a new mattress is something you do in your 20s lol because no one was still in their name is gonna get excited about a mattress sale on Presidents’ Day. Then she was out drinking with Joel in a bar and yes, minors can get snuck into bars all the time I was a minor snuck into bars, however in this particular context, it just doesn’t make sense because Joel reader were already afraid of being seen together together. Joel wouldn’t want to add buying drinks for someone under 18 and taking them home after the bar to the list of worries and I know that in a lot of countries, the age of drinking can vary but in the US we’re both I live and where Joel fictionally lives the drinking age of 21, hence 21+ no none of the stuff I mentioned guarantees and reader but to me it’s coding in the same way that the people making accusations towards me are saying that reader is “coded“ as a child

3. Sex in the church. This was an afterthought in the person‘s post but I’ll address it anyway because they’re losing their mind that I mentioned having sex in a church for the context of the thick. Specifically, they had sex in a church bathroom, not in the actual sanctuary, or the pews, or anything however, for the record, I don’t got a problem with fanfiction having sex in a church because it’s not real. I would never actually have sex in a church, I try to go up to avoid going to a church as much as possible. The fanfiction isn’t real, it can’t hurt you

Lesson fucking learned, explicitly say reader is 18+ every time or someone is gonna accuse you of being a pedo

In the end, it’s not gonna change anyone’s minds. Because if you think that calling someone daddy, being hyper or liking to be babied, anything like that, makes you a pedophile, then I can’t really ration my way out of this.

However, I want to say thank you to everyone who reached out. A lot of blogs I’ve never interacted with a lot of friends, mutuals and on or blogs that I’ve followed on here for a year. Now I’ve reached out to me and offer their support which I really really appreciate and I cannot appreciate enough.

Hopefully I can still enjoy my cousins wedding this weekend and get my schoolwork done that I need to before going back to classes on Monday and that this doesn’t make more worse my already precarious mental health. But I’ve gotten so much love in so many kind words that it’s hard not to feel grateful for the amount of support I’ve gotten.

Between this and a minor hoopla about my pride even, I’m kinda sick of tumblr sometimes but y’all remind me of the good

Yes, you can re-blog, and if you wanna know who it is then ask someone else that’s fine I don’t really care that much. I just don’t want to be dog piling the person.

However, please report it. Because people are still sharing it, and commenting and liking especially about the shoe size

That’s it that’s my peace

[donnerpartyofone]

One of the worse types of intrusive thoughts is like, when someone says something wrong and/or annoying and your brain won't stop coming up with ways to correct them even though there is no pressing reason to do so and in fact you might seem insane if you insist on it. MONTHS ago I was having this conversation with my husband and my dad, both of whom are very aesthetically keen (like professionally so), where we were talking about physical description in prose and when it tends to make writing worse. We generally agreed that if a character's exact appearance isn't that relevant to the plot then it's excessive to keep harping on facial and bodily details, and doing so is usually the province of pulp and romance genres; it's kind of porny to do that, basically, and it can undermine whatever else your point is. I admitted that I happen to have trouble with names of esoteric clothing items, and I find that the revered Haruki Murakami is guilty of (among other things) making these crazy wardrobe itemizations that to me read like "He wore a waffle weave jersey beneath a mauve linen tunic under a navy Marino wool jumper beneath a periwinkle windbreaker under a camelhair duster" and on and on and I'm like, do I need to know all this, I might need to look some of this up, is this fucking important? And then as if to agree with me, the men started pounding the podium about how they don't understand any common descriptions of people's faces. First up was the "heart-shaped face" and I'm like OK, that may sound a little abstract but if you literally drew a heart with eyes and then drew a wig on top, you would probably start thinking of people you've seen with pointed chins and broad foreheads and soft jawlines and stuff. But then they both started angrily insisting that they have no idea what "high cheekbones" are and it was like, yes you fucking do. That's like the #1 most desirable facial feature in at-least the west. Every single fashion model has them. Almost every single person you see on TV has them except for like comic relief characters who don't have to be attractive. The description itself identifies the geometry and even the length of the face perfectly well, there's no metaphor in place like a "heart" or whatever. You fucking know what high cheekbones are, you're just doing that thing where you've tricked yourself into bragging about ignorance (a very American thing I must say) and you're coming dangerously close to the territory of classic lies like "I'm so straight I have no idea what an attractive man even LOOKS like!" Don't fucking say you don't know what high cheekbones are. Actually both of you have them and you're probably pleased with them, so STOP LYING.

Next time on "I can't handle when people don't know things": My friend (b. 1981) who is obsessed with 80s hip hop especially novelty songs claims that he has never heard or heard OF "Just a Friend" by Biz Markie; my pop culture nostalgia nerd friend (b. 1983) who I've seen in like Count Chocula tee shirts claims he doesn't know what a Crunchberry is; and finally, my old coworker (b. 1990 or smth idk) who insisted that he had never heard of a valentine and doesn't know what one is even though someone else in the room confirmed that he went to a primary school where they were all forced to exchange them in class. All you guys STOP FUCKING LYING!!!

[reesiereads]

James and the Dupes (Goosebumps 2023 Analysis 3/5)

If you haven’t read the previous two parts of this analysis I highly recommend you do, however the jist is that I am attempting to show how each Biddle item is purposely symbolic of the kid it’s tied to.

I’ve already discussed Isaiah and Isabella so let’s talk about James.

(Spoilers below the cut, I seriously recommend watching the show first before reading, it’s definitely worth it)

James is the point of view for Goosebumps’ third episode The Cuckoo Clock of Doom, however James’ object is not the clock for which the episode is named. When listing the objects in Go Eat Worms Margot specifically says James’ object is the “dupes” aka the duplications of James that the clock created. I’ll be discussing the significance of this in a moment but keep this in mind.

The Cuckoo Clock of Doom starts once again the night of the Halloween party at the Biddle house and with James hitting his head for the first time on the cuckoo clock. James is disoriented and it’s implied he hit his head fairly hard but he decides to go through with the party anyway and it’s through his actions at the party this first go around that we see the most vital aspects of James’ character.

James goes throughout the party talking to just about everybody. He knows all their names, he’s personable and friendly, he’s a complete social butterfly. It’s very obvious though that he isn’t actually saying anything of substance; it’s all small talk. He knows everybody and everybody knows him but none of them are his actual friends. James’ demeanor through this scene is also very (for a lack of a better word) safe, it’s the sort of polite but casual tone you take when trying to make friendly small talk and it’s the sort of tone that while very forced very few people could take issue with.

When James stops to talk to Isaiah this very palatable tone fades but not completely, there’s still a very obvious amount of effort and energy being pushed into what James is saying. His words are casual but his body language and tone are practiced.

Essentially, James is a performer. His given description prior to the shows release labeled him as a “class clown” and this trope is a perfect encompassment of everything James embodies. He’s funny, he’s charming, just about everyone likes him but nobody actually knows him. He’s got a sort of casual confidence about him that is a complete act, but he’s so at arms-length with everyone around him that most don’t recognize his facade.

There are two relationships that perfectly show James’s true character: Sam and Isaiah.

Sam is the boy James likes but we aren’t given much of an indication why James like him other then that Sam is hot: this is deliberate.

See, Sam is the perfect vehicle to showing how James conducts most of his relationships. He approaches a person, he makes some small talk, he finds a topic the person likes and (whether he has any knowledge or interest in the subject) tries make himself palatable by discussing it. As a people-pleaser myself I can say with full confidence that this behavior is done with two goals in mind: to make the other person like him and to keep the conversation on the other person so he doesn’t have to talk about himself. This is the main reason Isaiah tells him he needs to stop trying so hard to be liked, because this people-pleasing behavior hinders James’ ability to form actual deep connections.

The reason James doesn’t take this advice is because that’s exactly what he wants. What the time loops reveal is that even when given the opportunity James will not be himself. He’s presented with the perfectly opportunity to try and be himself with Sam, being completely able to just reset the night once again if it goes wrong, and instead James abuses the time loop so that his lie about sharing interests with Sam will be more convincing.

This is further emphasized by the clones words to Sam. While yes, the clones are being purposely cruel to try and ruin James’ life, a majority of their words are rooted in some kind of truth. They are James and they are using the exact information and feelings James has to manipulate the people around them. When ruining James’ relationship with Sam the clone specifically states that Sam is “too clingy” and I believe this is the exact reason James was interested in Sam in the first place.

James went after Sam, a person he seemingly shared no interests with and only found attractive, because James assumed he could have a very (for a lack of a better word) shallow relationship with him. James was never looking for anything serious and his comment about “I don’t know anything about soccer but I don’t care because Sam is hot” emphasizes that. Why would James want a deep emotional connection with someone when he doesn’t even have a relationship like that with his best friend?

Isaiah is James’ best friend however his actual relationship with Isaiah seems to go roughly the same as his relationship with just about everyone else. Sure, they hang out a lot but most of their interactions seem to be James hearing Isaiah out about his issues and them talking about their crushes. Isaiah does question about James about how he’s doing but James either deflects or avoids the seriousness of the situation.

In The Cuckoo Clock of Doom Isaiah and James have a discussion after James’ botched attempt at talking with Sam. In this discussion Isaiah immediately knows James was not being himself when talking to Sam and encourages him just be himself rather then trying so hard to be liked. This, on it’s own, seems like reasonable advice however what’s interesting is James’ response: “that’s easy for you to say.”

Isaiah questions what he means by this and James, clearly uncomfortable, says nevermind and essentially forces the conversation to be dropped. Despite Isaiah being his best friend it’s very clear James is not comfortable being honest about his emotions with him.

The questions comes up again once James is found however and this time James is upset enough by the discovery that Isaiah, his best friend, doesn’t know him well enough to know if he’s a clone or not, that he elaborates. He states: “It is really hard to be 1 of 6 gay people in a town.”

The crux of James’ behavior, the reason he people-pleases and dances around serious topics is because he feels othered. He feels different from the people around him and he’s scared of the judgement that could come from that. A lot of his behavior reads as a sort of compensation, as if he’s trying to be as palatable as possible so people will like him despite the fact that he’s queer.

I imagine James also feels isolated the same way Isabella does, at least in an emotional sense. He keeps everyone at school at an arms-length and his relationship with his Mother is implied to be rather distant. She treats him more like a best friend then anything and paired with her alcoholism there is a very clear emotional wall between the two of them. There is no one James feels safe to confide in and I imagine it’s only worsened his feelings of otherness.

Now, finally, let’s discuss the Dupes:

The Biddle Clock and Dupes (roughly) work like this: When making contact with the clock a person is trapped into a time loop from the time of hitting the clock. The loop is restarted if the person attempts to leave the Biddle property. Every loop creates a duplicate of the person from an alternate timeline which Biddle is able to communicate with and who act as Biddle’s minions. The duplicates have all the information the original person had during the loop and, as their forms are goo of some kind, can likely change their appearance at will.

The duplicates take James’ place for roughly a week and during this time they set out to ruin James’ life as throughly as possible by destroying all his relationships. Sam is broken up with on ground of being “too clingy,” Isaiah’s relationship with Allison is worsened and his feelings for Margot are revealed which are things James likely knew a lot about as Isaiah’s friend not to mention the clone picking on Isaiah’s insecurities, and based on the comments about James’ mother James feels some resentment for his Mom’s behavior which the clone is more open about then James would be.

No one recognizes that the clones have taken James’ place despite them not acting very in-character. The people the clones strive to ruin James’ relationships with also all react very volatile to the clones’ behavior, showing how despite James’ efforts to be very likable his efforts haven’t fostered very strong relationships.

The message of the episode is fairly clear: If you keep everyone around you at arms-length and try too hard to be likable then you are inevitably going to be isolated as none of your relationships will have any kind of stable foundation.

[drafthorsemath]

Antidote (TBB Tech x afab Reader)

Tech x AFAB Reader (use of she/her pronouns), but all of the Batch included

Word Count: Five words over 3.3k

Warnings: Sex pollen but not the usual trope (no sex and an alternative is found), suggestive sexual language and situations but nothing acted upon, restraining for safety, some strong language, frank description of biological processes, creative use of a tampon, some feelings of shame but they are addressed, NSFW, younglings begone

A/N: I can’t read sex pollen fics. I tried. It wasn’t my thing, but then I got an idea and @staycalmandhugaclone encouraged me so here we are. This is not a call out or meant to be negative toward any sex pollen fics. This is just a different take.

Also on AO3.

You met the Batch on Pabu and in the months since, found yourself spending more and more time with them. This was especially true of Tech. You found his thirst for knowledge and direct nature easy to understand and get along with. Though, you were doing more than getting along. You weren’t sure how to tell him, but you had fallen for him.  His brothers all noticed, but he seemed not to. What you didn’t know was that he simply didn’t know how to bring up his feelings just yet.

The boys had decided to visit a nearby planet and since there didn’t seem to be any danger, no one had any objections to you coming along.  You hadn’t been on a ship since you first traveled to Pabu and you loved watching as you flew through hyperspace. Tech landed just outside of a city and you all headed toward the market. Hunter and Echo went in search of supplies while Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair all helped buy food to bring back to Pabu. You were particularly interested in the local fruits and vegetables that didn’t grow on the island you called home.

“I think this is enough,” you said, putting down the last crate next to the pile.

“Is it,” Wrecker asked. “I could eat all this in a couple days.”

“Yes, but we’re just getting what we can,” Crosshair responded. He didn’t want to make more than one trip back to the ship.

“Well, we can carry more,” Wrecker retorted. “At least I can.”

Crosshair gave him a half-hearted glare but helped purchase a few more crates.  Wrecker easily carried most of the load.

You turned around to look for Tech.  He was busy scanning some kind of contraption that caught his eye one booth over.

“Ready to go, Tech?”

“In just a moment,” he replied.

Wrecker and Crosshair walked ahead, catching up with Hunter and Echo who were waiting near the edge of town with some ship parts.  You knew a moment for Tech could mean anything from a few seconds to much longer than that but wanted to stay with him.

He put the item down and walked with you. “The wiring on this new style datapad results in faster computations. I want to see if I can rewire my own and achieve similar results.”

“That didn’t look like any datapad I’ve ever seen,” you replied.

“Ah, the outside is only meant to grab your attention. It is a new model. The inside is what interests me.”

You smiled at that.  Tech offered to carry the crate you still had, and you kindly accepted.

Once back at the ship, Wrecker took the crate from Tech. It was decided you all would spend the night on the ship and head back the next day.  Tech cleared his bunk so you would have a place to sleep, insisting he could sleep in a chair.  While you felt it was incredibly nice of him, you also couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to share a bunk with him.  The thought left your mind as he asked if you wanted to come with him to document some of the local flora.  After dinner, the others stayed around the campfire while you and Tech walked over a few hills and to the edge of a forest.  He excitedly took pictures and samples, telling you about each plant and its properties.

“This one has several medicinal uses,” he said, handing you a pink flower. You smiled at it and then back at Tech.  You gathered several and put them in their own storage bag for transport.  Multiple species of flowers were packed before you looked a little further into the woods.

“Tech! Come see!”

He walked over and immediately noticed the large teal blooms that opened as you walked by.

“Fascinating,” he said. He took a picture and noticed that as he got closer to you, the flowers seemed to open even further. He scanned them, looking for any known properties. His face dropped as soon as the results showed up.

“We need to go, mesh’la!”

“What? Why?” You sneezed.

“It may be too late.” He took your hand and briskly walked you out of the woods. Your face suddenly felt hot and your throat burned.

“Tech, I don’t feel well.”

“We must get back to the ship,” he said nearly panicking. “I believe those flowers create an aphrodisiac that specifically affects females of several species.”

No sooner had he said that, and your limbs felt like jelly and you fell against him.  Something wasn’t right. You could swear you felt all your blood rushing to your groin and let out a moan. You tried to run, but felt a great weight on your ankles. Tech lifted you like you weighed nothing and ran toward the Marauder. Hunter stood as he saw his brother carrying your body. Preparing for the worst, the boys all stood up asking what was wrong and following Tech on to the ship.

“A large flower opened, spreading pollen,” Tech stated. “I believe it is an aphrodisiac and it has already started to work.”

He sat you down, scanned you, and confirmed your symptoms. The others stood behind him, looking rather helpless. He sighed and gave you a rundown of what to expect. Very brief fever followed by extremely high libido and high energy until satisfied.

Crosshair looked from you to Tech and asked, “Isn’t there a way she can take care of this on her own? You know? Manually?”

“Negative,” replied Tech. “Based on the information available, orgasm does not help in mitigating the symptoms. It appears this particular pollen only effects females and it does not wear off until either sexual intercourse with a male is completed or her hormones shift with her next menstrual cycle.”

“Next period?!” You really started panicking. “I can’t feel that way for that long!” You wanted to cry and yet you could feel that you had to fight to remain yourself even now. You knew it would only get worse. “Look I… Tech I…” You searched for words, feeling overwhelmed. This was not how you wanted to have this conversation, but it seemed like you had better get it over with. “Tech, I have feelings for you. I really like you, but I don’t want to have sex with you or anyone right now, for that matter and I’m afraid of what I might say or do in the next however long.”

Tech quickly processed the information and couldn’t help but smile. “I believe the feeling is mutual,” he said, still kneeling in front of you. “I promise no one will do anything you would not want done in your healthy state of mind. You have my word.”

“That’s great,” chimed Echo, “And I’m really glad for you two, but how are we going to fix this without waiting?”

“I have an idea,” Tech replied.

No sooner had he said that and the fever hit. You felt like you were on fire and cold as ice at the same time. Wrecker stepped toward you to hold your hand. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “If anyone can solve this, it’s Tech.”

You tried to nod. Your whole body shook with fever, but within a few minutes the fever was gone. You knew that you weren’t yourself, but there was no way to stop it. You looked at all five men greedily and started to take your shirt off.

“I want Tech first,” you said with a smirk.

“Now now,” Wrecker said, still next to you and taking your hand away from your shirt. “None of that.”

You tried to stand up and looked at each member of the squad. You giggled to yourself that you just thought about the word “member.” They would do nicely, but you would give anything for Tech to throw you onto his bunk and fuck you through the bottom of the ship. You walked closer to him and he adjusted his googles.

“I know this is not you,” he said.

It quickly became clear that you were going to be quite a handful.  Tech did research as fast as possible, finding flowers that reacted similarly.  Wrecker held you in his lap with his arms wrapped around you after you tried to jump on Hunter as he walked past to assist Tech. He was also trying to keep you from acting out your latest threat of walking up to Tech and sitting in his lap naked. You made several comments about each of the men, but would not stop talking about how much you wanted Tech.

“We know,” Crosshair said, sitting next to Wrecker.

You turned your head toward Crosshair and smiled like an idiot. “Jealous,” you asked him.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied in annoyance.

“It’s okay if you are,” you countered in a sing-song voice.

Your body then decided that since you were sitting on a man’s lap, you might as well start thrusting your hips.

“Nope,” Wrecker said, lifting you off his lap. He was strong, but you were giving him a run for his money with how much you were squirming.

“We’ll sit with her awhile,” Hunter offered, dragging Echo with him. “Crosshair too.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you’ve only sat next to Wrecker. I think we’ll all have to take some limbs or something.” Wrecker sat you down on the bunk and Hunter held you back before you could lunge at Tech. You nearly yoinked him halfway across the Marauder. Hunter managed to sit you back down with Echo holding one arm, Hunter the other, and Crosshair sitting on the floor hugging your legs.

“This is ridiculous,” you giggled. “Just let me fuck your brother. Just once.”

Hunter sighed. He knew you were going to be upset later. Tech had already discovered that there is no lapse in memory for this particular drug, so you would remember every moment of this.  He hoped you would find solace in the fact that they all knew this wasn’t really you. 

They were all getting tired and while Wrecker wanted to help Tech, he knew there was little he could do, so he tried sleeping until it was his turn to hold you again. Tech worked furiously through the night. He grimaced when you hit the next stage and complained you felt throbbing.  You had gone from flirty to begging for someone to put your out of your misery “with as much cock as possible.” When that didn’t work you cried. He knew it must be painful by this point. He couldn’t stand to hear you cry.  Your body was simply reacting to a drug. He felt guilty for not knowing this plant was in the vicinity, but it had never been documented on this side of the planet before. How could he have known?

In the middle of the night, Wrecker woke to stay with you while Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair tried to get some sleep. You made a lot of noise, but they tried. Wrecker had to admit that he didn’t do any more than doze. They were all worried for you, but being in war and under stress, they had learned to sleep when they can and then get up and do their part when it was time. They got what sleep they could.

You wailed when Wrecker held you, trying to scramble away to get to one of the men. He just kept apologizing and telling you he was keeping you safe. You managed to turn in his lap and wrap your legs around his waist.

He sighed. “I know you don’t want that. Not really.” You started crying again and all you could seem to feel was your pulse between your legs and a chemical drive that would not go away.

At the front of the ship, Tech started to make some progress.  He smiled to himself when he found a research article on this species of plant. He needed one of the pink flowers you’d collected earlier along with two drugs from the med kit.

Hunter hadn’t done much more than close his eyes, but he sensed the med kit being opened and went to try to help his brother.

“Will you restart the campfire,” Tech asked.

“Sure. What progress have you made?”

“We are not able to create or obtain the hormones needed to trigger her menstrual cycle and end this using that method. However, it is theorized that the reason sexual intercourse causes the pollen to cease its effect is because of the presence of semen in the vagina. Specifically, one protein found in seminal fluid. Now, obviously that is not an option for us, but it appears a similar form of this protein can be synthesized using the pollen of some flowers we collected. While not ideal, there are some items in the med kit that can help this chemical process.”

“Great, but how do we get it in her,” Hunter asked.

“We don’t,” answered Crosshair, now standing behind them. “Put whatever you make on a tampon and ask her to do it herself.”

“Would that work,” Echo asked, joining them.

“I believe it is the least invasive option,” Tech replied.

They all nodded. Hunter went outside to start the campfire.  Tech sterilized some equipment and joined him.  It seemed simple enough. He only needed part of the flower and then the heated wound disinfectant along with bacta gel would cause the protein to be isolated. Hunter dug a tampon out of the emergency supplies.

Echo and Crosshair helped Wrecker who held your legs, while the other two sat on either side of you. You were tired, but still acting ravenous. Your method had gone even further in the direction of complaining about how you were hurting, and you just wanted all this to be over. 

“It doesn’t have to be Tech,” you declared. “I’ll take any of you. Please!”  You then melted in Echo’s arm and looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Changed your mind yet? Any of you?”

He simply shook his head, trying to show he cared, and held on so you couldn’t pounce on anyone.  You turned to Crosshair on your other side. He held your arm and tried to help keep you still as best he could. You quickly moved to try to bite his neck and he pulled away. “No thank you,” he said. “I’m saving that for someone special.”

You were trying so hard to fight the drug coursing through your system, but it was a losing battle. After what felt like ages, Tech seemed satisfied with the concoction. There wasn’t much of it, but once it was cool enough he dipped the end of the tampon in the gel and walked back onto the ship. The boys let go enough for you to walk toward him. Your flirty symptoms appeared again, and you wanted Tech so badly. You looked up and down his body with no shame. He really took your breath away.

Tech found your glances made him nervous, but simply cleared his throat.  Just as he was about to explain why he was holding a tampon, you started sniffing the air.

“That smell,” you said.

The men all looked at each other. “Can you smell it,” Hunter asked. “The protein?”

“Whatever it is, I want to sit on it,” you replied with a grin. You homed in on the tampon.

Tech cleared his throat again and explained, “I have created what we hope will reverse the effect of the drug, but you need to insert this yourself.”

Crosshair and Echo were still each holding your arms, but not too tightly. You seemed to calm and they let go. You took the tampon and went to take your pants off, but everyone stopped you. Tech opened the refresher door and you walked in. He closed it and everyone sighed.

“I hope this works,” said Echo. “All I smell is floral bacta gel.”

In the ‘fresher you regarded the tampon with a little suspicion, but your body seemed to be on autopilot. You placed the tampon and immediately the ache started going away. You took slower breaths. You washed your hands and realized your nerves had been on fire for hours.  You looked at yourself in the mirror and felt the heat in your face start to drain. Instead, you realized all that you had said and done, or tried to do. All kinds of emotions flooded your system. You were sure that Hunter could sense the change in you from the other side of the door, so you made no effort to report what was going on. You weren’t sure you wanted to see or talk to any of them yet. You were covered in sweat from all your activity and wanted a shower.  You stripped off your clothes and briefly stood under the water. Just enough to clear away the feeling on your skin.  When you got out, you noticed someone had left you the spare clothes you’d brought, and you slowly put them on. After a few more minutes of staring blankly into the mirror and letting the antidote work, you finally reappeared.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean all that.”

“We know,” Wrecker said, pulling you into a hug.

“Glad you feel better,” Hunter said.

“Been thinking we might all get some shut eye before we leave,” Echo suggested.  Crosshair nodded with a little smile on his face. For the first time all night, he popped a toothpick in his mouth.

You nodded, thanking them for helping you.

“Especially you, Tech.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he hug you? Hold you? Keep his distance?

“Here,” he said. “If you find you need more to counter the drug, I will put this in a safe place.” He showed you a container with the small puddle of gel he had made using the flowers. You smiled at him.

“How did you figure it out?”

He walked you to the cockpit after closing up the ship as the sun rose. He sat you down, noticing how physically weak you looked. Sitting across from you, he told you about his research and how he found a way to mimic the protein structure that seemed to shut down the drug.  You smiled. Of course Tech would figure it out.

“I’m sorry again,” you said.

“Cyar’ika, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, reaching for your hand. He gave it a soft squeeze and smiled at you. “None of this was your fault.”

You returned the smile and sat back, looking like you might fall asleep.

“Let me help you to bed,” he offered. You took his arm, needing it to steady yourself. Your legs felt like jelly for a whole different reason this time.

You got into bed. In his bunk. The others were already sleeping. Tech sat on the end of the bed, but looked conflicted. When he originally offered to sleep in the pilot’s seat, he didn’t know all of this would happen.

“Tech? Can you stay? Is that okay?”

He nodded, but suddenly seemed a bit nervous. He had never shared a bed with anyone like this. What he said earlier was true. He had feelings for you and knew you had feelings for him. He wanted you to feel safe, so if you wanted him close, he felt it would be alright now, although he wasn’t sure what he was doing as he laid down.

“How would you like me to, uh…”

“Like this,” you replied, taking his hand and laying it across your middle. Not too close or tight, but just there. “But however feels right. I trust you.”

He softly smiled and relaxed. “Goodnight mesh’la.”

[epitomereally]

Renegade Winter Exchange 2022, part 2/2: You Open Always (Petal by Petal) by birdsofshore

Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is.

Thoughts, details, and description behind the cut. The other book I bound for the exchange is here.

For the first book I bound @queercore-curriculum, I wanted to make a book that fit well on their shelf. For this one, I instead went full maximalism & made something totally different than what they make themselves—that’s part of the thrill of an exchange, I think (though it was a risk & I hope you like it!!!)

You Open Always (Petal by Petal) features an extremely hot sex worker Draco, an extremely thirsty Harry, the hottest sex you’ll ever read probably, one of my favorite depictions of a sly Kreacher, and a Grimmauld Place that really, really wants Harry and Draco to get together. It’s one of my favorite fics of all time & I’m so happy to have a copy on my bookshelf too now. In the design, I wanted to mimic Grimmauld Place throwing courting & marriage, etc items at Harry & Draco, so every chapter header has a different illustration of something I could imagine Grimmauld giving them: two birds, figs, strawberries, grapes, etc & led to me asking my partner things like: do you think of pomegranates as a sexual fruit? (The answer is yes). 

For the bind, I made a flat-back oxford hollow. Also inspired by @queercore-curriculum I hand-dyed linen & painted a pair of thrushes on the front and back cover, as well as painting the title on the spine (note: this is the single thing I am most proud of for this bind—I was so nervous the entire time painting). The headband is a front-bead double-color headband with peach and chartreuse. Hope you like both binds, @queercore-curriculum; it was so fun making them for you! Birds, if you’d ever like an author copy of this bind, let me know & I am happy to make and send one to you :) thank you for sharing this lovely fic with our fandom!

Title font: Sabbath Black

Body text: Monarcha

Ornaments: Penmanship Birds

Half-title & chapter numbers: Foglihten

Interior illustration: Heritage Type Co free illustrations

Some notes on process: I always make a ‘test book’ that I keep before sending out a copy to someone else—this is to make sure everything works well & looks good together (which you can see in the photos). The original dye of the linen for the bookcloth turned out a much hotter pink than I intended, so the copy I sent went back in the dying bucket for a more raspberry finish. I also changed endpapers between the test copy & the sent copy. I originally wanted a solid color endpaper because the rest of the book was so maximalist, but didn’t love any of the colors at my local paper store. I do really like the marbled endpaper I chose instead, but it was too thin for a good endpaper & I didn’t want to faff about with creating made endpapers, so I found a solid color I liked at a different art store :)

[writing-havoc]

Hat

♡ Summary: Kaz finds out why you've been acting strange for the last year. He takes cares of it.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warnings: Talk about r@pe in a past tense, but still describes it a bit, blood, torture

♡ WC: 4.6k

As mentioned, this fic contains mentions and a small description of r*pe. Nothing too severe, but still potentially triggering. If that sort of thing could be triggering, then I suggested against reading this fic. Taking care of yourself is the number one priority <3

To the anon who requested this, I hope it's to your liking!

Please excuse any spelling and grammar mistakes. Hopes you enjoy <3

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

"Please, Kaz?"

"No."

"You're lame."

Enjoying a quiet afternoon seemed to be an impossible task.

For once there were no jobs to be done, ledgers to be looked through, blueprints to sort, or staff to cover.

So of course you had to come up and demand a trip to a street market.

"And you're annoying." Lie. "Not much either of us can do about these problems."

You gaffawed. "I am not annoying. And there's actually quite a few things we can do about that. Like going to the market and looking around. I've got things to buy and maybe you could find something you like, too." He could feel you wiggling your eyebrows at him.

"Have Jesper tag along with you."

"He's fucking Wylan, I can't go with them."

He chuckled internally. "Take Nina."

"I can't. She's sleeping and Matthias is refusing to leave her side while she does so."

"Take Inej."

"Can't find her."

"Take Pim."

"Working."

He took a deep breath through his nose, seizing the movement of the tip of his feather pen on the paper in front of him. It wasn't even important, just a mess of scribbles.

"Why not go alone?"

You took a moment at that, body stuttering in its swaying motion. He looked up at your face.

"Because going alone is boring."

A lie accentuated by your middle finger lightly picking at the skin around your nails.

"The real reason?"

"That is the real reason!" You got down on your knees, crossing your arms on the surface of his desk and resting your chin there. "I like having people to talk to and get opinions off of before I buy something."

He quirked a brow. A question being asked without the use of words.

You groaned, hitting your forehead on your arms. "Okay, you don't have to give an opinion on anything, but I would at least appreciate your company. Plus!" Your head and a hand shot up, finger pointing right at him. "There's not a lot of people out around this time. At least not as much as there usually is."

Your consideration was flattering.

He funneled his attention back to the piece of paper. He can't read a single thing he just wrote, and he's not even sure what he was attempting to write in the first place.

He sighed. "I need a new hat."

Immediately you hopped up, excitement and strangely, relief overtook your features. Shopping alone cannot be that lonely. "There's definitely a booth or two that would be selling hats." You retrieved his coat and hat from the rack.

Both were in perfect working order.

"I am getting a hat, and then leaving." He stood up and slid the coat on, making sure to not spill anything on his desk. "If you don't get your items before that, then you either brave it alone or walk back empty handed."

You clicked your heels together and saluted him. "Yes, sir."

He shook his head, then grabbed his cane.

As much as he wanted to ignore it, there's no way he could. You were odd, and have been odd for nearly a year. There was a time when you first started being odd that any sort of touching from anyone set you off.

He had you followed for almost three months after the first scare and nothing came of it. So whatever happened was either done and over with or they were extremely careful.

Over time it got better, so he called Inej off and let it rest, assuming you would talk to her or Nina, or Jesper and himself if you needed to. It doesn't seem like you did, but there's not much he can do other watch and wait.

He gave you his hat, putting it on your head.

"It would look odd if I went perusing for hats whilst wearing one."

You followed him out the door, adjusting the hat on your head. It didn't go with your wardrobe at all, yet it still flattered you. "Since when did you care about what others think?"

He scoffed. "I don't. But you do."

"It's an innate human thing."

"It's a learned trait."

The humidity knocked any response out of you once the door to the Slat opened. It was a bit worse than usual, so anyone other than locals would be staying inside hotels and clubs.

It'll be a good day for business.

The rest of the walk to the street you had in mind consisted of you toying with his hat, putting on in all sorts of ways that truly made you look stupid. Once, you even put it on upside down, the hat staying on for almost five minutes before a gust of wind tipped it forward. He nearly smiled.

The moment you saw the line of shops, your smile turned so wide he worried your cheeks might hurt.

"Okay okay. I know you said you would immediately be looking for a hat, but stay with me here." You were walking sideways, keeping up with his brisk pace. "There's these boot chains and thigh straps I really want your opinion on."

His eyes squinted slightly in confusion. "What would the boot chains be for?"

"Decoration of course." You stooped at the first stall. It various glassware trinkets. A paper tag was attached to all of them with a price displayed in ink. In them he could see a name, which matched the tag worn by the woman attending the stand. "They don't serve much purpose, but I figured I could give them purpose by using them to work on my foot work. Keep the noise as low as possible, y'know."

He nodded, moving along, forcing you to follow. "Inej could always help you with that."

You sighed. "Yeah, but I don't want to feel like a burden. Plus, I feel like it'd make a cool surprise. Impress her with my stealth." You pranced up to a stall a few lots down, the glinting of the chains catching your eye. "She's not the only one that can be sneaky."

"Inej is stealthy because she needs to be. You, on the other, have no reason to be stealthy."

Some of the chains had little trinkets dangling off the individual rings. One had tear drops, another had what looked to be very poorly shaped skulls. The size was definitely the problem, much too small for unskilled hands. Another, which you took interest in, had teeny knives. They surely would make a lot of noise.

Yet, you passed them up, continuing along. "Just because I don't have a reason to be stealthy doesn't mean I can't be." A slight hint of disappointment creeped into your tone. "It just does good to be able to get around without being heard. At least to the untrained ear."

You had him there.

He looked down the street. You were right, not very many people were walking up and down here, but there was definitely enough that he had to be very body conscious. It seemed to continue on for a few meters. Even connected roads had a shop of two.

You stopped once more, at a little stand with leather accessories. He continues on, slightly confused at the way you hurriedly abandon your window shopping to catch up.

That is, until Kaz felt you disappear from his side, getting lost in the trickling stream of bodies that were moving against the general current.

When he turned to look at you, you were hiding. Or at least trying to discreetly hide the fact that you're hiding.

He fully readys himself. Shoulders squaring and eyes scanning his surroundings, hands gripping his cane as he walks in front of a booth and looks around.

There's a moment where your eyes flicker a few booths away and then readjust back in front of you. It isn't much to go on, but he directs his attention that way.

A woman and a child are looking at patterned shawls and wraps, a much older woman attending the stand. Behind her is a man, looking fondly at the both of them, a word or two exiting his lips when the woman turns to ask a question. Standing off towards the corner where necklaces and pendants are pinned to a board is another man, who asks the old woman a question before excitedly handing over a few kruge and leaving with a skip in his step.

This reveals a man on the other side of the booth, staring completely and wholly in his direction.

You seem to notice that Kaz is looking at him, and try to get his attention.

"We really need to get back to the Slat, Kaz."

But it's too late. He's already memorized his face. His eye shape. The mole over his left brow. His complexion. The lack of a left canine as he smirks, eyes narrowing right at you.

The hair on the back of Kaz's neck stands on end.

"Kaz. We need to leave." You move in front of him. His eyes don't hesitate to focus on you, his focus narrowing when you utter a pleading "please" under your breath.

His eyes flicker to the man staring you down, getting one more look, before turning around and heading back in the direction you came.

You never bought anything, he realized, and that's what aggravated him more. If the situation was as he was understanding, you may have been looking forward to going for days, weeks, and didn't because of him.

The walk back was eerily silent, Kaz seething the whole way and trying to keep you within eyesight yet not on your heels. It wasn't until you walked in the doors of the Slat that he spoke to you again.

"Y/n. My office." He told you quietly just before you began to leave to your room. You stopped, your hands balling your pants. He waited a moment for you to think, and then followed you as you turned towards the stairs.

He keeps ample distance between yourself and him, letting you get up a flight of stairs before he starts. You're in his office with his hat in your hands, fingers rubbing the brim for nearly an entire minute before he walks in, letting your thoughts align.

He takes this slow, shutting the door and putting his coat where it's supposed to. He stares at the fabric for a minute, letting his boiling blood cool before he asks the questions he wants the answers to.

"Who was that?"

You let out a shakey breath, gripping the hat so hard he can see it bend and your knuckles turn white.

"Kaz, please. Not now."

"Then when?" He asks, a sharp edge to his voice, completely forgetting about taking this slow. "Is he the reason you've been like this?" He already knows the answer, but he needs the confirmation. He needs it before he does anything.

You look at him, angry tears welling up in your eyes. "Been like what?" You spit the words out, body staying put together and defensive.

"You've been inable to be alone for nearly a year when you go towards the Lid or anywhere in the Barrel, yet for nearly three months you werent able to have anyone touch you or go near you. Everytime you left here alone you were angry and frustrated." He sped towards his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a candle. He watched as you go on the defensive, taking a step away from the desk. "You couldn't smell this particular scent without immediately shutting down and turning tail to the furthest corner of the building. Do not act and pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about."

Tears spilled down your cheeks. "I hate you." You muttered. "I hate you and how- how observant you are. You do not get to make me feel like shit for keeping this to myself."

"That is not my intention and you know it."

"Well you're sure not doing a good job at expressing that." You put your face into the crown of the hat, hands shaking.

He stood there in silence. Watching you slowly break in front of him and try to keep yourself up. He knows he didn't go about this the right way, and internally scolded himself for being such a teenager.

Being as gentle as possible, he grabbed a chair from one side of the room and put it behind you, pushing on the hat to coax you downwards. You sat in the chair, an ugly sob escaping you.

He grabbed a rag in the bathroom, gently dropping it into your lap. It took you a moment to pull the hat away from your face, tears caking your cheeks and snot just barely escaping your nose quickly being covered again and wiped away.

It had to be him, but he needed to be sure. He needed to know who he was, who he loved, where he lives, how he evaded Inej, what his schedule was, even the names of his fucking dogs if he had any. He needs to know what he did to you, and what he has to do to replicate that pain ten, twenty, thirty times over.

Eventually, you stopped crying, the rag having been folded over and over again to find a dry surface was now soaked in tears and snot. You threw it to the side, towards the bathroom, continuing your hold on his hat like it was your lifeline.

"He..." Your voice was harsh and crackley. "He was a friend of mine. From my childhood. I lost contact with him maybe, seven years ago? He saw me last year and wanted to meet up and like the idiot I am, I said yes, without telling anyone where I was going."

The skin beneath your nose was rubbed raw. "He..." You squeezed your eyes shut, bottom lip quivering. "He raped me Kaz. I don't know for how long. All I know is when I met up with him it was light out and when I escaped it was pitch black. He said all kinds of shit like how he's wanted to do it since we were young and he's been dreaming about this for forever and I just, felt so disgusted I didn't want to talk about it. Not to Nina not to Inej... not to you."

The task of keeping himself level headed enough to finish this conversation with you was all consuming. But he managed to clear his head enough to respond. "Thank you for telling me."

"Well, it's not like you really gave me much of a choice."

He winced. "I didnt-"

"I know, you meant well, but still." Your eyes were tired, exhausted, shoulders dropped. "I just... need some time to recuperate. That's all." With a blank expression, you let your hands rest, fingertips grazing over the hat gently before standing.

You handed it back to him. He took it, staring at the accessory as he listened to you begin to leave. Before you closed the door, he called out, "What's his name?"

The door paused, your footsteps haulting. You popped your head back in, eyes facing anywhere except him, and said "Colin. Colin Norling." You wasted not another moment before closing the door and walking away.

He needed to find Inej.

------

The water from the canals sloshed as people passed by, paddles making waves in the water as boats cut through like a knife. All passerbys kept to themselves, feeling the mood of the black dressed boy walking along the edge, some even knowing who he was moved their paddles faster.

Walking to his destination wasn't hard. Not in the slightest. He memorized the path, scaring it into his mind and scratching it into a map on his desk.

He stopped in an alley, a clear shot of the house in question from around the corner. Lights were on inside, but according to Inej he had a habit of doing that every time he left the house. He wishes his house would burn down.

"Is he home?" He asked.

"Almost." Inej replied, appearing at his side. "Coming up along the road now." She nodded to the left, up the road.

He peeked around the edge, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

Not anxiety, no. His mind was clear, feet planted firmly on the ground, watching with set eyes as Colin Norling walked- no, strut down the cobblestone, a smile on his face. It showed off the missing tooth, the mole above his eye lifting as his face muscles shifted.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No." He damn near growled, voice low. He could feel his throat and chest nearly begin rumbling as his jaw clenched. "You go back and keep an eye on Y/n. They're in a foul mood."

He feels Inej inch away, and then disappear without a word.

Colin opened his door, disappearing inside. Kaz waited for another moment, watching as the house brighter twice, before he walked out from the alley.

He strode over as casually as possible, even smiling at a woman who waved to him before she disappeared inside her own home.

Jesper would be waiting around back with a boat in another canal just behind the row of houses. This needed to be as simple as possible, as quiet as possible, until they got to their designated area.

The moment he stepped into the house, closing the door behind him, he became Dirtyhands.

"Oi, what're you doin' in my house?" The man nearly shouted, shoulders squared and fists curled. He was muscular, but not overwhelmingly so. It was a workers body, made for endurance rather than big shows of strength.

"I'll give you three guesses." He drew the curtains shut, keeping an eye on the bristling man.

"Three guesses? Wha' kinda game are you playin' here mate? Get out my fuckin' house!" He made a move on Kaz, a grab for the shoulder, but didn't make it far before the beak of a cane came in contact with his knee.

It wasnt enough to break it, but definitely enough to hurt later.

Colin cried out in pain, holding his knee.

"For that, you've only got two left."

He snapped his head back up to Kaz, anger in eyes. He couldn't wait to make them bloody.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I'm not gonna tell you again you fuckin' loony, get out my house!" He was much quicker than last time, but Kaz was expecting it.

He side stepped, then moved backwards as Colin continued to try and grab at him. He enjoyed every moment that he limped and stubbed a toe, each little injury fueling the fire in him and making him clumsier and clumsier.

"Really not gonna guess, Colin?" He asked, placing them back in the exact same position as when they started this merry go round.

He became a little nervous. "How'd you know my name?"

"Lucky guess." He smiled, then brought his cane up and cracked him against the jaw, beak nearly piercing into the meat of his cheek.

Jesper appeared from the back entrance, rushing to catch him before he fell.

"Bloody hell." Jesper wheezed out. "Man could lay off an extra meal every once in a while, saints." He gripped him about the chest, hands threading under his arms and linking his fingers.

"He won't be worrying about meals anytime soon." He walked past Jesper and to the boat, making sure the planking was secure. The surrounding windows were all dim, curtains drawn. Even the woman next door was probably tucked away in bed, none the wiser.

He signaled to Jesper to load him in. "You know where to go."

"Yep. Meet you there in a quarter bell."

And with that he left out the front door, blood on his cane and purpose in his step. He ducked through alleys and through various businesses he had a share in, taking himself over Haverbridge and down Grafcanal until he got to Black Veil Island.

Jesper was coming up on it the same time he arrived, hopping out the moment he could pull it onto the murky bank and grabbed Colin by the chest again, lugging him up by a sack of potatoes.

It was a good thing Jesper worked on a farm.

He stayed above the mausoleum, watching as the moon began to descend. He didn't intend to finish anytime before the sun rose.

"He's all set up."

Kaz nodded, and disappeared below. The room was simple. Stone walls and a wood chair he had reinforced and bolted to the ground. Colin was tied to it, just waking up, with a thick rope. Various candles were spread around the room for light.

It was crude and simple. He didn't deserve any better.

"Wazzah'." He groaned, eyes fluttering open. Bloody spit ran down the corner of his lip, some dried on his neck. "Whuz 'appenin'.".

"Oh I think you know what's happening, Norling." He shrugged his jacket off, setting it down on the cleanest part of the floor. "You're just too thick in the head to catch up."

That got him awake. His head bolted up, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull at the change in position. But he recovered just as quickly, eyes squinting to get adjusted to the low light.

Once they finally did adjust, they narrowed almost completely. "You... you stupid fuck. Let me go!"

Kaz sighed. "Not used to being the one being held down, are you?"

His eyebrows crinkled. "What the fuck does that mean?"

He swung his cane again, hitting him in the knee again. The sound of his scream filled him with adrenaline, heart racing, but he kept it at bay.

"Do not play dumb with me, Norling."

"Fucking hell, mate. Wha' d'you want!?"

He raised his cane, relishing in the way he flinched, and dragged the tip of the beak along his thigh. It made a ripping noise along the texture of his trousers, but stayed perfectly intact for now.

"I want you to tell me why you did it." He stated vaguely.

"Did what!"

"Raped Y/n."

He was stunned, mouth a little open, chin quivering. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

"Who the fuck are you? What happened between us is none of your damn business."

That made him angry. He swung his cane again, hitting him right again his shin. He heard a satisfying crack, Colin screaming in pain. His head swung back, fingers splayed and curling, good leg trying to wiggle free.

"Why, did you do it?"

He didn't answer, tears falling down his cheeks.

Kaz unclipped a knife from the band of his trousers, flicking it open and grabbing the man by the crown of his hair. He held the blade just to the left of his esophagus, against the artery, and pressed.

"Why, did you do it?" He repeated, feeling his panicked and uneven breath. Blood was oozing from his head, eyes crossed trying to look at Kaz up close.

"Fuck you." He muttered, going to spit at Kaz.

He seen this coming, grabbing his face over his eyes and shoving the knife into his mouth. It clacked against teeth, but made a decent sized cut on his tongue.

The muscle bled profusely, Kaz forcing the man's head back so far that swallowing and breathing became strained, mouth pooling with blood as he tried to scream it out.

He left go, watching as his head fell forward and a river of red saliva ran down his chin and onto his shirt.

"I'd ask you again, but it doesn't seem like you'll be able to talk. So I will."

He threw his cane aside, the noise startling the man before him. He took his hat, the hat you were clutching just yesterday, and set it down gently on his coat.

"I am going to make the next few hours of life so miserable you will wish for death. You will call upon all the saints you can think of for forgiveness, for help, for an escape, for someone to rescue you. And nothing will happen." He walked around in a circle, watching with delicious delight as he tried to break his bonds. "I am going to carve out your guts while you're still awake, cut off your appendages, and feed them to you. Especially that one."

He pointed down to his lap, watching as pure unadulterated fear swept over his face. He thinks he said something along the lines of "You can't be serious.", but without the tongue it was only a matter of guessing.

Kaz's eyes narrowed. "You will find that I have am not a man of jokes, rather a man of terrible truths." He balled his hand into a fist, knife still in his hand, and gave him a good punch to his stomach.

He heard the vomit before it was coming, stepping out of the way as he spewed all over his knees. The acid definitely didn't do good for his tongue.

"I will make you hurt in places you didn't even know could feel pain. And you will be able to do absolutely nothing about it."

He dug the knife into his shoulder until he hit bone, the screaming now sounding more like gurgling, choking on his own spit and blood.

Blood gushed from the wound, spraying his face, clothes, and the ground several feet away.

For every tear that you shed into his hat, was an hour of pain and torment Colin Norling was sentenced to.

There were 8 drops.

------

He found you at 5th harbor sitting at a tourist berth, feet dangling over the open expanse of water he had once crawled out of.

At the time he had no one. Just a crippling fear of skin and unfathomable rage that gave him all the company he could ever need, eating at him every day from then on.

He would not sentence you to the same fate.

The ocean didn't scare him. That was something he made absolutely sure of the following weeks after his escape from death. His throat itched a little at the memory.

His approach was silent, the heels of his boots lightly rapping against the wood. It didn't feel new anymore, but he knew it was sturdy and would continue to be so for many years to come.

Without a word, he placed the hat onto your head. You didn't seem startled in the slightest, but you still looked up at him.

Your eyes widened at the blood on his shirt beneath his coat, the color staining his face and hands. It took you a moment to process what you were seeing, and when it seemed you did, you took the hat off.

It had two very thin spurts of blood dried into the dark fabric, the fluid turning nearly brown.

"So he's gone then?" Your voice was tight. So, so tight, with emotion. He couldn't see you breathing.

"As gone as gone can be."

The relied was immediate, entire torso collapsing onto your legs nearly sending you off the berth and into the waters below. Your face was buried in the hat once more.

The tears you shed now would have no need to be counted. Instead they would dry and be forgotten. He hoped the hat would bring you relief, a constant reminder that he was gone, and with time you could learn to be dependant again.

Or perhaps you would throw it away, free of the reminder of your defilement, your own peace of mind serving enough reassurance that you were free.

Whichever it may be, it was yours now.

He needed a new one anyway.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[verysanebsdfan]

🥁🤯‼️❤️‍🩹🔥🥁💀🇫🇷💯💥🎶🆙😤

Hear me out

Starlight Glimmer!reader x Saiki K

A reader who is kinda like starlight glimmer with sunset shimmer's abilities (I'm in my mlp phase don't judge but I rlly like their characters and abilities) who is kinda bad at first because of something happening with their friends earlier in her childhood and becomes very rude and cold but slowly learns to open up to the idea of new ways to act and get along with people and be nicer

Like of course they're not perfect, they're going to have social anxiety because what if others find out how bad she was in her past, and some old habits will peak through but they're still trying to learn

Their way with dealing with problems can be a little...extreme, like breaking open a vending machine when it malfunctioned after they paid to get someone a drink or things along that line

(forgive the long request I just woke up)

They also usually act before they think often

Starlight Glimmer!reader x Saiki K

Hello, thank you so much for requesting<3 I am gonna be completely honest i have not watched mlp, so I relied on your description and the internet but i tried. I haven't found much about Sunset Shimmer's abilities tho, well I did but didn't find anything much specific. I mostly mentioned some fire powers cuz from what i found...well nothing good into the story. I read that apparently Sunset can conjure powerful fireballs, but i made it fire in general, and it is also referred to as either psychic or supernatural powers. I hope it is to your liking. Also I wasn't sure but I made it a female reader since ykyk... Word Count: 1.2k

It was a peaceful afternoon when a certain pink haired psychic got rid of the nuisances, uhm, friends and was on his way home. He was in a hurry since his mother asked him to go buy some ingredients for dinner, and there was still a show he wanted to watch today.

As he entered the store, he felt a sudden uneasiness. Something was gonna happen, he knew it. As he collected all the items his mother requested to buy, he walked in the direction of the aisle with coffee jelly. He saw a girl picking up a coffee jelly triple pack, but he quickly hid when he realized that the girl has his schools uniform. The last thing he wants is to have his classmate, whom he recognized after taking a closer look, start a conversation with him. Unbeknownst to him, the girl already knew. She carefully eyed the direction where he left to, quite glad that nobody is gonna ruin her peaceful day.

As she was nearing the next aisle, a certain someone put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed up and turned around to see who was disturbing her personal space. The girl got really startled when she saw a tall guy with a butt chin. She remembered him, some time ago, she was assigned to do a project with him. They were supposed to meet up in a library but he didn't show up, and had a reason, apparently he thought the library was other way and got locked in the school gym. Either way, she knew that he was a real dumb human, so she just patiently waited for him to say something. "Hey!" He shouted, jeez, calm down. "I know you! We did that project together!!" He exclaims loudly. "Yeah, no. You didn't show up, I did the project alone...but yes. Now if you'll excuse me, i have more important things to do than talking with gorillas." The girl announced and turned to leave "Wait!" Nendou shouts again "Do you wanna get ramen with me, pal, and chibi? Huh- where is my pal-" He suddenly realizes "No i won't get rame-" Nendo suddenly grabs the girls arm "Let's go find my Pal!" He insisted and pulled the two high school students behind him.

And that is how you got to where you are now. Seated between Kaidou and Saiki, across from Nendo, really strange individuals, really loud and obnoxious, except Saiki, that is. The Ramen shop didn't look anyhow exquisite...it actually looked quite, dangerous? The food will probably be poisoned or something. When the owner gave them their bowls, everyone looked disgusted (The one episode when Teruhashi tagged with them kinda disgusted) The girl stood up from her seat and looked at the humanoid creature, called 'ramen shop owner' and stared at him. "You call this food?! Impossible!" She yells while trying to hold herself from throwing the bowl on the ground. "You have a problem with that?!" The store owner spat out. "The heck i do! The noodles are expired, vegetable is actually not a vegetable, i have a piece of plastic in it, the broth smells like piss and sweat! If it's okay in your opinion, eat it! I'll gladly pay if you eat the whole bowl!" She yells at him, making the people outside, on the street, wonder what is happening there. "You won't, exactly! Now return our money. Hurry" She yelled the last line before the owner had to run to the kitchen because something was burning. Definitely not your doing.

Saiki knew. He knew that was not natural, the fire. It got extinguished, no one got hurt, but it was bugging him, and he wanted to know just who are you? He got his powers to help him out with getting you to hang out with his....whole friend group....or nuisances. And you slowly started opening up. One this one fateful Saturday night when the group was hanging out at a playground, it was already dark. Kind of a miracle that Kaidou's mom let him go so easily, we thank you so much Saiki on Kaidou's behalf.

"How about we play truth or dare?" Yumehara suggested. Everyone agreed, even you and Saiki, surprisingly, but nobody questioned it. Time passed and questions and dares flew around too. "L/N, truth or dare?" Kuboyasu asked the girl, who has been drawing into the dirt. "Truth" She mumbled tiredly "Have you ever broken a law? And if yes, how?" Who in their mind would ask that?

Yes....Kuboyasu..."Technically yes..." She sighs. "I broke open a vending machine because It broke after I paid, so I got what I paid for, myself." She said. "and also burned down a house" The girl whispered a sentence that only the lovely pink haired psychic heard. It startled him. Why did she do that? "Why would you open it up tho? You can't do that! That's destruction of property! A crime!" The perfect bluenette whisper-yelled. "Teruhashi-san...It isn't a crime as long as you're not caught....and also, why should you care why i did it...maybe because i won't waste my money, maybe because i was pissed? Probably. Not everyone is as perfect as you, not everyone is as nice as you, and I was not in a good mental state. Get over yourself..." Wait- the girl realized her mistake as she looked at the teary eyed bluenette. "I- uh- Teruhashi-san...I am sorry uh! uhm....I didn't mean it like that I just-I'll....I'll go buy you something just please don't cry"

Seriously...the vending machine broke. She turned around but bumped into a certain pink haired highschooler. "Why did you burn down a house?" The pink haired boy asked, very bluntly, realizing his mistake, not correcting it though. "My powe-" the girl realizes and quickly coughs. "My uhh...power in the house went down, and I, the little naive child, thought I could do everything, so I tried to fix it, cut wires and boom...." She says too optimistically. "Stop lying" The pink haired highschooler commanded. "Not here...But we cannot leave the group for too long either..." She thinks out loud. "They actually already went home." Saiki exclaims. "Guys are walking Teruhashi and then Yumehara...I'll walk you...while you talk...or we can talk at one of our places." He says while motioning for her to follow.

You two walk into your house, and you light up the lights. "Sit down, I'll get some coffee jelly, I noticed you staring at it...the day we met." 'Are you a goddess?' Saiki thinks. "So....I suppose you wanna know why? Hm...okay so basically I have powers, it went out of control....And i burned down my friends house....he almost died....that's why I don't really talk about it." You quickly summarized. "I really hate supernatural powers...or psychic powers...because I still feel guilty, I tried to stop it, but they don't even know it was me, not even my parents. You are the only one who knows." She says as she takes a spoon full of coffee jelly. "But I only told you because you have powers too

(○｀ 3′○)"

Anyway! I tried but I do not like how it turned out but

Stay safe y'all! BYE

[capricious-bastard13]

I've watched Jack's (Jacksepticeye's) playthrough of MyHouse.Wad, and at first, because I only heard of Doom and never played it, I let it play in the background. Until Jack's voice starts reading the attached letter to the game.

My thought immediately went, "This is something, and I feel like I'll like this something." I rewind it and watched it from the very start to the end. But I felt it wasn't all that it was, I bounced from his to the comments, explaining the game and all being recommended to play it for yourself. I don't have the resources to do so, so when I saw a comment about a video explaining it, I looked it up. The video lays out the house and the different ways you can go from point a to point b. I've seen Power Pak's after watching Jack's playthrough. And just now, I've watched Pyrocynical's video and theory on it.

There's two that stood out to me, near the end; he lays out the theories and practically dismisses the queer interpretations of it. Until now, I've always been in the camp of "Thomas and Steve were a couple, but due to the time period, or their families, they kept it hidden." When watching Pyro's video, I started realising, why were there pills on the bathroom floor, why the crib, the ring? And I felt like Pyro was nearly there, he was so close to putting it together.

But he dismisses Thomas perhaps being trans or that Steve and Thomas are gay--calls a "fat stretch" and "Level difficulty: Medium" respectively.

I've prefaced all this, because as someone who's transmasc, it felt invalidating. For months I've seen this game--although I never played it and only watched it--as a queer story of grief and loss, of processing that loss, of going through stages of denial, of reliving memories, of just wanting to reach an end where you feel at peace, of looking back on that journey and thinking to yourself that you've made it--past the hardships to a place where you can feel at peace again.

MyHouse.wad being as ambiguous as it is but leaving all these little tidbits is as when it comes to art, hard to piece together. But hearing about how there's also a trans interpretation of made me perk up, thinking, "oh, it's going to be talked about in detail," only to be disappointed.

So, despite being that MyHouse.wad has probably had this interpretation ("tHeOrY") put up already, I still felt compelled to write my own view on it using the pieces that I know of--but, there might be details that I describe vaguely because I don't remember them all that much.

We get tiny little small glimpses of Thomas through Steve's entries, of introduction we get along with the link to download it. And even just from the descriptions of the items in the game like the ring, the die, and whatnot. And the first thought is, "oh, they're gay, but they're not out," which is a sad thought, yes. But I held that interpretation close to me. It's a journey of Steve trying to get through his grief, of plunging in to his thoughts, dismantled and breaking apart as they are. The rawness of everything, of how for him, it probably felt so fresh still and this game, of going through their mod map is his way of processing--never mind how it consumed him, as he said.

And what I consider to be the best ending; the real beach, with a heart on the sand, initials--"S and A, forever". Who's 'A'? Isn't it supposed to be 'T' for Thomas?

I've seen how 'A' could be for "Allord", Thomas' last name, and at the time, yeah, maybe it is A for Allord. But what if it isn't? What if 'A' is the deadname--using that initial, despite it being a deadname, was probably used to protect them, protect him-Thomas. To be seen a heteronormative couple to get away from the hate, the stares, the animosity.

What about the excerpt of their death? Thomas' photo clearly being of a man? Well, that's just it. It's an indication of how the family has accepted Thomas for who he is and to honor him properly, used what a photo of what he looks like now, of who he really is. Proudly too, showing him as Thomas Allord, age 35, in the newspapers. This is their son, brother, and husband.

This is certainly something that will be labeled as a "fat stretch". The crib, then? The pills? And the bloodied bathroom? Perhaps, Thomas had gotten pregnant, experienced a miscarriage in the airport bathroom and had to be rushed to the hospital. As Steve puts in the description of the baby bottle; "It wasn't meant to be." And as he writes in his journal entry, he had a dream, a baby crying in the attic, in the crib, a still born baby.

Perhaps, Thomas was ready to carry the baby--their baby and due to complications, what happened, happened. They'd already bought the crib, but put it away, and we see, maybe both of them had hope that they still had a chance, clinging on.

"If Steve and Thomas are together as you say, then why does Steve refer to Thomas as "my friend" or "my childhood friend"?" Living through life closeted brings habits, unfortunately.

I've grown up without realising that I'm trans, and it was only the past few years where I've realised that the gender I was given and raised to be, isn't who I am. Despite my family knowing, they still call me with feminine pronouns, I get referred to as "sister", or "she/her" a lot of the times. And it's become the biggest norm for me that they just fly by my head without even noticing it, without getting the chance to say "that's not my pronouns".

Is this a "weak" point of the "theory"? No, because I see it as valid. People who aren't out or don't have the chance to express who they are live day to day with being misgendered, seen as someone they're not. I don't want to say, "everybody experiences this" or that there are people who don't go through intense dysphoria that it becomes crippling; I'm just saying, that for me, this is how my day to day is today, what it's like--a sort of cynical indifference to it that boils beneath the surface of my skin.

Or, this is Steve's way to be ambiguous; Thomas was Steve's friend first before they reunited, gotten married, lived together, after all.

Maybe, he wanted to detach himself in his grief and longing. A way to protect himself from the immense loss he's going through and this is his way of doing that. By saying that Thomas was just a childhood friend, it probably eased the pain just a bit.

Or, Power Pak states in his video, isn't it strange how explicit names are never--if ever, rarely-- given. Thomas' name doesn't show up until February of 2023. Steve's name is never used. Maybe, Steve wasn't the one who wrote the journal; a third party who saw the effects of loss on Steve, instead?

In the newspaper clipping of Thomas' life, it's stated how he reconnected with his high school crush, got married and moved in with his partner. The ambiguity could mean that the family simply didn't want bigots to be bigots toward their loved one.

In Steve's clipping detailing his life, he also reconnected with his high school crush. "Soulmate", this person is described as. And like with Thomas', "partner" is used, rather something explicit like, "husband" or "wife."

Although, "wife" can't be correct either since Steve doesn't have a partner listed who outlived him, simply his family.

With MyHouse.wad being as up for interpretation as it is, there's ways of reading into things, one can take it however way they want to, where they want to.

And I, personally, like to think that Steve and Thomas are happy together, with their cat, cuddled up together in their home.

You picked up Die. "Roll for intercourse?"

I feel so helpless, like I can't do anything to bring him back. I feel so sad and it feels like my heart is heavy. I can't help but think about all of the fun times we had together growing up. All of our adventures, our secrets, and even our arguments. I miss him so much and I can't believe he's gone.

You picked up Ring. "I do."

I attended the funeral of my childhood friend, and I was overwhelmed with grief. As I looked around at everyone else in the room, I could feel the sadness in the air... I never imagined that I would be saying goodbye to my friend so soon.

You picked up Wine Bottle. "Drunk Buddy." You picked up a Bauble. "Christmas makes me happy."

Happy Valentines day to the only person I ever loved. For a short time, you brought a little happiness to this painful existence called life. I hope we can be together again one day.

You picked up Baby Bottle. "It wasn't meant to be." You picked up Pill Bottle. "Refill needed." You picked up Full Pill Bottle. "Feelin' fine."

You picked up Game Controller. "It's my turn."

Somewhere, in another dream, the version of myself that winked back is sitting on the real beach, happy and content, knowing life is finite, there is no afterlife, and happiness is found in the small things around us that we can control. Happiness has to be fought for.

[morrak]

Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 110

Depending on the week, anywhere between fifteen and fifty percent of my job is tracking down and organizing PDFs for other people. The problem with coming home tired from a searching-for-PDFs job and launching straight into searching-for-PDFs homework in preparation for doing research about how to better search for PDFs is that I seldom get the chance to track down or organize any for myself.

A recent exception: James Page’s Guide for Drawing the Acanthus, and Every Description of Ornamental Foliage in its 1886 reprint by Bernard Quaritch. Rather than slap in scans of the (blank) covers, I'll lead off with the title page and frontispiece. If you want to follow along, here's a version hosted on the Internet Archive.

The How

Because I’m up to my tits in end-of-term bustle, I’ve had no time to work on anything of my own lately. Hell, I haven’t even been able to scheme or plot in earnest. This is, I trust you’ll understand, quite frustrating. The best substitute I can afford is reading about the kinds of things I’d be reading if I were to be planning something serious, which usually, I trust you’ll recognize, means forums. This item came to my attention via a thread on The Engraver’s Cafe, which is a place I have no business being but still scavenge for references when the mood strikes.

The Text

A reference, but not as advertised — this isn't especially a guide, nor is it only about ornamental foliage. It is somewhat those things, but spends a whole lot of its runtime dealing with other sorts of architectural ornamentation.

Neat, yes? Sort of. Mr. Page's focus being more diffuse than advertised is at minimum (to me, in my opinion, for my purposes, etc.) quite frustrating. More realistically, it's a fucking chore. His prose is...

...well, it's ornamented. Some of that ornament is to be expected for a text of this vintage and pedigree. Not all of it, though.

I should be more charitable. Page uses all this as a cushion for 'upwards of two hundred wood-cuts' (some in color!) and 53 copperplate engravings, all of which are his own. He also, so far as I can tell, printed all of the same for the first edition of this book. This is, at minimum, tremendous. For its purposes, the explanations (however generously so called) are mostly sufficient.

The Object

I can't speak to the printing and binding work, but I can admire the woodcuts and engraving. With the magic of portably formatted documents (via PNGs, anyway), you can too!

Nothing here is a masterwork, strictly speaking, but everything is at least an order of magnitude better than it needs to be for a book like this. This is a stunt, and an impressive one. The fact it doesn't stick the landing shouldn't convince you otherwise.

The Why, Though?

Most of my interest in this is engraving-flavored. While this is a book put together by engraving, it is not a book about engraving, not even really about drawing for engravings. The aim here is mostly architectural — design components for columns, molding, trophies, friezes, etc. — with a heavy helping of selling readers on the currency of Page's style and approach to teaching it. I care neither about nor for that stuff.

If you're willing to squint, there's plenty else to take home. This is a worse history of the acanthus in ornament than, say, this blog post by a living ornamental painter, and a worse visual reference than, for example, this Grammar of Ornament from the same publisher. For my purposes, though, this offers a decent couple dozen schematics to use while learning relatively simple motifs.

Lots of the linework and structural concepts exhibited translate in subtle and interesting ways to more modern styles of scrollwork (both engraved and especially tattooed), which seems like magic to me. One benefit of having no training or experience whatsoever is that even the fundamentals seem like cool secret knowledge.