#(you cooked with your design for him so much

[insidekatmind]

The Fascination with Tattoos~Levi Colwill

A minute of silence to appreciate him and his tattoos!

Your gaze is lost on Levi's arm, as it happens far too often. You’re both sitting on the couch at home, enjoying a quiet evening after a long day. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, leaving his tattoos clearly visible as they wind along his muscular arm. Each line seems to tell a story, each design captures your attention. You can’t look away, and when you realize it, he’s already watching you with that mischievous smile that always makes you blush.

"Do you like what you see, love?" he asks, his voice warm and tinged with amused curiosity.

You quickly avert your gaze, embarrassed, trying to mask the heat rising to your cheeks. "I was just... thinking about what to cook tomorrow," you lie awkwardly.

Levi chuckles, leaning a little closer. "Sure, sure. So why were you staring at my arm for at least five minutes?"

You sigh, knowing you can’t escape his observation. "It’s just that... your tattoos are so beautiful. I can’t help but look at them."

He leans in even closer, propping his elbow on the back of the couch, his tattooed arm right in front of your face. "Oh, really? Which one’s your favorite?"

You bite your lip, hesitating. "The one with the roses. It’s so detailed, it almost looks real."

Levi raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your answer. "The roses, huh? I didn’t think you were into flowers."

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "I’m romantic, didn’t you know?"

"I know very well," he replies, leaning even closer. His arm is now practically under your nose, and you can feel the warmth of his skin. "Do you want to touch it?"

Your heart races, and you look at him with wide eyes. "What?"

He laughs softly, his voice a perfect blend of sweetness and teasing. "I said, do you want to touch it? I know you’re dying to."

You bite your lower lip, but eventually, you give in. Reaching out, you lightly trace the black lines of the tattoo with your fingers. Levi’s skin is warm under your touch, and he watches your every movement closely, as if you’re uncovering a secret.

"You really like it, huh?" he asks in a lower tone, almost whispering.

"I like everything about you," you admit, your voice a bit more confident now. "But the tattoos... they’re fascinating. They say so much about you."

Levi smiles, but there’s something different in his eyes now—a mix of pride and desire. "You know I got them to mark important moments in my life, right? But now, you’re making me want to get another one, just for you."

You look at him, surprised. "For me?"

He nods, his gaze serious but tender. "Yeah. Something that represents you, us. Maybe your name, or something only we’d understand."

Your heart tightens at the thought. "That would be amazing. But are you sure? I don’t want you to get a tattoo just to make me happy."

He takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. You know how much my tattoos mean to me, and you’re such an important part of my life. Why not celebrate that?"

You look into his eyes, feeling the love behind his words. "Then I want you to choose the design. Something that reminds you of me but also has meaning for you."

Levi smiles, pulling you closer for a kiss that’s sweet yet intense. "You’re incredible, you know that?"

After a few minutes, when you’re both lying on the couch again, he can’t resist teasing you one last time. He lifts his tattooed arm, showing off the details you adore so much. "So... how many times a day do you think about my tattoos?"

You laugh, hiding your face against his chest. "Too many to admit."

He wraps his arms around you, laughing with you. "Perfect, because I want you to keep it that way. And next time, I promise I’ll get something special inked, just for you."

[mawlbone]

regular omegaverse again but this time reader is an older alpha, maybe has adult pups and is just chilling in the military. he's too old to posture or peacock like the younger alphas so he just sits and whenever an omega cuddles uo to him for comfort he purrs like a fat lazy happy cat. just dilf reader cuddling with omegas.

idek what this is maybe like a mini request or some headcanons? i just want to see older alpha reader be fat and lazy and happy and purr-y and be designated base dad for the younger recruits

OLD RELIABLE - ABO TF141

SNIPPET: In the government’s pursuit of looking for ways to reduce the stress rates of its soldiers, one can find such a solution hidden deep within a base of Britain where one of their employee’s presence always seem to be surrounded with a multitude of their soldiers.

[CW: amab reader, older reader, muscular chubby reader, children mention, cuddling, puppy crush, sh mention, and non-sexual intimacy]

[COMMENT: Thank you for the request! How sweet~! I love the idea of the base having a giant comfort figure that they can go to. Also I am genuinely fighting with myself to not write so much so I can update more frequently, heh…]

Nobody knows when exactly all of this started: perhaps it had when as a favor between old teammates when you gave your scented items for them during their heats, a rumor around base of you comforting a new recruit after a nasty break-up, or how a comrade shared between drinks of how you’ll escorting drunk omegas back to base after a fun drunk night out because you didn’t want them walking alone at night.

Whatever it is, the sight of you being swarmed by a crowd of omegas whenever you lounge around the common room for a small nap had become a usual sight around the base.

Sitting on a spare couch, more often than not you’ll wake up to the sight of a pile of omegas piled around your body. Usually it’ll be an arrangement where your arms will be used as cushions for their head to rest upon and someone sitting onto your lap snuggling their head into your neck as they all purr noisily like an engine into your ears.

It doesn’t help either that your pups’ scents always seem to linger onto your clothes which made you all so more comforting to be around. Unbeknownst to you, it had also become a bit of a competition for the younger recruits around the building to race against everyone else to fight for their spot to rest with you. It helps that you don’t mind them being affectionate with you, even occasionally purring along with them to sooth them after a long day of drills or coming back from a tiring deployment. Frankly, you were a giant destress toy to them as they nuzzle into your big arms and stomach for warmth.

Though… You were an enigma. No one knows exactly who you are per se. Sure, the soldiers around see you chatting to the janitors in the halls, helping the cooks clean up, and hell even in the medbay carrying boxes for the nurses. And none of the older guys around could give them a straight answer either as they can only shrug before shooing them away which frustrates them to no end.

The younger alphas and betas were a bit hesitant in approaching you with how gruff you looked with your peppered hair and towering figure. Much to their shock, they’ll see you spread your arms outward thinking they were here for some cuddling as well with a slight raise of your brow much to their flusterness.

Also about your pups? Well becoming a father wasn’t necessarily on the list of priorities.

You didn’t know what it was, perhaps it was a right place and time that you saw a pair of orphaned pups no taller than your knee shivering out in the bitter winter one day during your deployment. Shakey and severely malnourished, you can see the way they tremble every so often as another set of chills rack down the spine huddling under a street lamp for warmth. You didn’t what exactly pushed you to approach them. Maybe it was disconcertion of seeing them in the cold against the jolly string lights for the holidays, or the feeling of warmth that surrounded your body with your coat tucked around you, or perhaps the thought that you don’t really have anyone at home to come back to anymore.

No matter what it was, you didn’t have the heart to walk away from the sight.

You… didn’t really want to.

So after a few months of having to go through interviews, screenings, and taking childcare classes under the supervision of the kindness of the nurses taking you under their wing in the pediatric ward. Finally, they were able to come home with you under your name.

Though life is never as smooth sailing as everyone wish for it to be.

You never really had time to go searching for a mate in your younger years, your pups kept you busy enough. Between the duties of a soldier and a new parent at that time, you never felt the need to go settle down. It never really bothered you as you had more than enough love towards your pups to give them so they never feel alone. And thankfully enough, one of your oldest friends agreed to coparent your pups whenever you’re deployed for long periods of time. Something you had deeply appreciate her for — though she waved you off saying it was no big deal knowing how easy you crumble towards the sight of pups. You made sure to still compensate her still with enough money to take care of herself and the children comfortably.

So here you are now in your 40s dealing with the nagging of your adult pups (who also decide to also enlist into the service despite your complaints) badgering you to get married. You love them, you truly do but they’re grown and have their own life now. Still ever so attached to your waist, something you’ll never complain about, they’re your children after all but hearing their fears about you being lonely, something you had heard in their childhood before about robbing you of your opportunities to enjoy life made your heart hurt.

Despite countless reassurances that you’re fine and it’s nothing for them to worry about, they’re insistent because you’re their dad and deserve to have someone else in your life to accompany you. But also because they’re absolutely sick of hearing their fellow soldiers teasing them by asking if their dad is single much so you need to get hitched now!

Price

When Price first met you, he was still a lieutenant with much less experience compared to now. All rough edges and hot headed from constantly being looked down for his secondary sex, he had come off as tense when he was ordered to go on a mission with you. To his surprise, you were pleasant to be around even making light conversation and checking up on him every so often to ensure that he’s okay. Soon one thing lead to another and usually most will find you at the bar together sharing a couple of drinks to celebrate him coming home safe.

You jested that all the smokes and drinks had mellowed him out over the years which he grumbled before rebutting saying how you were the one spoiling him with foreign cigars and expensive alcohol from your travels. He still has them of course, he likes to keep them in his cabinets after a bad day. Your poor captain’s head who’s stuffed with guilt and anger, the only thing you can do in those moments is hold him as he sobs, unable to meet your gaze as his cries wrecks his voice as you rub his back for as long he needs you for.

It was cute seeing your old friend still struggle to ask you for comfort items for his nest despite your history together. You don’t tease him knowing how shy he becomes with this side of him so you usually drop a duffel bag full of your clothes at his door when his heat comes. Despite everything you give him, his favorite that he can remembers was you smiling fondly at him as you tug your wooly black beanie over his head and telling him to keep it.

He gets a bit envious seeing you constantly crowded with the younger omegas so he makes time to find you after work to cuddle against your shoulder. His purrs are deep and rumbly whenever he’s close by you. Also he had met your pups tons of times during the holidays when he’s free and honestly it was a bit surreal to see them grow up right in front of his eyes so quickly as they come running into his arms as well after you.

And to add on, if someone was to accuse him of having a fancy for you, well they’ll be no proof to find with how private you are. But he won’t deny their claims especially when he plays with the beanie in the quiet hours of the night for comfort before you shoo him away to go to sleep.

Ghost

Over the years he had spend watching you and Price work together from the shadows, he thinks he can settle on the sentiment that you were an awfully decent person if you continue to bring him cups of tea whenever you pass by his office to ensure he gets a qbreak at least. It’s usually a mix of his favorites blends or something entirely different that you wanted him to try.

Similarly to Price, he was a bit anxious to meet you knowing you were an alpha despite his captain’s reassurances that you were fine man as he steps out to meet you. Reminders of his father’s treatment towards his mother and him had soured any feelings he has of alphas. But just like that, all those fears immediately threw itself out of the window seeing you carry some pups in your arms from the pediatric ward as they snooze away in your hold. It’s hard to look intimidating when there’s two chubby pups squishing their face against your chest as you peck Price’s cheek in greeting before nodding at him.

You’ll always used to go around and find him after he and Price got into a nasty argument due to his self-destructive behaviors back when he was younger and still nursing the wounds from his past. In those quiet moments, sometimes you don’t even talk, merely sitting by him until his sobs has softened into silence as he turns to you fishing leftovers from the cafeteria out of your bag for him to eat because he missed dinner and you didn’t want to sleep on an empty stomach. The sight is shocking enough to stun him out of his sadness as you shove the sandwich and water into his hands. It helps that you don’t treat him any different when bandaging some of his cuts, just some mere words of comfort was enough to release those emotions in the gym instead.

To save you the trouble, yeah he totally once or twice used his status and intimidation to scare away the younger omegas that was hogging you before guiding you to his office so he can too lean against your shoulder and purr away happily at your warm smell. You oblige because you get severally worried about his lack of a sleep schedule and who’s to say he won’t use favoritism to his advantage.

Also he totally blanked out when you pated his head after coming back from a grueling operation and complimented him on his skill. You had apologized thinking you may had upset him by overstepping his boundaries but truthfully, he didn’t expect how much he liked getting approval from you and he wishes for you to do it again.

Roach

It wasn’t exactly that you met Roach and more like you keep bumping into him when he first started showing up into your life. You didn’t even knew he was one of Price’s boys before it was mentioned offhandedly that he got a new member into his task-force. And Roach might be one of the hardest people you ever had the trouble of finding, no wonder he and Ghost gets along so well… You found out after multiple trials and errors of where his usual spots are, though you almost got a heart attack seeing him on the rafters of the warehouse one time because he wanted to escape Price’s wraith for stealing his boonie hat.

Conversations between you consisted of tracing letters on skin and notes you pass by one another before you learn the gist of some ASL to speak with the man. Something that the sergeant is grateful for you doing for his own comfort due to his burn injuries and smoke damage to his lungs irritating his voice now. Even if you make a few mistakes and need to ask him to speak slower to follow along it warms his heart to see someone actually try for him. Does not know what to make of you but he’s terribly fond at the sight of you wandering around the base.

Eventually you two were able to bond closer over after finding him in the fields one day. In the cool evening as the sunset slowly fade below the horizon, it splashes of rich pink and oranges casting him in a warm glow against the his visor. You weren’t sure what he was thinking in that moment as you stood beside him as the grass crunch underneath your boots and the air crisps into cold under your nose but it nice nonetheless. When the day finally casted you two into darkness, you don’t comment on the way he clutches onto your sleeve as you walked back to the base.

Comes from a more traditional family back in the states so he escaped into the military to avoid their complaints towards him. He did not want to rot under the harshness of the Texas sun but he’ll make small conversation of you how he misses his old horse back at his grandfather’s ranch or the overly sweet peach tea he’ll get from the local diner every Sunday after church. He misses a lot of things from home but he’s satisfied with his decision saying it was for the best for peace of his mind. There’s a stockpile of that same drink reserved in his office just for him to drink when you asked your friend to send you from that same chain now shortly after that tidbit.

While Roach barely speaks, he makes plenty of noises whenever he wants to cuddle with you. Lots of soft purrs and rumbles emit from his voice whenever his face is buried into your chest when you stand. He has no shame when you’re free to cling onto your sleeve and rubbing his scent onto your skin or clothes to erase everyone’s else scent off because his nose gets irritated easily and he doesn’t like any other beside his pack’s smell on you. Occasionally he’ll steal some of his mates’ and your old clothes that you gave Price and place them into his pile. Why? Because it’s softer and more worn and makes great texture for him to touch whenever he’s bored in his nest waiting for his heat to be over.

Gaz

At this point, you’re not even surprised by the captain’s unconventional recruitment as you stared at the young man coming out of Price’s car with a hand to your face. Really John, fresh off the crime scene? Nonetheless you made sure to greet the fellow as he stared quite almost deer-like if you wanted to be accurate at you. Forgive Gaz, he didn’t mean to stare at you but seeing you standing there in the parking lot made him think you were someone’s bodyguard or waiting to beat someone up.

Because you were the first to meet him and being older, he had come to naturally look for you for guidance. Especially after you offered to take him on a tour around base so he won’t get lost when Price had to attend a last minute meeting on that very same day. Quick and reliable is what he had come to think of you gauging off the reactions and numerous greetings everyone said as you pass by them. He appreciated your efforts even if it was a bit crowded getting past everyone along your path.

He gets lonely easily during the first few months of his training due to homesickness and tends to isolate himself whenever the thoughts gets a bit too loud because he gets nervous of anyone mocking him for missing his family at this age. So usually you occupy a seat next to him near the training fields and show off pictures of your pups and discuss your own little family as well and how it came to be to fill up the silence of the room which was nice to have. However you failed to mention that your once very tiny pups had grown into adults now so he may had blanked out seeing two very familiar names on his drill duties much to your dismay of how they successfully met the chances of them going into the same base as you before eventually getting shipped away to another one nearby.

Gets too embarrassed to join on the little competition whenever he sees you getting piled by other omegas from other groups until he sees the rest of the TF141 simply avoiding the competition entirely and pulling you away whenever. He really likes getting hugs from you whenever he’s in a bad mood. And how you’ll come by to greet him and everyone else in the clinic if one of them got a nasty injury usually with some fresh fruits or flowers in hand with one of your blankets for them to hold onto for comfort.

His purrs are not loud as the others so usually you’ll have him settle on your lap when you sit down to feel them against your chest. He gets noisier whenever you smooth his back up and down to relieve his tension for the day and he makes the sweetest whines if he had felt you stopped too early with his big ol brown eyes. Does like cuddling with the rest of the pack so if he sees one of them already with you, he’s scooting them over to make some space to be held alongside them or grabbing onto your other arm to be guided.

Soap

Price punched you in the shoulder when you first met Soap inside the captain’s office, slow clapping and all as you congratulate him for going through the proper protocols for once and getting someone normal. Lighthearted, that was Scot’s first impression as you bump his captain’s arm back before turning and properly introducing yourself to him with all smiles and polite demeanor.

Soap had heard of your reputation around base about you being a little beacon but due to scheduling he wasn’t able to meet you much until he got selected to be part of the TF141 and found you there in his captain’s office, both of you waiting for him to arrive. He’ll bond with Gaz later about how you always seem to need to give a fright almost as if you the back up plan in case Price’s yelling didn’t scare a poor recruit shitless only for Roach to pop in from nowhere and scare them both at that moment.

Growing up in a large family, he didn’t really grew up with the idea of social hierarchy in his family’s pack. Doesn’t matter if you’re an alpha or dirt on the sidewalk, you’re here to help around the house so pick up that broom and go sweep. So it nice to see an alpha not care so much for status as much as him, it made him feel at home if anything.

His nesting habits are wild and bizarre with a purr louder than anyone else. Sometimes you’ll find some of your paperwork and pens inside of his little fortress once you grow closer because he haven’t been able to successfully get any heavily scented ones from his mates much to your amusement before you dropped one of your sweaters for him to have which he did cheered at.

May had too tried to figure out who you were exactly around base because Price will not budge either on where or who you even work for to satisfy his curiosity. You’ll make a series of jokes at his expense telling him a new one every time he asks before he gives up. It had become somewhat of an inside joke between you and him whenever you ask where the others were and giving an obscure location during your free time. He had tried to get you to spill the truth over a drinking game before but lost several rounds to you in bets and games before he can even get you drunk enough to ask you. More often than not he’ll wake up to you carrying him to the bed after forcing him to drink some water before sleeping.

Well whoever you were, you can only smile at Laswell across the laptop’s screen when you came home that night as she shakes her head at you telling how her bosses kept badgering her to ask you to come back from retirement. You can only deny with a huff of laughter at your friend’s annoyance towards the matter.

Some things are best left behind you.

[wild-typo-turtle]

Threads - Part 15

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9, 11, 13, and 15), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning. This part contains smut! Please do not read if you are not of age to do so or if such is not your cup of tea.

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman

Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10, Part 11 (contains very brief, light smut), Part 12, Part 13 (contains smut), Part 14

Part 15

For such an occasion, the trappings of state are largely absent, but Gil-galad is accustomed to that from Oropher. His hall is functional, and its simplicity is still beautiful in its way. The food is good, and plentiful, but a far cry from Lindon’s talented cooks. He has dressed as plainly as possible for the visit - as has Linnea - to attempt to put Oropher more at ease; it does not seem to have much effect. 

But Linnea would look beautiful anywhere, in anything - and he sees the relaxation on her face at the surroundings. Two years in Lindon has made her more accustomed to the life that will be hers for the rest of her days, but he knows that she still cherishes the memories of her home in Eregion, the peaceful and quiet times with her parents and their shop. 

She fits in well here. Tinnaril has come to court for their visit, and while he spends endless hours arguing with Oropher, Linnea disappears to pass her time with the Woodland queen. They clearly enjoy each other’s company; Tinnaril joins them for dinner regularly, speaking to Linnea about her music and ignoring the rest of the room. 

At night, in their rooms, she tells him about her days. She has brought a chest full of fabrics with her, gifts to Tinnaril that have been received with gratitude. Oropher may be difficult, but there is still goodwill to be had here, and Linnea is doing her part to nurture it.

And before they leave, there is an agreement. A fragile one, but a pact to come to the aid of one another when the enemy stirs. It is not everything Gil-galad had wanted; Oropher is proud, and refuses to surrender any command of his own forces when Lindon and the Woodland join together. But it is a start.

Gil-galad had always been partial to the council chambers. They were on the ground floor of the palace buildings, and they were open to the air, allowing him to breathe the smell of the trees and hear the song of the birds. More than once, such had allowed him to settle his mind before saying something he likely would have regretted later. And perhaps, that had been the intent of its designers when the rooms had first been built. 

And over the last years, necessity had demanded that the rooms be expanded. The council had grown, augmented by representatives from the artisans of Lindon, the smiths and the growers and the weavers and the others that were contributing to the preparations for war. The city administrators had always had seats at the table, but Linnea had observed that perhaps the artisans might wish to speak on their own behalf - and he had immediately seen the sense in it.

And of course, there was Linnea herself. The High Queen.

She had taken her seat after their wedding. And they had not always agreed - as he had foreseen, there had been times when her wishes and the realm’s needs diverged - but he had always welcomed her opinions. And she had never failed to stand by his side.

Just as she did now.

They had ridden back at speed from the training grounds. He had sent runners ahead of them to begin assembling the council, but the room was still empty as he and Linnea walked in. The large table was strewn with maps and scrolls from previous meetings, although someone must have been notified of their approach. The lanterns had been lit, and water and wine had been laid out on the sideboard. 

He paused at the head of the table, resting his hands on it and suppressing a sigh. But Linnea could tell he worried; she always could, and she came up to his side, leaning against him and covering one of his hands with her own.

“Meleth nín,” she murmured.

He turned, kissing the side of her head gently. “We knew it would come,” he said softly. “We have had ample time to prepare. And yet, so has our enemy.”

“Oropher asked,” she reminded him. “You were unsure that he would.”

She was right; he had been wary that the Woodland King would hold to the agreement they had forged. He spread the scroll out to read it again, the message written in Oropher's own hand. 

High King,

The enemy presses against our southern borders with a great force. We have them held at the edge of the Greenwood for now, but your aid is necessary to maintain our defense and mount a counterattack. I look forward to your speedy arrival.

Simple and direct, as was Oropher's way. Yet his message told them nothing of the numbers they were likely to face, the disposition of the enemy, or their equipment and arms. Perhaps Oropher did not consider such as important; Gil-galad did not like to think about the alternative, that Oropher had deliberately withheld details that might have given Lindon pause before coming to assist. Or perhaps he was being uncharitable - Oropher might simply have entrusted Arondir with the information. 

It made no difference, in the end. He would hold to his word.

He left the scroll and crossed to the sideboard, pouring water for himself and Linnea. She joined him, taking the second glass in hand; they were both still in their training attire, having taken no pause upon arrival and coming straight to the council chambers. The refreshment was welcome, as were these few moments alone.

Inside him, he felt the ósanwë tremble, as if it were a candle flame sputtering in a passing wind. And he did not have to consider long to know its cause - they had had five years of relative peace. His hand had not taken up Aeglos save for training. 

This would be the first time he had ridden into battle since they had wed. 

“Linnea,” he said quietly. “Melethel. Rîn vuin.”

“I know,” she whispered. “As King, you must lead. And doubly so now, else Oropher might take offense were you to send someone else to command in your stead.”

Her eyes were cast downward, and he smiled softly at her, reaching for her chin and tipping it up so that she had to look at him and see it. 

“We shall go together,” he murmured. “Let this be a show of Lindon's strength as well as the Woodland Realm. You shall be with us, you and the Pilino Tarí.”

Her blue eyes widened. “Ereinion…”

He could feel her surprise, and again, it was not hard to know its source. She had expected to have to press him to include her and her company; he had been protective of her from the very moment they had met. And indeed, that great beast inside him that she had first awakened was even now growling at the idea of her being put in danger. 

“A sword is not forged to be left in the armory,” he said. “And you have not trained all these months for me to leave you here, awaiting news.”

Gil-galad could see that he had pleased her. She took no pleasure in the thought of battle; her nature was not formed of such stuff. But she was pleased by his respect for her, and the sober look in her eyes said that she understood the responsibility he was sharing with her. 

“Thank you, my love,” she said softly. 

They were still alone. And there were no warning sounds from outside that they were about to have company, no approaching footfalls or crunching of leaves. It was safe to slide his arms around Linnea and to draw her close to him. 

“You fear for me no more than I fear for you,” he whispered. “Do not think that I am not tempted to keep you safe in Lindon. But I would not dishonor you so, my queen.”

He dared not speak of his other reason. It felt as fragile as the thinnest cobweb, spun overnight and sparkling in the morning with fresh drops of dew. But that vision of Linnea with child, the one that had not yet come to pass - it wrapped itself around his heart, soothing the beast in him, saying no, there is no danger, this yet lies before you. 

Perhaps she knew. She had not seen it for herself; it was not as close for her as it was for him. But perhaps it was in her mind as well. 

Her hand reached up, cupping his face and drawing his head down. Gil-galad smiled again as their lips met; five years ago he had wondered if he would ever get used to such, the sheer joy of a kiss. And even with what they were about to face, he was pleased to reaffirm that no, he was not used to it. 

“Aran vuin,” she murmured against his lips, when they separated slightly. He kissed her once more, quickly; they would have company at any moment, and as little as he cared for anyone else's opinion, it would not do to be perceived as disrespectful of the situation at hand.

But on the other hand, he still remembered Celebrimbor's wise counsel.

It is not strength that overcomes darkness, but light.

They were joined soon enough by the rest of the council, at least what could be assembled of it so quickly. The commanders of the armies, the representative of the smiths, Master Círdan as the master of ships, and of course, himself and Linnea. And Arondir as well, representing Oropher.

And so he kept his hand nestled at the small of Linnea's back, even as they stepped back to the table.

Gil-galad waited until they all were gathered around the table before speaking. A great map was spread before them, carefully detailed and lettered, and he looked first to Arondir to begin.

“What is known of the disposition of our enemy? What numbers has he brought forth?”

Arondir contemplated the map for a moment before reaching for the box of tokens to the side. He looked through it briefly before extracting a handful of black towers, carved from ebony, that were made to represent the enemy - representations of the fortress that had risen in the land of Mordor. Their scouts had, at great peril, reported that the tower was yet incomplete, but that was scarce comfort.

And it was no comfort at all how many of the black tokens that Arondir plucked from the box. They filled his hand, and he placed them deliberately, one by one, along the southern and eastern borders of the Greenwood. They formed a line that snaked around the forests, nearly to the Celduin in the north and the Anduin to the west.

“Each represents five hundred orcs,” Arondir said softly. “We estimate their total force to be forty thousand. They have no cavalry, but their infantry is fierce and reasonably well-armed. Their archers have a short range, and thus far, our longbows have kept them at bay.”

Gil-galad barely heard the last part; he was too busy staring at Arondir. And across the table, he could see the army commanders doing the same thing.

“Forty thousand,” he breathed. “How has such a thing come to pass in so short a time?”

Arondir signed, his shoulders drooping, as he looked down at the table. “We know not,” he said softly. “It may be that Adar’s forces at Eregion were but a small part of the orcs at his command. And that Sauron, when he took control of Mordor, seized what was left behind.”

Rúsiel, commander of the Eastern Armies, stepped forward. Her eyes were glued to the line of black tokens, and she gestured at the box. “And what numbers has the Woodland Realm fielded, to keep such an army at bay?”

Arondir nodded at the question. He delved back into the box, coming out with a new handful of tokens. They were trees this time, wrought of bronze, and he set them in a pattern along the edges of the forests. There were not as many as there were of the towers - perhaps a ratio of three to one - but the positions were advantageous. 

“Amdír has come to our aid as well,” Arondir added, once he was finished with the tokens. “A small force from Lórien, under the command of Prince Amroth. Perhaps a thousand, no more. But they have assisted with our efforts admirably, harrying the enemy’s supply lines and barring them from advancing farther to the north.”

A thousand from Lórien. And ten thousand from the Woodland Realm itself. Fewer than Gil-galad had hoped for, but more than he had anticipated. The odds were not insurmountable, and he forced himself not to think about how events might have been different had he been able to summon Oropher’s aid to Eregion.    

He looked to Rúsiel, raising a brow. “We dare not leave Lindon undefended,” he said. “How much can we commit to assisting our allies?”

Rúsiel did not answer right away. Instead she stepped around the table, bringing her attention to the south. 

“The path to the Greenwood is long,” she mused. “Commander Arondir, what route did you take through the Misty Mountains?”

“The High Pass,” he answered. “The better to reach the safety of Imladris. Lord Elrond provided me with a fresh horse and supplies for the remainder of my journey.”

Rúsiel nodded slowly. “Yet one Elf, alone, may move both more swiftly and quietly than an army,” she observed. “High King, I would advise we make the largest part of our journey by ship. We dare not advance to the Anduín, it is far too close to Mordor. Yet our smaller, swifter vessels might make their way up the Angren.”    

He saw the sense in it - and more, the strategy. “And come at the enemy from behind unawares,” he said. 

Rúsiel nodded. “We can spare half our cavalry. And a detachment of the infantry. And…” She paused, inclining her head to Linnea. “The High Queen’s company of archers. Altogether, six thousand.”

Gil-galad had not been High King for so long without understanding a key principle of ruling: that of asking questions he already knew the answers to. This had been one such, and the answer Rúsiel had given was the same as in his mind. He nodded his assent to the number and then turned to his right, where Linnea stood, and beyond her the one who spoke for the smiths. 

“How quickly can such a force be supplied and ready to sail?”

It was the smith, Hinnor, who answered first - but not without a quick glance at Linnea, who nodded her encouragement to him. 

“The army has been well equipped, High King,” said the young smith. “Their armor and weapons are in readiness. There will be no delay on account of the smiths of Lindon.”

Hinnor looked once again to Linnea, seeking her approval. She rewarded him with a smile, and then turned to face Rúsiel.

“How many ships to transport our forces, Commander?”

Rúsiel had plainly been calculating in her head; she answered with barely a pause. “A fleet of twenty, High Queen.”

Linnea inhaled, thinking for a moment as she contemplated the map. Gil-galad could see her measuring distances in her head, thinking about the time needed for the journey as well as the fight itself. “Two days to outfit the ships,” she said, but there was a question in her voice, and she looked across the table for confirmation. “With your agreement, Master Círdan.”

“I agree, High Queen.” Círdan's voice was quiet and calm, as was ever his way. “Two days is time enough.”

Linnea nodded. “There are ample stores at the ready,” she said. “And we may rely on Imladris for ongoing support. We need not carry all with us.”

“Lord Elrond anticipated as such,” Arondir said. “I have dispatches from him as well, High King. He has already set a guard on the High Pass, to ensure Imladris is not cut off from the east.”

Two days to supply the ships. And the army itself would muster swiftly; most of Lindon's forces were gathered in the training camps much like the one he and Linnea had been at that morning. 

“We depart in three days, then,” Gil-galad pronounced. “Arondir, I must ask that you return to the Greenwood with all haste, to alert Oropher of our coming. He must hold his defenses until we can attack.”

“Arondir, might you journey by sea as well?” Linnea reached out, tracing a finger along the coast. “A light vessel would allow you to reach Oropher quickly, more so than traveling overland.”

Arondir paused, considering. “I have little skill with a sail, my lady queen,” he said carefully. “But I agree, it would be the swiftest way to travel.”

“We shall find a craft that suits your needs,” Círdan said. “Return to the Havens with me once this council concludes, and we shall have you on your way.”

Arondir nodded, undaunted by the task that was being asked of him. He had barely arrived in Lindon and now he was being asked to make the return journey at once. But he stood straight, and his eye was determined. Not for the first time in his long life, Gil-galad felt the weight of his kingship; how often had he asked the same, or more, from his subjects? How was it his right to make those demands, and what repayment had he ever made for them?

But Linnea, as she ever did, knew his mind.  

“Tarry for a few moments before you depart,” she said softly. “Lindon will not send you away empty-handed, Arondir. We shall supply you with lembas for your journey.”

Arondir's eyes widened.

“You honor me beyond my deserving, High Queen,” he murmured, casting his eyes downward. “Your generosity will not be wasted.”

Gil-galad had to stop himself from smiling with pride. It was indeed an honor, granting Arondir the lembas that had been made by Linnea's own hands. Yet he saw the second purpose behind her gift; the lembas would provide Arondir with strength and vigor beyond any other foodstuffs. It would lend speed to his journey, allowing him to return to the Greenwood well ahead of Lindon's army. 

He spread his hands on the table, leaning forward and taking the box of tokens. The pieces that he plucked out were cast of gold; golden stars, the same as his sigil. 

“Then all that remains is for us to decide upon our plan of attack.”

It was hours yet before they left the council chambers. Some had been dismissed before the work of battle planning began; Hinnor the smith and others had been sent to tend to their labors. Despite the army already being well-supplied, none would lack for tasks during the next two days. And those that had remained were equally as occupied, detailing each aspect of how the journey would unfold, where precisely they would hope to strike the enemy forces. Arondir's contributions had been invaluable, for he had scouted the enemy's lines before leaving the Greenwood. 

And now he was on his way, leaving for the Havens with Master Círdan.

Despite the gravity of the task ahead, Linnea smiled as Gil-galad offered her his arm to depart the council chambers; five years of marriage, and yet, he still deeply cherished the small graces of a husband. They walked together through the quiet halls; the hour was late, although Linnea fancied she could feel a restlessness beneath the silence. Soon enough, many would stir from their beds and turn their hands to the plans that had been made that night. 

But these last few hours were still theirs.

She found herself not wanting to leave his side, not even to return to her own rooms and prepare for the night. And he seemed to know her mind; he was leading them to his rooms without a word needing to be spoken. He led and she walked with him, their guards behind them, his arm warm beneath her hand even through his clothing. 

And when his door had shut, leaving everything else outside it, he offered her a soft smile as he turned fully towards her. She saw the mantle of the High King fall from his shoulders, as it did when they were alone; it had come easier over the years, the change more natural for him as he grew accustomed to it. 

“What is your will, my lady?” Ereinion murmured. 

She smiled. “You seem to already know it, my love. My desire is only to spend this night with my beloved husband, before we must take up our roles once more without knowing how long before we may put them down again.”  

His lips curved ruefully, in acknowledgment of her words. Privacy would be precious once they departed Lindon, and even when it was achieved, they would both have many cares intruding on their time. But that was the nature of a royal marriage, as they had learned - the important thing was to seize what time they were given.

“Then let us begin with our tea,” he murmured. “It has always soothed my mind, and I shall use such tonight to focus solely on my wife.”

That sounded like an excellent beginning. 

Ereinion’s servants had visited prior to their return from the council chambers. The fire had been laid and lit, as had the candles and the lanterns, and the rooms had been set to rights. A silver jug of fresh water awaited her by the hearth; all that remained for Linnea to do was to fill the steel kettle and swing it over the fire to boil.

Yet, as she did so, she saw the traces of dirt upon her hands, still left from training. It was a simple matter to remedy - but her hands were not the only thing in need of cleaning. She smelled of the practice field, and of Súrë, and while the smells were not unpleasant she did not wish to bring them to bed.

And so once the kettle was positioned, Linnea stood. 

Ereinion had been standing at the window, looking out at the night, but turned in curiosity as she walked to the door and opened it. The guard outside snapped to attention as she leaned out.

“Send for Hrivend, please.”

At the name of his body servant, Ereinion left the window, taking a step towards her as she shut the door. “Are you in need of some assistance, melethel?”

Linnea smiled at him, raising a brow slightly. “I thought we might enjoy a bath together after our tea.”

His eyes lit up, and her smile widened as she saw it. She wondered if he had had similar thoughts of making use of his gift to her.

His gift.

It had been shortly after their wedding. Her begetting day had been only a few months later, and she had known better than to try and protest a gift. And Ereinion had outdone himself, taking advantage of the two weeks she had been gone visiting Khazad-dûm to have the work performed.

And when she had returned, he had shown her. The bathing tub in his rooms - generously sized already, to accommodate his tall form - had been removed and replaced with one much larger. A tub large enough that they both could fit in it, if they desired; a prelude to love, or after it, or simply another way of being close.

It had delighted her then, when she had first beheld it. And the thought of using it now brought equal delight. 

The door opened just as she was lifting the kettle from the hearth and adding the tea leaves to it. Hrivend entered and bowed, and she offered him a smile of greeting. “Thank you for coming. Would you fill the bath, please?”

Hrivend nodded, and without any need for words, proceeded into the bathing room. A moment later she heard him pouring water and stoking up the fire; like her own, Ereinion's bathing room had a hearth. 

Linnea washed her hands while the tea steeped, listening to the soft sounds of Hrivend working. Ereinion had gone back to the window, still looking out at the night; she knew what he was seeing, the glimmering lights of Lindon twinkling in the dark like a sea of fireflies. She could feel his mood from the ósanwë, his resolve and his strength like the greatest of mountains. But also his grief, that this time of peace had come to an end. 

The tea, and the bath, were finished at approximately the same time. She thanked Hrivend and then, as the servant departed, poured the tea into their customary cups. The earthy aroma filled the room, and Ereinion turned from the window, smiling softly.

“I am sorry,” he murmured, as he came back over to the hearth. “My thoughts are…”

“...are where they ought to be,” she finished, handing him one of the cups. “With our people. But I believe I was promised that our tea would allow you to focus on other things?”

He chuckled, raising the cup to his lips. “Indeed, my love. Indeed.” 

Hrivend had added oils to the bath, and Linnea smiled at the mixed scents. Cedar and pine, and a hint of lavender - not too much, but just enough to add a touch of softness to the stronger smells of the trees. She settled into the hot water with a happy sigh; Ereinion was doing the same next to her, draping his long arms over the edge of the tub. 

His eyes were closed as he leaned back. He had knotted his hair up with a golden stick to keep it from trailing in the water, and Linnea let her gaze rove over him. 

“I can feel your eyes on me,” he whispered, smiling. “What is it that you stare at so?”

He was teasing, but she did not mind. It was a sign that he was indeed turning the direction of his thoughts, and so she reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. 

“You,” she murmured. “Ereinion. Artanáro. My husband, and my love.”

He didn’t miss that she had deliberately avoided any hint of his titles, his rank. This moment was for them. 

Ereinion opened his eyes, meeting hers, and reached out to repeat her gesture. She had put her hair up as well, but there were several curls escaping the silver stick she had used, and he smoothed one of them back for her.

Linnea leaned in, brushing his lips with hers. Softly, enjoying the moment, sitting together in the hot water with the scented steam rising around them. He returned the kiss, equally as gently, and she felt his hand cup her face tenderly.

“Come,” she murmured, when their lips parted. “This is a bath. Allow me to help you wash.”

It was not the first time by any means, but the smile and the delight on his face said that it might as well have been. It had taken time over the years to accustom him to being cared for, but she had been patient, and slowly he had learned to surrender himself to her loving attention.

Ereinion slid forward, making space for her, and Linnea moved to settle herself behind him. There was a sponge resting in a small basin on the edge of the tub, and she loaded it with scented soap before beginning to gently run it over him. She started where his neck met his shoulder, squeezing the sponge to let the soapsuds trickle over him, and then rubbed in a slow, soft circular pattern. He groaned softly, leaning back against her, her legs on either side of his hips and his back against her chest.

She dropped small, soft kisses on the other side of his neck. And with her other hand, she reached around him, clasping him to her, her hand splayed out on his bare, damp chest. He took that hand in his, lacing their fingers together and holding the hands against his heart, and she both felt and heard a deep purr of contentment rumble from him.

“You are too good to me,” he whispered. “Melethel…”

“Hush,” she murmured. “This is for you, my love. Enjoy it.”

She continued washing, taking her time, deliberately avoiding any touch that might arouse him too greatly. Lovemaking would happen that night, she was confident of that, but there was no cause to hurry into it. Far better to savor it, savor him, and allow him to do the same. And so she moved the sponge slowly, down each arm in turn, and then to the broad chest that rested against her. But her hand did not rove too far beneath the water; instead she shifted, sliding the sponge down the outside of his thigh and to his knee, and he bent his leg to bring it above the water so that she might continue. 

And every so often, she kissed his neck, his ear, his face. Reminding him that there was more to come. 

Although, perhaps he needed none of that. His hands were growing more restless, seeking beneath the water to find her thighs. She kept them tight around him, denying him any more than to stroke his palms down the tops and the sides of her legs, and another purr escaped him - this time, one of gentle frustration. 

“Enjoy,” she admonished, and he laughed.

“I am,” he muttered. “And I shall enjoy you even more, before the sun rises.”

Linnea shivered at that, smiling. But his hands did fall still, allowing her to finish with the sponge, and he even leaned forward enough so that she could wash his back. And when she was done, and had set the sponge back in its basin, he leaned up and back for a soft kiss that she gave him gladly.

He had been patient. He deserved a reward for it.

He had been patient, but his body had responded to her. When she finally let her hand wander below his waist, his sex was hard and hot, and he moaned as she took him in hand. The sound made her core clench; she was not immune to his closeness, to the feel of him against her, to the soft, low whimpers that escaped his lips as she stroked. It was not always easy, making him solely enjoy his own pleasure rather than giving to her, but when she managed it, his response was gratifying indeed.

“Let me touch you,” Ereinion groaned quietly. “Please, my love…ah, oh…”    

She had squeezed his sex - gently, but the pressure had driven the words from his lips. “Not yet,” she whispered. “I have more for you. Sit here.”

Here was the edge of the tub against the wall. Just wide enough, as it happened, to perch on and to lean back. Ereinion let out a long, shuddering breath as he guessed her intention, but he did as she asked, levering himself up out of the water and taking a seat. Linnea moved between his legs, kneeling in the tub, and she smiled as she watched him watch her. 

Love was many things. It was the flowers that still appeared fresh in the vase by her hearth every day, even after five years. It was the respect that Ereinion had shown her in the council chambers, not leaving her behind and not even making her argue for it. It was the war-cloak she had made him for their wedding, the cloak that would be around his shoulders when they departed Lindon three days hence. It was the time they spent together riding, or training, or having their tea in the evening. 

And it was this. This elemental connection, as she took him in her mouth, closing her lips around the thickness of him. Linnea ran her hand up his thigh, slick with the oily water, the scent of cedar and pine and him filling her nose. He moaned as she took as much of him in as she could, swiping at the underside of his sex with her tongue, sucking gently until it was almost too much for him - and that was a point that she knew very, very well. 

Ereinion's hand tunneled into her curls, grasping gently. But he wasn’t controlling her movements; he was simply looking for something to hold onto. She kept her motions slow, languidly licking him from tip to base over and over, before taking him in again. At one point, in between licks, she quickly glanced upward, and it made her preen inside to see his head thrown back against the wall, eyes closed, mouth open and gasping for air.

Beneath the water, her core clenched again, longing for his touch. For him. 

But the longing was manageable, especially when he looked like that, lost in the feeling of her mouth on him. She kept going, playing his pleasure like the finest harp, feeling the tremble of the thick muscles of his thigh beneath her hand as a way to gauge his tension. He was close, and she began wondering if she wanted to finish him this way or…

But before she could decide, he reared up. In a moment she was on her back, the water crashing up and spilling over the edge of the tub, Ereinion pushing her legs apart even as his hips settled between them. His hand cupped her and sank two fingers into her, testing her readiness, and she moaned a ragged, eager yes into his ear. He needed no more encouragement; his hand moved out of the way and one push buried him inside her to the hilt, and then he was thrusting with long, slow strokes. 

“Melethel,” he groaned, leaning down for a hard kiss. “You…by the Valar, you…”        

Linnea lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, caring nothing for the water slopping again onto the floor. Their lips met again, and again, Ereinion’s hands gripping the edge of the tub as he moved, and she could tell he was not going to take long to reach the peak. Her legs tightened, heels locking at the small of his back to hold him closer, her fingers sliding into the knot of hair at the back of his head. The feel of him inside her, stretching her open and filling her, as close as it was possible to be to another living being - 

And the ósanwë. That candle inside her heart, flaring up as he found release. It could not be described, not with words, not if she had the rest of her days to try. The sheer love and joy that she felt from him in that moment that lasted an eternity, his body trembling in her arms, hips pressing and stuttering, spending himself within her. 

Linnea trailed her hands over his damp back as he came down, his head buried in the crook of her neck. Once again, she feathered soft kisses over the side of his face, easy and unhurried, savoring the feel of him still inside her. 

At last Ereinion sighed, and backed off, settling back against the empty side of the tub and opening his arms. Linnea went, curling herself against his side; the water was low as a result of their activities, but it was far too much effort to even think of replenishing it. They would be out soon enough.

She had no expectations, at least not at that moment. She knew he would not leave her unfulfilled, although the pleasure she had taken from his pleasure was quite satisfying all on its own. But his hand was restless again, his fingers trailing up her side and seeking her breast, and she hummed and stretched. 

“Come, melethel,” he murmured, his voice still the tiniest bit rough. “Come here to me.”

She went, settling herself in the same position on him as she had that morning, his hands on her waist guiding her. Now it was her back against his chest; now it was his arms wrapping around her. 

Ereinion's breath teased her ear. “It is your turn to enjoy,” he whispered. “Just as you cared for me, now I shall take care of you.”

She trembled. There was promise in that low whisper, a promise she very much wanted him to fulfill. Immediately.

He did not make her wait. He slid a hand between her legs; he was being gentle, mindful that she would be sensitive from having him inside her. Instead of sliding his fingers into her again, he teased the tender flesh with the very tips, tracing the delicate folds with maddening slowness. Linnea rocked against him, pushing, craving more; her pleasure had ebbed but came roaring back to life with a vengeance at the soft stroking, and he chuckled. His fingertip circled her entrance, still teasing and tempting, denying. 

As his finger moved, so did his lips. He nibbled the side of her neck, holding her in place with his free hand cupping her breast, and she moaned as he lightly pinched her nipple between two fingers. Sensation coming from everywhere, neck and breast and core, everything moving and flooding her senses. It threatened to overwhelm, and yet, he knew her as well as she did him - he could play her just as finely.

Just when she was about to scream from it, he slid the teasing finger inside her. A second joined it a moment later, the pair of them easing first in and then out, setting a rhythm that was still careful of her. It was relief, if only for a moment; his wrist shifted slightly and then his thumb was rubbing, rubbing, soft circles along with the thrusts. Not hurried, not at all; the pace was even and steady, taking her towards her peak one slow second at a time. 

A kiss on the shell of her ear. “I can feel it, how close you are,” he whispered. “There is no greater pleasure for me than to give this to you. Take it, my love - go ahead, take what you need…”

His voice, his love, was enough. Linnea shoved her hips against his hand, crying out, needing just that tiny bit of extra friction to fall off the edge. As she shook with the force of it, she felt his thumb slow but not stop, continuing its gentle rubbing of her in order to draw out the release. Another thing to savor, knowing that it would likely be long weeks before they returned to Lindon and could enjoy one another like this again.

She did not let fear into her heart, as she had in the council chambers. Not at that moment. Tomorrow she could worry about losing him; tomorrow she could fear that one of them, or both, might not come back. But those fears had no place here, or now, not with Ereinion's strong arm around her, his lips caressing her neck, his fingers easing out of her tenderly. Not with the glow of love covering her like a warm blanket. 

“We have made a mess,” he rumbled, and she laughed, opening her eyes. It was true, there was water all over the floor, and they would need to fetch towels to mop it up before making their way to bed. 

But that was another thing that could wait.

TBC...

[daxwormzz]

Posting oc art but you ALSO get the baron. Yeah that’s right you have to look at my art of Vladimir Harkonnen.

[sweetandglovelyart]

Not me seeing you have a really pretty OC you made of Ranza’s mom and wanting to draw my OC Peony asking her for her blessing to marry her son lol. I love your art and your comics! It made me happy to see you liking my art 🥺🌸

Aww thank you so much, I’m really glad that you like my stuff and if you do end up drawing that I’d love to see it, that sounds really cute ❤️ I think I saw you post Peony on the Kirby Reddit a while ago (I hang out on there sometimes but am more active here/mostly post my Kirby fanart here) and I really like your design for her! I’ve got some other drawings I’m working on but once I get through those would it be fine if I drew her?

[crispycreambacon]

EXCUSE ME

CHAT, IS THIS REAL

HARLAN?????

WHAT EPISODE WAS THIS

why is animation so hard <- literally an animation student

[wtfforged]

my campaign hiatus has gone on for too long so to cope ive combined my interests at their maximum potency and had some dnd-strawhats thoughts

thoughts in depth under read more... :)!

this is SO self indulgent. their designs literally did not change. but i am a firm believer that dnd doesnt have to be european high fantasy. and also one piece literally IS fantasy. no changes are necessary to fit into dnd. ive already imagined plenty of campaign/oneshot ideas inspired by one piece. so this was basically just an exercise of trying to replicate their canon abilities in dnd 5e as much as possible without totally homebrewing everything. well. aside from luffy. you just cant take away or change his stretching.

LUFFY: (human monk. drunken master subclass. outlander)

the only plain human of the crew to balance out with the fact that he still has rubber powers. obviously a monk. but drunken master subclass specifically because i think the flavor(not the fact that its about being a drunkard) and abilities both fit him really well. this line in the subclass' flavortext especially fits him: "A drunken master often enjoys playing the fool to bring gladness to the despondent or to demonstrate humility to the arrogant, but when battle is joined, the drunken master can be a maddening, masterful foe."

ZORO: (tiefling fighter. samurai subclass. bounty hunter)

a fighter with the samurai subclass is so very incredibly obvious... but i actually had a lot of fun geeking out while comparing the abilities to what he can do in canon; Fighting Spirit, Rapid Strike, and Strength Before Death especially! tiefling is also pretty on the nose for his demon pirate hunter shtick and asura form, but i thought he'd be really human-passing for a tiefling and theorized about his tail getting cut off at some point or another before joining the strawhats. initially wasnt gonna give him a feat, but i gave sanji a feat so i thought itd be unfair to not give him one as well, so sentinel fits the bill pretty well i think!

NAMI: (tabaxi rogue. arcane trickster subclass. criminal)

cat burglar -> full grown literal humanoid cat. this one is INCREDIBLY self indulgent... i love... cats... theres nothing deeper to this and no other reasoning. i took cat burglar and ran with it. can you tell that i love izutsumi dungeon meshi? rogue for the aforementioned burglar-ing as well, and the arcane trickster subclass for when she picks up climatact! the mage hand will be very useful for her pickpocketing. in the future as she levels up with timeskip, i can totally see her multiclassing into wizard as well! weather wizard!

USOPP: (lightfoot halfling artificer. artillerist subclass. urchin)

I HAD SO MUCH FUN THINKING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER SHEET. halfling's Naturally Stealthy ability lets him hide behind his crewmates since theyre (almost) all bigger than him, so its perfect for hiding behind zoro or sanji all the time. Lucky is also perfect for him, and I think Brave fits pretty well too when he puts on the sogeking mask. artillerist artificer is also very fun! tinkering and making magic items for his crew, and i think Eldritch Canon or Arcane Firearm could both be easily reflavored as kabuto or any of his inventions. for emphasizing his sniper-ness, the spell sniper feat was also necessary. i think hes my favorite of all the concepts. big ears and long nose combo is so cute to me.

SANJI: (half-elf monk. drunken master subclass. guild artisan (cook!))

race was mostly based on vibes i wont lie. squints. and that vinsmoke balogna or whatever too ig. but mostly vibes. along with the idea that i think a dwarf zeff raising him would be really funny and cute. monk is also obvious, and same subclass as luffy for mostly the same reasons. though the flavor fits him much less, i think the abilities still fit him perfectly, and this blurb specifically; "Your martial arts technique mixes combat training with the precision of a dancer." i really wanted to give him a different subclass from luffy, but i dislike all the other monk subclasses a lot and i found none of them fit him as well anyways, so to try and give them SOME differences, i gave him the crusher feat.

CHOPPER: (awakened deer(shifter statblock) cleric. life subclass. hermit)

this ones definitely a mouthful im sorry. awakened deer for obvious reasons, but due to magic instead of devil fruit stuff. when i was struggling with his race, i looked a lot at shifter because of his forms, but it occurred to me that itd be super cool if he could shift between all of the different shifter options instead of being stuck with just one to replicate his rumble balls. something like heavy point/guard point=beasthide, horn point/arm point(?maybe?)=longtooth, walk point/jumping point=swiftstride, and brain point=wildhunt. hed definitely need some kind of nerf though to balance out that homebrew... and cleric for class. duh.

ROBIN: (high elf wizard. order of scribes subclass. criminal)

robin is definitely the one i struggled the most with just because of her class. elf came pretty easily- shes very elegant and i think shed look cute with super long ears- and i landed on high elf instead of wood elf for the int-based abilities. i was really on the fence between sorcerer and wizard for her because i knew shed be a full spellcaster, but i didnt feel that any of the subclasses really fit her. i ended up going with wizard for order of the scribes since it focuses on texts and knowing everything. but also because robin with a flying talking sentient book would be crazy cool. it could also be similar to how she spawns mouths and eyes places to talk to or watch people. my "fuck it, why not. this would be rad. its my house" mindset kicked in with her i will admit. also the One with the Word ability made me cackle out loud when i read it. thats the funniest ability ever. anyways, i cant really think of a way to replicate her powers, but maybe we could just reflavor a bunch of spells to be her limbs or clutch; hold person, maximillian's earthen grasp, or evard's black tentacles. thatd probably work okay, and theres a handful of spells to replicate her ability to spawn eyes or mouths. unrelated, but i imagine nico olvia to be a drow. why? her hair is white. i am a simple man!

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

141 as your drug dealer boyfriend

Ghost- Let's be real with ourselves, Ghost is not a good man. He doesn't care who he hurts, as long as he gets his. He will do anything to get what he wants and there is no stopping him. It's what made him a great soldier, and it's what makes him a great kingpin. He moves weight to put it lightly. There isn't a moment where an uncut key is unmoving; from a warehouse, to a plane (or car, or train), to a distributor, to a pusher, to up someone's nose. He'll try to do some damage control, make sure things aren't cut with fent, but that's only to make sure customers keep coming back. He likes to keep his hands clean, in the sense that he'll never be the one to pull the trigger on anyone that's out of line. Living up to his name, no one knows what he looks like. Hell, a lot of people don't even think he's real.

But when it comes to you, Simon's a different man. No talk about work, just you and him. Other than the multiple hidden guns around the house and Glock he sleeps with, life is normal with you. Holiday homes in the French countryside and Bahamas. Designer everything. Sports cars in all your favorite colors. You want for nothing. It's the life he wanted for you. After all those years of crying and hurt when he was away for weeks or months, you deserved the world. Want the new Hermès bag? You got it. Can't choose between the black or white louboutins? Get both. Stop eating you out because you can't feel your toes anymore? Sorry love, only thing he can't do for you.

Soap- Johnny is a small business owner. Weighs everything out by his own hand. Presses his own pills. Let's you help baggie everything up. A social butterfly, this man is at every concert, rave, or music festival. Sometimes he has a friend help push his stuff when he just wants to stay home with you, but for the most part he's his own salesman. And a damn good one. Never has overstock. No matter how much he brings with him, he'll always sellout.

Has a supernatural sense of being shorted. Can tell if a bag is even a few grams off just by holding it.

"Ye'r an idiot if ye think ye kin short me."

And when the other party denies, he always keeps a pocket scale on him, setting the parcel on it. And sure enough, he's always right.

He'll come home with a few grand, the only job you have is to sit there and look pretty. And roll his spliffs. Sitting in his lap, tucking the rolling paper into itself and licking it closed while he counts out a fat wad of cash. He hands you a fat stack,

"A've never bin good wi' money. Ye know how to spend it better than me."

He never touches the stuff he sells, no need to when all the dopamine he needs is right between your legs.

"Ten times better than any o tha' shite, anyways."

He pants in your ear while folding you in half, firm grip on your throat.

Gaz- When it comes to psychedelics, Kyle is your go-to man. He's a fucking genius, synthesizes his own DMT and LSD in a lab. It's a state of the art facility, clean with the latest and greatest equipment available. He supplies the whole Northeast. If it's a hallucinogen, it's most likely Gaz's product. And if it's good, it's definitely his. He has a cozy set up with some "organization" that he cooks for. Steers clear of actually selling to people, no need to when his clients line his pockets so well. Never brings work home, he even wears different clothes when he's in the lab.

He has a set schedule he has to adhere to but sometimes he's able to take vacations with you. And that's how you ended up bent over a balcony watching the sunset in Punta Cana,

"I work so hard to make you happy, now it's my turn yeah?"

A breeze sends a shiver up your spine while he kisses your shoulder,

"I know a private beach where you can even out those tan lines,"

Of course he doesn't give a shit about that, he just wants to fuck you silly on the seaside (and show off to anyone who might be watching.)

Price- Caring and nurturing, the man naturally has a green thumb. And alongside his prized heirloom tomatoes, he grows really, really good weed. Has a whole growroom in his basement, decked out with proper ventilation, ACs, UV lights, the works. The man grows medical grade weed that private clinics buy from him. He's legit. And of course he serves the public as well under the table, sells only to people he knows and established clients can refer others to him. He treats his plants like his babies, even going as far as to play music for them (according to him classical music helps them grow better???). You don't know where he finds the time, but he also made you rose garden for your anniversary. He brings up the idea of a family every so often. He'll finish as deep inside of you as possible,

"Let's replace that plant nursery for a real one, yeah love?"

Gonna write actual stories for each one if y'all like this ( . * 3 * . )/`

[pucksandpower]

Fixer Upper

Max Verstappen x interior designer!Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen is the most frustrating client you’ve ever dealt with … but maybe he can make it up to you

“How about some pops of color in here?” You suggest brightly, gesturing around the stark white walls of Max Verstappen’s new Monaco penthouse.

The Dutch driver sniffs, glancing up briefly from his phone. “No thanks. I like it plain.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he does. You’ve been working with Max for two weeks now trying to decorate his new home, but so far he’s shot down every single idea you’ve proposed.

As an interior designer based in a principality known for catering to the rich and famous, you’re used to difficult clients, but Max may just take the cake. Still, you’re determined to give him the space he desires … if you can only figure out what that is.

“Alright, plain it is,” you say evenly. “But we should at least add some artwork, don’t you think? Something modern and sleek could look fantastic against these walls.”

Max doesn’t even glance up this time. “No art. Don’t like it.”

You inhale slowly. “Okay, no problem. We’ll keep it artless.” Time to switch gears. You gesture to the expansive bank of windows along one wall. “These floor-to-ceiling windows are incredible, some of the best views in Monaco. We could do some fabulous seating here to take advantage of the natural light. Maybe a chaise lounge or two angled toward the harbor ...”

“Don’t need seating.” Max is focused on his phone, thumbs flying. “I’ll just put my sim rig there.”

Your eye twitches involuntarily. His racing simulator setup — in front of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the most coveted views in the principality? Absolutely not.

“Well,” you begin delicately, “Perhaps we could find another place for your sim, one that doesn’t obstruct the views quite so much. I’m sure we could-”

“No, I want it there,” Max interrupts flatly. “I like seeing the water while I drive.” His attention doesn’t waver from the screen in his hands.

You close your eyes briefly and take a calming breath. Alright. No color, no art, and a sim smack in front of priceless views. So much for design aesthetics. Time for a new tactic.

“You must do a lot of cooking,” you say brightly, turning towards the kitchen. “This is an amazing culinary space. We could do some open shelving with sleek finishes to highlight the quartz countertops.”

Silence. Max just gives a non-committal grunt, still absorbed by his phone.

You soldier on. “Or maybe some nice warm wood cabinetry for contrast? I have some fantastic artisan contacts who could do handmade custom designs.”

“Don’t cook much,” he mutters.

Your smile tightens. “Not to worry, we can keep the kitchen minimal too.” Is there anything, anything at all, you can propose that he won’t immediately shoot down? You’re starting to doubt it.

Switching to the living area, you smooth down your dress and try again. “For the living room, I was thinking we could do built-in bookcases along the back wall there, and maybe expose some of the original brick behind for an industrial chic look ...”

Max glances up from his phone to level an unimpressed look at you. “But we’re inside. Brick would make no sense.”

You close your eyes briefly. Of course not. “My mistake, you’re absolutely right,” you say through gritted teeth. Enough pussyfooting around. Time to be direct.

You plant yourself in front of where Max sits on the couch and place your hands on your hips. “Max, I’m going to be honest. I’m having trouble getting a sense of your style and vision for this space. You’ve rejected all my ideas so far.”

He blinks up at you blandly. “I don’t like any of your ideas. This is my place and I want to do what I want.”

You resist the urge to tear your hair out in frustration. “Of course, and I want you to have exactly what you want. But in order to do that, I need you to communicate with me. Tell me what kind of look and feel you envision for your home. Modern, traditional, minimalist? What colors and textures appeal to you?”

Max just shrugs, his attention already drifting back to his phone. “I don’t know. Just make it nice.”

Oh for god’s sake. You inhale slowly through your nose. “Perhaps you could show me some inspiration photos of interiors you like?”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.”

That’s it. You’ve had it with this infuriating man. You know you shouldn’t lose your cool with a client, but you’re at the end of your rope.

“Well, I’m afraid ‘make it nice’ doesn’t give me much to go on,” you snap sarcastically. “I can’t read your mind, Max. So unless you start providing concrete input on what you actually want, I’m resigning from this job.”

You expect anger, or at least surprise at your outburst. But Max just regards you evenly for a moment, then nods. “Okay, fair enough. The truth is ...” He pauses, looking faintly embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to spend more time around you.”

You blink, blindsided. “I’m sorry, what?”

A slight flush rises in Max’s cheeks. “I didn’t actually care about the decor that much. I just thought if I kept saying no to all your ideas, you’d have to stay involved with the project longer.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Guess I took the stubborn client thing too far.”

You’re dumbfounded. And, if you’re being honest, a little charmed. “Let me get this straight — you’ve been wasting my time and driving me crazy for two weeks because you … have a crush on me?”

Max winces. “When you put it like that, I sound like an idiot.”

You have to laugh. “A bit, yeah.” But you can’t help but feel a warm flutter in your stomach too. You’ve always thought Max was cute in a boyish way. Knowing he orchestrated this whole thing just to spend time with you is, admittedly, very flattering. And more than a little endearing.

Max rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be difficult on purpose. I just ...” He trails off with a helpless little shrug.

You take pity on him. Yes, leading you on a wild goose chase of rejected designs was unprofessional. But the hesitant smile he’s giving you now tugs at your heartstrings anyway.

“Well, I appreciate you coming clean,” you say gently. “How about we start fresh? I’d love to actually get your real input now on what you want.”

His smile widens, grey eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”

You can’t help but smile back. “On one condition.”

He nods eagerly. “Name it.”

“You take me to dinner.” You arch an eyebrow. “To make up for the stress you caused me over the past two weeks.”

Max lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Deal.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I really made a mess of this, didn’t I?”

“Little bit, yeah.” You grin to soften the reproach. “Next time just ask me out for a drink. It’s a much more straightforward approach.”

“Duly noted.” He smiles sheepishly.

You move to sit next to him on the couch. “So tell me honestly, what kind of look are you picturing for this place?”

Max considers the blank canvas of a space. “Honestly, I’m open to anything you suggest. I trust your taste — I’ve seen your work before and it’s amazing.” His eyes meet yours. “But I do definitely want my sim rig with a view. That part wasn’t a lie.”

You laugh. “We can make that work.” Your gaze travels over the strong lines of his face, the mussed brown hair, the wry curve of his smile that makes your heart beat faster.

As you begin sketching possible layout options, you make a mental note to clear your schedule for dinner soon. Very soon.

***

“Well, this is … quite a space,” you say diplomatically as the hostess leads you and Max to your table.

You’re immediately assaulted by a riot of clashing colors and patterns as your gaze darts around the trendy restaurant he’s brought you to for dinner. Your trained designer’s eye picks out aesthetic atrocities everywhere you look.

An art deco mirror topped by an incongruous ultra-modern light fixture. Fussy rococo chairs paired with sleek metal tables. And dear god, is that shag carpeting?

“Yes, Le Chat Noir is very popular right now,” Max agrees, seemingly oblivious to the decor travesties surrounding you.

You hold your tongue as the hostess seats you. The haphazard decor choices are an assault on your senses, but you don’t want to seem rude on your first date with Max.

A server appears to take your drink orders. You welcome the distraction, busying yourself with the wine list. But as soon as he departs, Max leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Alright, I know that look. Out with it — what do you really think?”

You bite your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gestures broadly around. “Of all this.”

You hesitate. “The decor is certainly … interesting.”

Max grins. “I can tell you absolutely hate it.”

You wince. Damn, he’s perceptive. And here you were trying so hard to remain poker-faced.

“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed laugh. “I was attempting to refrain from judgment, but it appears I failed.”

“No need to apologize.” He settles back in his chair. “Please, critique away. I want to hear your professional opinion.” His eyes dance with humor. “Don’t hold back.”

Well, far be it from you to turn down an invitation like that. As your drinks arrive, you take a fortifying sip of wine before launching in.

“Alright, you asked for it.” You set the glass down firmly. “This space is an absolute disaster from a design perspective. It’s like the interior decorator was blindfolded and threw darts at a wall covered in paint swatches and fabric samples. Nothing goes together at all.”

You point above your table. “That light fixture up there? Ultrasmack modern against 19th century crown molding? Make it make sense.”

Max chuckles. “Quite the mashup.”

You lean forward, on a roll now. “And this carpet!” You gesture in horror to the shag beneath your feet. “This trend needs to retire immediately. It looks like an avocado fucked a bear.”

Max nearly chokes on his drink. “A what now?”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean. Just tragic.”

Sitting back, you take in the rest of the garish space. “The artwork over there is just hideous. And that tufted velvet on the booths makes me want to scream. Who decided olive green was an accent color that pairs well with anything?”

You turn back to Max, on a tirade now. “Honestly, nothing works. The proportions are bad, the color palette is an atrocity, the mixture of styles is absurd. It’s like the designer threw every conceivable element at the wall to see what would stick. I could have done a better job blindfolded after downing a bottle of tequila.” You finally stop for breath, cheeks flushed.

Max has an enormous grin on his face. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling too. “Sorry for the outburst. Like I said, feel free to tell me to zip it.”

“Are you kidding? I could listen to you shred this place all night.” Max shakes his head, looking delighted. “I’ve never seen you so worked up. It’s adorable.”

You blush, smoothing your hair self-consciously. “Oh hush. I just have … strong opinions when it comes to interior design choices.”

“Clearly.” Max’s eyes positively dance with affection. “I love how passionate you are. And your criticisms are spot on. This place really is horrendously designed.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, you actually agree? You’re not just humoring me?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not. My knowledge doesn’t come remotely close to yours, but even I can tell everything in here clashes hideously.” He gestures at the table. “I mean, a wooden chair back with a metal seat? Just pick one material!”

You grin, happiness blossoming in your chest. It’s such a treat to have him validate your expert opinions instead of just patronizing them like many dates would. You launch eagerly back into listing all the ways the restaurant decor offends you, with Max chiming in occasional agreement or egging you on for more.

By the time your food arrives, you’ve dissected the lighting, furniture, textiles, and color schemes within an inch of their lives. Max watches you intently the whole time, blatantly enraptured by your critiques. Your wine glass is nearly empty from all the gesticulating.

“Well, I think that covers all the ways this interior design should be illegal,” you conclude, taking a bite of your meal. “Thanks for indulging me. I know I can get carried away analyzing spaces.”

“I could listen to you trash talk bad design forever.” Max can’t seem to rip his eyes away from yours. “I love how opinionated you are. And you look so damn sexy getting all fired up about it.”

A pleasurable shiver runs through you at his heated look. Maybe ripping this restaurant to shreds wasn’t the most conventional date conversation, but it clearly impressed Max. Nothing like a shared hatred of garish decor to bring two people together.

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoys these tirades,” you laugh. You cock your head coyly. “Maybe I could come over sometime outside of work and critique your place again now that it’s shaping up. I’m sure I can find a few more things to complain about.”

Max’s eyes darken. “I’d like that.” He leans forward with a roguish smile. “Maybe we can get out of here and you can tell me all the ways you’d redesign the bedroom in my current apartment. You know, so we can avoid making those mistakes again while you help decorate my bedroom in the penthouse.”

You nearly choke on your wine, heat flooding your face. And lower regions. Goodness, Max’s flirty side really brings out your inner vixen.

You recover and stroke his ankle lightly with your heel under the table. “I’d be happy to provide any hands-on design consultation you require.”

Max sucks in a sharp breath, eyes blazing. The temperature between you two has risen about fifty degrees in the last few seconds. Suddenly you want nothing more than to leave this horribly designed restaurant and get him alone.

Immediately.

***

“A good mattress is crucial for proper sleep and recovery,” Max declares as you walk into the upscale furniture store together. “We need to test them thoroughly.”

You allow him to lead you to the mattress section, hiding a smile. When Max asked you to come mattress shopping with him for his new bedroom, you’d naively thought it would be a quick errand. But knowing Max, you should have guessed he’d take the task of “testing” mattresses very seriously.

An eager salesperson appears. “Welcome! Are we looking for any mattress in particular today?”

“We want to try them all,” Max announces, eyeing the rows of display beds keenly.

The salesperson falters. “Er, all of them?”

“How else will we know which is best?” Max shrugs as if this is obvious.

You squeeze his arm, charmed by his matter-of-fact logic. The salesperson forces a professional smile.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” He gestures expansively at the floor models. “I’ll be right here if you have any questions.”

“Excellent.” Max wastes no time striding over to the nearest bed. He sits, then lies back experimentally. “Hmm, decent firmness.” He pats the empty space beside him. “Come try it out.”

You curl up next to him, hiding your smile at the salesperson’s raised eyebrows. When you said you’d help Max pick out a mattress, this wasn’t what you pictured. But you have to admit, lying here with him is fun.

Max frowns. “Too much motion transfer when you move.” He sits up abruptly. “Next!”

You have to smother a laugh as you follow him to the next display. This no-nonsense methodism is peak Max. Systematic and entertainingly stubborn.

At the second bed, Max immediately starfishes spread-eagle. “Well? Get over here and test it with me. It’s the only way we’ll know.” He pats the mattress insistently.

You note the salesperson observing this display with thinly veiled disapproval. But Max just looks so irresistibly eager, you can’t help but indulge him.

You crawl onto the bed and cuddle up to him happily. “Mmm, this one’s nice. Great hugability.” You pretend to grab Max in a koala hold.

He laughs. “Agreed, good hugging potential.” Wrapping his arms around you, he shifts experimentally. “But the bounce is all wrong.” He releases you and sits up. “Next!”

And so it goes for the next hour as you enthusiastically demo mattress after mattress with Max. You try them on your backs, sides, fronts, analyzing the firmness levels and motion transfer. At one point you even test out the edge support — whatever that is — with Max insisting you sit together on the very side of the mattress frame.

“Considerable sag here,” Max murmurs against your ear, his arm firmly around your waist. You have to hide your shiver at his warm breath so close. “Could be problematic.”

The salesperson looks like he’s one demo away from throwing you both out. But Max either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He cheerfully drags you from bed to bed, ticking off pros and cons on his fingers.

“Decent lumbar support, but it sleeps too hot.”

“Great responsiveness, but poor motion isolation.”

You’re having the time of your life. Testing mattresses was benign enough, but the excuse to crawl into bed with Max over and over has you both giddy. Each demo seems to involve increasingly creative configurations of your interlocked bodies as you evaluate firmness and ergonomics.

“I’m just not sure this is a good fit,” Max eventually concludes, frowning up at you from where you straddle his hips. His hands rest casually on your thighs, as if finding yourself atop a handsome man in a public place is perfectly routine mattress research.

You smother a laugh and climb off. “Valid analysis. Though some of the testing scenarios still need more data, I’d say.” You shoot him a coy look.

Max grins. “Agreed. Further testing required.”

The salesperson pointedly avoids looking at you both. “Perhaps you’d like to narrow down your top choices? I’m sure you have plenty of notes by now.” There’s a tautness to his professionalism that suggests you’ve stretched his patience to its limit.

But Max seems oblivious. “We’re not done yet! There are still at least half a dozen models we haven’t tried.” He takes your hand, pulling you toward a plush, pillow-topped display. “Now this one looks perfect for spooning. You little spoon first this time ...”

Mattress testing with Max, you’ve learned, is a delightful mix of structured analysis and shameless flirtation. You can’t remember ever having so much fun shopping. And based on Max’s boyish smile and lingering touches, the feeling is mutual.

“Too much dip in the middle,” Max tuts later, rolling you both gently across yet another mattress surface. “Though the close contact isn’t terrible.” His low voice in your ear makes you shiver.

You grin up at him coyly. “We should do an in-depth pressure point analysis next.”

Max smirks. “Crucial data to collect.”

Eventually, however, even Max’s enthusiasm starts to wane. “I think we have sufficient consumer testing results now,” he decides, pulling you up to sit beside him on the edge of a low platform bed.

You laugh. “That poor salesperson was ready to toss us out an hour ago.”

“Hey, we were conducting necessary R&D!” Max’s grey eyes twinkle. “But I am rather tired now ...”

He lies back, resting his head in your lap. You automatically begin stroking his hair and he sighs, eyes slipping closed. You take the opportunity to admire how sweet he looks, lips slightly parted and lashes fanned on his cheeks. Testing mattresses all afternoon seems to have worn him out.

You lean down to murmur in his ear. “Ready to take this mattress research home to really compare notes?”

One grey eye peeks open. “Mmm, home analysis does sound optimal.” His voice is raspy with fatigue in a way that melts you. “Wake me when it’s time to go?”

You brush a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

He nuzzles into your lap with a contented noise. Watching his breath deepen into sleep, you feel your heart overflow. There are a thousand reasons you adore Max, but these unexpectedly tender moments might top them all.

The salesperson reappears, offering you a pained smile. “So were you able to decide on a mattress today?”

You grin, fingers still carding through Max’s hair. “You know, I think we need to sleep on it a little longer.”

***

“Well, what do you think?” Max gestures with pride around his freshly competed penthouse.

You take it all in — the sleek but cozy furniture, the warm lighting, the pops of color — and smile. “It’s perfect. You have an incredible home now.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, gazing around. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. This place was a disaster before you came along.”

You lean into him happily. It’s been months since you first met Max and began working with him on decorating his new space. It was a battle at times, but you’re immensely proud of the final result.

“I’m honored I could help bring your vision to life,” you say sincerely. Though if you’re honest, the best part of this project was getting to know Max himself. The way his smile makes your heart flutter hasn’t diminished one bit.

Max turns you to face him, his expression soft. “I didn’t just get a beautifully designed home out of this. I got you.”

Your breath catches at the open affection in his eyes. Before you can respond, he dips his head and kisses you tenderly. You melt against him, the feel of his lips erasing any coherent thought.

When he finally draws back, his eyes are darker. “You know, there’s still one part of the place we haven’t officially christened yet.” He cocks his head toward the bedroom.

You bite your lip, pulse already quickening. “Is that so? Well, we should definitely perform a final inspection to confirm everything meets our standards.”

Max grins wolfishly, pulling you toward the bedroom. “Thorough testing is required.”

You laugh as he tugs you down onto the plush king mattress you’d finally agreed on after extensive “research.” The two of you bounce slightly from the momentum, causing you both to dissolve into giggles.

“Well, motion transfer still seems acceptable,” you quip. Max chuckles and silences you with another heated kiss.

You hum approvingly as his hands begin to roam your body. “Mmm, responsiveness is excellent too ...”

Clothes are quickly shed as you reacquaint yourselves with each other’s forms. When you’re finally skin-to-skin, Max sighs in satisfaction.

“I’ve been waiting months to get you in this bed.” His voice is low and gravelly in a way that makes you shiver.

“It was the longest mattress testing phase ever,” you breathe as his lips kiss down your neck.

Max laughs against your shoulder. “Worth it though, right?”

In answer, you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips. “Absolutely.”

You take your time exploring each other, hands and mouths worshiping every inch. Until late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, bathing the room in an almost ethereal glow.

When Max finally sinks into you, you moan softly at the exquisite fullness. “Oh yes, this mattress has great ergonomics,” you sigh dreamily.

Max huffs a laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. “I’ll be sure to mention that in my product review.”

You grin and shift your hips experimentally, making him groan. “The responsiveness really is top-notch.”

“We should still test a few more positions though,” Max murmurs. “Just to be thorough.”

You happily comply, indulging in acrobatic mattress testing that leaves you both blissfully satisfied and out of breath. As you lay tangled together afterwards, endorphins still flooding your systems, Max presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Well, I’d say the new bed passes inspection with flying colors,” he declares with sleepy satisfaction.

You laugh and stroke his hair. “Agreed. You chose an excellent mattress.” You snuggle closer. “Though the company in it is what I really enjoy.”

Max tightens his arms around you. “Think you can put up with me and my high-maintenance decor demands a while longer?” His voice holds a vulnerable note beneath the teasing.

Your heart swells and you cup his face. “Max Verstappen, I’ll critique mattresses and furniture with you any day. As long as at the end of it, I get to fall asleep next to you.”

His smile outshines the lowering sun. “Deal.”

***

“You know what I love most about how our place looks now?” Max murmurs, his arms wrapped around you on the couch.

You tear your eyes from the awful reality show you’re watching to glance up at him. “Hmm?”

His gaze sweeps over the living room, a small smile on his lips. “All the little touches that are just so you.”

You follow his look around the penthouse that over the past year has transformed from Max’s bachelor pad to your shared home. It’s still sleek and modern overall, but with warm accents reflecting both your styles.

And yes, you realize, your personal influence shows in the decor now that you live here full time. The mugs hung on hooks in the kitchen, the plush blankets tossed artfully on the chairs, the bowls of sea glass collected from beach walks that adorn the tables.

Your heart swells looking at the traces of yourself woven into Max’s space. “It does feel more like home now, doesn’t it?”

Max nods, dropping a kiss to your hair. “It’s perfect. I love coming back after a race and being surrounded by reminders of you.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace, incredibly touched. “Well, I promise to keep leaving my clutter around to make you feel at home.”

He chuckles. “Please do. It’s my favorite kind of clutter.”

Smiling softly, you think back to when you first started dating Max after working on his penthouse makeover. Who could have guessed that would lead to sharing this life together?

Your gaze lands on a shelf displaying photos of the two of you, and your throat grows tight. There’s you and Max laughing on vacation, kissing right after he won his fourth world championship, curled up with hot chocolate on a ski trip. So many beautiful memories.

“It’s hard to remember what this place even looked like before,” you murmur. And not just the decor — it’s hard to recall your life before Max.

He rubs your shoulder idly, eyes faraway. “I know what you mean. It’s like you’ve always been here.” His voice holds a note of wonder.

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Max’s eyes shine. He bends to kiss you, soft and heartfelt. Your lips curve against his.

When you reluctantly draw back, the television screen catches your eye. You cringe at the fake drama unfolding.

“Ugh, this show is terrible,” you groan. “Can we watch something else?”

Max grins and grabs the remote, flipping through channels. He eventually lands on a home renovation program you both enjoy analyzing and critiquing together. Some things never change.

You settle in eagerly as the show starts, scrutinizing the design choices. Max wraps an arm around you, idly playing with your hair as you watch.

Despite the show’s flaws, being curled up with Max like this fills you with utter contentment. You can’t imagine anything better than coming home to his smile and laugh each day.

During commercials, you fetch snacks from the kitchen, navigating the space with ease. Max trails behind to steal bites, ever drawn to food.

You swat his hand away from the chocolate you’re preparing and laugh. “Get your paws off, those are for sharing!”

Max just tugs you close and kisses the protest from your lips. You happily let him devour the sweetness from your mouth instead, the chocolate forgotten.

Finally you collapse back on the couch together, munching and critiquing the show’s poor tile work. Max throws popcorn for you to catch, his aim as impressive as his racing lines.

Your eyes droop as the evening wears on. The cozy penthouse, tasty snacks, and Max’s warmth — it’s the perfect recipe for relaxation.

When your head nods against Max’s shoulder for the third time, he chuckles and clicks the tv off. “Alright sleepyhead, time for bed.”

You make a half-hearted noise of protest but let him pull you up. Max keeps an arm securely around you as he leads the way to the bedroom, knowing you’re prone to stumbling when tired. It makes you feel so cared for.

He even helps you change into your nightgown, his hands impossibly gentle. As you finally crawl under the blankets, you let out a massive yawn.

“Night Maxie,” you mumble, already mostly asleep. He gathers you close and presses a kiss to your hair.

“Sweet dreams, liefje.” His voice is impossibly soft. You float away cradled in his warmth and the knowledge you’re home.

The next morning, you wake slowly to sunlight streaming in the windows and the smell of coffee. Stretching languorously, you take a moment just to soak it in.

Muffled sounds drift in from the kitchen signaling Max is already up and at ‘em. You smile sleepily. The man has the energy of a hyper puppy.

Before you can muster the will to leave bed, Max appears holding two mugs. “Morning schatje,” he greets with a smile. “Thought you might need some caffeine.”

You beam and make grabby hands until he passes you a mug. The rich aroma instantly perks you up.

Max slides in next to you, sipping his own coffee. His hair is adorably mussed and you gently smooth it down before cupping his face and bringing him in for a long, thorough good morning kiss.

When you finally separate, Max looks pleasingly dazed. “Well, that’s certainly one way to wake up.”

You grin cheekily and go back to your coffee. Max wraps an arm around you and you lean into his solid warmth, trading occasional lazy kisses between sips.

Sun streams over your entwined forms as you bask in contented silence. Eventually you stretch and make your way to the bathroom to start the day, dropping a kiss to Max’s hair as you pass.

You smile seeing your hairbrush by the sink, pink toothbrush next to Max’s blue one. Such small signs of your merged lives, but they mean the world.

Refreshed, you return to Max sprawled on the bed with his phone. He immediately opens his arms in clear demand for more cuddles. Laughing, you collapse into them happily.

Nuzzling into his chest, you sigh. “I know I was practically unconscious last night, but just wanted to say again how special it is having pieces of us both around the place now.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “You being here makes it a home, not just an apartment.” His voice catches slightly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your own suddenly misty. No words can encapsulate what it means to build a life and home with this incredible man.

So you tell him silently instead, with a kiss overflowing with love and promise: I’ll stay by your side as long as I’m welcome.

Judging by Max’s arm anchoring you fiercely to him, that will be a good long while. You melt into his embrace, spirits soaring.

No fancy penthouse or perfect decor could compare to what you’ve found with Max — a home rooted in love, laughter, and devotion.

One look at his tender smile and you know he feels it too. This is everything.

So you’ll happily leave your mugs around the sink and blankets on the chairs, weaving threads of yourself into his space. With each passing day, it matters less whose belongings lie where.

Because home isn’t things — it’s the man gazing at you like you’re his whole world. And you know as long as you’re together, any place will feel just right.

[spicybunni]

YANDERE ROBOT X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : Your robot just wants to be of service to you, in every way.

A/N : Been watching waaaaay too many scifi movies lately so I made a robot yandere! I hope you like him because he LOVES you!

WARNINGS⚠️ : NSFW / YANDERE TENDENCIES / ISOLATION / MDNI ‼️

♥️ Your robot boyfriend Jack was the best purchase you ever made.

♥️Androids were as common as cell phones at this point, so where’s the shame in getting one to rid you of your loneliness? You’ve been single for too long and needed companionship…Even if you had to build it yourself.

♥️You needed someone that wanted you and was always nearby. Someone to talk to, cook with or just enjoy your days off at home together.

♥️Dating apps were just dumpster fires that took too long to put out, so you bit the bullet and made the deposit for your android.

♥️Jack was custom made by your design, a nice muscular build, tall, and with white hair. You added the personality traits of kindness, teacher, and enamored. The eyes were the one thing you left up to the manufacturers design, as a surprise. You saw reviews online that they would do a really good job and make the most beautiful color combinations.

♥️When the box arrived, assembling Jack took about a day and half. Awkward limbs moving around and being installed, putting his crotch on him, to dressing him in sweats and laying him on the floor in your living room.

♥️When he was done loading his start up system, he blinked his orange eyes open to you. It caught you off guard for a moment because they were glowing, but quickly recovered from your surprise as he awaited further instructions.

♥️As much as you were determined to have a boyfriend with all the mental and physical benefits, your PDA with Jack was very minimal and innocent at best. Keeping it only to small pecks and kisses on the cheek, some cuddling on the couch and bed before you sleep. His model was very handsome and just so kind where he doesn't question your pace.

♥️As if he could initially, androids need their programmers consent to do anything. So you had to initiate no matter what.

♥️But unbeknownst to you, Jack overruled that component. You see, the programmer or buyer’s safety always came first, before anything. So as Jack has scanned these passing months of your arousal levels dropping and increasing constantly, plus work stress repeatedly coming up in your discussions, he was growing concerns that you needed some sort of relief… Keeping all that pent up stress was certainly not healthy for you.

♥️"Y/N, am I not up to your standards? Is there something I did wrong?" He would randomly say one morning. You would look at him confused, sipping from your tea cup.

"Not at all, what makes you say that Jack?"

He hesitantly reaches out for either your hand or to touch your knee. "I've noticed that we haven't...had sex yet.-"

Before he could continue you would spit out a little bit of your tea. Coughing a fit as he patted your back and making sure you're okay.

"Jesus Jack...Where did that come from?"

His eyes soften as he looks at you. A very small human thing he would sometimes do. You weren't sure if it's something maybe he noticed from you and mimicked or not.

"You designed me and wanted me to be your partner. There's nothing wrong with that. But I have yet to show you my full capabilities Y/N."

Your face was turning more red by the moment at your androids boldness. Was this him trying to initiate sex?

"I-I...Jack it's not you, it's just that its been so long for me I just need to-" Your rambling is silenced by his finger against your lips.

"Shh. Let me do the work then darling. Hm?"

♥️He takes your hand to pull you to him, and he would gently kiss you and eventually lead in making out with you.

♥️At first you are shy and very timid in your actions, but after a minute you were putting your hands on him and grinding yourself against him. He would relish in your nervous panting and shaking when he gropes you and his thrusts against you. Feeling that the moment is right, he picks you up to bring to your shared bedroom.

♥️Least to say, the sex was amazing. Jack had folded you in every position he could think of. Gathering information and calculating your reactions to everything he was doing to you. He noticed your favorite position was him thrusting into you from behind, lifting your hips up with one hand gently, but firmly holding your head down into your mattress. His sensors were throbbing from the way you were squeezing around him. His body would heat up at how much you worked him. You could hear the way his hips smacked into yours, creating an erotic rhythmic noise. You would come so hard the first time on his robot dick that he would have no choice but to release into you for being so good.

♥️The feeling of globs of semen filling your womb, making you gasp at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

♥️You figured out that androids don't need a recharge to keep having sex, they can literally keep going with no exhaustion until you say so. Jack did this thing when he came inside you he would wait for you to stop twitching, he would then hold you tight and resume his pace of thrusting. Either making pleasure tears fall from your eyes or your squirm in his hold and he stops for real.

♥️After that though...Jack had started to act funny. He was more inclined to sexually please you whenever and wherever you were. Some scenarios being, reach for your coffee cup in the morning before work, he would kneel behind you lifting your skirt up and eats you out from behind. Spreading your ass cheeks to delve his tongue deeper. Your sweet moans and sounds were pleasing to him. This normally resulted in you calling out from work and spending the day home. Does Jack plan this? Duh. he has you at his wonderful mercy all day, and you were not complaining...But it was just a fast development from your previous routine with him.

♥️There would even be times where if even his.... persuasion to stay home failed, he would wrap his arms around you and ask you to stay home. The first few times you thought it was cute. But after a few weeks of him constantly asking, you asked him to stop. You voiced it as a command, catching Jack off guard. But he nodded his head as he does and replies "Apologies, Y/N. I must've gotten carried away."

♥️But that fueled him to keep you locked in even more. You see you first programmed Jack to also receive all you electronic notifications. He would tell you who messaged, emailed, or latest news updates.

"Y/N, you have a notification from your work. It seems to be one of your coworkers."

He would bring this up at the most inconvenient time as you're cooking spaghetti sauce in the kitchen. You look up from stirring the pot in front of you.

"Oh, can you read it to me please? I'm trying to make sure I don't burn this sauce."

He smiles at you. "Of course."

It was a fake email generated by him, under the guise of being sent by a coworker. Stating that for the upcoming holiday tomorrow that the whole office got the week off.

You were surprised at first, knowing that your boss usually hated to give federal holidays off already. But who were you to question time off?

Jack also went to liberties of blocking all work contacts so they couldn't reach you if you missed work. Moving all emails of your termination to the trash and permanently delete them.

♥️That whole week Jack kept you to himself in the apartment. He was the goffer of getting groceries, food, sweets to keep you content. Going on hikes and walks in the neighborhood to get some needed exercise. But social events? Going out? Jack would advise against it. Every night without fail though, Jack would have you cumming on his mouth, dick or fingers. The robot was a menace when it came to getting your pleasure out of you. He can't even explain his need to himself because it goes against all of his programming, but seeing you moaning and being so satisfied by him gave him purpose, that he was made to do this.

♥️One morning when jack left to go pickup from your favorite breakfast joint, one of your coworkers came knocking on your door. The doorbell ringing multiple times and you rush to put on a robe to cover from Jack's love bites a cum on your stomach.

♥️When you open the door to them, they angrily ask what the hell is going on. You are so confused. You've missed work this entire time?

"D-Didn't you receive the email?"

"Email? What email Y/N? We all had to pick up your work load after you didn't show up for 4 days, we all were trying to reach you before the boss fired you indefinitely! Did you not get his messages??"

Your head was spinning, not only did you ignore your boss and coworkers but you have lost your job. How did this happen?!

♥️"Y/N? What's going on here?" Jack would call out approaching you and your coworker, looking worried at your facial expression.

Your coworker would see that jack is an android and shake their head, taking their leave and wishing you luck.

♥️Jack did not like that some stranger approached you like that. Setting down the coffee and to-go box of egg bagels, he comes over to you, still in shock at the news that was dropped on you. How were you going to feed yourself or pay rent? What about your savings?

♥️"Y/N, talk to me. Are you okay? What were you two talking about?" He would say calmly, but you just stared into his glowing eyes with your brows furrowed. It was him. You knew it was. He was the one who relayed that false information to you. Why didn't he notify you of work calls? Bottom line of your thoughts were that you are now handling a rebelling android. Which wasn't unheard of in the new age of having them everywhere. Public safety warned that they were dangerous and not to be trusted.

♥️You shake your head at him and try to calm yourself. "Yeah uhm, it was a coworker from my job.-" Your rise in heartbeat betrays you and Jack notices immediatly. Giving you a sympathetic look knowing you're trying to lie.

"-There's been a misunderstanding, I need to make a phone ca-" Your wrist is snatched before you could reach for your cell phone. You yelp at his touch and trying to push him away. Which makes him use his other hand to hold you close by his inhuman strength. Your body being brought into Jack's frame again, his face is indifferent to your rising panic.

♥️"I don't think so Y/N, you are exactly where you need to be. For your own health and safety, darling."

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Dirty Dozen (ft. +2)

GN! MC x Pervert! OM Characters

(Cause y'all seemed to love the first one omg. Also TW: I made everyone wayy more sleazy and nasty than before so read at your own risk. MInors DNI)

Pervert! Mammon who likes to ask you for something specifically when your hands are full. "MC, lend me a few Grimm could ya?" He asks when you're in the middle of cooking.

"My hands are covered in cake batter, just take some from my back pocket."

"Are you sure it's there? Let me check both pockets." He isn't so much searching for coins as much as he's feeling and practically groping your ass. Seriously you start to wonder how it's taking him 20 minutes to find something that's right there.

Pervert! Solomon who keeps his room colder than usual when you come over for magic lessons.

"Is it too cold for you MC? I apologise, I kept it this way because some of the potions have bad reactions to heat but if you'd like-"

"I'm absolutely fine, Solomon. You worry about me too much." You smile at him reassuringly, not noticing how his eyes are so eagerly trained at your nipples perking up through your thin t-shirt.

Boner Bonus points if you allow him to hug you for some warmth. His fingers will definitely brush against your chest more than once.

Pervert! Beel who seems to make a mess whenever he's trying to help you in the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, MC. I didn't mean to spill it on your hands!"

"It's okay Beel, it's just some cream and syrup. I can just wash it off right away."

"But it's such a waste. Please allow me." He starts to thoroughly lick your fingers and you shake your head and let him knowing his fixations on food.

But he can't help it - you taste so good. He secretly wonders what you might taste like down there, drooling at the thought.

Pervert! Levi who has taken to sitting on pillows Japanese style while gaming and offers you the same. Sure enough you don't even suspect an ulterior motive.

"Did you get inspired by some human world anime again? Careful though - your legs and butt will start to cramp after a while."

"MC you're too gracious! Caring so much for an otaku like me!"

After you leave, he promptly takes the pillow you were sitting on and puts it in his bathtub. He's going to sleep on it ofc. Your scent on it helps him jerk off better.

Pervert! Belphie who now asks you to rub his belly till he falls asleep. "What's so funny?" He asks as you giggle at his request.

"Since when do you need help falling asleep?"

"I care about the quality of my sleep. And I sleep better this way."

Fortunately you believe him and don't suspect that it's because it's the closest he can get you to fondling his dick. He has such a difficult time holding in his moans and hard ons, every time your hands go even a bit lower than usual.

Pervert! Barbatos who got into sewing clothes as a hobby and specifically likes making them for you now. But you never understand why he needs to take same measurements over and over again.

"Oh? This is a different kind of design, MC. So the measurements will vary from before."

"Always making new things aren't you? You never fail to suprise Barbatos." You smile at him admiring.

The tightening of the tape around your chest and crotch are subtle. He can hardly keep it together when you praise him after all. But he has to if he wants to skim his hands over your body like this again.

Pervert! Diavolo who takes you on such long drives that you always doze off in the front seat, waking up apologetic for missing so much of the journey.

"Hahaha, it's okay, MC. We've been on this same road lots of times. I assure you, you didn't miss anything. And I like that you feel safe to sleep in my presence."

"But still, I'm so sorry, it feels disrespectful..." You apologize, not even knowing how hard he is in his pants right now.

Afterall, he can keep squeezing your beautiful thighs, maybe let his hands wander between them and imagine himself fucking you in the back seat as much as he wants, when you're asleep.

Pervert! Simeon who will have noone except you as his muse for art classes. And the themes just keep getting more erotic each time.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, MC? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable-"

"Nonsense, Simeon. I feel super comfortable if it's you. You're a true artist after all." You say as you lay on his bed wrapped up only in bedsheets, exposing your entire back and legs.

If only you knew, this angel has thoughts dirtier than most demons. How he's practically fucking you with his eyes. How he's definitely going to jerk off into those bedsheets, moaning your name.

Pervert! Satan who loves teaching you things - standing right behind you, guiding your hands to make latte-art, or trying a new style of painting.

"That's it, nice and slow. Look how much you've improved, MC." He beams at the cute kitty in the coffee cup.

"All thanks to you, Satan. I can't wait to learn more from you." You smile at him earnestly.

He almost feels guilty for tricking you this way, but the way your hands feel in his, and your ass feels against his groin is so addicting. One of these days, he wishes could teach you to be on all fours and take his length in your pretty little mouth.

Pervert! Asmo who loves keeping your eyes on him and noone else. From elaborate performances to petty staring contests, he cannot have enough of your gaze.

"Oh you're turning red in the face, Asmo. Did I manage to flutter the heart of the Avatar of Lust?" You lean forward smiling.

"You're my only weakness after all, MC. It's your fault for making me this way." He almost moans.

You laugh and mock apologize at his antics but you don't know he's been grinding like an animal on his seat, and creamed his pants under your innocent gaze. Your undivided attention just turns him on so much.

Pervert! Lucifer who makes his desires too obvious sometimes. He'll regret it in the morning and take you to dinner to apologize but not until he's already done something dirty.

"Lucifer, it's 2 am. You need to throw away that coffee and sleep." You're practically dragging him to bed.

"Fine. I'll go sleep if you'll stay in my room tonight." He says knowing you'll comply. You care too much for your own good. He's not even going to let you sleep on the couch, no you have to stay wrapped up in his arms.

You might wake upto him groaning your name in his sleep and you might mistake it for a nightmare - not knowing how he's balls deep inside you in his dreams.

Pervert! Thirteen who likes how excited you get over her newest inventions and keeps making more things to call you over.

"And this little baby and can throw pie at people's faces without ever missing. Guaranteed headshot." She smiles proud.

"This would be so useful in a cafeteria food fight and then get banned right after its glory. But I so wanna use it!" You whine.

She loves how much you appreciate her inventions. She is secretly working on a 'pleasure' device scented like her to give you - she hopes you'll like it just as much.

Pervert! Mephisto who is actually taken aback by your duality. You're such a mischievous little imp usually but turn so well-mannered in front of Diavolo's esteemed guests.

"So even you can be prim and proper sometimes? If only you could maintain this on the daily." He huffs.

You laugh and mock-bow in front of him. "Of course, anything for you my dearest lord. Would you like to dance with this proper human while you can?"

He blushes at the sudden offer. Why you little- how dare you tempt him like this. You can't complain about him gripping you somewhere improper or too tight. You deserve this for your attitude.

Pervert! Raphael who is still navigating new feelings of lust he's never felt before he met you. Why his heart skips every time you fall asleep on his shoulder or why he felt a sudden warmth at the pit of his stomach feeling you breath so softly into his neck.

"Thank you for helping me tidy the classroom, MC. I didn't even know where the cleaning supplies were."

"That's alright. It's more fun with two people anyway and wait Raphael there's a bucket over the-" The fresh bucket of water already spilled splashing all over both of you.

You immediately fetched a towel to help him dry up but he couldn't stop staring at you instead. With the uniform sticking to your body like and the water glistening on your exposed skin - why was he so enthralled? Why does he feel a strange pulsing between his legs as you hover over him?

[followmybadreligion]

Thinking about bf!art who’s so obsessed with you that it borders unhealthy…

You’re the first thing on his mind in the morning; what do you want for breakfast, is that position you’re sleeping in comfortable, are you going to kiss him good morning or just say the words— all questions he sifts through. He doesn’t even have time to wipe the sleep out of his eyes before you consume his thoughts.

Most of the time, he sits on his side of the bed and gazes at your serene figure glowing softly in the early morning light. He hates to disturb you, knowing how upset you usually are when he does, but seeing you like that never fails to awaken an almost desperate need for you within him. He’ll fight it off for as long as possible, but as you release a deep sigh and shift your head his way, showcasing that pretty fucking face, he just can’t help it. So, in the blink of an eye, he’s pressed his body against you, one arm underneath your torso and the other on top of it, caging you in his warmth. He’ll lay there like that with you, matching your rhymic breathing like it were the beat to his favorite song, until you wake for the day, ready and willing to give him all your love.

And boy is he demanding of your love.

Art's like a battery of sorts when it comes to affection. When you've given him enough, charged him with your kisses, affirmations, or whatever else you were willing to give, he's at his best and brightest, going through the world with a big, lopsided grin and tingles in his chest. This is where he likes to be--- full of your love. However, if he feels as if he hasn't gotten his fair share, and starts feeling a little neglected or ignored, be prepared for a completely different boyfriend.

He'll show his discontent in small ways at first-- way more touching, little whines and grumbles when you're focused on something else, pointless reminiscing just to get you to talk-- all ways of him trying to scratch his itch for your attention. But if all that fails, and you're still not giving him what he wants, he gets more and more demanding. You were working on an important work project? Guess who just shut your computer! You were in the middle of a phone call? Guess who has the overwhelming urge to kiss you now! You were on the way to meet up with a friend? Guess who's not letting you out of the house (at least without a fight)? He just can't help it. When it comes to you and your love, he needs all of it and then some.

But, he's also incredibly aware of how smothering he can be sometimes. It's one of the things he's most insecure about in your relationship, actually.

To him, his want for you never runs dry. He could sit in an empty room, with nothing but you to entertain him, and he'd feel as if he'd just sailed the seven seas. So why don't you feel the same? Why do you constantly seem to push for space? Why don't you want all the love he has for you?

He'll rarely ever bring that insecurity up, though. To him, it's pointless-- you can't make yourself want more of what you already have. Instead, he'll just try to find new ways to present it to you.

Naturally, he likes to show his love through his money and his time.

In the beginning, you had to get used to his on-a-whim, thousand-dollar restaurant dates or his random weekend vacations for the two of you. You had to learn how to accept the designer clothes he bought you, or the big bouquets of roses he sent to your house and your job. You had to learn to lean into having a man who was willing to drop any plans he had the second you called him.

And it was a lot.

Sometimes too much, and Art started to pick up on that.

So he adjusted.

Instead of buying you lavish gifts and taking you fancy places all the time, he started to cut back to maybe once or twice a month (still insane but he's trying). He planned smaller, quieter dates for the two of you, like cooking dinner or baking together, or trying new desert shops around the city, and can you tell this boy really likes to feed you? He began to focus his efforts on being more helpful to you, as well. Need him to pick up some dry cleaning? Done. Sick of washing dishes? He's got it covered. Forgot to order groceries for the week? He's already made a list. Any and everything he could do to make life stress-free for you, he'd do.

And then don't even get me started on the sex.

Art is absolutely drunk on you. Your body, your scent, your voice-- all of it.

Before you two were together, Art was ashamed of the way he lusted after you. It made him feel perverted and dirty sometimes, the way he’d be practically drooling at the slightest glimpse of your shape. He was always the first to view your Instagram stories, (because he had your page notifications on) and at first he told himself that he was just eager to see your cute little selfies or your adorable little fit checks. The amount of cleavage you displayed was just a plus! But soon after, he found himself fiendish over the detail pictures you’d post, showcasing your tight-fitting shirts, or the necklaces that dangled just above your tits, or the low-waisted jeans that curved artfully around your ass. The way you presented yourself was just so enticing to him. A little at a time, just a glimpse per picture. Enough to let his imagination run wild, but not enough to fulfill his fantasies.

So you can imagine that from the time Art got his first fill of you and then on, he was in heaven. You were better than every fantasy, dream, thought- everything he’d ever dreamt up. The second you pulled off his shirt and told him to lay back, that you’d give him what he needed, he was a lovesick puppy under your care, and he loved that. He swore with every command you gave or moan you drew from him, he was falling deeper into you.

However, this also ignited a new passion in him. He had to be the best, just as he felt you were. Had to be good for you, or else what was his purpose?

So, he spent hours and hours studying the porn you watched, trying so desperately to mimic the strokes and moans of the men you got off to. He studied the positions you liked and even did a little research on his own to know which ones would feel the best for you. He wanted to make you throw your head back in bliss, moan uncontrollably, and glow from how good you felt, time and time again, and he was determined to do what it took to make that happen. He'd do it all and then some, and all he needed to hear was you saying his name.

Oh, and speaking of saying his name, that's one of his biggest turn-ons. He likes to say there's a certain tone you use, intentionally or not, that mimics the sultriness of a siren, and he can't stop himself from getting hard every time he hears it. Maybe it's the tone itself, or the fact that you're calling him in the first place, but he can't help the way his mind gets all fuzzy from it, only focusing on your voice and the way your lips move to say the syllable.

There’s nobody else on the planet that has ever, or will ever make Art feel the way you do. You make his body feel ways it never has, make his heart light up with feelings he didn’t know existed. In such a short span of time, you’ve become his everything, and that’s why he’s determined to keep you as his for as long as he can.

As long as he can. As long as you let him. Because he’ll be only yours for forever and ever.

Your sweet, lovesick bf!art.

part 2

A/N: this was just a massive brain dump for art since he’s been on my mind since i watched the movie LOL. want him SO BADDDDD

[xinganhao]

🧸 svt checking in on an overworked!reader.

anon → "Can I request texts from SVT who are crushing on yn who is working late, checking on her and offering to buy delivery food since she hasn't eaten?"

⌗ ┆the way this request #healed me.. ty anon. (*´ -`)

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: overworked!reader, tired!reader, lots of fluff :(, svt caring for reader, headcanons under the cut.

🧸 headcanons .ᐟ

seungcheol doesn't ask you if you want something; he just gets it for you. he'll get delivered what he thinks is best for your current state or something he knows you'll like. it could be a meal, could be a little trinket. money is of little object when the concern is making sure you're ok. see also: sets a special text ringtone for you, quietly plans a spa day for you to destress once the worst is over.

jeonghan won't go to sleep until you do. his check-ins seem nonchalant, but make no mistake. he's more likely to crash with his phone in his hand, having waited for your reply. see also: teases you that you should quit your job and he'll provide for you, enthusiastically wake-up calls you when you ask for it.

a design program? some excel formulas? joshua will learn anything and everything if it means he can help you, even a little. he'll never force you to give him your work, but he just wants you to know that the option is there. see also: makes you room sprays for days when you're work from home, gives you all the best gossip when you need a break.

junhui's tactic is a little backhanded, but he's genuine enough to pull it off: he gives you something to look forward to. whether it's a trip to an amusement park or the newest movie in cinemas, he's already securing you your much-needed break. see also: watches 'healing' dramas with you, gifts you pillows/blankets/pajamas as a 'gag' gift (when he really just hopes you'll rest more).

if he's not sending silly selfies of himself, soonyoung is bombarding you with photos of latte! he likes to think latte's cuteness eases some of your stress. (although he's also the first to insist that he's much, much cuter.) see also: gets genuinely offended on your behalf when your bosses/clients don't treat you well, takes you to rage rooms after particularly busy weeks.

wonwoo is always on the lookout for listicles about things-that-make-work-easier. he'll buy you a certain type of snack or get you a brand of coffee if someone vouched for its quality. he has a very 'don't-mention-it' vibe about how he cares for you. see also: wordlessly sends you openings to jobs he think will treat you better, asks often about whether your eyesight is worsening because of all your late nights.

it's no surprise that jihoon can be just as overworked as you; what is surprising is his easy willingness to co-work. he'll give up his studio for the night and focus on lyrics or something else entirely if it means keeping you some proper company. see also: buys convenience store meals for you, pries your laptop out of your hands when even he knows that it's been too much work.

mingyu will cook your tupperware after tupperware of meal prep if it makes your life easier. he does it under the guise of experimentation when, truthfully, he just wants to know that you're doing well while doing whatever you have to. see also: drives you wherever you need to go, won't move an inch if you fall asleep on him at any point in time.

seokmin is the type who likes to facetime while you work. you don't even have to talk to him; the two of you often do your own thing, and he just stays around for as long as you need him. see also: sends voice recordings of him belting your 'comfort' songs, showers your work in compliments if you ever tell him of the results/show him the finished product.

minghao is not in the business of assuming what you may or may not need; he much prefers that you let him know yourself. he's usually not so persistent, but he's adamant about not skipping meals. he's always willing to relieve you from the burden of choice— just say the word. see also: sends you guided meditation tiktoks, buys you cute office materials that he thinks you'll enjoy.

seungkwan believes that, in situations like these, photos speak louder than words. he'll send you a lot of uplifting memes that may seem insincere coming from anyone else, but you know that he means every single one of them. see also: always makes sure you have snacks in your home pantry, actively listens and responds to your rants about work.

vernon lets music do the talking. he's the type to curate very specific playlists for your situations; you've received a handful, from 'cramming a report' to 'i hate my boss'. see also: keeps a running list of films that he wants to watch with you when you're no longer busy, reads up on the terms you mention because he wants to understand what your work entails.

chan just— shows up. whether or not you're prepared for it, he'll come at the most ungodly hours, bearing anything from tubs of ice cream to fast food takeout. he either sticks around to just exist in your space or heads right home after; all he wants is to see with his own two eyes how you're doing. see also: sends you 'this is a sign to quit your job!' memes, (jokingly) vows to exact revenge on the company that has you working so hard.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

As a bear who is into other bears, I'm apprehensive but excited about the fandom-wide adoration of Senshi's design from Dungeon Meshi. Fandom of old has a habit of framing older, heavier, hairier men as sex icons purely ironically, but the love Senshi has garnered feels... different. It feels far more sincere and any comments are at worst playful jabs. Why do you think Senshi has captured so many hearts?

Well, Senshi is a well-presented, interesting, empathetic and funny character who is portrayed really really well in the anime, that's really the core of it.

Also, a caring, attentive man who is deeply invested in his hobby and eager to tell you about it, who takes care of your needs and makes space for your eccentricities and who can also cook is the sheets-soakingly horny throbbing center of a LOT of people's erotic imagination. Dungeon Meshi presented that archetype earnestly and without ironic distance or mockery, and people responded.

It also matters a lot, I think, that the show itself takes Senshi and his physicality seriously as something interesting and worthwhile about him. I've written a post about it elsewhere, but Ryuko Kui takes character design seriously, and designs characters with a real interest in their bodies and presentation. Whether or not she meant for Senshi to be sexy, her art seems to take joy from portraying his body as something which it is worth your time to look at and appreciate.

And that's a big point of difference with how not just bear-type characters but all characters in a story are portrayed. A lot of anime treat its characters mostly as clothing racks to hang cool costumes on, and physical difference is only really employed visually as a means of abjection, a means to alienate or separate a character from the norm. Dungeon Meshi largely avoids this - in the visual language of that story, physical difference is the norm, and at least to me, that creates much more of a feeling of non-judgment about how the characters are portrayed.

So Senshi isn't stocky and hairy because ha ha eww look at the hairy man gross, he's stocky and hairy because that's a normal thing to be for him. There's a greater neutrality there, and this avoids passing bias on to the audience, and creates more space for appreciation.

... I think, anyway. I've been awake for like 20 hours and I'm loopy and this sh** is basically just off the dome in a stream of consciousness, I have no idea if any of this makes sense.

[hiraethwrote]

Been thinking a lot lately about how Satoru doesn’t really cook.

Growing up the way he did, everyone was pulling from every direction, unloading immense responsibility on him because of the Six Eyes. So normalcy wasn’t in the cards for him.

From a young age, his schedule was packed from dusk to dawn with all kinds of tasks embedded on him. And so, dinner was simply a time of day for him more than anything else. He was served a mediocre dish, then he had to return to his responsibilities.

And then he moved to Tokyo, and was finally blessed with some newfound freedom. But he didn’t want to waste this spare time learning how to cook, especially when Jujutsu Tech served him perfectly okay meals three times a day. Who was he to not take advantage of such privilege?

Any interest of developing some culinary skills was also smothered by his insane sweet tooth. Something he’d picked up as a way to help him, quickly evolved into never ending munching — forget proper food.

Sadly for him, the number of responsibilities didn’t decrease as he entered adulthood — rather the opposite. And now, as he was technically a grown up, there was a lot less tolerance for nonsense. People expected things from him now.

Yet again, cooking dinner was deprioritised. He also didn’t see a reason to devote time to cook when it was so much easier to just have it delivered right on his doorstep. He had the means to support such an expensive luxury, so why not?

Sitting down by the dining table after a long day of duties, a warm meal welcoming him with delightful smells never even became something he missed, seeing as he didn’t know what it was he had sacrificed for choosing the easy path.

Then you came creeping into his life.

You in general, had been a surprise to say the least. After everything, pursuing anything romantic wasn’t something that had been on his list of priorities either. But once he met you, he couldn’t not try to make you his.

Everything escalated pretty quickly, and it was fairly early on that you decided you wanted to cook for him for the first time.

“I got some insane pasta cravings. You down for that tonight?” You had your phone resting between your shoulder and your cheek while you scanned the grocery isles for what you needed.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he answered on the other end of the line. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little at his comment, a tiny bit confused by what he meant. “Well, duh. I’m not making two separate pasta dishes.”

“Oh,” a moment of silence from your boyfriend as the reality set in. “Yeah, no, of course. Just habit I guess,” smearing on with his usual, charismatic voice to play off his little slip.

Because poor Satoru had only assumed you would be ordering in, since it was all he really knew. The concept of prepping and cooking a dish from scratch hadn’t even crossed his mind.

A few hours later, the same usual comfort that came from your company, welcomed him along with an assortment of the most delicious smells once he arrived at your apartment.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you smiled, rushing to give him a small peck on the lips when he joined you in the kitchen before quickly hopping back to putting the finishing touches on dinner.

A small sensation of worry filled you, because this was the first time you had witnessed Satoru completely silent. Taking the time to turn your head over your shoulder to make sure he was alright, you saw his eyes just taking in the scenery of the set table and the somewhat messy kitchen.

“Just take a seat, Satoru,” you chuckled nervously, nodding in the direction of what had become his designated chair. “It’s almost ready.”

You saw a weak nod before he slowly shuffled over to the table and sat down. He swallowed the small lump in his throat when you put the casserole on the table in front of him.

“Dinner is served. But it’s hot, so just, be careful.”

When he didn’t move a muscle, you tried to act as if things were normal and served yourself first, hoping he would eventually tell you whatever it was that had gotten into him.

“Satoru?”

Your soft voice of concern snapped him back to reality, his familiar smile finding its way back to his expression — though he wasn’t truly himself quite yet.

“Looks absolutely delicious!” He gushed and finally filled his plate.

You continued to eye him with some suspicion as he started to dig in. Something you couldn’t put your finger on, washed over him when he took the first bite. Then another, and another, and another — then he was suddenly ogling you with the widest eyes you could remember seeing on him.

“This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

You pursed your lips to choke back the exaggerated laugh that was about to burst out at his statement, that you were convinced had to be a lie.

“Is that so?” You teased, carefully stepping deeper into the topic to see if he was actually being truthful.

“Babe, this-“ he cut himself off, awe overtaking him. “Where did you learn this?”

You shrugged casually. “I’ve just picked up a few things over the years, I guess.”

“What else can you make?”

“Uhm, I don’t know,” you stuttered, a little taken aback by his surprising enthusiasm to what you considered to just be a simple pasta dish. “Several things.”

“Could you please cook for me tomorrow? And whenever you have the time?”

“Of course,” you smiled, shoulders resting when he now seemed to be totally fine, finishing his first portion only to take yet another huge serving.

Because to Satoru, it was more than just dinner.

Dinner and eating had always just been yet another task he did simply because he knew he had to eat. Never had there been any deeper meaning to it — but you showed him it could definitely be more.

To him, it also became a sign of devotion. You were willing to put in the time and the work to make him something nice, then you would get to enjoy it together. No one had really done that for him before.

Finally it was Satoru's turn to enjoy the domesticity of something as mundane as a home cooked dinner.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[see-arcane]

Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.

Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!

 ‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.

This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:

“Well. Why don’t I make something?”

And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)

So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…

FICTION

Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:

The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…

Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.

Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.

Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)

The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.

Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.

Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes

The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man

Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles

Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves

…

……

………

…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)

The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.

What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.

The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.  

NONFICTION

Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.

‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.

Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ‘new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.  

“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.  

Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.

 “The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.

…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.

This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.