#yes this works with the idea that the killings were completely real

[thatstroubling]

(not) moving on

based on a post-game idea: how strange would it be for the survivors of V3 to live in a world where their friends' entire in-game lives had been perfectly captured and preserved forever, always avaliable for endless rewatching? and more importantly, would the guilt of having to type 'danganronpa V3 best moments' into the google search bar be worth getting to hear their friends' voices again? on bad nights, the answer would probably be yes

[hard-core-super-star]

bleeding me dry like a goddamn vampire [K.Bishop]

pairing: vampire!kate bishop x reader

summary: a failed mugging leads to you discovering kate's biggest secret...and her finding out yours.

warnings: yes, i still suck at summaries, shhh SMUT -> minors, you know the drill, walk away now [porn with almost too much plot; blood and fangs and all the stereotypically hot vampire things; so many neck kisses it should be illegal; fingering {R receiving}; kate being a tease and owning it; praise + degradation + two seconds of humiliation]

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: do i have like ten requests sitting in my inbox rn? yes. was this idea going to leave me alone if i didn't write it? no. i've been trying to finish this fic since JULY, GUYS, AND I NEED IT OUT OF MY DRAFTS AND INTO THE WORLD! it wasn't supposed to be smut, but i couldn't help it. i don't think i'll have time to do any real kinktober-type fics so enjoy this little treat instead. ALSO, a lot of the vampire dynamics/lore in this fic was inspired by first kill so go check it out if you haven't seen it.

* * * * * * *

You were working yet another late night at Bishop Security. A normal occurrence considering your boss’s distaste for coming into the office when the sun is high in the sky. She almost never comes in before 3 PM and almost always stays in until way past midnight.

Pretty much everyone who works for her hates her unusual schedule, claiming she’s way too new to her position to be slacking off so much. Everyone seems to share that view…everyone except you since being her secretary means you get to share her schedule.

Which conveniently means you get to sleep in most days.

She’s never offered an explanation, not that you’ve ever tried asking her about it, but the rumor swirling around is that she’s too busy partying and sleeping around to bother showing up at the office at a regular time.

You don’t doubt the validity of that rumor but you’re also sure it’s not the whole story. There have been times when Kate has forced you to leave at 2 AM while she’s stayed behind to write up a report or prepare for her next meeting.

She’s young and reckless and way too rich for her own good but she’s not completely irresponsible or arrogant. Unfortunately, the media loves making up stories about the ‘Tony Stark of Bishop Security’ almost as much as your co-workers love gossiping.

Maybe if those rumors held more truth to them you wouldn’t be where you are right now: speed-walking out of the building and trying to make it to your car before something bad happens. You’re aware of the irony of working at a security company yet being terrified of walking through the parking lot. But hey! It’s New York City, your fears are more than valid.

You’re too busy arguing with yourself about said irony to notice the person sneaking up behind you until they forcefully grab your shoulder and slam you into the nearest concrete wall. The force of the push forces all the air out of your lungs, leaving you unprepared for the right hook your attacker throws your way.

The ringing in your ears is the only thing you can focus on for a few seconds. You see their mouth moving and you’re barely able to make out the name ‘Kate Bishop’ before they raise their fist again. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the punch to land.

Except it never does.

Your eyes snap open right as your shoulders are grabbed again but this time, the person standing in front of you is none other than Kate Bishop herself. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You’re pretty sure the pounding in your chest has more to do with the proximity between the two of you than your leftover fear after being attacked. “I just got pushed around a little.”

“More like punched around,” she says with a small chuckle.

“That’s not funny.” Despite your words, a noticeable smile spreads along your face.

Kate’s eyes trail down your face and hone in on your lips. The sudden attention makes you subconsciously lick your lips and a slightly metallic taste fills your mouth. You assume the look on her face is due to her concern over you until you notice the way her pupils dilate as blood gathers on your bottom lip.

“Um…Kate? Are you okay?”

Your voice seems to bring her back to the present moment. She leans back a little before she speaks again. “Yeah, we should probably get out of here.”

You hear her words but your gaze is glued right to her mouth and the two protruding teeth you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen before. For a second, you think you’re imagining things but it’s practically impossible to deny what you’re seeing with the way the light bounces off of her teeth.

You had always thought Kate was hiding something. Something that ran deeper than her long list of ex-lovers or weird schedules. But the place your mind is going to right now seems far too illogical. Superheroes, aliens, even the damn multiverse, everything else seemed much more plausible than vampires.

And yet, the proof is staring right at you with caring blue eyes and a nervous smile that tells you you’re both thinking about the same thing.

“I can explain,” she assures you before extending her hand out for you to take. “But you’re gonna have to come with me.”

“You’re insane.”

She shrugs, not at all phased by your comment. “Maybe a little…I promise I won’t bite.”

You don’t know whether to laugh at her joke or slap that look off her face for having the audacity to make it in the first place. Ultimately, your trust in her wins out and you reach for her hand. It’s just one small choice but you have a feeling it’s going to change everything between the two of you.

She starts to lead you toward her car, ignoring your protests like a real gentleman. You weren’t going to act like you had never imagined Kate taking you back to her apartment but you had imagined it under different, significantly sexier, circumstances.

You get into her car and ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. You tell yourself it’s only due to the leftover adrenaline from being attacked but you know it has more to do with the overwhelming smell of the archer than anything else.

A few minutes of silence pass before you work up the courage to start a conversation…even though you know you’re not going to like any of the answers you’re searching for. “What do you think that guy wanted?”

“What guy?” Kate’s eyes remain glued to the road ahead, not giving you a chance to decipher the look on her face. “The one who tried to mug you?”

“He wasn’t trying to mug me, he was looking for you.”

You notice the way her jaw clenches even with the darkness that envelops the car. “Looking for me? What are you talking about?”

“Kate, don’t play stupid with me. You can’t possibly think he broke into a highly secured parking lot just to mug the first random secretary he saw.” Her silence is enough of an answer. “So, who is he and what does he want with you?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’ll only put you in more danger.”

“More danger than that?”

“Yes.” You’re sure you’ve never heard her sound so serious before. “Believe it or not, you finding out about this wasn’t in my plans.”

You’re going to regret asking but your mind has been whirling with thoughts and ideas since you first caught sight of those fangs. “What exactly is…’this’?”

“Exactly what you think it is.”

Her tone leaves no room for questions or arguments. Despite that, the only thing that fills your mind is questions. And answers you don’t want to think about.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, effectively cutting off your flurry of thoughts.

“Why?”

The hunger on her face when she turns to look at you tells you all you need to know. You should probably be scared considering the power she holds over you right now. Not only is she the one driving, she could probably crush you with her bare hands…or sink her sharp fangs into your neck and drain you dry.

Fear is certainly not what you feel at that thought though.

The corners of her mouth quirk up into the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen. “You’re into some weird stuff, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“What else are you?” The way you shift in your seat doesn’t go unnoticed by the brunette. “Some kind of mind reader?”

“No need,” she replies. “Your scent gave you away.”

Your face heats up at her words but you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or something else. Thankfully, she pulls up to her apartment complex before you can dig yourself into a deeper hole.

A weirdly comfortable silence surrounds you as you make your way out of the car and into her apartment. You’ve known Kate for a while and you’ve always felt safe around her, something that not even those sharp fangs can take away. Especially when she places a strong hand on the small of your back while she leads the way.

For someone who’s richer than most people will ever be in their whole life, her apartment isn’t extremely lavish or full of ridiculous decorations. It could even be considered minimalistic if it weren’t for the numerous bows scattered all over the living room, the chewed-up boots near Lucky’s dog bed, and the overwhelming amount of clothes piled up on the couch.

“Sorry, I don’t usually have people over,” she says almost as if reading your mind. “I’m not usually so messy.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Katherine.”

She makes a disgusted face at the sound of her full name, her expression somewhere between adorable and amusing. “You didn’t have to say it like that.”

You’re about to make another stupid comment when your brain short circuits at the sight of Kate unbuttoning her shirt, the black tank top she always wears underneath straining against her torso and all the muscles you know are hiding out of sight.

The corners of her mouth quirk up just enough to give away the fact that she knows exactly what she’s doing and she’s one-hundred percent doing it on purpose. You’re just grateful she doesn’t verbalize how obvious your breathlessness is.

You attempt to look away from her but she moves her arm just enough for you to notice the dark stain on her shirt. It takes you a second to figure out what it’s from and you mentally curse the brunette for not telling you she had gotten hurt.

“Kate,” you call out once you find your voice again. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She looks down at her arm, clearly pretending she hadn’t noticed the wound yet, before shrugging her shoulders. “Oh, yeah, it’s fine.”

“Fine? Why didn’t you tell me you got stabbed?”

“It’s just a scratch.”

She tries to wave you off but it’s too late. You’re already gripping her shoulder and pushing her down onto her overpriced leather couch. “You’re an idiot. Sit down.”

She grumbles something about being able to take care of herself but you don’t listen to a word she says. Instead, your hands reach out for the first-aid kit she keeps on her coffee table.

“Take your shirt off.”

“y/n, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask, baby.” Her voice carries that cocky tone that makes you want to punch her and kiss her at the same time.

“Shut up,” you mutter while attempting to look unaffected.

There are too many thoughts swirling around your brain and most of them have to do with Kate doing some very inappropriate things to you, with or without her fangs. The truth is, you can act like you’re only attracted to the danger that could potentially come your way now that you know her secret but she’s always been far too good at scrambling your brain with a few well-placed words.

She finally does what you ask, pushing her shirt off her shoulders and revealing inches of skin you’ve never seen from such close proximity before. You’re able to pass off your clear ogling as concern as you step closer to examine the small knife wound.

It’s only a few inches long but deep enough to have caused her to bleed the entire way here. You wordlessly open up the first-aid kit and start disinfecting the area, doing your best to ignore the soft groans that leave the brunette’s lips.

“Is all of that stuff true?” You ask a few minutes later, the smallest hint of a joke in your tone.

The corners of Kate’s mouth quirk up into a small smirk that tells you she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “What stuff?”

“You know, the stuff about silver and garlic and burning in the sun?”

“Yes to the silver, no to the garlic, and kind of to the sun. I sunburn really easily but I don’t think that’s due to the vampire thing.”

You laugh at her response, the sound nervous yet warm. It’s still too much to wrap your head around but at least she’s not beating around the bush anymore. “How long have you…?”

“All my life,” she replies with an almost inaudible wince as you start to bandage her up. “It’s a long, complicated story but my family and I are descendants of the first vampires to ever exist. We’re legacies.”

“Sounds fancy.”

She chuckles while she shakes her head. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure there are worse things to be.” 

You finish securing the bandage in place right as the words leave your lips. Now that there’s nothing to distract you, you realize how close together the two of you actually are. You’re standing right between Kate’s open legs, the heat of her body warming you up in ways that leave your legs shaky. 

“y/n, I…I’ve done a lot of things that-”

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t need to know any of that to know I trust you.”

She looks up at you, her usually bright eyes looking soft and vulnerable for the first time in a long time. It’s almost startling how quickly she changes from the cocky and overconfident Kate Bishop everyone knows to this gentle and hesitant version of herself.

A version of her you can't help but love.

Your feelings must be more than obvious by this point but she doesn't push. You've never known her to be slow or patient or particularly sensitive to what other people want and yet she waits.

The seconds feel like hours until her eyes finally drift down to your lips…and the small amount of blood that still coats them.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The few brain cells that aren’t completely focused on the brunette in front of you tell you to move away from her before you cross a line you won’t be able to come back from. A line that is unprofessional and stupid and full of problems and rumors that will probably ruin your life. 

Unfortunately, crossing that line is the only thing that’s been on your mind since the day you started working for her. And the urge to find out what her lips taste like and what her hands feel like on your skin has only gotten stronger since.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotions you don’t want to think about.

You lean in closer, your breath fanning across her lips while you grab her hands and place them on your waist. “Please don’t stop.”

“y/n…” Her voice comes out somewhere between a whine and a groan. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s unclear whether she’s talking about her vampire side or her serial heartbreaker side but you ignore her warning all the same. You’ve wanted her far too long to let something that seems so irrelevant right now stop you.

“I’ll be fine,” you assure her, letting her pull you close until you're finally sitting on her lap. “I only need you right now.”

The weight and warmth of your body on her lap causes her to take in a sharp breath, one that leaves no doubts about what it is she wants to do with you. “Fuck…”

She leans forward, completely ignoring your lips and instead moving her face toward your neck, her nose brushing against your skin and making your heart skip multiple beats. Her grip on your hips tightens and you swear you can feel the smirk that adorns her features right before she attaches herself to your neck.

Your head tilts back to allow her free access while you do your best not to grind against her. You fail miserably the second her fangs start to nip your skin. She doesn’t bite down hard enough to puncture your neck but the feeling has you desperately bucking your hips in search of relief anyway.

 “Kate-” You gasp out, your hands holding onto her arms for support.

She chuckles while one of her hands starts its journey down inside your jeans. “I know, sweetheart. I can smell how much you need me…how desperate you are to feel me inside you. I bet you can’t think about anything else right now.”

You’re not sure when it happened but her hesitation has clearly gone out the window by now. All that remains is the current of need that flows eagerly between your two bodies.

You let out a soft moan as her fingers dip inside your soaked underwear and find the mess she’s turned you into with a few teasing words and restrained kisses. “Please.”

“Such a good girl,” she murmurs. “How can I deny someone as sweet as you?”

Despite her words, she still doesn’t give you what you truly want. Instead, she presses two fingers against your throbbing clit and starts drawing small circles, her movements slow and calculated. Your hips move in response and you suddenly realize what it is she wants from you. 

There’s no time for whines or embarrassment, no time for anything except desire and desperation. 

You grind down on her fingers and let out a string of incoherent noises that leave Kate groaning into your neck. “Just like that, baby. Show me how much you want me.”

You do just as she asks, rolling your hips and relishing the non-stop kisses she lands on your overheated skin. Her teeth keep teasing you and it’s all you can do not to beg her to bite you hard enough to make you dizzy.

She told you earlier she wasn’t a mind reader but you’re about to call bullshit on that considering the way she picks up on all your dirty thoughts without a single word from you.

“I could drain you so easily right now. You’re so desperate you’d just let me, wouldn’t you? You’d let me sink my teeth into you so long as I kept fucking you, wouldn’t you?”

Your sounds of ecstasy should be more than an answer but they’re not enough for the brunette. She picks up the pace of her fingers and turns your brain to mush long enough for you to let out the truth.

“Yes! God, yes. Please- Don’t stop.”

“Good girl.”

She plants a few more kisses against your neck before she finally bites you. Hard. Hard enough to make your eyes squeeze shut and your legs tense up. The pain borders on unbearable until she starts sucking.

Your mind spins endlessly as all the different sensations overwhelm you. You’re not sure what to focus on but your body makes the decision for you. 

You gasp, although the sound comes out more like a whine than anything else, and Kate takes the hint. She plunges her fingers inside of you right as you fall over the edge, the tips curled just enough to hit that one spot that has you seeing stars that weirdly resemble the color of her eyes.

You’re shaking and panting and dizzier than ever but it all feels far too good. The pleasure and the pain roll together to give you the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had and you suddenly wonder how you lived so long without knowing such ecstasy existed.

Kate detaches herself from your neck right as the ringing in your ears fades. You open your eyes to the sight of her, pupils blown wide and her lips stained red. You subconsciously clench around her fingers and she smiles.

“I was right,” she says, her voice low and far too controlled for your liking. “You taste as delicious as you smell.”

You don’t waste another second attaching your lips to hers and drowning out all her cocky statements.

You end up spending the rest of the night getting to know Kate in ways you’d only ever dreamed about before, completely oblivious to the way word already starts spreading about your intimate encounter outside the walls of her apartment.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can you do one with yn being in love with Kylian but he just want to have fun and do not think about love right now and just want to sleep with yn but she doesn’t want that because she knows he is playing with her and then he falls in love with her but it was to late she already found someone who respects her and loves her

i’m definitely feeling this because i’m just ended a situationship/relationship with a man, an older man, so reader is practically my pov, i really hope you can’t relate because i feel like sh!t so, here’s a sad one!

kylian mbappe x reader

strangers

you couldn’t deny how you felt everytime you were with kylian. he made your heart beating so fast, you were afraid it would explode. he was kind and caring with you, always paying for your nights out, always driving you home and making you feel safe. you spent nights just talking with each other, getting to know him better.

you really thought he was interested in you, you hoped so but when one night you declined his offer of staying at his place, you slowly saw how he started losing interest in you.

you were the one to text first.

you were the one to call first.

you were the one to make sure he was okay and that he wasn’t overloading himself with work.

but he just stopped caring about you.

leaving you on read. you waiting hours and hours, even days to get a simple reply back. you’ve spent sleepless nights thinking of what you did wrong, of what you could do better. your mind was wandering around the constant feeling of not being enough.

he was the kylian mbappè.

he was probably fucking a different girl every night.

everything he gave you were short replies with “okay” “sure” “whatever” and “yes”. and honestly it was killing you inside. you knew he was busy but the first time you started texting, he always made sure to give you a good morning and a goodnight, texting you first in the morning and making sure you were okay.

you’ve spent days going through your old messages. seeing how eager he was to meet you.

and when you met everything felt amazing. you felt the spark with him. when his hand touched your thigh when he was driving you back home or when his lips met yours as a kiss goodnight. everything felt right until it wasn’t.

when you said to him you were looking for something more serious, you didn’t expect him to completely block you out of his life. he told you he didn’t want anything serious and you had no idea of how to feel.

why would he be so kind if he didn’t mean anything of that?

just - why?

you’ve thought so many times about texting him “hey, can we meet?” “hey, we need to talk…” but you stopped, knowing that you would probably look more desperate than how you really were.

but you did try in the end and that was when you realised it was over. he ignored you, he pretended you never existed and in the back of your mind you knew he wasn’t even thinking about you anymore.

“i can’t believe i fell for that dick!” you screamed to yourself one night, when you were home alone, crying your eyes out because you felt used. you felt like a whore, and it took you too long to realise that he was only using your body.

but then kylian wanted you back.

he got bored of the same superficial girl, he wanted someone real and he wanted you.

you knew it was too late. you knew that if you fell for kylian once again it would be over for you so this time, you were the one who blocked him out of your life.

you wanted to find something new, feel something new and with kylian by your side, you knew it would have been impossible.

so you let him go. no matter how much it was fucking killing you. you needed to work on yourself and you needed to heal first, that’s why you became your first priority.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this felt more like a letter to myself but i really needed this.

[lossie92]

This story is a direct result of @kooriicolada pitching an idea to me (again) and me going "lemme write that down real quick" (again). In conclusion, neither of us has self control and you're benefitting from it (again).

The working title is Romance Comes Later. Hope you enjoy? 😅

Also, happy holidays to you all! I'll be posting more stuff this week so stay tuned!

-

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics

-

He raised one of his hands and with movements that were painstakingly slow he reached out to place it along the curve of Tobirama's cheek. Without the ever-present happuri the omega's features appeared much softer. He looked younger like this, the innocence of childhood not entirely gone yet. 

It made Madara think about how young Tobirama actually was as he stroked the delicate skin under the omega's left eye. Even with the glove on he could still feel the warmth of Tobirama's blush and he smiled at that, amused.

Tobirama nuzzled against his palm, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked lazily, drowsy with what Madara suspected to be exhaustion finally catching up with him.

"You should rest," Madara said quietly.

"I'm not tired," was Tobirama's whispered response. "Just… It's nice. This. I— Nobody really does this."

"Mm? What do you mean?" Madara leaned in, his forehead against Tobirama's. The omega's breath caught at the gesture. It was more than obvious he wasn't used to this, which was a thought that didn't sit well with Madara for whatever reason. "What is it that nobody does?"

"Touching," Tobirama responded. His voice was small and the single word hard to catch, but Madara heard him anyway. "Nobody— not like this."

The admission was shockingly honest. It made something twist in Madara's chest – something that felt an awful lot like anger.

He wasn't a stranger to the concept of touch starvation. It wasn't uncommon in their profession. Being trained to fight and kill from a young age tended to result in intense paranoia. Madara himself had some hangups about people he didn't know getting too close, but he still had his pack to provide the comfort when he wanted and needed it most.

The younger Senju brother, it seemed, didn't have that despite the fact he had family.

Apparently able to sense Madara's unease, Tobirama added, "Anija does mark me with his scent. It just… ends there."

"Only Hashirama?" Madara asked just to be sure. He didn't expect much from someone like Senju Butsuma, but the idea was that the man would push away his own child…

He felt Tobirama nod. "Touka-nee is a beta. She doesn't understand," he explained in the same soft, quiet voice. "It's… I'm used to it. But I also want… this. There's something I— I j-just want you close. I don't know why, I—" Tobirama paused for a moment before continuing, "You'll think I'm crazy, Uchiha-sama, but it's almost like— there was this story my mother used to tell anija and I."

"A story," Madara repeated. "What was it about?"

"Fated mates," Tobirama said with a vivid blush. Though he had ducked his head presumably in order to hide it, Madara could see clearly how red his cheeks and ears were. It was beyond adorable. "She told us that, um… that it could happen sometimes," Tobirama continued. "A match so good it felt life-changing. I didn't believe it could be true back then."

Madara hummed, considering. "But you do now." It was a statement, not a question. "You think this is why we're so… drawn to each other.

"Yes," Tobirama responded. "It seems plausible. I don't— I haven't felt this type of pull before."

"Me neither." 

Tobirama looked up at that. There was something entirely too vulnerable hidden in his wide eyes – a type of hopefulness and yearning that Madara found completely disarming.

Heart in his throat, he cupped Tobirama's face in his hands and kissed him square on the lips before he could talk himself out of it.

[virginburial]

more sub chad pls🙏 your work is brilliant

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he's just so pretty too :,)

Chad Meeks Martin CD mix!            .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

sub!chad and you have been placing bets on who can last the longest during sex. now seemingly switch!chad has been cranking up his arrogance to one hundred; "I'm going to make you cum all over yourself, it's embarrassing." he would mumble to you throughout the day to rile you up. it's kind of charming to see sub!chad try to pass as dominant, but you knew the truth that deep down, chad meeks martin was an over-zealous needy sub who talked too much. the bet was brought up again, which led to more flirting, then kissing, then foreplay, and so on.

sub!chad almost had you beat with how well he was kissing down your body, but you knew he was worshipping you more than using you. poor sub!chad had no idea how much porn you watched to prepare yourself for this. after five or so minutes of just kissing and dry humping, you begin to palm him, and it pulled sub!chad off his high horse and into the trenches of submission. next thing he knew, he was under you, looking up at you with mercy. "Angel-" he softly whimpers.

you slowly glide the Fleshlight (you bought specifically for this, you can thank the hub for inspiring your recent purchase) down his stiff and lubricated cock. after all the palming, sub!Chad got desperate and whipped his cock out. you started to tease him for trying to rush you and it turned into this: "mhmfuck, mommy?" his breath shakes, slowly resting his body on his elbows, his jaw slacked from all the pleasure as his deep eyes stare into yours. "y-you're fucking killing m-me over here." he huskily breathes out.

you let out a soft hum, slowly sliding the fleshlight up and running it around his tip as he lets out a low moan. "awh, so much for making me cum all over myself, huh?" you taunt him. A smile appeared on his face as he realized that he was the one that got himself in this predicament. "cmon baby...I-i just like-like to t-tease you un-until you do some-something about it-" "-I am, and you can't even say a complete sentence without stuttering...how embarrassing." you jab before picking up the pace.

a gasp leaves him with a series of curses and swears under his breath. "fuck-shit okay! I'm sorry-" "-mhm, not good enough." you flick your wrist a bit faster. you could see how pleasure transformed sub!Chad, how his muscles tensed up and his pupils dilated with passion, how his back arched slightly at how well you were winding him up. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-!!" he whines out as his breathing got heavier and heavier.

"are you?"

he nods. "y-yes!! yes, I'm so-sorry mommy, I just wan-wanted you to-to touch me-j-just give me the-the real thing please!!" he pleaded.

and you laughed. "mhm, try not to cum." you respond, seeing if he could actually last longer; this could easily make you twenty bucks richer. you start rocking your hips as the fleshlight bounced with you, you could feel sub!Chad tremble under you as more of his repressed moans start to slip out. it didn't take long for him to embarrassingly cum all over himself. his cum running down his shaft and staining his jeans as he cries out for you, whining at how you're milking him and overstimulating him. that'll teach him not to put money where his mouth is.

          .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

[nicxl333]

I've been seeing people going on about this nanami and tiana thing and I'm honestly so mad at nanami (I'm a jealous nanami stan please bear with me) I literally felt physical pain in my chest, can you please write something like reader sees this nanami and tiana thing and gets like really upset, the rest is up to you, but I want comfort.

(this is a very weird request. Apologies 😔)

thanks for the req anon!

bro…these tiktoks are actually killing me! (sukuna x cinderella is absolutely canon btw) of course though, it’s a weird scenario but i LIVE for things like these 💀

also i legit started writing this then i fell asleep and my phone DIED. so in other words i had to rewrite this shit from scratch again lol.

NANAMI X JEALOUS!READER

tags: fluff, married couple, slight angst, implied sex

hubby!nanami who returns home from work as the ceo of his famous, illustrious tech company

hubb!nanami who sees you on the couch, scowl present as you scroll on your phone, too immersed to notice your husband’s return

hubby!nanami who announces his arrival, walking over to hug and kiss you, confusion evident once you pull away from him with no explanation

hubby!nanami who voices his concerns, wondering what he could’ve done, then diverting his attention to your phone screen which has been turned towards him, seeing a ship video of him and princess tiana

“surely you’re not being serious right y/n?”

“deadly.”

nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how he should approach this peculiar situation. as famous as he may have been, he never would’ve anticipated social media spinning events such as these.

“so, let me get this straight. you’re mad, because i am trending, not of my own volition of course, with a fictional character that i have been shipped with?”

“precisely.”

“did i mention she is fictional?”

“fictional or not, i shouldn’t have to see my husband with other women in that lighting. that just means i have competition with the fictional world as well as the non fictional. as if i don’t see enough women pining after you day to day.”

“y/n, my love, how is a story character, who is married might i add, supposed to compete with my very much real and genuine wife?”

“so infidelity doesn’t exist now?”

he watches you as you slung one leg over the other, crossing your arms in slight frustration. even in your angered state you still look just as beautiful as the first time he met you, which is why he can never be mad at you, not for long anyways.

he loosened his tie slightly, sitting on the couch next to you and patted his lap, beckoning you to come sit. once you followed, he placed both hands on the crease of your hips, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. you allowed your head to rest against his shoulder, leaning into his touch.

“even if i could, which i can’t because she’s…well- fictional, she could never have anything on you. you complete me y/n, make me whole in areas i didn’t acknowledge were empty. there’s no person better suited for me, fictional or not.”

tears were starting to well in your eyes. yes, you did know you were being irrational, but hearing your husband profess his love for you time and time again just reminded you of the reason you married him.

you hugged him tight, kissing the crook of his neck.

“i love you, kento.”

he suddenly flipped you over so your back now lay on the couch. he hovered over you and looked you directly into your eyes, showing his seriousness.

“i’m going to show you just how much i love you. i won’t stop until you get the idea.”

[cider-est]

The full lineup is almost done!! (just needs some touch ups and a Chunsik design👍) FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APRECIATED!!

Design process under here (whole lot of yapping)

General thoughts: Ive given them in my previous design sheet (you can find it in my blog)(tldr: designs match characters but still childish, 8-12 years old). Only thing different here, is that these eggs were eggs who I had less of a clear idea of what I wanted to do with them (though I still really liked where I ended up!!)

Empanada: Didnt want to go for the full sweet lolita route, mostly because I thought it'd take away the "little kidness" of it all, but something that still resembles the aesthetic. She's wearing "carneirinhos" (idk the name in english) which is very cute little girl to me, and shes also a demon! Her tail resembles a frying pan!! Though I might change her fringe (it was supposed to be baby hairs but now that I think about it, her type of hair probably wouldnt have them) and put some argyle pattern in her sweater vest. I just forgor💀 to do that...I also wish I had made her shorter, but unfortunetely I drew this before the eggs did the height check (YES ITS BEEN THAT LONG).

Sunny: My beautiful baby girl. She means the world to me. I love this minecraft egg with all my heart. Shes wearing Light up sketchers and some fairy wings like Pomme, and shes actually wearing a swimsuit, she just put a tutu over it. The diamonds they're always holding are rings, they have a "terere" in their hair (idk name in english😭😭) and the beads were inspired by an artist on twt (@\BLUETOMATOSODA). Also if you are wondering why her hair looks like tentacles, its because I had originally made it puffy, but changed my mind after doing the lineart, so i had to get creative with me covering it up. Just pretend she has a fan, shes a star after all!

Pepito: Basically, he is very smoll. Chiquito even. He has strawberry hair and MASSIVE glasses that take up his entire face. Hes wearing a swimsuit aswell (dont ask how it works idk either), and has floaties since he cant swim. Hes got crocs, since flip flops hurt his toes, with a spider man charm on them! Also hes got a sunhat, mostly cause I wanted some other accessorie but didnt want to go with gas mask since it'd kinda kill the whole swimming vibe (since his model is wearing a swimsuit). sorry if its not too accurate to his character. Side note: Him, Em and Sunny all have freckles! Him and Sunny all over their bodies while Em just has on her cheeks.

Leo: Cute sporty vibe, love her shorty spiky hair. Wanted to try to make her face spiky aswell, for the whole shark dad thing. Shes got a necklace with a shark tooth (I guess she got it from Foolish??). He changes tshirts randomly, and opens and closes his attack on titan hoodie depending on the tshirt's expression (basically my version of Leo changing her player heads constantly). His trainers have dragon wings and also: whealies!!

Dapper: Im gonna be honest: did not expect to like his design THIS much. The colouring really elevated, with the long blue hair (the same colour as the ghosties!). Wanted to make them, y'know, dapper, so I had to sacrifice some of the "little kid vibes" unfortunetely, but I think it fits her still. The hat has part of the helmet that they used to wear a lot, demon horn to match Pomme, and a suit that is VERY inspired by Death the Kid from Soul Eater (very fitting for a reaper in training imo). Might be my favourite design!

Ramon: Jesus fuck you'd think designing your fav egg would be easy BUT NO. I struggled long and hard. Again, he doesnt have that much "little kid" vibe whatever man😭😭 Im just happy that I even managed to make SOMETHING. Hes got Create googles, his meathead is a massive hat that completely hides his hair. Very simple, very Ramon, though I will probably end up making a version with an ugly sweater just like he likes instead😔. I still like it but. man...

ANYWAYS IF YOU READ ALL THAT MWAH, YOURE A REAL ONE, THANKS FOR ENTERTAINING MY THOUGHTS🫶🫶🫶

[alpaca-clouds]

Hear me out! Whalepunk. 🐳

Within those (potential) punk genres I listed a couple of weeks ago, there is one that absolutely fascinates me, even though it does not yet exist, if we are totally honest. The stuff I made up last week is partly more of a thing yet, than this specific one, though the name/idea is a bit older. As far as I can tell, it went something like this: "Yo, Dishonored feels kinda like a punk thing, right? And it runs on whale oil. So, like... Whalepunk? 😉" And given that there is a subreddit on it, there were definitely folks who really took to it. Yet, nothing much came from it. While I will argue that Dredge is also now part of that genre... That's it. Three games. Dishonored, Dishonored 2 and Dredge.

But I am super fascinated by the potential of this genre and now I am going to tell you why.

So, the entire Whale Oil thing predated the wide steam adaption by a bit. But of course it never got used in the way we see it used within Dishonored either way. For all intents and purposes, the whale oil in Dishonored might as well be called "magic whale goo", because it functions less as the oil and more as "energy source, but it is important it comes from whales". Because Dishonored brings in one other aspect: Some strange, almost eldritsch mysticism that is connected to the whales. And it is this, what makes the potential of the genre so interesting.

See, the thing about Whalepunk to me is, that there are three interesting things to explore within this genre.

The Whaling Industry as it existed was very cut throat and as basically the fishing industry still is today, there was ton of abuse going on. Because, duh, industries. Which would give an interesting start for the "punk" part to happen. Just explore people somehow surviving the life was a whaler and also... struggling with it. Because of their own misery, yes, but also because...

Whales are intelligent creatures. They are really, really intelligent. They are so intelligent that cultures living from fishing at times were able to co-work with the whales. So one can really work with the idea of "killing a being, that is almost human like in its intelligence" and how that might play out. And that would leave interesting places to explore. (Also: A story from the perspective of the whales?)

There is also the aspect of the ocean as this strange and unpredictable place. The one thing that to this day humanity is completely unable to tame. And the mysteries of the deep ocean. The same deep oceans the whales so often visit. Which is why this invites lovecraftian ideas so easily.

Between other people, who are interested in the punk genre, I always have heard: "But whalepunk is icky, because the poor whales." While I am sitting there like: "Whalepunk is interesting, because of that!" Because this senseless slaughter of another intelligent species can wonderfully play into the punk ideas.

And I don't know. I think this is neat. I think this genre would have a real potential on the basis of "the dependence on the ocean" vs "the unpredictability of the ocean". And I would love to see that explored a bit.

Again, so far there is not a lot within the genre. But man, I see some neet storytelling opportunities there.

[butmakeitgayblog]

How did the relationship in the starlet non au evolve from their first meeting to the tipping point of giving their hearts away to each other?

Slowly

As in, glacial.

The idea for the story itself is only a oneshot, but their story would be a 25 chapter slowburn where they don't even hold hands until chapter 10 😔

Because you have to understand, these two are very deeply hunkered down in the closet. No one knows. No one. And when they meet, yes there's sparks and an instant attraction, but there's also a lot of fear and resistance to that attraction. So they just... ignore it. Pretend like it doesn't exist. Without ever saying more to each other than a polite hello in passing, each (unbeknownst to the other) vows to themselves to avoid the other and never let themselves get too close. Not in any kind of hostile way, just forced indifference. Out of sight, of mind. Because otherwise, there's just too much temptation there.

The problem is, they keep getting thrown back together. They gravitate to the same people and places, and are constantly finding themselves in each other's space. It's hard to ignore each other's existence when five times in the span of three months you find yourself seated across from this person at some dinner party or another.

Over many, long months, that stubborn insistence that they just cannot let themselves have anything to do with each other fades because it's honestly too hard. It's too hard constantly being around each other and putting up all these walls and feeling like they have to walk on eggshells. It's too hard to force silence and feign a coldness toward the other when it constantly feels like this invisible string just keeps pulling them back together.

So. They do the logical thing.

The smart thing. The thing that'll make this stupid situation easier and less like some kind of taboo. There thing that'll surely kill all of these feelings and the awkwardness of these run-ins in one fell swoop.

They become friends.

Because friends is fine. Friends is safe. Friends means nothing within a crowd of other people. Friends means feelings are innocent so it's ok to talk to each other over dinner, and learn more about each other as time goes on. Friends means it's ok for them enjoy each other's company within the safety of their sphere, and to miss each the other when they're gone. Even if they never say it. Friends means it's ok to text each other whenever they feel like it, just to mindlessly talk about their thoughts, their lives, their fears and their doubts. To dictate their every plan for the future.

Friends means it's ok to slip up just that once, because they were lonely and tired from working so much recently. Everyone else already had plans and neither really wanted to 'do something' anyway... so the logical thing was just to meet up at Lexa's house.

Except one bottle of wine turns to into two and two turns into three, and before they know it they're shuffled far too close on the enormity of Lexa's couch, drunk and spilling far too many secrets.

Like how Clarke kissed a girl in high school.

Well... a few actually. But only... Only if she's being honest.

Which then leads to a rather terror stricken and pale looking Lexa to admit that she had too. That actually, if she were being honest... she'd done a lot more than kissing. In fact, if they're "bearing their souls to each other" - which earned her a wine scented snort - she'd kind of only ever done anything with girls.

Well. Women.

No... No men have ever been on her radar.

And it all feels like so much. On a dime, that friendship that was supposed to kill all of these feelings completely turns upside down. Because nothing's changed, and yet everything has. And neither one knows exactly how to deal with it.

So, they do the logical thing.

The smart thing.

They go right back to acting as though the other one simply does not exist.

Because the attraction is still there but goddammit, now it's real. Now it's A Thing that isn't unrequited and it's a possibility that's more than just them being hopeless and gay internally. Now they know that the other one knows, and both of them know that they fucking know it, and none of this between them fits into any of their plans. So they're still scared, and still stubborn, and still absolutely determined that they will not do anything to jeopardize the careers that they have built.

That blockade lasts nearly a year. The longest, most miserable year either of them can remember. They individually shut themselves up in their own world, seperate from anything that could possibly connect them, and let themselves get lost in their work. They don't call, they never text, they ask before hand who will be at a party and decide then if they already have plans or not. They divide themselves and cut the pieces of their world away that have anything to do with them.

It's not until an awards night that they reconnect, one where Lexa won and Clarke was snubbed.

But it was just... Something inside of Lexa made her reach out because despite this self-imposed cold war of silence between them, Lexa had followed Clarke's work from that very first meeting and thought... dammit, she should've won. Even with the trophy in her hand, sitting on her bed in her gown and hair half undone, she still felt Clarke should've won. And so she breaks the truce she made with herself, and texts Clarke exactly that.

Other than a few fear-induced breakups in the beginning of their eventual relationship, they never miss a day of speaking again.

But that text of "you deserved this more than I do", sent with a snap of a rather glum looking Lexa holding up her trophy - hair half frazzled and slightly runny makeup from a night of too much dancing and too many drinks and schmoozing with people she barely likes... that's what actually changes it all.

[kairiscorner]

Ok ok I just read your NoirXFlorist and I am so in love. A personal HC I have is that Noir’s giving love language is acts of service and so ⬇️

-Imagine Noir being colorblind, but he wants to help at your shop and since the easiest way to differentiate between flowers is color he learns other ways to tell the difference- scent, texture, size, shape, or just memorizing where a certain type of flower is most often stored, because he wants to help. -Also, if any heavy lifting needs to be done, he rushes to do it before you even get the chance, even if it’s just a box. “No, no, I got it, doll.” “A lady of mine shall not do any heavy work, not while I’m here.”

anon are you trying to kill me with cuteness and fluff.

BC IT'S WORKING OMGGGGG YEAH, NO, I WANNA MAKE A FIC OF THIS, THANK YOU FOR THE IDEA AND FOR SHARING :>

(i wish i could credit you anon, you and your big beautiful brain 😭😭😭🫂🫂 also reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <;:D)

(part 1)

so imagine:

it was a real hectic, busy day at your floral shop; people came flooding into your place more frequently, and while it was good for business, you were completely and utterly overwhelmed.

you managed a small establishment, and business was going well recently, but you were the only one working there, of course a pair of hands and a couple of fast feet can only do so much work.

peter'd have come in all chipper and point out the long line of people coming in, and then he'd see your tired, overworked face still smiling and wrapping up bouquets so darn fast.

he'd be in awe, of course, and fall in love with your hardworking and capable self, but he'd be super concerned as well for you so he'd pull you to the side as the influx of people died down for a bit and ask you with a concerned smile if you were okay.

"dear, you good? looks like you had to run several laps back there." he joked lightheartedly as he put his hands on your shoulders. "i know i'm not exactly the most helpful guy out there for this job, but if it gives you any comfort, i can help. i'm around you and the flowers all the time, i... i kinda got everything down about them." he said in a slightly cocky tone, but of course, it was to impress you with his new confidence since you first met him as a bumbling fool who was head over heels in love with you the moment you showed him just what kind of hidden beauty was lying in wait for him to discover.

you hesitated telling him you were okay and that he didn't have to bother himself to help you, because you were seriously considering getting some help at the very last minute to complete your clients' requests. "well... i'm actually kind of drowning over here, pete. i'm worried i can't do this on my own." you admitted.

peter smiled as he put his hand to your cheek. "don't you worry about a thing, i've got you. i meant it when i said i know everything there is know about the flowers here. i may not be able to tell which flowers are what color, but you of all people know a flower's color isn't the only thing worth nothing." he said with a small wink at you. yes, he'd been practicing that wink, he waited for the right occasion to use it on you.

it made you smile widely as peter agreed to help, and you had a lot of faith in him that he'd be able to ease your burden. you had shown peter the ropes before after work hours, it was another option for a date between you two. you loved how fast he picked up at tying the bouquets together, ringing up change, and memorizing the descriptions of the flowers; it really warmed your heart that he took interest in these things and was determined to show you he could do these things for you if you needed him to.

he got to work immediately, hoping that him having to interact with the customers would come as natural and easy as learning everything there is to know about the flowers; but humans are no flowers, they're significantly much harder to please, so that thought kind of scared him. but you were counting on him, that was all he could think about--you counting on him, you needing him right then and there.

you couldn't believe how different peter seemed when he was talking to the customers, helping them out as you tied up the bouquets. he appeared like a door to door salesman, and you meant that in the nicest way possible.

he seemed more upbeat, cheery, and... you dare say, a lot more charming. you two soon switched shifts, he was on tying and ringing up the bouquets, and you were the one helping out the customers pick flowers.

you were a little worried because you knew peter didn't do so well when having other people wait for him, it sort of intimidated him. you never taught him everything he now knows during work hours, it was just you two--and as pleasant as it was for both of you, you were still concerned how he'd be doing applying that practice in a real scenario.

but lo and behold, peter did it all in a jiffy. he didn't even need to use a calculator or do the math on paper, the minute he saw the flowers, counted them, and took note of other things--he could instantly give them their total, with tax. he was extraordinarily fast, too; he was extremely agile yet delicate with handling the bouquets, they were flowers, after all; they needed room to breathe, a single mistake can end in them being crushed, so of course, he was mindful of that, too.

soon, the day was ending; the sky had red, orange, pink, and purple strewn out over the horizon as the sun set. you and peter just finished up the last round of orders, and the floral shop was nearly empty by the time you were finished.

you both breathed out a breath you both didn't realize you were both holding in this entire time. the two of you laughed since you did it at the exact same time. "thank you for helping, peter. really, i... i don't know what i'd've done without you." you said as you went over behind the counter and stood next to him.

now this is when the shy, flustered peter parker comes back to you. he smiled at you widely and blushed profusely; leading all the way up to the tips of his ears, an innocent and pleasing mix of red and pink dancing on his cheeks.

"it's no biggie." he muttered, trying to sound as confident as he was earlier, but his defenses broke down when he caught you leaning closer to his face, your nose mere inches away from his own. he chuckled. "well... maybe it is kind of a biggie." he said as he put his hands on your arms and rubbed them lightly.

"well, thank you, again, pete." you repeated as you put your hand on the back of his. soon, peter noticed a truck coming by and a man coming down the truck with a clipboard in his hand, a few other men bringing boxes about and laying them by the door of your floral shop.

"oh, wait right here, pete." you said as you went over to talk to the man. peter watched as you signed the papers on the man's clipboard, thanked him, and... they left without helping you carry those boxes!

peter was enraged just the slightest bit as he watched you, your poor, overworked self, carry them into the floral shop without contempt for those men who didn't even bother to help. immediately, peter rushed to your aid, flung the door open, and took the box you were trying to carry away from you and into his arms.

"peter--!" you exclaimed as he took the box with ease. "i've got it, don't worry, really! i've already asked for your help today, this... i got this." you tried telling him, but he refused to listen and took box after box into the floral shop.

he smiled up at you and adjusted his glasses with one hand, carrying a box in his other hand. "no, no, i got it, doll. don't you worry about a thing, a lady of mine shall not do any heavy work, not while i'm here." he said as he flashed you another wink, he was getting better at it, you had to admit.

you blushed at his gallantry and general altruism towards you. you decided to reward him for all his hard work afterwards. he finished carrying the boxes and putting them aside. he turned to look at you as you walked into the floral shop, blushing a bit as you kept admiring how sweet he was towards you and for all his help.

"i really can't thank you enough for today, peter. it's far beyond what i originally asked you to do." you said as you took his hands into your own, and he blushed yet again. "of course. anything for you, my darling." he murmured, still admiring how soft and warm your hands were. you giggled. you opened a box to unveil a flurry of flowers of every kind in it, and you placed a flower behind his ear yet again.

he chuckled. "my, you never get tired of doing that, don't you?" he asks. you shake your head playfully. "it looks beautiful." you remarked. "it does?" he asked, a little joyful at that compliment. "well..." he said as he took a flower from the box that he thought was the prettiest and tucked it behind your ear, too. "i've always wanted to do that. and now... oh goodness, you're a complete and total beauty on your own, and now... oh, call an ambulance, love, i'm having a heart attack!" he said as he leaned over to brush his nose against yours, smiling and chuckling to himself all the while as his eyes stared intently into your own big, beautiful ones.

"i truly, truly love you, dear." he tells you as his lips are just centimeters away from your own. "and i love you, truly, pete." you reply as you close the distance between you two, kissing him as the sun sank down into the horizon--you two greeting the night with a loving kiss shared between you two.

maybe he should come out to help you more often, after all, such is to be done when you're planning to become one's husband, no?

a/n: BUIREBFIUBEVIUBHIUFEHIFIRFRBVIURBVBRVR I LOVED WRITING THIS SM AAAAAA TY AGAIN ANON HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTT <33

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @fictarian @pixqlsin

[imaginemalereader]

Anonymous request: Imagine working for House and having a crush on Wilson

“You agree with me, right?”

The question directed at you snapped you out of your thoughts. Chase was staring at you and you had unfortunately no clue what he was arguing with House over.

“I’m not sure I completely follow.” You replied.

“The patient has all the signs of lupus.” Chase said, quickly running down the list.

“It’s not lupus. It’s never lupus!” House exclaimed.

You studied the differential on the board. While House was sure it was never lupus, you had to agree with Chase that the symptoms lined up.

“It’s always possible that it’s something else, but I do agree with Chase. It is hitting all the classic marks. Do you have a different suggestion?”

“Run the damn tests. You’ll see I’m right and then we can move on from this bad idea and get to a real answer.” House threw his hands in the air and limped away to his office.

“[Y/N], why don’t you and Cameron go run the tests. Chase and I can try to find whatever it is that House thinks we should be finding.” Foreman suggested.

You and Cameron nodded and headed out of the space. As you walked the halls she made some small talk.

“So what were you thinking about when Chase asked for your input?” She asked.

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to play it off.

“Oh come on, we both know you weren’t listening to what he said.”

“I was just, um, running through the differential in my,” you got distracted as the two of you passed Dr. Wilson in the hall. He smiled and gave you a quick wave as he walked toward his office. You smiled and waved back, knowing your cheeks were heating up in spite of yourself.

“I think I have a better idea what was running through your head.” Cameron said with a laugh.

“What? You think...? Don’t be ridiculous.” You blustered trying to defend yourself but you knew it wasn’t doing any good.

“You’ve got a thing for Wilson.”

“I, uh, may have something of a crush.” You admitted.

“So when are you going to tell him?” She asked, enjoying the new development, not that she hadn’t had her suspicions before. You always got shy when the oncologist was around and picked his suggestions over House’s even though you worked for House.

“Oh you know I was thinking, never.”

“No, [Y/N], you have to tell him.”

“No I definitely do not. He’s the head of oncology and I’m still an intern. And I don’t even know if he likes guys.”

“Well you’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

“Yes and that way he’ll never know either. And I don’t have to worry about dying of embarrassment. I’m perfectly happy waving in the halls and talking at lunch sometimes.”

Cameron shook her head but by that point you were arriving at the patient’s room. You both knew she wasn’t going to just drop it though.

A few days later, you went to lunch alone and sat down to eat a quick meal before getting back to your latest case. Your plan was interrupted when none other than James Wilson approached your table.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked, gesturing to the empty seat across from you.

“Not at all.” You said immediately.

“How are you doing?” He asked as he sat down.

“Good. Taking my breaks where I can get them. House doesn’t always, how do I put this, remember that humans need to eat.”

Wilson laughed. He knew that all too well about House.

“I’m just glad he’s at least remembering you guys are humans.”

“Well, he sometimes remembers that.” You replied. “House is a genius and it’s obviously a huge privilege to work for him but, I don’t want to talk bad about your friend.” You realized in the middle of your sentence maybe you shouldn’t be saying this to him.

“House is an ass, believe me I know. And whatever you’re going to say I’m sure  I’ve heard worse said about him.”

“I wish he was a little nicer. I know we’re still learning but would a genuine compliment kill him?”

“I think it might.” Wilson said with a smile. “But in all seriousness, I can talk to him if you want. He shouldn’t be so cruel. You don’t deserve that.”

“We both know it won’t change anything.” You said with a shrug. You were flattered that he offered though. But, considering he was friends with House you figured he would do that for anyone House was bothering.

“Maybe not, but I’d hate to see you get down because House can’t be bothered to respect you.”

“I guess you probably see enough sad people every day, huh?” You replied, once again trying to deflect the thoughts that he was talking about you specifically.

“Sure, but it always makes my day a little better when you wave at me in the hall.”

You felt your face heat up. You tried to tell yourself it was just a friendly compliment. But no matter how many times your brain said it, your heart was still jumping.

“I, thank you.” You replied, not certain how to respond. “I like it when you smile, it’s good to see a kind face around.”

Wilson’s face was now getting a pink tint to it. He was about to say something more when his pager beeped.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to-”

“Of course, go.” You interrupted.

He got up and moved to leave before turning back around to you.

“Do you want to grab dinner later? I’d like to talk without these interruptions for once.”

“I’d love to.” You were positively beaming.

“It’s a date.” He said without thinking. He met your eyes quickly. You had a shy smile on your face and looked down from him. “Sorry I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay. It’s a date.” You cut him off with a smile.

He smiled back, that cute gentle smile of his.

“I’ll see you this evening then. For our date.” He nodded, and turned to leave again. You both did little celebrations once the other couldn’t see.

You’d never wanted a shift to end so fast in your life. House seemed intent on making every minute feel like an hour. But eventually the end came and you had to fight not to sprint to Wilson’s office.

The door was open but you knocked lightly anyway when you saw him hunched over papers. He looked up and then looked at his watch.

“I’m sorry,” you began, “if you’re too busy we don’t have to-”

“Nope, I’m glad you came. Otherwise I might have just dived into the endless pile of paperwork and never come back.” He stood up, grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and walked toward you. “How do you feel about Italian?”

“I’m a big fan of Italian.”

“Good, I know a place.”

You walked out of the hospital together and he led the way down the street.

“Did you actually mean for this to be a date? Or was that just a turn of phrase?” You ended up asking partway down the street after a few seconds of silence. You were nervous. In the moment it had felt cute but now you were doubting again.

Wilson paused before answering.

“If you want it to be a date, it’s a date. I meant it when I said it but then I was worried it was too forward.”

“Okay good.” You said.

“Good.”

“Yeah good. I do want it to be a date then.”

“Good.”

He smiled and reached over, taking your hand. He looked over at you and you smiled before looking away. Cameron would never let you hear the end of this. But you were on a date with James Wilson so you couldn’t really be mad about it.

[rallamajoop]

Some statistics on Lucy and the odds of surviving (non-vampiric) blood transfusions

Because it’s Dracula-season again, and because I am absolutely that kind of nerd, I spent some time calculating the actual odds of Lucy surviving all those blood transfusions from unrelated donors. To summarise what I found up front: Lucy's odds aren't great, but they're still a lot higher than you might think.

Now, I’m not the first person ever to tackle this question, and having no medical qualifications whatsoever, I'm not the best person either. But figuring out the answer to my own satisfaction was a great excuse to learn a whole lot of fascinating stuff that took some digging to figure out, so (with the caveat that I am entirely open to corrections from real professionals) naturally now I want to share it.

The complete world history of attempted blood transfusions is way beyond scope for us here (you can find plenty of sources on it online if you’re curious). But as Stoker’s text aptly demonstrates, the science of blood transfusion had come a long way by the Victorian era – just not the means for doctors to reliably predict which transfusions would be successful, and which would simply kill the patient. The principle behind the basic A, B and O blood types wouldn’t be discovered until 1900 – 4 years after Dracula was published, and wouldn't become part of general medical practice for much longer – and the additional Rh-factors wouldn’t be discovered until 1939. In Stoker's day, doctors were still so far behind the ball some of them thought transfusing milk into people suffering blood loss was a good idea (yes, really). And though I'm focusing on blood groups here, it goes without saying there are plenty of other risks that come from letting any Victorian-era doctor open your veins.

That said, what the average person knows about how blood types work may not be all that much advanced today from what doctors knew in the 1890s. It’s easy to come out of Dracula thinking, “Wow, they gave Lucy blood from four different people? The odds all their blood types would matched hers must be minuscule!” (and a quick search of the web for this topic will find people asking exactly that). But there are several factors which make Lucy’s chances a whole lot better than they might look on paper.

(Image source)

For one thing, even though there are many different blood groups to worry about, some are much more common than others. If just one blood group accounts for half the population (which is actually true of some countries), then Lucy’s odds of hitting four donors with the same group just by chance would go way up.

But far more important is the fact that blood groups don’t have to be a 'match' to be compatible. If Lucy is one of the 2% of the British population with the blood group AB+, she’d be a universal recipient – theoretically capable of receiving blood from anyone without adverse reactions. Similarly, if any of her donors were O-, she’s in luck again, because that makes them a universal donor. If Lucy herself is O-, however, she’s in trouble: universal donors can donate to any other group, but they can only receive from other O-negs.

Confused? Time to get a bit more technical.

When receiving blood, your greatest enemy is your own immune system. Vital as all those immune cells are, they are not smart, and have no way of knowing that all this foreign blood suddenly flooding your system is friendly. If the don’t recognise those blood cells, they’ll attack them, bonding to their surface and causing cells to clump together and form clots which can clog up your arteries and kill you. Transfusing the wrong blood type can and likely will kill you.

The immune system identifies blood cells as intruders via specific antigens found on the cell’s surface. The most important antigens in blood matching systems are the A and B antigens, and secondarily the Rhesus antigens (marked + or -). Some people have all of these antigens (AB+), some have none (O- with the ‘O’ more literally indicating a ‘0’ or a null) and many have some but not all (A+, B-, O+, etc). Meanwhile, the immune system of the recipient body, much like your racist uncle, will attack most anything with distinguishing features it hasn't seen before (like I said, it’s not smart). A blood cell which is missing a familiar antigen will slip through, but a blood cell sporting an unfamiliar antigen will trigger a reaction. So the immune system of someone with B-type blood will have issues with any A-type blood you try and transfuse in, but will be just fine with B or O, since O lacks any antigens to mark it as an intruder.

Once you know what you’re looking for, A, B, AB and O type blood can be identified fairly easily, just by mixing blood or antibodies and watching the reaction. I’ve seen some suggestions that this may have been understood even to some of the better-informed doctors in Victorian times: when unsure if a transfusion would be safe, they could try transfusing just a small amount of blood, watch for a bad reaction, and continue only if things look good. If you absolutely have to do a blood transfusion without any testing though, an immediate family member is your best bet: blood types can still differ among a family, but there’s a strong genetic component. (Sadly, this wouldn’t have been an option for Lucy, as her mother was already unwell, and would not have been considered a good transfusion candidate.)

Things get more complicated when you add in the Rhesus factor, which wasn’t discovered until some decades later, and for good reason: bad reactions to Rh+ blood develop in Rh- people only after that first transfusion. While A and B types might be like your racist uncle, the Rh factor is more like putting a dog on your basketball team: you’ll get away with it once, because you’ve brought in something so unexpected no-one’s made a rule about it yet (let alone bothered to come up with anti-dog basketball tactics). Unlike the standard A and B antigens, the immune system has to have 1) seen Rh+ blood, and 2) spent some time thinking about a good plan of attack before it’s ready to do anything about it – by which point the donor blood should be out of your system anyway. It's only the next transfusion after that where you can hit problems.

In practice, the Rh factor is of most concern to Rh- mothers carrying Rh+ babies. The first baby should be fine, but the delivery process can result in some mixing of the mother and baby's blood ‒ and that can leave her immune system primed to take offense at any future passengers of the Rh+ persuasion (why this apparently doesn’t also apply to A and B type babies in A or B negative mothers I’m not sure, but obviously the Rh-immune response works differently). With all today’s modern medical technology, this is something doctors can identify in expectant parents and manage with medication, but obviously they're still going to want to avoid transfusing Rh+ blood into an Rh- patient (especially if they’ve already got Rh+ kids).

Regardless, for our purposes, it’s only from the second transfusion that the Rh factor could trip you up. So could that be an issue for Lucy, if she’s getting so many transfusions? It's harder to find good info on exactly how long the Rh immune reaction takes to develop after the first transfusion, but most of what I could find suggests we’re looking at a period of weeks to months at least. So that’s good news for Lucy: we can ignore Rh factors when we’re calculating her odds of survival.

As a minor aside here, the standard eight blood types you can get by combining A, B and the Rhesus factor aren’t technically the only blood types out there. These three antigens matter most because people both with and without them are common in the broader human population, but a small minority of people are missing other antigens that the rest of us get as standard. European blood banks apparently also classify blood by a Kell factor, and people with anaemia and other conditions likely to require regular transfusions may be checked for several other potential Rh-like issues. A handful of people worldwide have blood classified as neither Rh+ or Rh-, but Rh-null – missing antigens common to 99.9% of the human population, and being in that class is a very mixed blessing. Blood donations from someone Rh-null can be used in recipients with rare blood types that would make them incompatible with almost any other donor. But if someone Rh-null ever needs a blood donation themselves, they’re in big trouble.

So, enough theory. What’s all this mean for Lucy’s odds of making it through 4 blood transfusions from unrelated donors?

Unsurprisingly, ratios of different blood groups vary a lot country to country and population to population, so I looked up ratios in modern Britain (Van Helsing is Dutch, of course, but blood groups in the Netherlands are similar enough to those in the UK that we’ll ignore that, just for simplicity). It’s possible these ratios have drifted since Victorian times, but figuring out how is so far beyond scope here we’re not going to worry about it. As discussed above, we’ll also ignore Rh factors – Lucy’s almost certainly never had a blood transfusion or a baby before, and everything happens far too fast for an Rh-immune response to kick in.

Alright. It’s statistics time!

We don't know Lucy's blood group, so any are possible. For each potential Lucy-blood-group, we can generate a list of blood groups which will be compatible donors (we'll call that list C(x)), and from that, we can calculate the probability that she'll be compatible with any randomly-selected donor. For Lucy to survive, we need her to survive 4 successive blood transfusions, so we’re raising that survival probability to the power of 4. Then to calculate her overall probability of survival, we multiply the survival rate by the odds she’s in that blood group, and add them together (no need to divide by the total population, that’s an easy 100%). So if we let n = number of transfusions and P(x) = probability a person is in blood group x, we get the following lovely equation:

(Yes, I know, I'm sorry ‒ someone out there is going to want to check my working, and I like to be transparent.)

And with that, (assuming I’m not just talking out of my arse with all those calculations), that suggests Lucy’s overall chances of surviving 4 different blood transfusions is about: (drum roll)... 27%. So, roughly 1 in 4.

The really savvy reader might notice that Lucy does not, technically, survive all four transfusions – she dies shortly after the fourth, so it’s conceivable that last transfusion was a mismatch. If we take the requirements down to where Lucy only needs to survive 3 transfusions, her odds go up to 34%, or closer to 1 in 3. Still not great, but given the sorts of crazy one-in-a-million coincidences all fiction is built on, that’s actually pretty reasonable. Even if you do factor in Rh compatibilities, we're still looking at around 21% survival rate after 4 transfusions, which are pretty decent odds in the world of Victorian medicine.

Do those odds sound a little high to you? Here’s something to keep in mind. On paper, Lucy’s odds of surviving even a single random-donor transfusion are only 65%. But given she survived that first transfusion, the odds go up that she’s in one of those near-universal blood groups, and they keep going up. Sure, every new transfusion has a new chance to kill you, but statistically speaking, every transfusion you survive marks you as someone who’s a little more likely to survive the next. So someone who's already survived 2 transfusions has a 76% chance of surviving a 3rd ‒ and if they do survive that 3rd, an 80% chance of surviving a 4th.

As another aside though, even after surviving four successive transfusions, the odds Lucy’s in that lucky AB universal-recipient category are still only about 10% (compared to 3% of the base population). Statistically, it’s still far more likely she’s in the A-group ‒ the second largest group in the UK, and who can receive blood from the other largest group (O), letting them receive blood from a whooping 86% of the population without issue. Aren’t statistics wonderful?

Oh, all right – I’ll stop with the maths. We’ve made our point here.

Now, we could still point out that, for a supposedly-experienced physician, Stoker's Van Helsing seems pretty blase about the possibility his blood transfusions could backfire horribly ‒ but then, Lucy's already on death's door each time he resorts to asking for volunteers. He's doing the only thing that might save her life (and it does, until it doesn't).

To conclude, no-one is going to tell you Dracula makes sense. This is a book which offers no explanation for why Dracula should just happen land in England on the same town where his solicitor’s fiancée just is taking a holiday, let alone the rest of it. And Stoker had no way of knowing Lucy’s actual odds of surviving such a very Victorian procedure. But that whole blood transfusion sequence is far from being the least probable thing in the book. 

[saintsenara]

More ships! Severus Snape/Charity Burbage, Severus Snape/Petunia Dursley, Narcissa Black/Lily Evans, Narcissa Black/Remus Lupin

thank you very much for the ask, anon! lots of delicious ships here to get into...

charity burbage/severus snape

i'm going to start this one by pointing out something which features a lot in discussions of snape's relationship with dear old chazza b, and which i have elected to find annoying even though it's spectacularly minor:

in the book [or - certainly - in the original edition, which is what i have] of deathly hallows, charity does not say that she and snape are friends while pleading for her life. this is an invention of the films, which are rather more heavy-handed at hinting that snape isn't really a loyal death eater with blood-supremacist views than the text is.

but, nonetheless, she does still beg him to spare her... and so she must retain some belief in snape's capacity for goodness even though she must be aware, as a hogwarts teacher, that he murdered dumbledore only days beforehand...

which is to say that i love the idea of a bit of snarity [snurbage? burbape?] in a story which didn't deviate from the canon timeline. it is just exquisitely nasty to imagine the two coming together during the goblet of fire to half-blood prince period, initially just for something casual - since snape knows he can't commit to anything given his role as a spy - which then turned into something deeper he was occasionally driven to allow himself to imagine might be able to become a real relationship after the war...

...and then him having to look a woman he's fallen in love with in the eyes and arrange his features into a malevolent smirk while this is happening:

Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy’s wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.   “Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort.  Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, “Severus! Help me!” “Ah, yes,” said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

and then to have to pretend to be completely unruffled as voldemort kills her in front of him.

delicious.

petunia dursley/severus snape

this is one i really, really back.

i’m fond of petunia, who i think is one of the most interesting characters in the series because of how full of contradictions she is.

and who i think is also a victim in fandom spaces of how the adult cast was aged up for the films [in canon, she’s only in her early twenties when lily dies, and the implication is that vernon is a good deal older than her]. her inadequacies, such as her inability to truly care for either child in the household, seem much more nuanced in a woman of twenty-three, who has a toddler and whose entire family is dead, than they do if she’s pictured as a middle-aged woman with considerable life experience.

and like snape, petunia teeters on a knife edge between various chasms: she's a working-class girl from the midlands made good in middle-class surrey, he's a working-class half-blood boy who spends most of his life in pureblood circles; she ends up with her whole life wrapped up in a square little house when she’s barely out of her teens, he ends up with his whole life wrapped up in spying at the same age; she hates the wizarding world and yet covets it, he hates the muggle world and yet cannot escape it; she loves lily and she hates her and she loathes her for dying, he… well, you know the rest.

all of these similarities - especially when combined with the long history of resentment between snape and petunia [she thinks he stole lily from her! he thinks she was the first person to try and keep lily from him!] - makes snetunia just so compelling.

and if you're convinced and desperate to really get into the mess, you're in luck - because you can read the magnificent regretfully, yours by @maria-de-salinas, which takes snape and petunia's bitterness and awkwardness and grief and guilt and remorse and turns it into something really quite beautiful...

narcissa black/lily evans

ok, so i'm afraid to say that narlily is one of those marauders-era ships which i don't fully get the increasingly popularity of - and so, if you do ship it i would be thrilled to get your recs and manifestos as to why.

my objection doesn't actually have anything to do with narcissa being a blood-supremacist [although i don't think i'd vibe with a story which didn't address this at all - and i'm not compelled by a common version of fanon!narcissa which has her as not sincerely holding these beliefs: she is just as much of a bigot as lucius] - i think something quite interesting could be done with narlily [as in all death-eater-with-a-non-pureblood ships] as a vehicle for an examination of the hypocrisy of blood-supremacy; and with narlily as a femslash ship specifically as a vehicle for an examination of how sex with a non-pureblood which has no chance of resulting in pregnancy would be more acceptable in a culture which is so obsessed with heritage and lineage than sex which could.

why i don't really think it would slap for me, though, is that narcissa always comes across in canon as someone who is conformist and a bit staid - largely, as i've written about elsewhere, because she feels a desire to perform according to the gendered conventions expected of a woman of her class background as a way of deflecting the shame brought upon her family's standing in polite society by bellatrix and andromeda's behaviour. lily - on the other hand - is famously a bit bolshy - cheeky and adventurous and argumentative and stubborn.

and so i simply do not imagine their personalities either working well together in any meaningful way or clashing spicily [they'd clearly both regard the other as not worth their time popping off at].

please change my mind!

narcissa black/remus lupin

this, on the other hand... yes. hook it into my veins.

they both live behind masks - hers of gendered social convention, his of self-loathing - which have, at their core, the idea that a proper witch and wizard must be "civilised". and while they both seem to prefer to embrace these masks, there is the potential lurking beneath them for both of them to break free and be wild and raw in the realities of themselves.

plus... imagine if you've also got the post-1981 context of lupin trying desperately to understand how sirius could have become the death eater who would betray james to voldemort and narcissa and lucius trying to establish the fiction that he was under the imperius curse during the first war with the ministry, well before they feel comfortable becoming as complacent in their conviction that voldemort's not about to return as they are at the start of the canon narrative.

lovely misery.

[ivanzplaid]

Soo in light of the new terrifier movie that just came out this month, can I request an Art the Clown x serial killer male reader who has some kind of bdsm kink? I was thinking something along the lines of Art and the reader end up catching each other killing and are covered in blood and kind of have this moment of "oh my god, let's fuck right now" and the reader gets completely railed. I have been looking everywhere for some Art x male reader and haven't been able to find anything so this would be amazing-

Happy Halloween 👋

oh my god yes yes yes, first of all i completely agree there are NO male readers for art which is awful, and id be more than happy to do this because i also am fully into the idea <3 youve just killed someone in a back alley and you get thr overwhelming feeling that someones watching you, and turning your head you see art, standing at thr entrance ( and exit ), admiring what youve done. he walks towards you slowly with a small smile, waving his fingers and eyebrows going up and down, and before you know it hes standing right infront of you, looking iver your body as youre just dumbfounded at the clown seducing you🫶 also!! happy halloween!

requests are open, masterlist is up!!

this is longer than i expected😭 i did not think i loved art that much but ig i do, so please request more of him if you like this!! not proofread, spelling errors are my bad but its halloween, also i wrote this in about 8 seperate parts so i am so sorry if it had a bad flow, i was jus on a roll LMFAO

Art the Clown x M! Serial Killer! Reader + BDSM | Avert Your Eyes to Me | NSFW

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM, Praise-ish, Violence/Murder Description, Language, Knife play, Fluff/Obsession at the end

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

The chilling feeling of the wind that brushed against you didn't bring you down from the high that drugged you, your body jittered in place as your gaze fixated on the body of a stranger, laid silently, informally, in the quiet part of a back alleyway. Your breathing was calming down after the trouble you went through to just kill them, after they tackled you & punched, you watched them as their life was staked out, being dragged harshly from your switchblade, which was now tucked neatly between your waistband, peaking out slightly and revealing your skin.

If your gaze became heavier, you felt like you'd close your eyes. The body was magnetic, tonight was the first time you had time to just sit and look st your work, as you referred to it. Like an artist to their canvas, or a writer to their book, you were fixated on the corpse that sat there, it's not your fault that death was beauty.

A sigh came out as you lifted your wrist to check the time, it was 9:07, the sun set hours ago, and you had no plans. How eventful. You knew rigor mortis would set in, in roughly an hour or so from know, and it was a pain in the ass last time you waited that long. So with that, you bent down to gather the body up easily, and heave it elsewhere, so it wouldn't be the publics eyesore.

Tap. Tap. Tap

A trance became broken when you heard purposeful taps, and with your body hunched over carrying a body, you shot your head to the perpetrator. Unfortunately, no one was there, the streetlight was the only thing lit, and it revealed it was just you. Alone.

An uncomfortable feeling in your throat came up, and so your movements were rushed, trying to pull the body in its contorted figure closer to you to-

Tap. Tap. Tap

It's your mind, it's not real. Continue on with your work and dispose of the body before somebody-

Tap. Tap. Tap

With your attitude irritated, and your time being crunched from paranoia, you looked up.

"What the fuck is that noise.."

To your deepest displeasure, your eyes met with someone with time, somebody who stood no less than 8 feet from you, watching you quietly. Your body froze, everything was tight, as if you were being electrocuted.

Your eyes, even if stuck in place, drew in the sight. The person, rather dressed as a clown, mimicked your body, its- or rather his, head was tilted, and a small face was looking at you, a face you'd see in a Tom and Jerry cartoon, an over-exaggerated, shocked face.

The two of you stood silently, the silence being your cushion, because if he didn't talk, it wouldn't bring attention.

The look he had on was black and white, dressed almost as a terrifying mime, and to add to it, there was also blood splatter on him, from head to toe.

Your body was still holding onto your victim, hunched over in a pathetic attempt to seal what you've done. Yet, the clown stood there, staring at you, looking you into the eyes. There was no interest of what you've done.

You wanted to move, or speak, but it was as if all senses and abilities left you, everywhere was tense, and the weight of your body was holding you down, no attempt to move was successful. Somehow, it also seemed like this transferred to your eyes. While the clown stared you down, like a superior looking over the weak, you, timidly, peered back at him. The man was hypnotic, having you in a trance to keep your eyes on him. So even when the sound of footsteps became more apparent, the sight of the clown becoming even closer, you could only admire.

Eventually, he stood right before you. His head tilted down, leaving you transfixed on his face. The teeth in particular left you captivated. The shining white from them contrasted beautifully with the red that splattered on his cheek. It was intimidating, and inviting.

"What do you want, why are you here?"

A silky feeling came to your chin, and before your mouth could open to speak, a thumb pressed over your lips, while a finger kept your head tilted up. The clowns face configured a smile, slowly shaking its head while his fingers made circles on your lips.

You could've moved away, or stood up to escape. You could step away and make your way to your neighborhood, to your house, but the opposite happened. You sat there compliantly, eyes wide, and becoming more and more aroused, breathing getting heavier. He saw this as well.

While one hand occupied your face, another came down gently, grasping your shoulder before pushing you firmly to your knees, which buckled easily. A slight huff of air left you, and what replaced it was his thumb, sliding into your mouth and familiarizing itself.

Everything about your body felt warm now, the events making your dick twitch from under your pants. The thumb inside your mouth traveled further to the back of your mouth, following on your tongue.

The hold on your shoulder made its way up, stroking your neck, then stopping at the back of your head, taking a chunk of your hair with it, then pulling you closer to his waist. Your eyes broke contact first, peering to the bulge that stood out from the thin costume, then looking back up, just to see the clown nodding, thin eyebrows raised, amused.

You took the initiative that it mean to undo the costume, so your hands lifted to find a zipper, or anything to open to it. Quickly enough you found the zipper and began undoing it, before tugging at the boxers that stood between it. Your fingers felt cold against the pale skin that was revealed, and your ears picked up on the laughter the clown emitted, taunting you from your eagerness. When your eyes peered back up, the thumb in your mouth made you open wider, then putting the tip on your tongue, using his hand with your hair to guide you forward into taking it, your saliva acting as lubricant.

Even with the tight grip on the back of your hair, you became harder, whining from the sensation that went to your mouth. He made you keep eye contact, even when the pace quickened, and you could feel it hitting the back of your throat, with tears stinging your eyes, he wanted to see all of you below him.

Eyes-watering & a softened gaze seemed to make the clown before you more turned on, choking and gagging only made the pace quicker, his fingers massaging the back of your head as he pushed your face in, to his pelvis, then back to the tip. At one point, he left your head to furthest point on his dick, feeling your tongue and your mouth, forcing your head to stay still and face fuck him before pulling out of your mouth and cumming on your face, chest slightly heaving from the way drool was left on the side of your mouth, and the way his cum was spread across your pretty little face. Wiping some of it off with his thumb, he maneuvered it into your mouth, swirling it around your tongue so he could smile at you tasting him.

Moments of recovery had passed quickly for the clown, who soon became just as active as before. A hand reached towards the neck of your shirt, and grabbed a fist of it, using it as a leash to drag you down with him, leading you to his lap on the ground. A dim streetlight was lit 30 feet away, there was just enough light for you two to see eachother, but the man had no trouble finding the seams of your pants to guide down slowly, examining how your hips moved, and how much control he had over your pleasure.

He'd dictate when and what you experienced, because as soon as his fingers found the switchblade that you'd carelessly left in your pocket, his eyes went wide with discovery, yet his smile suggested he had other ideas besides wonder in mind. Fully taking your pants off, and throwing them aside,, he left your briefs on, and put a singular hand cupping your dick, which left a tent for his eyes only. With his other, now free hand, he let the blade rush out, and held it to your chest, then moving his hand to his own lips in a hushed manner. He wanted you to play a game with him, stay silent for him, like his good boy, with the imminent threat of your own knife, now being used against you.

Without warning, he began to rub his hands over your cock, eyeing the precum that was staining your underwear and giggling to himself. His hands would stroke you from over your boxers, watching you struggle to calm yourself with suppressed moans and whines, bucking yourself into his hand to get an ounce of pleasure. He knew you couldn't cum from this, but his amusement left you needy, and he wanted to have more fun.

The blade that was left idly against your throat had slight pressure to it when your groan slipped out, but you saw that his dick was standing up from the show you put on.

Soon enough, his fingers slid under the waistband and slide it down, and using the blade for better access, he cut the underwear so you wouldn't have to move off his lap. You now sat, exposed, on him. Your attempt to discreetly cover yourself was shot down as soon as one hand wrapped around your dick, staying still, with pre-cum drenching his hand. Slowly, he began to move his fingers up and down, spitting once onto it to have more lube before locking eye contact again.

He liked nothing more than seeing your body, even when being stroked, and pleasured, shrinking down from his confidence. He wants you to know that he has the control, he will abuse his powers as much, or as little, as he pleases. With this knowledge, he speeds up his strokes, leaving extra time to play with the tip, just to see your thighs twitch and body shift. He wont let you get close to cumming, until your on his dick of course. But by then, it'll be overstimulation.

His free hand sat still on your thigh, but he realized he'd still have to prep you for him after all. While his hand worked you teasingly, the other had you open for two finger, soaking them inside your mouth, just so he could spread your ass and slide them in slowly, causing a gasp-moan to leave you. The sensation of your hole being filled for the first time by him left you tight, but the moor and more his fingers began to work in and out of you had you weaker, leaning your head and arms over his neck while he worked you from both sides.

His fingers stretched you out more than you'd been before, he was eager to shove himself inside of you, but he restrained himself when he saw your face, toned red and pathetic from him fucking you with his fingers, and his handjob works.

At one point, you became silent, a small hum of deep breathing and whines, and your body tensed when his fingers scissored you & played your tip, he knew you were about to cum, but he wasn't ready for you to give up yet. In a singular motion, one finger went over the tip of your dick, and he stopped everything else. If he had to physically prevent you from cumming, just so he could let you cum over and over when he fucked you, so be it.

You slightly lifted your head to look at him, but he only shook his head, cupping your cheek.

Cool air made you sink deeper into him, holding onto his shoulders to keep yourself warm and for balance as he held his cock. You could feel his nose find its way to the crevice of your neck, before biting down to leave marks. The air pushed itself out of you when you felt his teeth, softly groaning and holding on tighter to him.

Before you had the chance to move again, when your body was relaxed from the bite, you felt the tip of his dick slide into you, stretching your hole, making sure he gets you all the way down on him, eventually having you sitting on his lap, stroking your face in his own ways of praise.

Your face that was previously stuck to his shoulder, was gracefully lifted off, chin tilted up in a vulnerable manner, avoiding eye contact with the man whos fingers held your chin firmly.

When you felt the movement beneath you, of him fucking you slowly, his dick sliding inside of you, the feeling of tightness before you can adjust to his size, your breathing sputtered. Eye contact felt shameful, you couldn't hide how much you were liking his paced thrusting, but when you felt the pressure being placed onto your neck, squeezing the sides and hitching your breathe, you looked right towards him.

Your eyes were met with a sadistic look, eyes widened with a closed smile, taunting you and how pathetic you looked. His fingers drummed along your neck, and your mind was trying to get through two things at once; his dick, which was now fucking inside of you even harder, having you move up and down to go deeper, and the hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing and softening to put you on edge.

The sounds that were trapped in your throat felt heavy, louder moans trying to escape were stopped by him, but the sound of skin on skin, becoming faster and more apparent made your body twitch, your thighs tensed around the mans waist, and your chest held in its breath to strangle out more pleasure.

For a few moments, it felt like it was just the two of you in the world you occupied. You'd completely lost memory of what lead you to this, the dick that was penetrating you had found your g-spot after a short period of time, and periods of ecstasy flashed your eyes, almost cumming from each hit. You may have been able to last a few more minutes, if you didn't feel a hand slip from your chest, sliding up the base of your cock, teasing you with unfulfilling strokes, before jerking you off as sensually as possible, with your drool falling down to his hand to fuck you with.

It was an overwhelming stimulation from your ass being pounded into, having no mercy to your body, or the aches you'd wake up, and the praise and dedication your cock was getting, being pleasantly stroked and rubbed quickly, satisfying your needs and begs for him.

The warmth in your body began to grow hotter, and when you came, spreading your cum all over his chest, he came in your ass, settling, almost pushing you down to secure your position on him. A sign of property and trust. He came in you, used you, and saw your body at your most vulnerable moments when you were pleading, bouncing on his dick. He thinks it's only fair you'd be his.

As your body sporadically moved, twitching uncontrollably from the overstimulation, he held you, mesmerized by the way your body, face, and voice could sound so perfect. You weren't going to leave him like the others did. After tonight, he'd truly be all you need, he'd make sure of it.

[holybatgirlz]

Had to do another response to bridgertonbabe’s spouses groupchat

(All credit goes to @bridgertonbabe)

—

🐝 The Children Group Chat 🐝

Eloise sent a picture.

Eloise: I think we should submit this to Merriam-Webster to put in the dictionary next to the word ‘heavenly’ because holy shit what happened last night was the closest I have ever had to a religious experience.

Eloise: And yes, I already created and bought matching sweatshirts with this image on it for everyone. They say ‘I survived the Pictionary Incident of ‘16’ on them.

Hyacinth: I swear to god if you two idiots scared Sophie off I’m going to finish what she started.

Anthony: Do I have to remind everyone that both Colin and myself were assaulted last night?? Or did you not see the photo Eloise just sent??

Violet: Do I need to remind you both that you purposefully dropped a keg on your brother’s hand?!?

Colin: Mini. It was a mini keg.

Colin: We’re not stupid enough to drop an actual keg on Benedict.

Violet: Well, you could have fooled me.

Violet: The doctor told me your poor brother broke two fingers and was a millimeter away from needing to have surgery on his hand. And in his dominant hand no less.

Violet: Do you have any idea how this is going to impact your brother? His painting? His upcoming gallery showing? He still has three paintings he needs to finish before next month and I have no idea how he’s going to complete them now that you two have gone and done this to him.

Colin: Yes, yes mother. We know. Benedict’s your precious little baby. Heaven forbid he do anything wrong. Like yelling at his girlfriend because she nearly made him lose Pictionary.

Colin: A girlfriend who, I would like the record to reflect, slapped me.

Anthony: Sophie also gave me a black eye. Kate has spent all of this morning laughing at me every time I walk into a room and she sees it so I think we’re even.

Violet sent a picture.

Violet sent a picture.

Violet: What did you not understand about almost needing surgery? You practically shattered his hand!! You nearly destroyed your brother’s art career!

Hyacinth: If Sophie stops talking to me because of the shit you two bozos pulled omg I’m going to end you both.

Colin: I’m surprised the coke can you nearly hit her with didn’t already do that.

Daphne: Hey. We may have a situation happening.

Francesca: What’s wrong?

Violet: Is everything alright?

Daphne: Simon’s panic pacing in our living room right now and I heard him say something about Sophie. I’m trying to figure out what happened. Give me a second.

Daphne: Hold on.

Daphne: SOPHIE’S PLANNING TO BREAK UP WITH BEN!!

Francesca: What??

Eloise: Say sike Daphne. Say sike right now.

Gregory: Seriously??

Colin: Oh shit. For real?

Francesca: How do you know?

Daphne: Simon and Kate are texting with her right now. I only figured it out because Simon’s stutter comes back when he’s stressed and mutters to himself to stay calm.

Daphne: But Sophie’s said she’s going to break up with Ben when he wakes up because she thinks we all hate her!!

Violet: I need to get back to the hospital right now.

Hyacinth: YOU IDIOTS!!!

Hyacinth: I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BOTH!!

Colin: Gregory. Since I know u r with her. Scale of 1-10 how pissed is Hy right now?

Gregory: Hy right now:

Gregory sent a photo

Gregory sent a photo

Colin: Ah. 100 then.

Gregory: Yeah

Colin: Well it was nice knowing everyone

Anthony: Why on earth would she think we hate her?? You were all cheering her on when she was assaulting us.

Eloise: By far the hottest thing I've ever seen. I think watching her throw that punch rewired my brain chemistry. Watered my crops. Cleared my skin. Ended my depression. And helped me finish my graduate applications. I’ve never felt so alive.

Eloise: Fuck Wollstonecraft. Fuck Steinem. Fuck Atwood. Their works do not even compare to the straight prose Sophie was shooting last night while she was yelling at you two.

Eloise: And if we lose her now because you two idiots made her think we despise her I am going to HELP HYACINTH BURY YOUR BODIES!!!

Francesca: Mum, how close are you?

Violet: 30 minutes out. John is driving as fast as he legally can to get me back there.

Violet: I knew I shouldn’t have left her there alone. I knew something was off. She was far too quiet to have been okay with all of this.

Daphne: Do you need us to come meet you there?

Violet: No. The last thing we need to do is overwhelm her.

Violet: This is all my fault. I should never have picked Pictionary. I shouldn’t have even allowed a Game Night to begin with!

Violet: I forgot that I have wolves for children. That you all were swapped with changelings as babies.

Hyacinth: Why didn’t anyone stay with Sophie???

Eloise: Because she’s a grown woman who knows how to handle herself. She seemed fine last night.

Francesca: She seemed pretty overwhelmed to me. I found her crying in the bathroom after Benedict yelled at her.

Violet: She was crying?!!!

Francesca: I think she was just taken by surprise and she told me Danbury had called her earlier about the lawsuit with her stepmother so I thought she was probably already stressed before she arrived at the house last night. I told her Benedict didn’t mean any of it. And after the beat down she gave Colin and Anthony I thought she would be okay.

Hyacinth: Mum you need to get there!!

Violet: Sweetheart, I’m trying to get there as fast as I can.

Hyacinth: Omg Mum hurry up 😩😩😩 My sanity is on the line here.

Gregory: Anthony and Colin’s asses are literally on the line right now. Hyacinth might actually commit to killing them.

Hyacinth: I swear to God I’m going to actually lose it if Sophie leaves. We finally were about to have a cool in-law in the family and now you IDIOTS RUINED IT!!!

Gregory: We were almost able to say we had a felon in the family 😖😖😖

Daphne: Gregory. Sophie nearly going to jail is not something to strive for.

Francesca: She also isn’t a felon. She would have had to have been convicted for that to be true.

Hyacinth: Firstly, she was falsely accused and this has been a known fact for weeks now. Keep up. Secondly, and according to the police report, Sophie almost outran the cops and got away. Like they chased her seven blocks before they caught her. Full sprint the entire time. And then she elbowed one of them while they were arresting her so they nearly hit her with an assaulting police officer charge because of it.

Hyacinth: Thirdly, Ben said Sophie completely decked her stepmother once it was revealed that Armabitch lied about her stealing from her (which honestly should have been a heads up for tweedle dumb and tweedle dumbest not to FUCK with her)

Hyacinth: And FOURTHLY, she literally got broken out of jail by Mum and Ben because yours truly was smart enough to make sure her location sharing was on.

Hyacinth: She’s a literal icon of icons 😍😍😍

Daphne: Hyacinth, you never answered this the last time we asked. But did you hack Sophie’s phone?

Hyacinth: No

Hyacinth: I just made sure she was sharing her location with me while I was putting my number in her phone. That’s all.

Violet: Alright I’m back at the hospital.

Hyacinth: Mum you need to find Sophie! You need to stop her!

Violet: Oh I plan to. Not going to allow all my hard work to go to waste. I’ll text you once I’ve spoken to her.

Eloise: Are you two idiots happy with yourselves now??

Eloise: Was this worth dropping a keg on Benedict??

Colin: Again

Colin: Mini keg.

Colin: And right now, since I am currently praying to every God in existence to make sure Sophie and Benedict don’t break up, the answer is no.

Anthony: If she was bold enough to hit me in the face, then she was a perfect fit for this family.

Anthony: Mum, if you don’t stop her, tell me. I’ll come out there and speak to her myself.

Hyacinth: Anything?

Daphne: Oh my god this wait is killing me.

Francesca: Mum any updates yet?

Benedict sent a picture

Benedict: I lived.

Daphne: Benedict! Where’s Sophie? Is she with you?

Hyacinth: DO NOT LET HER LEAVE US!!!

Benedict: She here ❤️

Benedict: she finance

Eloise: ????

Benedict: Soap finance

Daphne: Benedict what are you trying to say

Eloise: What the hell does this mean???

Benedict: Soap

Benedict: Finance

Benedict: SOAP MY FINANCE

Benedict: soap finance

Benedict: Duck

Francesca: Benedict are you still high??

Benedict: No. Typing 1 hand. Hard

Eloise: I think we should all take that as he’s still high.

Benedict: Soap Bucket my finance

Gregory: This is some fucking DaVinci code level shit.

Francesca: Are you talking about Sophie??

Benedict: Yes

Benedict: Finance

Benedict: She finance

Francesca: She’s fine?

Eloise: What about Sophie’s finances??

Violet: Fiancée. He means fiancée.

Violet: Sophie and Benedict are engaged!! Well, technically, engaged. Sophie told him he has to propose again once the drugs wear off but I got here just in time to see Benedict asking her to marry him after he woke up and hearing Sophie tell him yes. We’ve all been celebrating. It was quite lovely 🥰🥰

Benedict: Mum cryin rite now.

Eloise: No doubt ecstatic she no longer needs to worry about you dying alone.

Colin: Oh thank Christ.

Gregory:

Francesca: 🥳🥳 Congratulations Benedict

Daphne: Congratulations!!

Hyacinth: This is literally the best news I could receive 😭😭😭

Benedict: Thank you ☺️

Benedict: V happy rite now.

Eloise: V high 2

Benedict sent a photo

Benedict: High on life 😌😌😌 On love 😍☺️🥰

Eloise: Omg 🤢🤮

Eloise: Freak

Eloise: No one asked to see your kissing selfies.

Violet: Benedict. Sweetheart. Since I apparently have to text you this as well. Put the phone down and go back to sleep.

Benedict: NO

Benedict: Engaged!

Benedict: Every1 celebrate me b engaged

Anthony: Congratulations brother.

Benedict: Asshole. Hat u. U no celebrate.

Benedict: Hate other asshole 2. Were Colin?

Colin: Hey Benedict. How’s your hand?

Benedict: Duck u

Benedict: Fuck u

Benedict: Hate u both so much rite now.

Colin: Listen. Ben. I’m really sorry for almost crushing your hand.

Benedict: Hand no long matter. U hurt Soap. I kill u.

Colin: She slapped me!

Benedict: Deserved. U deserved. Drop keg on me n face Soap wrath.

Benedict: God she was so hot 4 that.

Eloise: So hot

Benedict: So hot. My gf is so hot.

Benedict: Finance! She finance now.

Anthony: Benedict. Please tell Sophie how sorry we are for last night and that we are all incredibly happy for her. For both of you.

Anthony: You can also tell her she has an impressive right hook.

Anthony: …

Anthony: Benedict?

Anthony: Benedict are you there?

Violet: He’s not going to answer. Sophie finally took his phone away. But I’ll tell her.

Daphne: Everyone say thank you to Kate and Simon. They spent almost an hour trying to talk Sophie out of leaving Benedict while we were all freaking out.

Francesca: Do they know?

Daphne: I told Simon

Anthony: Kate knows

Gregory: Kate and Simon right now probably

Eloise: Anthony. How much did you just drop on ‘thank you for saving my ass’ jewelry for Kate?

Anthony: Fuck off.

Francesca: I texted Kate. She’s checking the bank account.

Francesca: About 5k by the looks of it. And he’s taking her to Paris.

Anthony: I hate all of you.

[saphira-approves]

Okay so I finished Murtagh last night and I think I’m just going to put a lot of my slightly more coherent general thoughts here under a readmore. Spoilers ahead! Beware!

Right off the bat I want to bring us back to The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm. Not to Essie (although reliving that encounter from Murtagh’s perspective was EXQUISITE), but to Eragon, because the thing I love most about that story is that Eragon is glad to see his brother, even from afar, and is glad to see he’s alright, and hopes that Murtagh will one day join him at Mt. Arngor. We’ve talked recently on the blog about ill feelings and condemnation towards Murtagh during the war, especially on Eragon’s part, but the ending of The Fork makes it clear that—while I would love to see Eragon acknowledge and work through them—Eragon no longer holds those feelings, and in fact really wants the chance to reconnect with his brother and his friend, because he loved him like a brother before he even knew they were related, and after everything that’s happened, he loves him still—even if Murtagh is going to have some trouble believing or internalizing it.

And so I present the theme of this initial reading response: Murtagh is so, so loved, to an extent that he does not fully realize. He knows that Thorn loves him, obviously, but I believe it’s significant that—even though he has some Complicated™️ thoughts about Selena and harbors resentment towards her for, in his mind, choosing Eragon over himself—the memories of her that we actually get to see/“hear” (page 90 my beloved) are fully memories of Selena’s love for him. “…beautiful boy” anyone? “My strong boy?” That is her BABY and she LOVES HIM. Also, again, DESPITE HIS RESENTMENT, Selena’s love is the REASON HE KEEPS HIS SCAR! Scar lore alert! Scar lore alert! SELENA WAS THERE AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO HEALED HIM! (though I am still partial to thinking Brom was involved. I’ll write about that later it doesn’t matter right now)

(Also, on a bit of a lighter note, HIS HORSE TOY?????? Horse girl Murtagh CONFIRMED!!!! Little me would have been so jealous. …on a completely different note, I have woodworking connections and access to real horse hair. Hm. The Ideas.)

And then Tornac, son of Tereth, may your name live on forever. THE FIRST MEMORY WE GET OF TORNAC IS A HUG. THE FIRST TIME HE HUGS MURTAGH. MURTAGH HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH DO YOU KNOW??? I KNOW YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT BUT DO YOU KNOW????? And the way he LEAPS to Murtagh’s defense when he falls in their escape, he REFUSES to let Murtagh languish in Urû’baen, that’s his BOY, his BEAUTIFUL STRONG BOY, that’s HIS SON, NO TAKE BACKSIES, MORZAN! He sees Murtagh’s darkness, yes, but more importantly he sees Murtagh’s goodness, and he knows Galbatorix will do everything in his power to destroy it, and that is something that Tornac simply cannot abide. You remember how I posted about Brom saying it’s easy to die for what you believe in, and then like ten pages later he dies for Eragon? Yeah. Yeah that one. That post. Do you see the point I’m making?

Tornac died for Murtagh. Selena did too, I’m pretty sure—it’s never been explicitly stated, in this book or the rest of the Cycle, but we know Selena was anxious to leave Carvahall as soon as Eragon was born, and that she died shortly after returning to Murtagh. I think Murtagh knows, on some level, but I also think that actually acknowledging it is going to break him just a little bit. Selena left Eragon and returned to him, presumably to spirit Murtagh to Carvahall as well, but she left too early. She wasn’t recovered. The real tragedy of this is that, if she’d left any later, she might truly have been too late—Morzan had been killed, and Murtagh would have been collected to Urû’baen before she reached him. Depending on how much she was coordinating with Brom, she might have known this, and made the choice to return to Murtagh anyway, because it was the easiest choice in the world. Eragon and Murtagh both believe that Selena left them. As Murtagh believes Selena chose Eragon over him, I’m pretty sure Eragon believes the inverse. In truth, Selena was trying to choose both of them, to save both of them. It’s a tragedy that she failed, but the most important thing about such a tragedy is that the love is there. It didn’t save them, not at first, not until much later, but the love is there and it matters because those are her babies, those are her sons, and she would gladly die for them. She did die for them. It was easy; she believed in them.

So yeah, I think eventually Eragon and Murtagh are gonna have a talk, and some revelations are going to be made, and a good long cry is going to be had all around. Catharsis! They need it!

But that’s not all! Murtagh is loved not only by the dead and the distant, but by the living and the near, too. Up to this point, the werecats we’ve met have been aloof, proud, intentionally distant. I always got the sense that Solembum likes Eragon and Saphira, but I don’t know that he would call them friends, even if Eragon and Saphira would, and he’s the most in-depth werecat we’ve met. But now we also have Carabel.

Carabel, who, from her position within Gil'ead, watches the people around them, and discerns their character: this is a skill I would say she has honed to near-perfection. When we meet her, she is desperate, though she hides it well. She sees Murtagh, and she measures his character, and what she sees is enough to make her take a chance on him, and she's right. Murtagh saves Silna, compromising his own principles to do so—swearing an oath he knows he'll have to break—and is so clearly relieved to see Silna safe with Carabel, despite the deceptions. We know, also, that Selena had been liked enough by Solembum for him to speak with her, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that Selena was at least respected by werecats, if not outright known as a friend; it's possible that this, too, helped push Carabel to take a chance on Murtagh, though she makes no comment about it. Whatever the case, ultimately it is Murtagh's character that she gambles on, and Murtagh being simply who he is fulfills her hopes—not only in saving Silna, but his kindness towards her even when she was difficult, carrying her only when it was necessary and setting her on her own paws when he deemed it safe. Just in being himself, he earns love from two strangers, and the respect of an entire race.

(This echoes throughout the book, in all of Murtagh's interactions with children—he cares so much about kids. Not just as an abstract moral stance: he truly, genuinely cares for children on a deeply personal level. Essie in Ceunon; the two boys in Gil'ead he gives coins to, twice, and reprimanding their father for using them to pick marks; Silna; the children in Nal Gorgoth. In telling his story to Nasuada, he broke when he reached the children he slaughtered under Bachel's control.)

And Alín! Alín, who was raised to revere dragons, who cannot help but idolize Thorn. She is terrified of Murtagh, as a stranger and a strange man, but his connection to a dragon allows her to view him in another light. I can write so many essays about Alín, I'm probably going to, but here I'll just say this: despite her circumstances, despite how she was taught, despite how thoroughly she has been programmed by the cult of the Dreamers, the simple truth of Murtagh's compassion gave her the room to question, to think for herself, to ask herself if what she has been taught and raised to believe is truly right. Murtagh doesn't make the decision for her, he physically can't—it is Alín herself who finds the strength to break herself free, inspired by Murtagh, but not wholly because of him.

And in the dungeons of Nal Gorgoth, Murtagh meets Uvek, an Urgal shaman, and can I just say: I would kill and die for Uvek. He's got similarities to Murtagh that aren't discussed in plaintext, but are easy to draw: they both tried to be alone in the wild, thinking it would be better for them—different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion—but both have come to discover that they are better off in a pack. With friends. With brothers. With family. (As an aside, I really hope Uvek becomes one of the first Urgal riders.) I love the metaphor they share, about trust being a knife with a blade for a handle; and I love that once they decide to trust each other, they both jump in, feet first, 100% on board. That's always been Murtagh's method anyway (Eragon-era Murtagh my beloved, looking after this stupid dumb kid with his whole ass), and it is incredibly refreshing to see someone else with the exact same mindset throw their whole lot in with Murtagh. The gentle forehead bump! Uvek loves this crazy squishy Murtagh-man.

And finally, finally, Nasuada. The Guinevere to his Lancelot, and there's not even an Arthur for them to dance around, except for the Arthur of Public Opinion that would prefer to view Murtagh as dread Mordred. I couldn't keep from laughing, just a little bit, every time Murtagh was encouraged to/shown visions of taking the throne, because lol! Nah, you dumbasses, that's the love of his life for whom he broke his own shackles and turned on his tormentor and slave-master. The day he turns against her of his own volition is the day he is No Longer Murtagh. He keeps the newly-minted gold crown so that he can keep a piece of her with him—a coin!! A tiny little portrait!! An accurate tiny little portrait, to be sure, but one he'll soon be able to find in any decently full purse!! He may not want to admit it to himself, he may try to distance himself for her own good and the good of her rule, but he cannot truly deny his heart. As for Nasuada himself, she doesn't even hesitate to take him in—and she would have no reason to, having heard about Gil'ead, except that she knows him, she has seen his true being in a way only Thorn can relate to, and even in uncertainty she cannot believe evil of him. She's the one who reaches out to comfort him when he crumbles in telling his story, she supports him without a word when he struggles to stand, and she wants so badly for him to stay, Public Opinion be damned. She won't destroy what she's built, but she will move heaven and earth to be able to keep him near, for as long as he wishes to remain.

This whole book, really, was just a chorus screaming to Murtagh, "YOU ARE LOVED!! YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND YOU ARE LOVED!! IT IS THE LOVE THAT ENDS WARS, THAT DEFEATS FEAR, THAT PERSISTS IN THE FACE OF DEATH AND RUIN!! YOU ARE LOVED!!" And maybe he can't hear it yet, not with his ears, but his heart, eventually, might start to catch him up. And I absolutely cannot wait to see it.