#I am 100% accepting those asks still though

[darlingghoulette]

walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya'

Summary: You come across a fun surprise on a supply run and decisions are made to “spice things up” in the bedroom for you and Joel. You fuck about it. That’s the fic. Rated E.

Content tags: crack treated seriously for porny reasons, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, afab!reader, reader has a vagina, no other physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, brief discussion of body insecurity, pussy play, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral, unprotected p in v, Joel talks you through it because of course he does, excessive use of contractions because Joel is Southern and so am I, ambiguous reader age–she was alive before Outbreak Day so you can do the math however you’d like. I’d still say she’s younger than Joel because the demons in my soul command me to write Older Man Smut. 

Author’s note: this started as a conversation about having a majestic bush in the apocalypse and spiraled into an excuse to write smut. While this is hot, I 100% believe that Joel would want his girl all natural as the good lord intended, but hey, pussy is pussy. Just wanna say: your body is your own, fuck patriarchal standards for body hair. This is just for a lil fun. 

Read on AO3

It starts as a joke. 

You’re clearing an old beauty store on patrol, some old chain business that used to peddle expensive makeup and a million different types of skin care that all essentially do the same thing. It’s not the normal kind of place to look for supplies, but if there was anything you’d learned living through the apocalypse, it was to be resourceful. 

You and Maria had already found a decent haul. Shampoo, acetone, disposable applicators that could be used at the clinic. And no infected growing into the walls to be seen. So far, at least.

All in all, the mood was pretty high. Maria doesn’t patrol much, especially after having the baby, and a calm, successful trip outside of the walls was a welcome one. She’s not technically your sister-in-law, seeing as you and Joel aren’t married, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to a best friend and sister since the end of the world. 

You’re trading lighthearted conversation as you browse the aisles, nearly ready to call it a day when you see it. 

A medium sized box, dented and dusty. One of those wax melting kits, a little pot with tiny beads of brightly colored wax pellets. You’re already kneeling down to see if all the pieces are still intact when Maria ducks around the corner. 

“All set?” she asks, shooting you an amused look while you dig excitedly into the box. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen one of these?” 

The packaging has certainly seen better days, and the wax beads aren’t nearly as vibrant as they probably once were, but surely wax doesn’t go bad, right? For her part, Maria is regarding the contents warily. 

“Can’t say I’ve had the time to get a wax in the past, hm, twenty years or so. So, probably about that long.” 

It’s almost strange to think about how little things like body hair used to be a huge deal Before. You can remember the first time in middle school you felt embarrassed about how all your friends shaved their legs and you weren’t allowed to. Before you even realized it was just a commonly accepted societal norm and not worth the huge drag out with your mom who had bigger things on her plate than her kid’s race to puberty. 

Stupid shit like that stopped being important…well, ever, if you think about it, society’s expectations were bullshit and patriarchal by design–but especially after the world ended. 

“We should try it.” you joke, even though something about the idea is actually tempting. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” 

“Come on,” You’re already imagining wrangling it into your saddlebags. “It could be fun! The guys are out helping with the dam maintenance until tomorrow, we could have a girls night! Movies, wine, torture for the sake of beauty. The full ritual, you know?” 

“I’m with you for the rest of it, but I’ve made peace with my legs how they are.” You hadn’t necessarily had your legs in mind. 

Maria, genius that she is, correctly interprets the wicked grin curling your lips up slowly without you even having to say anything.

She snorts, amused, but in a way that’s absolutely laughing at you instead of with you. She’s good at that. “No.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you defend, but she’s already shaking her head. 

“I’m not taking you to the clinic after you rip off something important giving yourself a Brazilian with a 20 year old kit.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at her. “Now who’s being dramatic? It’s not a rusty razor blade. It’s wax, Maria. I’ve just…you know. Never done that, even Before. And I’m sure it would be even safer with more hands helping…” 

“Ask someone else then.” 

“Like who? You’re the only person I’d trust. And really the only person I have besides the 15 year old whose dad I’m currently seeing, and we just got her to the point of somewhat tolerating our relationship, I’d really rather not jeopardize that.” 

The image of what a disaster that would be makes you both laugh, but there’s enough truth in the statement that you feel a twist of embarrassment at even the thought. Absolutely not.

“Besides,” you say, faux-innocence dripping from your tone. “Might be a fun surprise for Tommy. Spice things up after the baby?” 

The look Maria directs at you is flat and unimpressed, but you can tell she’s not actually annoyed. In fact, there’s a glimmer of something sharp in her eye that tells you she might actually be entertaining the idea. “We don’t need things spiced up, we’re doing just fine, thank you.”

Your nose wrinkles a little at that, you may have brought it up first, but that’s your not-brother-in-law she’s talking about fucking–

“But,” she continues on before your face interrupts her anymore. For a few beats, anticipation hangs heavy between you in the dilapidated store.

“But?” 

The pursed seal of her lips eases into a grin, mischievous and matching your own. 

“But it might be fun to see the stuck dumb look on his face if I sprung this on him.” 

You let out a sharp bark of laughter, imagining your own Miller with a similar reaction. Yeah, this thing is definitely coming home with you. Just in case, you know? 

*****

For the millionth time in the last hour, you shift awkwardly on the couch. 

It’s the next day after your patrol shift with Maria. The ensuing girls night you’d had turned into more of a get tipsy on the Bison’s good whiskey and goof the hell off night. It was good to see your friend so relaxed, you thought, she stayed so busy and stressed keeping the town safe and secure. A rare cutting loose was called for.. 

It just so happened that the liquor in your system also made the mysterious box you smuggled from the supply run a whole lot more appealing. 

It was a whole ordeal, including cursing, awkward stops and starts, and more drinks than was probably smart for people your age. Thankfully, Maria was more familiar with the whole process and did most of the legwork. Not the most comfortable or glamorous passtime, and you got to know each other in ways that you certainly hadn’t expected, but the results at the end…

You cross your legs again, the sensation of your clothes on bare skin is novel when you change positions. It was stupid, and way more painful than you’d expected. Something fueled by drunk decisions and committing to the bit for laughs, but you can’t deny…it feels kind of nice? Different. But nice. 

Still, in the light of day, a new anxiety is popping out after your rash choice to go all beauty-school dropout.

The sun has sunk deep into the mountains, throwing those picturesque oranges and pinks across the Wyoming sky. 

Joel’s due home from his overnight trip to the dam any time now. 

Leftovers you’d snagged from the dining hall are keeping warm for him in the oven. There were no dishes to wash since you’d chosen to spare him the fate of choking down something you’d thrown together. (And he would have, the kind hearted fool. You’re not the best cook, but he insists on eating whatever you make while you attempt to learn.) 

The book you’re reading hasn’t progressed a single page, you keep picking it up and putting it down without retaining anything, your mind too caught up in its spiral.

What if he hates it? 

Of course, it’s a stupid thought. You know he’s not the kind of person who would judge you for something small like this. Sure, it’s not how he’s seen you since you both got together. But some guys go crazy for this, right? It used to be the preferred style for some people, back in the day. Even if it’s not his, it’s just fucking hair. It’ll grow back. He’s told you over and over that he’d love you no matter how you looked, and more than that his actions speak for himself. He’s literally seen you crouched over a toilet and ralphing your guts out. He’s seen you at every worst you’ve had in the last five years and is still there. In comparison, this is such a laughable insecurity. 

What if he thinks exactly that, though? It’s not a dealbreaker, but what if he laughs at you, what if he thinks it’s stupid and childish and you’re trying too hard, what if he hates it, or what if–

The sound of the front door opening interrupts your–admittedly silly–crashout. 

“Baby?” he calls out from where you can hear him shucking off his work boots, starting the familiar routine of sloughing off the outside world for the comforts of home. 

“Living room!”

Before you can quite go back to riling yourself up, he’s behind you, curling down over the back of the couch to kiss you hello on the slope of your neck. Your head leans backwards, craning up at him above you.  

His presence is like a balm, you can feel the smile growing on your lips while you take in the soft look he’s gifting you in return. 

He’s ruffled, hair a mess from the blowing wind outside; the scent of horse and woodsmoke and sweat rolling off of him. It never fails that fresh-off-work Joel just drives you absolutely up a wall. There’s something so masculine and protective and natural about him when he comes home like this that makes you want to just jump his bones as soon as he walks in the door some days. 

Today’s no different. 

“Have a good weekend, darlin’?” He’s leaned down further now, grunting just a little at the probable murder its doing on his back, to kiss you on the forehead. It makes you huff a soft breath of a laugh out of your nose.

“Better now, but yeah, it was pretty good. Dinner’s in the oven.” you hum, watching him straighten back up and start shedding his coat. “If you wanna take a shower first, I’ll get you a plate.” 

He kisses you again in thanks, a soft peck to your temple, a large palm coming to cradle your jaw briefly to press you into the contact. It’s intimate despite being so tame, a gesture that makes something deep in your bones melt better than any on-TV passionate romcom kiss ever could. This is real and warm, and makes you feel incredibly silly recalling your anxiety from just a couple minutes ago. 

*****

It’s only after you’re both set up at the kitchen table that the anxiety and anticipation begins to creep back in, Joel fresh from his shower in sweatpants, you with your feet propped in his lap with a cup of tea while he eats his late dinner. 

He’s telling you about the maintenance at the dam, how the group of workers had a disagreement on how to set up the factory to better prepare for the Spring storms that’ll move through soon. And you’re listening, really, you are. Nodding along when it’s needed, adding commentary when the conversation lulls. It’s just…

You can’t help shifting in your seat occasionally, or shooting him quick glances, wondering about his reaction. It’s getting you all twisted up again, and you’re trying to decide when will be the best time to bring it up. You’re nearly bursting with it, ready to pop and just get it over with already and–

“Alright,” Joel sets down his fork. “What’d she do?” 

You blink, brought short by the sudden change in conversation. “Huh?” 

“What’d she do?” 

“I’m not following.” 

Joel looks at you, a deadpan expression on his face, one brow raised and–Oh, no, that’s his dad detective face. 

“You’re over there squirmin’ like a sinner in church and you can barely meet my eye. If it was something you did, you’d have broken by now because you can’t keep a secret for shit. Which brings me to thinkin’ Ellie pulled some kinda fool stunt and you’re trying like hell to cover for her.” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up into an amused and exasperated expression. “I went by the garage first thing when I got back into town and didn’t notice anything, but she’s gettin’ better at being a normal sneaky teenager. So, what’d I miss?” 

You can’t help it, that breaks you. You laugh, spine uncurling from its ramrod position. He always finds a way to break you out of your spiral. Even if he’s a little off the money, there’s something about the fact that he’s so attentive to your moods that releases the balloon of tension that’d been growing in your chest for most of the day.

During your giggle fit, Joel just smiles at you, pleased to have unfurled the little wrinkle you get between your brows when you’re really stewing on something. The meal mostly done and forgotten, his hands move to massage your socked feet in his lap, tugging playfully.

“Nothing happened, but it’s cute how you think you could get me to snitch on her,” You snicker, kicking one foot out to gently bump into his stomach. “She knows where I sleep and I’m more scared of her than I am of you.” 

He laughs, mumbling a that’s probably smart under his breath before trying to weasel more answers out of you.

“Alright, if it ain’t that, then what is it?” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” you sniff. 

“Baby.” 

His tone is low and coaxing, only meant to prompt the issue out of you, but it has the effect of kindling embers in your stomach. He sits there with his broad shoulders and tousled curls fresh from the shower, hands doing magic on the muscles of your feet, oblivious for all the world that he’s just about the most attractive image of a man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

You sink a little further into your chair, using the foot that’s not currently in his grasp to rub along his thigh. Something in his eyes immediately darkens. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

Taking the opportunity where it’s given, his hand slips further up your calf, fingers just barely brushing the tender skin at the crook of your knee, fully exposed for him in the pajama shorts you’re sporting. 

“Don’t gotta surprise me, don’t need nothin’. Got everything I want right here.” 

You grin. “What if I’m part of the surprise?” 

He was already looking at you before, but the way his eyes rake over you now? It’s heavy, taking you in like the only water in a desert. As much as his gaze feels like a physical thing, you’d much prefer his hands. It’s that want that has you lining up the final shot. 

“I mean, unless you’re too tired from your trip. That would be fine, honest, it can wait until–” 

You’re cut off with a delighted shriek when he stands and snatches you up from your chair, leftovers forgotten on the table as a problem for tomorrow. 

Head still spinning from the rapid change in scenery, it takes you a second to recognize that he’s headed straight upstairs. He’s on a singular mission, as made clear by the clever hand on your ass that’s not just to keep you supported in his arms. 

Joel may be older than you, but goddamn, you always forget how fucking strong he is. 

The buttons of his flannel are irritatingly done up and your fingers are trying to get the stubborn bastard things open when he makes it to your bedroom and drops you to the mattress with a squeak. You barely have time to get your bearings back from the impact before he’s pressing down on top of you. 

“Missed you so much last night,” he offers, already pressing hot kisses to your neck, your collarbone, pulling at the stretched neckline of a shirt that’s his anyway. 

You nod rapidly in agreement, nerves fizzling with electricity before he even touches you. It’s always been like this. The easy, syrupy intimacy of everyday life that can snap on a dime, dropping you both into urgency and need like you’ve never felt before. And, indeed, you need him to fuck you already before you go out of your mind. 

In a dance that’s as instinctual as breathing, your legs wrap around him. Your hips undulate up into his so you can feel where he’s hard and just as desperate.

Joel pulls back to hover above you. One hand palmed around the back of your neck, tilting you to look up at him. Guiding you where he wants you. “What do you need, baby?”

You lick your bottom lip, brain catching up to his words. His eyes dart down to your mouth. 

“I-I want–” you start, breathlessly, but he cuts you off with a click of his tongue. 

“Don’t think I asked what you wanted, sweet girl,” he hums, thumb resting on your chin and pulling it down. Gentle pressure, you could absolutely break away if you wanted to, but you follow his lead, sucking the appendage into your mouth. “Asked what you needed.”

You try to get the word “you” out around your mouthful, and you must do a good enough job that it earns you a kiss to the forehead, a move that might feel out of place to anyone else, but it’s so protective and possessive and him it makes you want to fucking writhe to release the pressure between your legs. 

The slick sound of his thumb when he pulls it from you draws a sharp whine from your chest and he shushes you, hands dragging down and down and down your sides, coming to rest on your hips. Something about that wriggles in the back of your head, like there was something you were supposed to be doing here, but you’re way too caught up to remember.

“It’s alright. I gotcha, baby,” Joel says, heated and soft in his low drawl, and then he’s sliding your shorts down your hips. Hands sure and practiced, expert at playing you like a goddamn fiddle. Lips laying scalding, sucking kisses from the crook of your knee to the inside of your thigh as he eases your legs open and–

Stops. 

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize that he’s not just pausing for anticipation. He’s full on halted down there, one of your legs still hiked up in his palm, staring down at you like…Well. 

You think the term Maria used was struck dumb.

You bite your lip to keep the laughter contained. It’s not very successful, because his eyes snap back up to your face after a snort sneaks out against your will. 

There are lots of sexier ways you could play this, probably, but you settle on grinning up at him. 

“Surprise?” 

The sound he lets out is more of a sharp exhalation of breath than anything, like it was kicked out of him. You think you hear a goddamn tacked on the end there, but it’s quiet.

“What prompted this?” he asks when his words find him again, eyes dropped back down to take in the sight. 

“Felt like a change,” you mumble, losing some of your previous steam. You can give him the whole story later, but despite being used to him seeing you all kinds of ways, something about direct eye contact with your pussy makes you wriggle uncomfortably. 

“You, uh. You like it?” You’re starting to feel that anxiety creep back in, especially since he hasn’t confirmed or denied, or said much of fucking anything to give you a clue yet.  

Something in your tone must give that away, because you can almost see him mentally shake himself–systems coming back online, you think to yourself. The next time his eyes catch yours, it makes your stomach go molten. 

“Like it?” he echoes. His fingers have started exploring, petting down your soft skin. Even just the gentlest touch is like a livewire, makes your entire body clench, and he huffs out a soft laugh. “More’n like it, you are…Christ.” 

He’s lowered your knee over his shoulder now, using both hands to make you lightheaded without actually touching where you want him.

“She’s so pretty, baby,” he coos at you, making you moan even louder when he caresses the tender skin on either side of your cunt. “You make her all pretty just for me?” 

You nod, words a knot in your throat. 

“She’s always pretty, though.” You can feel the hot breath closer now, mouth hovering just above where your nerves are on fire. The sensation has your hand snapping down and threading into his hair with a keening whine. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, an’ all mine.” 

And then he’s eating at you like a man starved. 

He’s always been enthusiastic when it comes to your pleasure, but like this everything feels heightened, sensitive beyond measure. His nose bumps your clit and your vision whites out.. 

His tongue is not just bullying inside you every few strokes, it’s licking at the soft, smooth skin wherever he can touch. He sets his teeth to gently drag across one of your folds and it sends you nearly howling with it, the pressure in your core ratcheting up so high that you feel yourself hurtling to the edge impossibly fast. Joel knows it, too. He knows your body better than anything else on earth. 

“That’s it,” When he pulls back, it’s only with scant inches between you still, dipping back in to lay kiss after kiss on your heated flesh between words, like he can’t stand to pull himself away. Two of his fingers take the place of his tongue, crooking up inside you exactly where he knows drives you crazy and thrusting. Fucking you through it with every trick he knows drives you right to the peak. 

“Good girl, take what you need, alright? Give it to me, baby, I got ya’,” 

You can’t do anything but comply. Chest heaving, crying out with your orgasm as he eases you down as effectively as he built you up, kissing around your clit because he knows the stimulation can be too much directly after.

You don’t even wait to get your breath back before you’re using the grasp you still have on his hair to yank him up to your mouth. 

He tastes like you. 

It’s your favorite thing to taste on him. 

Down below, past where his fingers are still petting at you, he’s grinding into the bed, trying to relieve the pressure where he’s straining against the seams of his sweatpants. The sight of it knocks enough sense back into you to start tugging at his clothes with urgency once more. It must amuse him greatly judging by the look he gives you. 

“Need something?” he asks, but smart man that he is, he’s already joining in to help you shove his clothes away, your hands too shaky from the mind-shattering orgasm still. “Got another one in you?”

“You gonna keep asking stupid questions?” you pant, and it makes him bark out a delighted laugh, genuine and deep, and it has you grinning in response, always secretly pleased when you make him laugh. 

It’s a practiced dance between you both; getting him undressed to match you, taking playful nips at the newly uncovered skin within reach, getting distracted by long periods of kissing until you’re so keyed up again that all you can do is pant against his mouth while he teases you. 

He’s slowly rubbing the head of his cock against your soft folds, a slick slide that echoes wetly in the room and it’s so fucking obscene you could vibrate out of your own skin. 

Up and down.

Up and down. 

Coating himself in you and…just feeling. Playing with you. Enjoying his surprise. You let out a whine, impatient and beyond your limits. 

“S’it feel good?” he’s toying with you, stroking along your skin everywhere except where you need him. He nudges against your clit and the shocky, overwhelming zip of it rocks a gasp from your chest that he must like the sound of because he does it again, hungry for it. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you think she’s got another one for me?” 

You’ve dissolved down to only nerve endings, too wound up to do much in response but grind up against him. 

“Feels so good, so soft and sweet f’me,” he groans, the head pressing in just that little bit, barely there, only needing just that little bit more pressure to pop past the resistance and into your body. “Why don’t you feel, baby? Reach down here and guide me in, feel how nice we feel together,” 

He grabs your hand, pulling it down between your bodies, grunting when you grip around him. It’s so slick and hot, a combination of the two of you that makes your stomach clench in anticipation. You try to guide him right in, desperate to feel him inside of you, but he resists.

“Slow, baby, slow, there we go,” It’s agonizingly drawn out, but he sinks into you finally, the position you’re in–one of his hands under the small of your back to tilt you up to him, your knees locked around him–combined with the glacial pace makes it feel so intense and fucking deep that you’re sucking in great lungfulls of air to keep from floating away. “Theeere we go, atta girl. Always take it so well,” he murmurs, breathless himself, shoulders tense. 

He’s petting along your side with his free hand, gentling you like a goddamn horse, and fuck does it make your eyes roll back. With anyone else it would probably feel condescending. With Joel it just makes you want to slam your hips down into him even more, get him to move already. 

He finally does draw back, right before slamming forward again and stealing all of the hard-won breath from your chest. 

Time is lost after that. A haze of slapping skin and moans. 

He adjusts his grip on you, both hands coming to rest on your hips to physically pull you into the force of his thrusts, propping you up and up until–

“Fuck!”

He hits that spot inside of you that makes your entire body jolt with electricity, and he grins, boyish and cocky. 

“There she is,” he’s relentless, angled perfectly to make you lose your mind, thumb coming up to rub perfect, tight circles over your clit in time with his strokes. “I’ve got you, baby, gonna let go for me?” 

Already keyed up and sensitive from your peak earlier, the overstimulation is tortuous and so, so good, already hurtling you towards another that you know he can feel impending by the way you’re tightening around him. 

You’re trying to hold on, drawing out the pleasure curling at the base of your spine, but he drops down, hips never stopping, thumb still a maddening pressure on your clit, and he bites at your chest. 

His breath is scorching hot and wet on your skin as he groans “such a good fuckin’ girl, fuckin’ come on my cock baby, s’all yours,” and he bites down on a peaked, puffy nipple. 

Your second orgasm of the night rocks through you, the force of it startling, your fingernails making deep grooves in Joel’s back as you ride through it. 

He’s cursing and holding you to him, hips stuttering with your cunt gripping him so tightly. Your end tumbles him into his own, emptying into you and fucking his come deeper on instinct. 

The room is silent except for your combined breaths as you both come down. 

There’s a pleasant buzzing in your limbs, a humming in the back of your mind as it comes back to the awareness that you still have a rather large man resting on top of you and that your lungs would quite like it if they could inflate all the way. 

You tap Joel’s shoulder and he adjusts, sweat-sticky skin peeling from you to move to the side. It’s not as gross to you as it maybe could be. You think that’s what love might be. 

He’s no sooner on his back beside you before you’ve rolled to lay against him, one leg tucked up over his, your chest flattened to his. Like space between you might actually kill you right now in the wake of your high. To his credit, he must feel the same, his palms skimming over your back, your ass, down to your knee and up again in a soothing circuit. 

Soon you’ll need to get up and run a bath. Currently, you cannot think of anything you’d like to do less than move from this spot. 

Joel kisses your hair, then your forehead, across your cheeks, anywhere he can reach, and you hum, absolutely in love with how touchy he gets after a good orgasm. The man may look big and bad outside these walls, but you have his number when it comes to post-coital cuddles. 

It’s because you know him so well that you sense something brewing, his thoughts a little too loud for your liking. “Everything okay?” 

He just hums, working a spot under your jaw with his teeth. 

“Joel.” 

“What?” 

“You’re thinking too hard.” 

“M’not.” 

“You are, I can smell the smoke.” 

He huffs, head dropping back to the pillow. “Cute.” 

“I know,” you pretend to preen, but drop the humor quickly in favor of propping up on an elbow to look at him. He doesn’t seem distressed, but he’s definitely chewing on something. “What is it?” 

His forehead is furrowed a bit, mouth curved to one side in thought. “You just…” 

Your brow raises, prompting. 

“You didn’t do all that,” he gestures at your lower half propped against him. “Just for me, did you?” 

You snort. “Didn’t hear you complaining about it a minute ago.”

He rolls his eyes. “I ain’t complaining, I’m just saying.” 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tease again, maybe even get a little defensive as the nerves from before try to sink back in, but you refrain. You can see in his expression that he’s serious, trying to say something here that’s important, so you let him gather his thoughts. He sighs, appearing frustrated at himself that the words aren’t coming out right.

“You can do whatever you want with your body, not like you need permission from me. I just wanted t’say that you don’t need to do anything to change yourself for me. I know some people did that controlling shit Before, pushed their preferences on their partner, but I thought it was stupid then, too. I love the way you are no matter what, because it’s you, alright?” 

You blink at him, not expecting the heartfelt turn in conversation. 

There’s a hint of a flush under his tanned skin that has nothing to do with the previous vigorous activity. Talking about emotions usually does that to him, but he always makes a point of letting you know how he feels about you.  

You wax your pussy on a drunken whim because you think it’ll be hot, and this large, wonderful idiot of a man is worried you did it out of some obligation to beauty standards and wants you to know he loves you regardless. 

As silly as the situation is, you’re utterly, ridiculously charmed. 

You smile down at him, still propped on his chest. The perfect vantage point to see how his eyes get drawn to your kiss-swollen mouth. 

“And what if I said that I was just trying something out? Comparing differences, you know, to see what I like. Scientific, almost.” 

His eyes darken.

“In that case,” With a startled shriek, he has you flipped, back pinned to the bed once more. “Thinkin’ we should keep on testin’.” 

He’s creeping back down your body, focus resting on his come that has been dripping out of you, fingers scooping through the slick and pushing it right back inside where it belongs. It wrenches a shocked moan from you. 

“Joel, I can barely move already.” you whine. 

“Good thing I’m doing all the work, then.” 

His eyes are locked on the apex of your legs, greedily taking you in. 

“I ain’t done with you yet, pretty thing,” and you don’t think he’s talking to your face at all. 

[thethronezone]

Love the Primarchs as fathers. How do you think they’d react when or if their kid starts having crushes, maybe wanting to date?

Watch this man age ten thousand years the moment his kid admits they have someone the like. Mortarion looks haunted. Genuinely asks himself where he went wrong raising his child. It takes a long time for him to accept that his kid is getting older and wants, ugh, those kinds of relationships. Just give him some time and he will gradually warm up to the idea. He just has to accept the fact his kid is becoming their own person.

Fulgrim is both the biggest hype man and the biggest critic. Because when his kid tells him then have a crush on someone he'll be so excited for them and he will want to hear all the details. Where did you meet? What's their name? What do you like about them? And then he will tear that poor crush to shreds with his words alone. "Dear, open your EYES. They are a 6.5 at BEST. Is that a mullet? Ugh, that's so last century. And they are HOW tall? Honey, you deserve better than that."

Don't tell Angron, he's just going to challenge them to a fight. If someone wants to court his child, then they have to first prove their mettle in bloody combat! Might kill them. By accident of course. Is actually not that opposed to his kid dating someone, he just wants that person to be strong enough to fight by their side. Very critical of every crush. Will kill someone for breaking his kid's heart(s). The type of father to sit in the corner, polishing his gun, while staring down his kid's crush.

At first, Magnus is nothing but supportive. He thinks it's wonderful that his kid is growing as a person and discovering new avenues of life. Slowly starts to hate the crush though. Just does not think that they are good enough for his kid. Magnus is a very proud man and that pride extends to his kid, who only deserves the best. "What do you even see in them? They can't even summon lightning!" Tries to set his kid up with prominent scholars instead. "What about this one? They are a master of theoretical quantum physics."

Perturabo straight up goes "no" when his kid tells him they have caught feelings for someone and they want to court this person. He's not saying this to be cruel but he genuinely does not think that it is in his kid's best interest to enter a relationship. They are busy with their studies, with training, they won't have time for courting. Forbids his kid from pursuing any sort of further relationship with this person and if he finds out that they have disobeyed him, he won't hesitate to separate the two.

Alpharius and Omegon knew about the crush before his kid told them about it. Still acts surprised when they tell them and asks who's caught their kid's eye, even though at this point they know EVERYTHING about this person. I am talking living family, blood type, height, weight, biggest fears, life aspirations, the last time they wet the bed. If they approve of the person, they will be supportive. If they don't, then they will pretend to be supportive but actually sabotage the relationship at every turn. Oh no, the crush missed their date? What a shame. (They were sedated by an Alpha Legion member and placed in a cupboard.)

When Lorgar learns that his kid is experiencing romantic love for the first time, he's happy for them. He just urges them to be careful, that love does not always turn out the way you want it to. Otherwise 100% supportive. Will patiently listen to his kid when they talk about their crush and gives them his honest advice, which is actually pretty solid. Secretly a bit sad that his kid is growing up so quickly but he won't say this out loud since he knows it's just a natural part of life.

Horus is like "Hell yeah, grandkids!" and his kid has to stop him and remind him that they haven't even entered the relationship yet. They don't even know if the other person likes them in that way! To which Horus goes "Of course they like you, you're my kid!" Honestly thinks his kid could get any person in the Imperium if they wanted to. Is however very critical of who they date but won't say anything about it if his kid seems genuinely happy with them.

HAHAHA. No. Konrad will not allow it. He will not hear it! Who is it? He'll kill them! Tell him! Konrad probably has the worst reaction out of all the Primarchs. Does he want his kid to be happy? Yes, more than anything. But Konrad genuinely believes people are naturally evil and selfish and is 100% sure that his child is going to end up betrayed in some terrible way. Just wants to protect his kid.

Admittedly, Sanguinius is not very optimistic about it at first. Not that he isn't supportive of his kid's feelings! Love is wonderful! But he can't help but worry that the other person will try and use them, seeing them as a way to rise in life. So while he supports his kid, he will secretly keep an eye out. Outside, he's all smiles and innocent questions ("Oh, where are they from? What are they like?") but at the same time he's highly critical of this other person. He wants to protect his kid from getting their heart broken.

For Corvus, this revelation that his kid has a crush on someone strikes him like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. Like, he completely forgot that his kid may one day develop an inclination towards romantic feelings and relationships. Quickly accepts it though. Kinda. He keeps a close eye on this other person they are interested in, not getting directly involved but making sure they are a stand up person and has honest intentions. Doesn't tell his kid that he's essentially spying on their crush but he knows that they know.

Ferrus is like "Ok? What do you want me to do about it?" Look, he's not going to stop his kid from forming romantic relationships or admonish them for having those kinds of feelings in the first place. It's their life, he can't control every aspect of it nor does he want to. As long as they don't let these feeling and relationships get in the way of what's actually important, they can do whatever they like.

Zero change in facial expression from my guy Rogal Dorn. Nods his head. "So it's like that." LIKE WHAT, DORN? EXPLAIN YOUR LINE OF THOUGHT, PLEASE. They will never know what Rogal thinks about their crush until one day, after he's met them for the first time, he goes "I do not like that person. They covered in my presence." And then he straight up tells his kid that they need to get a better taste in partners!

Watch Vulkan break down in tears. His little baby is so grown up! Already has their first crush! It feels like just yesterday that he would sing them lullabies and tuck them in at night! Just very emotional about it. He's happy for his kid, gives them his blessing to date whoever they want, he just can't help but feel like his kid is growing up too fast. Will however give their crush the scariest, most passive aggressive shovel talk you can imagine. Vulkan does not mess around when it comes to his kid's feelings after all.

At first, Lion appears fully uninterested when his kid tells him then have a crush on someone. If they prod him for a response he will give them a "I see" at best and just a dismissive grunt at worst. So, that means he doesn't give a shit, right? NAH. That crush of theirs are gonna be visited in the middle of the night by the Primarch of the 1st Legion himself, standing at the end of their bed, threatening to behead them and their whole family if they break his child's heart(s). Will then act like normal when, the next day, his kid brings up how nice their crush suddenly is to them.

Leman immediately wants to meet the person, even if it's just a person his kid has a crush on. Don't worry, he's not gonna do anything! Just wanna make sure that they are a good guy! Lies, he totally wanna intimidate them. Not because of any malicious reason, he wants to test their mettle. Will act all nice and cheery in front of his kid but the moment they look elsewhere, he will subtly threaten the crush, flashing his teeth and showing off his strength. If they don't faint and actually stand their ground, then he will accept them with open arms! If they cover in fear? Well, the wolves could use a new chew toy... Joking! He's joking. (Is he though?)

Honestly, Jaghatai is so chill about it. Teases his kid about it a little but is genuinely supportive of them exploring this avenue of life. Get out there, try things out, meet people, figure stuff out! As long as the other person is an honest and upstanding individual, he don't care who they are. Serf, soldier, scholar, artist, they are all good! Gives good courting and dating advice.

Roboute gives his kid 'the Talk'. It's the most awkward and stilted conversation he's ever had. At the end of it, he lays a hand on their shoulder and pats it like they are a horse or a well trained dog. "Good talk." Is supportive of his kid pursuing relationships, just very awkward and Roboute-y about it. Gives them books about romance and dating so they can 'study'. Also tries to give them advice, though it's not always very good. "Bring them flowers. Baselines likes flowers." "Dad, they are allergic." "... Plastic flowers?"

[morlock-holmes]

Still thinking about that Astral Codex Ten AI Art Turing test...

I mean... Obviously the one on the right is the human one. Is this some kind of prank? Am I on candid camera?

My suspicion is that what this test demonstrates most conclusively is that we are so thoroughly bombarded with images that we have developed the defensive measure of paying as little attention to them as possible.

We get the gist and then move on as quickly as possible.

Here's someone who did much better than I did on this test explaining their results.

This demonstrates fairly conclusively that nearly all the AI images Alexander chose do in fact, have "tells" which are extremely plain when you attend closely to the details.

In fact, I managed to get 2 out of every 3 correct even with an incredibly lazy and fast-paced assessment carried out on my phone without much recourse to fine detail.

There are two trends I noticed in the comments of the results post.

First, a significant number of ACX posters harbor a suspicion and resentment towards art and good taste, which leads them to suspect that all artistic judgement is essentially arbitrary and based on clout. They don't notice the difference, so there must not be a difference.

Second, a number of people who are clearly AI skeptics gave ground and accepted the idea that the AI images were lacking in "tells" and were especially good, and instead attempted to attack the test on the grounds that this kind of curation was itself unfair.

Both responses indicate, to me, both a fascination with images and a kind of, for lack of a better word, illiteracy about them.

And perhaps most interestingly this illiteracy doesn't seem to obviously vary between pro and anti-AI readers.

To go back to the side by side landscapes up there, the landscape on the left probably has the fewest obvious "tells" of AI art, maybe of all the AI images.

It's also just, you know, a much worse piece of art than the one on the right?

To go back to what I said in an earlier post, the painting on the right draws the eye down the hill. The two figures on the path are expertly set off so that even though they are barely suggested with just a couple of brush strokes, they immediately stand out and draw the eye, causing you to follow the same path they are taking down into the village.

Contrast the image on the left. Which part of the painting is your eye drawn to first? It could really by almost anywhere. No part of the picture is more important than any other, there's very little contrast between, say, the village on the right and the wildflowers on the left. What detail there is is largely because, well, otherwise there wouldn't be a painting.

If you asked 100 art critics which of those paintings was by a renowned master and which one you found hanging in a dentist's office I think all 100 would give you the same answer.

Or take this one:

If you really, really zoom in on the hand on our right, the anatomy is probably wonky, but I didn't notice that, I just thought,

"Okay, but, like, what is this angel, like... Doing?"

This figure, painted in this style, is rife with symbolism. Most likely an angel, or at the very least Icarus, it ought to be extremely clear what sort of emotional/cultural/allegorical/etc. meaning is being communicated, but it is just sort of... looking off yearningly towards nothing.

Culturally, it's just not something that a human would paint as a finished piece.

Actually in general AI seems to tend to either not have a clear focal point, or to have one extremely obvious subject placed right smack dab in the center of the frame.

One of the subtle visual gags in Monty Python and The Holy Grail is that the peasants are often doing things that look, on very cursory examination, as though they are some kind of agricultural activity, but actually they are just hitting random patches of ground with a stick or sitting on the ground and moving mud into a big pile.

And same with this Angel; it looks, at casual glance, to be doing "Angel type stuff" and if you just keep moving you leave with the impression that everything was fine.

But if you stop yourself, go back, and ask, "Wait, specifically what is it doing?" you really can't come up with anything more specific than, "Angel type stuff".

This sort of vagueness is also a tell of AI art.

If what I'm saying sounds a bit frustrated or mean-spirited I think it's because looking at this test has solidified something that I haven't really been able to articulate before, which sort of sums up to the vast majority of talk about AI, regardless of what the conclusion is, evidences a strong emotional investment in images paradoxically combined with a sort of estrangement from them and often even a strong resentment towards them.

Both pro and anti-AI imagery camps contain a tremendous number of people who feel imagery as a kind of imposition, with AI as either an emancipatory force aimed at a tyrannical art world bent on crushing us with arbitrary, incomprehensible images or, on the other hand, as a tyrannical force set to flood us helplessly with a set of incomprehensible images almost entirely against our will.

[joshnekuu]

I really am still just so obsessed with Neo’s take on Neku and his development. So obsessed with his calm, gentle, patient demeanor- his softness and his acceptance of a mentorly, leaderly role.

In love with the idea that this is something of a coping mechanism for him. If he can just focus on being the gentle and understanding mentor for Rindo and co, the reliable partner and take charge guy for Beat and his friends, then he doesn’t have to think about how painful everything is and he can ignore the justifiable anger and frustration he feels about everything he has been put through.

Like yeah, I do think that Neo Neku has reached a point where he feels that being angry isn’t productive and that’s what allows him to become so chill and willing to befriend and work with multiple people who have wronged him. But at the same time I think there’s an element of Neku putting himself and his own feelings behind everyone else’s.

But once he’s out of the Game, once the life or death stuff is behind him, once he actually has time and space to settle back into a normal life and perhaps sort through the mess of feelings he has… he isn’t able to do it. He doesn’t want to be angry and scared again. So he just focuses on being there for his friends. Soothing their worries, comforting their guilt and grief over having lost him and not being able to save him for those three years. Don’t worry about his grief, though. He’s fine. There’s nothing bothering him.

And this ties into my headcanons about him initially distancing himself from everyone emotionally, because he is worried. That if he shows them how damaged he is from everything, how bitter he feels sometimes, how ANGRY he is sometimes, it will only make them feel worse. They will feel even more guilty for their powerlessness, and he doesn’t WANT that. He doesn’t want to hurt them. It wasn’t their fault.

It’s easier to just be the softhearted mentor, the understanding friend. And if he has any negative feelings, anything he needs to bitch about… Joshua is there. He can always turn to the one person who understands the UG and everything he’s been through more than anyone else. He can blame Joshua, if he can’t bear the grief of it all. And Joshua won’t stop him, because Joshua knows and accepts that it was his fault and his doing.

Which, going back to my earlier post of Neku being jealous of Rindo… I think that being the catalyst for Neku to start showing some of his uglier feelings would be really interesting. Neku being forced to acknowledge that, yeah. He DOES feel like he was robbed of times and friendships he didn’t get to indulge in. And seeing Rindo get the post game happy ending that Neku was SUPPOSED to get… fucking sucks! Like yeah he’s happy for Rindo, he’s relieved that Rindo doesn’t have to go through what he did, but also! Fuck! Why not Neku? Why did he have to go through so much?

And finally being able to vocalize those ‘ugly’ emotions, being able to acknowledge that he wants more than what he was given… I think that is good for him. Realizing that he is not satisfied, and that he is allowed to ask for more. Forcing himself to talk about his feelings and his desires, and realizing that his friends WANT to be there for him, want him to rely on them more!! And that he doesn’t have to be this perfect, fully realized person who went through hell and came out 100% better for it- that he’s allowed to be angry and feel that he was treated unfairly.

I just need to sit down and write my post neo angst lol

[wellofdean]

So...thinking about Dean and Jack...

Jack is not a child. He is NEW, but he is a cosmic being of unknowable power who was cognizant enough in the womb to save Kelly because he was still using her body as an incubator, and to show Cas a manipulative, glorious vision of his future actions specifically as they relate to Cas's desires. When he is born, he speaks English and understands peril, has the physical strength and angelic power to defend himself. He doesn't understand the world, but he is a VERY fast learner. There are a lot of ways in which children are vulnerable and need protection that simply do not apply to Jack at all. He is not a baby, physically or mentally.

Where Jack is vulnerable is in his sense of self and his identity. He is emotionally and spiritually vulnerable, and he is vulnerable to manipulation. From the first time Sam talks to him, he is asking Jack if he can re-open the rift, and Sam DOES want to use him. I don't blame Sam for that, it's a perfectly logical thing to want. Sam believes Mary might still be alive, and he wants to use Jack to go see, and hell, maybe as a weapon, too. Sam needs to believe that Jack can be good and useful to them, and he is not really honest with Jack at first. Dean is right about that.

Dean, though? Dean is completely, 100% honest with Jack in every interaction, no matter how ugly the truth. He tells Jack exactly what he thinks and feels. He has a very reasonable reaction to Jack as a still-unknown cosmic power, and Dean quite reasonably sees him as the reason Cas is dead. Dean is emotional and grieving, but he is honest. Later, as he comes to see Jack as something other than a threat, he is kind to Jack while still being honest. When he comes to love Jack, he loves him honestly. He never lies or manipulates Jack even one time until they lure him into the mal'ak box, and when they talk him into it, Dean can barely look at Jack and makes Sam do the talking, because he really just can't. Lie. To. Jack.

Jack emulates, loves and respects Dean. When Jack thinks Dean has to kill him, he understands and accepts it because he trusts Dean. I think Jack looks to Dean for an honest, clear-eyed assessment of his situation. Cas is blinded by love, Sam is more interested in utility, and Dean is being forced to sacrifice Jack, who has become his and Cas's son -- his family. If Dean can do it, Jack is willing to submit, and then DEAN CAN'T DO IT.

it makes no sense to me to apply real-world child/parent roles to them, to compare Dean with John, who was raising human children, or to think of Jack as an actual human child, and I don't blame Dean for any of it. Dean is so emotionally compromised in so many different ways and I think there is a widespread tendency to begrudge Dean his legitimate feelings when they aren't comfortable, and to apply reality-based roles to these characters who are not at all living normal lives. When it comes down to it, Dean STILL loves Jack (and Cas!) too much to kill Jack or to lie to him, even after Jack oopsie-daisy kills Mary in a moment of uncontrolled panic and has no soul and can't tell right from wrong, and can't even feel remorse. Jack is legitimately dangerous, and Dean is not wrong to try to contain that.

And, by the end of the story, when Dean is saying Jack is not family, not like Cas and Sam are, Dean has lost his compass, and we know that because he also deceives Amara, and tries to kill Sam. Dean is truly in error in those scenes, and doing the wrong things, and seriously, Dean is so good, so self-sacrificing, so full of love that I am able to forgive him a moment of error at the climax of his existential crisis. By that time, Jack is a complex character who is as heavy with grief and guilt as Dean is, and who feels the weight of the world, like Dean does, and who understands Dean.

Is Dean perfect? No. Is Jack a child? No.

I'm just going to say it: I think Dean was a good father to Jack, because what Jack needed more than anything else was honest information about who he was, what threat he posed, who loved him, and HOW to love, so that he could decide who he was and what he wants to be.

He got that from Dean.

[anxiousapplepie]

Hello it's the plant nerd again, this time I'm wondering how exactly rose hair dye works?

Like you can dye normal roses by cutting the stem and sticking it in dye (works on other flowers too), so do they dye it like humans or just... Drink it? Heck if they drink it, it would even change sap color.

Also a fun aside, real non-dyed 'blue' roses exist! They're made by a company called Suntory, from genetically engineering white roses with DNA from pansies and a little trickery. They're a bit purple, but still they produce a naturally blue pigment alongside the red! (I am so sorry to infodump but like when am I ever gonna have an excuse to tell someone about these cool things)

You will not believe the amount of thought I have put into the Roses and their hairdye! SO! Let me give you the run down:

Yes! Hairdye works by dumping a bunch of vegetable dyes or chemicals onto a Rose's head! However, because their hair is magic, whether the dye sticks to the Rose heavily depends on them. If a Rose is happy with the color of their hair and feels like it represents them perfectly, trying to change it won't work... for longer than a few minutes or hours, at least XD

A Rose trying to force their hair to accept a new color, however, is possible! But they have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to keep up the act and repress anything that makes their "original" color bleed through again. This can risk a Rose turning brown, but mostly it's like wearing a mask in public. However, any dyed hair will NOT reflect the Rose's true magic color. Which makes things a little awkward, but nothing a little more lying can't get around.

Multicolored Roses have a unique skill of being able to pretend to be one of their true colors! It does mean turning up one of their defining traits to Full Blast in an attempt to hide their second color, but they have the easiest time blending in like "why yes, this is my natural hair color! thank you for asking!"

There are some who can apply hairdye and it'll stick, though! Green and White Roses being some of those outliers. Also don't you dare apologize for nerding out about roses because it means I can get excited too! It's only thanks to you guys I can ramble about my lil guys <3 Also I did not know there was some dorks out there trying to make legit blue roses?? I already knew about the fake "turn white into blue" roses, but that is really cool! guess it's not 100% impossible after all XD Also thanks to you I was inspired to draw this, so that's a bonus!

[animeyanderelover]

Confession

Hey, everyone. I have something to tell you which has been on my mind since over 4 years now and which I feel like I have to get out of my chest now. I don't want to write for character x male reader anymore. There are lots of reasons and thoughts behind this decision that have accumulated over many years and now I have finally made the decision to stop writing for the x male reader entirely.

The first reason for me is that I was born a woman and that I 100% identify as one. I started this blog mainly because I wanted to write my own fanfics about characters that I love and that is why I started in November 2020 my own blog on this side. However, I wanted to be inclusive which is why I decided to add the option to ask for an x male reader as well. However, I have figured out over the years that I experience less joy writing for requests asking for a male character because deep down this never was what I wanted to write for but I denied those thoughts because I was afraid that people would think that I hate people who identify as men in fanfiction. Part of me also always thought that maybe I would be a hypocrite. I feared to open a pandora box.

After all if I write about a character who is in a happy relationship, married and has a child in canon does that make me a homewrecker? I write about characters who are still teenagers and find myself writing Nsfw about them too so does that make me a pedophile? If I write about a female character x female reader despite the character never having been indicated to have any romantic interest in another woman am I just making everything lesbian to satisfy my own desires? There are women who write about male characters who are gay in canon with a female reader and I admit to having read some of those works too so does that make me homophobic? If I were to write about something like that too because I feel attracted to those characters does that make me a terrible person? Such doubts and worries constantly held me back from getting rid of that option but now I do not have those doubts anymore.

I had a bad start in the anime community by getting involved with some weird fujoshis and their fanart. That has already led me to the decision that I won't write any Nsfw posts with a male character x male reader and with my own consciousness I could never accept to write anything Nsfw related with a female character x male reader. The truth is because I’m an afab writer I could have never inserted myself in a reader with a dick.

Fujoshis and my own preferences are only two reasons though. The last reason for me is because I have had experiences with actual men on this side who pestered me via chat that they wanted me to write for an x male reader and even though I was not comfortable with it they continued anyways. Those experiences are rare but they added to my overall conflict nevertheless. A while ago I had the "pleasure" of being graced with such a person who really wanted me to write about the women of Arcane with a male reader, a phenomenon that I know has been not uncommon in the x reader community of the series on this app. He was awfully entitled and kept whining about the fact that no one seems to be willing to write about the x male reader for characters like Jinx or Vi and that he considers my writing to be good and that I was his last hope. I have blocked him together with the few others who asked the same of him before in that arrogant and pushy way.

None of those three reasons that I have named are the sole reason for that decision, it is more the accumulation of all of those reasons over the last years that have finally led to this post. So here is my final decision:

I won't write for the x male reader anymore.

I am sorry for all those who do not belong to the entitled male reader community and still felt included in my blog but I cannot write about something I do not feel motivated about and feel no joy in writing either. To all those arrogant male readers who my read this and feel insulted, here is my own opinion. Fanfiction is fanfiction. I do not have the right to call you out for writing about male readers with female characters who are gay because I have found myself guilty on the other side by thirsting about male characters who are gay and I might one day find myself writing about them with a female reader as well.

I don't mind shippers either as long as everything is kept within a legal range because if you come up to me and confess to shipping some brainrot vomit like Sebastian x Ciel (Black Butler), Toji x Megumi (Jjk) or All Might x Deku (My Hero Academia) I will not let you anywhere close to me. And yes, those are ships that people actually support and write about!! I personally just don't care about a ship unless the series is a romance but if you just keep it normal with the gay ships I don't care if you ship something like Gojo x Geto or Jayce x Viktor. Just don't be weird and then get all offended and mad when others, including the author of the work (!!!) doesn't ship them.

However, if male readers want fanfics then you just have to build your own fandom community and do it yourself. The fujoshis have done it, the whole x female reader community has done it. You have to do the same. No one of the writers on this app has started in here with any previous experience. I for example didn't write any world-changing book series before I started my blog and I guarantee you, none of the other writers have done that either. Just don't be a fucking whiny bitch about it and get all offended about it with writers who only write x female reader.

Listen, all of us have some weird fantasies here. I myself take even the most sunshine characters and turn them into obsessive freaks who abduct the reader and kill for them. I write for dub-con and non-con which is ultimately just a euphemism for fantasising about a fictional character r*ping me. I fantasise about male characters baby-trapping me sometimes but if any man in real life were to say something to me like I have written fictional characters say to the reader I will scream, bite and get a restraining order. Does that mean that I support everything that I see online? Fuck, no. Let's be real, who does? There are people who are weird and then there are people who are just gross and I usually stay away from those communities because arguing with them will only cost you your sanity because they clearly have none. On Tumblr I usually resort to swiftly blocking such people the moment I read their content and you are free to do the same to me if you don't support my writing.

Heck, I’ve even blocked people who ranted in the tags about Yandere or dub-con/non-con content and claimed that everyone who writes and reads such posts sick in the head because I believe I did them the favor of sparing them to come across my works. Speaking from experience, such people usually don’t avoid but feel the need to insult and lecture so I probably did them a favor by doing what they don’t want to do because they thrive on being on what they view as the morally high ground. The block button is there for a reason and not just for fancy decoration after all.

It's been more than 4 years on this app for me and I have grown as a person in real life and strive to do so as I continue each year which is why I have decided to not be a pure people pleaser anymore and only write what I can accept within my own consciousness and what I want to write about. It's my blog, it's my rules and if I can be proud with what I write and accomplish on here then this is how I should continue. To anyone who has requested something with a male reader and is still waiting for it to be answered, I cannot promise you that I will still answer it so you should be prepared that it's going to be most likely deleted. I am unfortunately not the right blog to write what you want but I hope that you can find one who will fill the role that I can't anymore.

[sunburnhurts]

Teenage Sweethearts || Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader (Battinson)

Summary: Bruce Wayne and Y/n meet in the diner that Y/n works at. The 2 teenagers live 2 very different lives, and that's what makes them come together.

Words: 904

All My Stories

A/n: Just know I am making a few things up in this story, like the school Y/n goes to (I'm saying Gotham public high school bc idk what else..), and some other things so im sorry lolll. Also, Young Bruce is more open than older Bruce is in this story so yeahhh lol

Y/n watches as an older man and a boy around her age get seated at an empty table. They were both dressed nicer than most customers are, they looked very clean and put together. Y/n tried recognizing the young boy, trying to remember if he goes to her school. She then puts 2 and 2 together, he's wearing clean, nice clothes, so he definitely does not go to her public high school.

Y/n grabs a plate of food that was ready to be put on table 05, walking over and placing it down for the customers. She smiles, telling them to enjoy their food, then walks away to the teenage boy's table.

She smiles, watching as they both look up from their Menu's to the approaching girl. The older man smiles, as the younger boy looks up with no emotion on his face. "Hello! My name is Y/n, may I start you 2 off with any drinks?" Y/n says in a sweet voice.

"Yes, may I have a coffee, please? No sugar." The older man kindly says. Y/n nods with a smile, not bothering to write down the drinks on her notepad, she could remember this simple order. She looks over at the teen boy, noticing him wearing a school uniform. She was correct, he didn't go to her public school, he went to Gotham Academy.

"Um, may I have a water please?" The boy says, quietly, short from shy.

"Of course! I'll be right out with those." Y/n smiles and walks off to behind the counters, preparing their drinks.

"She's a lovely girl, do you know her from school?" Alfred looks at Bruce, who finally took his eyes off the girl walking away.

"No," Bruce says, looking back at the menu in front of him.

"She seems very sweet, maybe you should befriend her." Alfred advises.

Ever since Bruce's parents died, 8 years ago, Alfred has been trying to get Bruce to live his teenage life to the fullest. It's hard for Bruce to live a normal teenage life because of his parents death and because he's very rich. No kid at his school wanted to befriend him because of that fact, they all assumed he was a snobby stuck up kid. Bruce didn't mind the lack of attention, though, he preferred it, he liked when people didn't know who he was.

"Maybe." Bruce says in a way that made it sound like he wasn't interested, but he was.

"What was her name.." Alfred tries remembering, saying names that sounded like her name, but weren't.

"Y/n." Bruce mutters in response.

A minute or 2 went by and Y/n came back with their drinks. She places the coffee in front of the older man, and the water in front of the younger man. She smiles once more before saying, "Are you guys ready to order?"

After Bruce and Alfred were all done eating, Y/n came out with the check. When she came back to grab the folder with the older mans card in it, she saw the amount the man tipped. Her eyes widened, she was unsure if this was a mistake. Their food was $24.56, and the tip was $50. She walks back to the table, still suprised.

"I'm so sorry to bother, but did you mean to put this much?" Y/n asks, showing the older man the tip. The man smile and nodded, making Y/n tilt her head in confusion, but she had a smile still on her face. "I can't accept that, sir." She said kindly, refusing that amount.

"No, no, please!" The older man laughed, kindly.

"Are you 100% sure?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh my god, thank you!" The teen girl says, letting a bit of her excitement show, but contains most of it because she's still at work. Most people that come to the diner always tip $5 or less, even with big order, so this was huge for her. Bruce looks at her, cracking a smile. "Okay, well I'll be right back again."

Y/n walks away, going to finishing their payment. "She really is a lovely young woman, are you sure you're not interested?" Alfred asks.

"I never said I wasn't interested," Bruce replied.

"So then talk to her." Alfred encourages.

"Maybe another time." Bruce thought it would be weird talking to someone his age with his Butler right across from him.

Y/n comes back with Alfred's card, she places it on the table, smiling at both boys. "You guys are all set! Have a good night!"

"Thank you, you too!" Alfred says as he grabs his card and gets up from his seat. Y/n walks back to the kitchen, and waits for more customers to come in. She watches from a window in the kitchen as the boy and man leave. The younger boy turns around towards the window and makes eye contact with the girl once more, catching her off guard. Her breath hitches in surprise, and she looks down at the counter with a slight blush on her cheeks.

~~~~

A week goes by since Y/n served the older man and the mysterious teenage boy. Every time the door to the restaurant opened, Y/n would look to it to see if it was the boy walking in. She couldn't lie to herself, she did think his mysterious quality was intriguing, and she did think he was good looking.

Bruce wanted to go back to that restaurant and talk to Y/n, but he never built up the courage to. He was afraid to make things weird or make it look like he was only going there to see her, even though that was the truth.

As each day went by, Y/n slowly stopped expecting the boy to show up. It was now Thursday, Y/n had a rough day at school, and now was having a rough time at work. Some creepy men were hitting on her, obviously drunk, and she couldn't take it anymore. She told one of her co-workers that she was going on break and she walked out through the back of the building.

She was now in a back alleyway, which is usually used for workers that smoke on their break. She sighs, walking back and fourth in the alleyway as her tears build up. Once tears were falling from her eyes, she sat down on the dirty ground, closer to the entrance of the alleyway. Silent sobs came from her as she had her hands around her eyes.

She sat their for a few minutes, letting her frustration come out in tears. Then she heard light footsteps walking towards her, making her lift her head up. She was afraid it was one of those drunk men who were hitting on her, but when she saw the figure, she calmed down.

Watching the figure walk up to her, she recognizes that its a teenage boy by his body. Her eyes were too teary to identify the face. She looks up at him as he stops walking in front of her. He stares down at her for a second before asking, "Are you okay?"

Before she could answer his question, her eyes become more clear, "Hey, I recognize you." Bruce stands there, worried that she figured out that he was 'that rich boy who's parents died', but to his surprise, she says smiling through tears, "You're that one kid, your dad tipped me $50."

"He's not my dad, but yeah." He huffs a laugh.

Suddenly becoming aware of her appearance, she says, "Oh my god, I probably look like a mess right now, I'm so sorry."

She wipes her eyes as he says, "You don't," he pauses, watching her, "how come you've been crying?"

"I've had a rough day at school, and customers can sometimes be such... assholes." She laughs, watching the boy sit on the dirty floor next to her. "Oh, you don't have to sit on this gross floor for me."

"It's fine, I don't mind." He says, turning his head to her. His back to the building wall, his knees propped up and his hands rested on top of his knees. "So what happened with the customers?"

"Just these 2 drunk guys, they were flirting with me as if I'm not obviously a teen." She looks away from the boy, down at her lap.

"Oh, I'm sorry that happened." Bruce replies with slight pity in his voice, he wasn't sure what else to say. He was slightly mad for her, upset that that is something she has to go through. "Like you said, they're just assholes."

Cracking a smile and looking back at the boy, she smiles, "Yeah." She then fully smiled as he smiled at her.

"What school do you go to, I haven't seen you around mine." Bruce says, changing the subject.

"Gotham Public High School." She answers, pausing for a moment. "You go to Gotham Academy, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"You were wearing your uniform that time you came in." She then slightly blushes, realizing her mistake. "Oh my gosh, that sounds creepy that I remembered, sorry."

"No it's okay." He laughs, still looking at her. "So how old are you?"

"16, you?"

"Same." He says, glad that they are the same age.

A comfortable silence rested between them before Y/n asked, "So how'd you find me here?"

"Well," He pauses for a moment trying to get a story straight. "I was about to go into the diner to get something to eat, but I just happened to look into the alleyway and see you crying." The truth was that he was going to go into the diner, but he left out the part where it was to see her.

"Was I that loud?" She jokes, looking at the boy.

"No," he chuckles before pausing, "so you don't know who I am?"

Y/n tilts her head in confusion, scrunching her face a bit in confusion. "What do you mean?" She then realized she never learned his name.

"Like you don't recognize me from anywhere other than our one interaction?" He was just as confused as she was. His families story was pretty big, everyone and their mothers new about it, even outside of Gotham.

"No, what's your name?"

"Bruce." Y/n thought about that name, trying to think of a Bruce she knew. When she couldn't think of anyone she knew with that name, she then figured it out. He went to an academy, the man he was with tipped her a lot of money meaning they were rich, and she couldn't think of anyone other than a Wayne with the name Bruce.

"Wayne?" She asked in a bit of shock, but she tried masking it. He nods.

"You're telling me you didn't recognize me this whole time?" Bruce asks, still a bit shocked. She shook her head, making Bruce smile. He was glad someone didn't recognize but was still interested in talking to him.

"Wow, I had no clue." She says, resting her head against the wall behind her.

"Promise you wont think of me differently?" Bruce says in a joking voice and a smile, but meant it seriously.

"Of course." She looks at him again, smiling. "I knew you were a bit mysterious." She jokingly said, nudging him with her shoulder. He laughs, still looking at her.

Something about her not recognizing him made him more attracted to her, it was like he could take a step out of grieving Bruce Wayne, and step into a new person.

"Shit," Y/n says, breaking the silence, "I have to get back to work." She says standing up, brushing herself off and giving Bruce a hand. "You said you were headed into the diner?"

"Yeah." He nods, taking her hand and helping himself up.

"Okay, I'll see you in there!" She smiles, walking through the back entrance as he watched her leave. He smiles, glad that he decided to come to the diner that night.

After Bruce came into the diner and sat down, they had conversations as she worked. It wasn't that busy that day, so she was able to sit with him for a little while. Bruce was happy that Y/n never brought up his parents or his wealth, they mostly talked about things each other liked.

By the time It was closing time, Bruce waited until she closed up and offered to walk her home. Of course, she accepted. At the end of their walk, they exchanged home phone numbers. They said their goodbyes, then Bruce walked home with a smile on his face, thinking about the whole afternoon he just had.

~~~~

Over the weeks, Bruce would show up more and more to the diner. Y/n would sit with him during her breaks or in between dealing with customers. They would talk about random stuff, sometimes about Y/n and her family, and once Bruce felt comfortable enough, he opened up about his parents.

The End

A/n: Hope yall liked this! This has been in the drafts for a little while, im cleaning my drafts atm! also 2 posts in one day??? Hope you enjoyed!

[radio-fmm]

Law + mexican s/o

I am a believer that Skypiea was 100% supposed to represent Mexico I mean… the whole history and design of the island screamed Tenochtitlán to me. Also I am Mexican so I gotta represent am I right? 🇲🇽🦅🦅🦅

Masterlist

Pt. 2

If your name is specifically very noticeably Mexican, he’d be very curious and ask the meaning and the proper pronunciation

Obsessed with your accent and loves when it slips out

He would never forget the first time you made him chilaquiles he literally ascended to heaven

Definitely would ask you to cook him your traditional meals, probably fell in love with the cuisine and he can’t live without it now

A sucker for tamales

The day you made pozole, everyone begged you to never leave the crew and keep on making it for them

“You better treat them right Captain” said Penguin as he served his 4 plate of pozole

And don’t get me started on tacos… you are legally obligated to cook tacos at least once a week

Bepo would help you make tortillas and die happy if you let him eat the first one

Law’s mortal enemy is el mazapán, he almost fainted when you made him eat it, he thinks it’s the most disgusting thing on this earth

He finds it kinda amusing how your voice changes when speaking spanish, also would beg for you you teach him because he feels left out and wants to understand what you say

100% would get mad if you start speaking spanish and won’t translate afterwards. What if you’re talking shit and he doesn’t know it? FOMO (even if it’s about him)

The kind of guy to find the fact that you’re bilingual extremely attractive, you’re so smart

Would tease you if you forget words or don’t understand certain slang, but would always translate/explain it to you he doesn’t want to make you feel left out

Loves to swear in spanish, like the most mexican curses

His favorite one is chinga tu madre

One of his favorite activities is cuddling while you whisper sweet nothings in spanish to him

You once told him that even though names can’t be translated, he would probably be called Lorenzo and he hated it and of course you call him that to rile him up because its hilarious

100% bought a book to also teach himself some more spanish and impress you

You once wore a traditional outfit for a banquet and absolutely loved it he couldn’t stop complimenting you and eventually you gifted him a handmade shirt that he treasures

You gifted him some nice boots too and he wears them religiously

He noticed every time November would roll by, you’d buy flowers that’d sit under some pictures, and would also make some decorations with skeletons on them. When you explained what Día de Muertos was and that those were pictures of your loved ones that had passed away, he was so amazed and next November he’d add a picture of Corazón in your altar and bought stuff you were missing to complete it

Eventually the tradition was embraced by the whole crew and everyone would participate putting together a bigger altar on display for everyone

You’d paint everyone as catrines and best believe everyone is exited to be part of it, celebrating your culture and those that are not here is so precious to the crew

Viernes de carne asada at the submarine

There would probably be some cultural differences between you and Law; for example he probably thought you were so damn loud (a lot of ppl had told me we are very loud?) or wouldn’t get your sense of humor at first

Confused on why you keep every damn plastic bag inside another bag

Home remedies scare him, what do you mean you’re putting lemon on your cut? Would accept some sore throat drink tho

Freaked out the first time you did a limpia on him but he’s used to it now, still thinks it’s stupid tho and he’ll roll his eyes and grumble

He. Loves. Vaporub

When you proclaimed it was absolutely magical he laughed, but when then witnessed its power now he always has some on him

When he hears your music blasting in the morning he knows you’re on cleaning duty

He would probably listen to spanish rock and would ask you to translate the lyrics

When you moved in to a shared room with Law, he noticed how a lot of the decorations were so colorful it was comical how contrasting it was from his personal style. You were adding color to his life, literally and metaphorically

Noche de loteria once a month everyone plays and sometimes it gets out of hand, Law is so competitive he is winning no matter what

You asked Law to dress as a charro for your birthday. At first he acted like it was annoying but honestly he liked the all black outfit and ended up loving it

He’d wear it around to fluster you

Would bend whenever you call him “mi vida” or “mi amor” but would get mad if you do it in front of others, that’s for his ears only also hates pda

Honestly he loves everything about you and understands how your culture is a huge part of who you are, so he is eager to learn about and connect with it, but most importantly to allow you to embrace it, after all the heart pirates are your family

Might make this a series with other characters feel free to request

[circeyoru]

Hi.. Can I ask for yandere alastor with the reader who owns his soul, ( more questions because I'm curious about this scenario )....

What would it be like if the reader, through guilt, gave her soul to Alastor, like it would be fair for the reader to give her soul to Alastor, since he gave his soul to the reader ( would Alastor see this as a distorted marriage proposal? as a declaration of love, distorted? )

What would it be like if the others at the hotel found out about this relationship between Alastor and reader? What would it be like if there were more than 1 yandere, what would it be like if vox or lucifer slowly became yanderes for the reader, what would happen?

To those that have no idea what this is talking about, check out {Unwanted Soul}

I am not kidding when I say there's a back-to-back request on the first question. So I had to answer in the other request cause this second question's answer's gonna be a long one

For the 2nd question.

Part 1. Basically, Charlie and the other's reaction to finding out about Alastor and Reader's relationship, including the soul-owning thing (but not the details like limited power, or you healing Alastor)

As a baseline, they all unanimously agreed that Alastor was the one completely and utterly obsessed with you, and you just accepted it and made the best of the situation. Niffty: She doesn't see an issue. Alastor had mentioned you to her beforehand. She was also the one to fix up your room before you moved in. She encourages and even asks for your secret. How did you get bad boy Alastor to commit to you? She wants some of the action too. (you told Alastor to keep Niffty away from you whenever she's in that crazy zone, but then you got used it to, somewhat) Husk: He thought he could use it to his advantage. You were the timid and quiet type. So he actually tried to get your sympathy to his situation, Alastor was being threatening, Alastor was being mean. Haha, no go. Because you didn't care. He picked up that your attention and interest is very limited and hard to gain, Alastor taking years to do so even. Now Husk gave up on trying to get you to help his situation, but when he saw Alastor acting that docile to you and you not using your powers against Alastor? He's envious that you weren't the one to hold his soul Angel: Shocked. 100% shocked that Alastor willingly given his soul to a weaker demon (he never saw you battling Adam or your powers and abilities in action). Similar to Husk, he's actually envious that you didn't do anything against Alastor's will, even when you have his soul in the palm of your hands. He saw that Alastor was as free as a bird, really. He also wanted that freedom that Alastor had and the bond you two shared. He's very confused as to why Alastor was that enamoured with you though, you weren't anything special (don't let Alastor hear that). He spoke to you since about it and you agreed without missing a beat. Yeah, he's so confused Vaggie: A bit of Husk and Angel's reaction. She's shocked that you own Alastor's soul and have his affection, confused that Alastor gave his soul to you and acts lovey-dovey with you, and grateful that you were the one to have Alastor's soul. While it was a bit to take in, knowing that you were less inclined to violence and destruction, you weren't a threat to the hotel or Charlie. So that was good. Still, she is aware that your emotions can flip easily and Alastor will act on them faster than you'd stop him or you just won't. She knows you're a landmine and she needs to be careful Charlie: Very very supportive. Her brain literally skipped the whole soul-owning bit. Alastor loves you a lot and you love Alastor in your own unique way. It's like her and Vaggie! She's so happy to have another couple in the hotel. She'd try arranging double dates, if that's possible. Alastor's 100% for it since he gets to spend time with you, but knows you'd rather not have other strangers (Charlie and Vaggie) roped into your hobby and interest. She tries to give relationship advice and ask for some from you and Alastor. The first few times, you let her, but then you got annoyed with it. It wasn't established that you and Alastor were a couple and he didn't mind, with that label also coming out of Charlie's mouth. You were quick to avoid her whenever you wandered around the hotel. Alastor steps in and strictly warns Charlie not to try helping again Lucifer: Very hesitant to accept it, but lets his skeptism go when he sees you were happy and fine with the situation. He's amazed that you got Alastor to give his soul to you that easily, but he's also scared that you might have gotten into deep sh*t with you connection with Alastor. He keeps an eye out for you, sometimes checking in with you too

Part 2. What if there's more yanderes for Reader?

Are you trying to exhaust yourself? Yanderes you mentioned, Lucifer and Vox crave attention and you don't exactly give a lot. Remember, you're a shut-in and you can do without the extra presence around you. Since Alastor is more than enough (he's so happy to hear that). Needless to say, you avoid a repeat of what happened to Alastor. You read and watch anime, you know the signs. The reason why Alastor was let into your life was because he was the one giving you attention and didn't hinder you, plus he grew on you. Another thing, time. It took Alastor 7 years and you still sent him away to the hotel to work for some minor interest of yours. You think there can just be a new yandere? No, no. You're happy to prove that you were no pushover. Alastor is essentially under your command and he will happily take your orders and fulfil them beyond your expectations. So Vox is trying to spy on you? "Cut off his power, Alastor." Yeah, the Vee's entire area was out of electricity for a good few days. Lucifer's breaking into your room? "Alastor, set up a barrier." You're in some form of shadow realm, curtsy of Alastor's power, with all you ever need. You are the type to stick to one extreme and have sides as 'back-up', you can have Lucifer as a friend, but never a yandere since you can't handle it. As for Vox? You don't even know him. At least with Lucifer, you once worked for him. Plus Vox is Alastor's rivial, right? Let them fight, you're sure Alastor can handle it even with his powers limited.

[a-d-nox]

pac/pap: (creature feature: banshee): the silence and the scream

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

song queued: "human leech" by willow!

last pac/pap: creature feature: mindflayer - suckers, tadpoles, and the hive

return to the masterlist of pap/pac posts

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

pile one

the silence: what are the unresolved sorrows/losses in your life that continue to affect you deeply?

you may have a deep sense of remorse over something that could not be undone, whether it be a missed opportunity, a past action, and/or an event that led to grief. this can signify mourning a loss - whether it is the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, and/or another form of significant emotional separation. you may be overly absorbed in what has gone wrong or what you've lost, rather than acknowledging the potential for healing or moving forward. through there are still positive elements in your life, you may find it difficult to appreciate them, as they are so consumed by the emotional weight of your sorrow. sorrow and/or sense of loss is still lingering and impacting your present and making it difficult to fully move on. you may need emotional closure or acceptance.

the scream: how do you express your intense feelings, and what impact does this have on you and those around you?

you may have a tendency to internalize your intense feelings, bearing them like a burden. rather then expressing or sharing your emotions with others; you carry the weight of the emotion, often to the point of feeling overwhelmed. this can lead to emotional exhaustion. some people deal with intense emotions by focusing on work, responsibilities, and/or taking on more tasks. this keeps them too busy to directly confront their feelings, but it can also cause them to feel overburdened. you might channel your emotions into productivity, but to the detriment of your emotional well-being. you are likely prone to bottling up emotions, not allowing yourself the space to release or express them freely. this pressure builds up over time, creating an inner burden that becomes harder and harder to carry. you might feel you have to “handle it all” without asking for help or expressing vulnerability. this can make the person feel isolated and emotionally burdened, as you struggle to balance their own emotional needs with the obligations they feel they must fulfill. you may struggle letting go of emotional baggage. holding onto past hurts, regrets, or unresolved issues, and carrying them with you moving forward is your MO.

these emotions make you feel full of passion, enthusiasm, and drive to pursue your goals. though it might lead to making quick decisions without thoroughly thinking them through. there is a chance of you becoming restless, seeking change. if not channeled properly, this might lead to frustration or burnout. your energy might inspire those around you. they may be motivated by your boldness and willingness to take risks. some people might find your energy overwhelming or difficult to match, especially if you tend to dominate conversations or push others into action. your enthusiasm can prompt others to get out of their comfort zones. if you’re acting too impulsively or without considering the feelings of others, it can lead to conflicts or strained relationships.

pile two

the silence: what are the unresolved sorrows/losses in your life that continue to affect you deeply?

you may feel that you have had to surrender to circumstances beyond your control. it could be a relationship that ended, a life change you were unprepared for, or an opportunity that slipped away, there’s a sense of being powerless, almost as if life put you on pause. you may not be actively grieving/healing but rather stuck in a state of emotional limbo. there could be a lack of closure or resolution that keeps the pain lingering. you’ve been waiting for answers or understanding that hasn’t come, and this inability to see things clearly may add to the sorrow. unresolved sorrow may involve resentment over a sacrifice made, a choice that led to feelings of loss, or the emotional weight of having given up something dear. emotional detachment or numbness - you likely have distanced yourself from your feelings, perhaps out of self-preservation or exhaustion.

the scream: how do you express your intense feelings, and what impact does this have on you and those around you?

your intense emotions are not being fully confronted. instead of processing feelings, you might avoid facing them directly, resulting in a tendency to hold onto the past or stay in emotionally unfulfilling situations. which can lead to emotional stagnation or a sense of being stuck. you may find it hard to walk away from emotional attachments/situations that are no longer fulfilling. you likely fear change, are uncertain of what comes next, and/or are holding onto hope that things will improve. You may express your feelings by clinging to what is familiar, even if it causes emotional discomfort. you may try to walk away from your feelings but finds yourself returning to them again and again. instead of fully expressing or channeling your emotions, you may keep revisiting old wounds, unresolved issues, or relationships. you might feel intense dissatisfaction but don't outwardly express it, keeping it bottled up instead. which can lead to feelings of discontentment, as your desire for something deeper or more meaningful remains unspoken or unacknowledged. you might feel torn between staying in a situation (whether it be a relationship, emotional pattern, or life path) and the desire to leave, resulting in a state of emotional limbo. you may express your intense feelings through indecision or mixed signals, unsure of whether to let go or hold on.

you might feel very raw and maybe a bit childish after expressing these emotions. you could feel restless, eager to begin something but perhaps unsure of how to start or where it will lead. this energy can be exciting but also slightly scattered. your emotions may help you embrace challenges; viewing obstacles as opportunities to grow rather than hindrances. others may feel inspired by your outlook and encouraged to explore new ideas/opportunities themselves. they may be motivated by your openness.

pile three

the silence: what are the unresolved sorrows/losses in your life that continue to affect you deeply?

i get the sense you are moving away from a painful situation, but the pain hasn’t been completely left behind. unresolved sorrow could stem from an emotional or physical departure - such as the end of a relationship, moving away from a place tied to significant memories, or distance from a painful experience - but with feelings that remain raw and unhealed. you are still carrying the weight of past sorrows with you. which could represent feelings of grief, guilt, or regret that haven’t been fully processed, even as you try to move forward. there may be a sadness in leaving something behind, even if it was a source of pain. sorrow might come from the realization that moving on means letting go of something that, despite its difficulties, was once important or meaningful. unresolved sorrow could be tied to a psychological struggle - moving away from negative thought patterns, trauma, and/or mental stress. your mental/emotional challenges haven’t been completely left behind and continue to affect you on a deep level.

the scream: how do you express your intense feelings, and what impact does this have on you and those around you?

you tend to express intense feelings by being harsh, judgmental, and/or overly critical of yourself. you internalize them and express them through self-blame, guilt, or feeling as though you've made mistakes you can’t overcome. rather than outwardly expressing your feelings, you might turn your emotions inward, judging yourselves for your feelings or actions. emotions might be suppressed because you aren't ready to confront them, or you may be afraid of the conclusions that such introspection would bring. you might avoid expressing your true feelings, preferring to ignore them rather than face the need for change or personal transformation. you might feel ignored or not recognized, either by yourself or others. emotions might be expressed through frustration at not being seen or understood. you may feel like your voice or emotions aren’t valid or acknowledged, leading to bottled-up feelings of frustration or isolation. you have intense feelings that might remain unexpressed because the person is not ready to face them with you. you may experience emotional echoes from past events, but instead of addressing or expressing these feelings, you push them aside, causing an emotional block.

your feelings might be overflowing with creativity, inspiring you to engage in artistic endeavors or projects that bring you joy. you may feel a sense of abundance and gratitude for what you have left. after expressing yourself there can be a more peaceful and harmonious state of mind for you. your creativity and abundance can inspire others to explore their own creative outlets, encouraging them to express themselves and pursue their passions. your ability to nurture can create a strong sense of community or family among friends and loved ones. People may feel more comfortable sharing their thoughts and emotions with you. some people may become overly reliant on you for support or guidance for their own emotional expression, which could lead to feelings of overwhelm if you’re not careful to maintain boundaries.

[xaviers-whisper]

last dance | lumiere

LI: Xavier WC: 1.4k Genre: Angst Summary: A little drabble based off of the lyrics to Last Dance by OneOkRock where MC and Lumiere have one last battle together. A/N: damn,,, hows that for a first post... heyyy... how yall doin...

It started out like any other story. It made sense that his name meant light, because in every sense of the word, he was the light of your life. He made you smile and laugh, he would surprise you with little gifts and would never hesitate to drop whatever he was doing to help you. He'd mumble sweet nothings in your ear when he held you close and fell asleep with you in his arms, never caring that he'd wake up with his bottom arm numb from holding you all night. He was perfect. He was light. Well, when he was around, that was.

When you thought about what had brought the two of you together, it was hunting. The rush of adrenaline when you'd protect him and then moments later, he'd be right in front of you doing the same. The way your heart pounded out of your chest from the running and dodging, the hiding and attacking. For the longest time, your favorite part about hunting with him was getting to see the way his eyes lit up afterwards, how the blue shone like both the sea and sky. Like they were endless, like his love for you.

Still, you know what they say. Industry is a cruel, cruel mistress. You'd taken a step back from hunting with Lumiere - he just kept getting riskier and riskier. You were one for taking risks, that was for sure, but what he was doing was bordering on rule-breaking. To you, risks were letting a bullet sail when you were less than 100% sure you'd hit the target. Risks to him were... well...

It wasn't a surprise when you saw him less and less, hearing from him becoming an even rarer event. You worried about him, of course you did. How could you not? You loved him. Loved... love? You really weren't sure anymore. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. At some point along the way, you had accepted the worst. You grieved his loss, naturally, but eventually, you had to move on and rebuild your life, with or without him. That didn't stop the rumor mill, though. For some reason, it was easier to accept this fate that he was actually gone forever, rather than the word everyone else whispered - Tenebra.

So, when you found yourself face to face with him on the battlefield nearly eight months later, you weren't sure what to feel. There was a part of you that knew that he wouldn't do anything stupid enough to get him actually killed. Yet, that same part of you almost yearned for that to have been the case. He might as well have been as good as dead now that the rumors were true.

When the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, you couldn't even bring yourself to look at him. You refused to let yourself dive into those god damned blue eyes that once held all the love for you in their reflections.

"You're alive." was all you could manage to say to him as you steadied your breathing.

"'course I am." he said back, his own breath still a little staggered from the previous fight. Even now, he managed to retain that little lilt of teasing. The fact he did hurt worse than if he didn't, honestly. Because that meant your Lumiere was never really gone. But it also meant he would never be yours again. Still, something had changed in him.

"Why are you here?" you asked him, your heart aching in preparation for his answer. Whatever it was, it was going to shatter you.

"Duty calls, you know that as well as I do." Everything he said felt so emotionless now.

You scoffed softly. "Right, duty." How naive were you to think he was here for you? "So, um... how've you been?" you couldn't really believe you were trying to make small talk with the man who had once been your rock, your home, your world. The man who had seen you at your lowest and picked you back up every time. The man who was the first to celebrate even the smallest of victories.

"Good, good. You haven't changed much." he replied back, the tension in the air palpable. It was never this awkward before.

You nodded in acknowledgment to his statement; what were you supposed to say to that? Thank you? No. You had to cut the shit.

"What are we doing? And, not..." you sighed, "Not us. Just... in general?" Existentialism was never your favorite topic, but you felt like it had a home in this space... god knows you no longer did.

"I don't know, (Y/N). I don't know a lot of things anymore. Sometimes it feels like we're chasing someone else's dreams. Like this is all we have." his voice was low and pensive, you'd only ever heard it like that a few times before - after intense arguments about how he wasn't around much... right before he disappeared entirely.

"Right." You said again. That answers that, huh? "Did you-" You bit your lip to keep the tears in. Now was not the time to be crying. You were done with that. You'd shed all the tears you had for him months ago.

Before you could finish, he interrupted you with a proposition. "Come with me." Those three words said nothing and everything at the very same time. They confirmed your worst fears, they soothed the ache in your soul. They begged you to start over with him, they reminded you that you had gone eight months without him. All that, in three little words.

You didn't need much time to think. You shook your head, letting your bottom lip release from the hold between your teeth. "I can't."

His hands wrapped around yours in an instant, he was just as warm as he always was. "Why not?" It was his turn for his voice to come out barely above a whisper, as if saying it any louder would make whatever you said hurt more.

"Lumiere, I can't. For a lot of reasons. I just... I'm having a really hard time believing you care about me enough for me to do that. Frankly, I'm having an even harder time believing you ever did." How you managed to get those words out without bursting into tears and heaving sobs was a mystery to you, though not one you were particularly interested in solving any time soon.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could leave his parted, pink lips, you were ambushed once more with another wave of Wanderers. You both sprung into action, it was a reflex at this point. Though, this time, through the smoke of gunshots and the swishes of his sword, you managed to look at him, even for a brief moment. His blue eyes being the same they always were, evoking warmth and safety in you in the moments where your life was on the line. Still, they felt so cold now, emotionless as he swung his sword with ease. Like the love was one-sided. Maybe it always had been.

It didn't take long to dissipate the Wanderers, you were both skilled beyond your years. This time, though, you did not stick around for post-fight pleasantries and small talk. You gave him one last look as you both caught your breaths once again, your mind made up. You turned on your heels, your boots crunching the dirt beneath your feet and you started walking. You weren't really sure where you were going, but as long as it was in the opposite direction as him, you would be fine.

He wasn't stupid, of course he took notice. But, he knew you. Sometimes, you wondered if he knew you better than you knew yourself. That said, he knew that if he were to run after you, it wouldn't end well for either of you. You could be reckless, just in different ways than he was. Ways that mattered. So he let you go. Just as you did him, he let you walk away, your figure getting smaller and blurrier before you disappeared entirely. Maybe, one day, he would see you again.

"Care for you? I always will." He whispered to no one in particular. That was enough for him.

[justforclowns]

Cost of Recompense

Price of Forgiveness (The clown epic by @birchbow ) Ageswap Au.

~4,350 words.

Warnings: clowns, light knife play, mentions of torture, overall kinda horny and self hatey vibes.

This and all following chapters will be posted on Ao3 in time but I am on a waiting list and very impatient. Woe, clowns be upon ye.

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

"Relax, little brother." He coos at you gentle.

Relax. Motherfucking relax, he says. 

Your name is Kurloz Makara and how are you supposed to relax with your lordship laid bare beneath you?  

He isn't fully bare. He has just shed the dark shall he usually wears amongst the faithful and removed the tight purple shirt beneath. You can see the dark, scar littered expanse of his chest rise and fall with his breaths. You can pick out the scars made by others and those most likely self inflicted. You linger on the damage self done. It serves as a reminder as to why you are here; in the Big Top, on the throne, straddling the king of colors lap with a short blade in hand held just above his stomach. 

You were not built correctly. Ever since you were small there has been something about hurting other trolls that got to you a little too strongly to just be a macabre interest. The way a troll in pain would writhe and how those beautiful short breaths would leave them all sharp through clenched fangs. It got to you something fierce. You learned the lesson young that you ain't right in the head. You were only a little less young when you learned to hide that fact. 

You hid it well all things considered. At 7 sweeps you made your way through conscription and onto the holy fleet no issue. Horns held high but not too high till you earned your place. And earn it you rightly fucking did. 

It wasn't easy by any means. You managed, though. Carved yourself a badass reputation and a good standing amongst the kin you do so cherish. You hold a passion for the family and a need to prove yourself unmatched by any troll you've met before. One comes close but you will not spare that heathen a single thought. 

Some said you had help. That your sign already held weight in the church which granted you special treatment. It wasn't exactly the biggest mystery that you and His High Holy Hilarity were cut from the same cloth. Put the two of you next to each other in front of someone with eyes and even they could get the idea in their head. As for the idea that he gave you any motherfucking boons, that you didn't earn, just by virtue of being built the same never had any frond to stand on as far as you were concerned. But people still thought it. 

You proved them wrong time and time again. Mission after mission and sweep after sweep you proved it was all 100% you that got you where you were today. Some of the rumor spreaders got brave with their claims and brought them right to you, displeased with your success and too stubborn to accept that they were wrong.

You got a skill in you to turn the brave away running. 

Through voodoo or club or just sharp wit you took every challenge worth taking as another chance to show you weren't fucking around. So if those that think you're riding your ancestors coattails are still out there they at least have the brains to keep their filthy mouths shut about it. 

You would never use your ancestors' status to your advantage. Even if it had nothing to do with pride you would just feel wrong using him that way. You admire him a good deal and not just because he is the head of your church. 

You admire him maybe too much. You have now, for a while. Which is why you can't fathom the situation you are currently in. 

Your eyes snap up to The Grand Highblood's face when he shifts closer to you. His hand, bigger than yours but not much colder, wraps carefully around your forearm. You are trembling. When did you start trembling? 

"Are you having second thoughts?" He asks. His voice is smooth and low, the slightest breathy hitch at the end that makes something possessive and stupid stir inside of you. Your eyes stay on his face, his pretty face, like the one you see in the mirror but aged and softer around the eyes. Kinder, the rumors say, when it gets to reprimanding kin who done what some could consider a shallow wrong. Soft fucking pusher for the family. So soft. 

You open your mouth to respond yet the words fail you. Of all times. Of all the times in your 12 sweeps of life, why now? Why? 

He is looking at you. The excitement his eyes held begins to fade to something more resigned. He smiles so sweetly at you. "I understand," he tells you, removing his hand from your arm. "Ain't no shame in backing out brother. Was a strange request to begin with. I understand if you can't get your chill on with- nngh!" He shudders as you drag the knife from his collarbone to just above the hem of his pants. "Oh fuck-"

You bite back a groan as you skillfully flip the knife in your fingers and drag it back up. You aren't pressing enough to cut him deep but you do begin to see thin purple lines appearing along his flesh. These cuts burn with the touch of air, sharp and precise, opening up just enough to let the nerve endings fire off in panic. You drove a man mad with a couple hundred of these one time. 

The muscles in his stomach flex and he shudders again. "A-aah~ ah c'mon motherfucker you can go harder than that c'mon I've seen you work." He encourages.

He has seen you work. Seen you pry answers from prisoners maws way too quickly for your liking. Much to the suspicious awe of your fellow churchmates. Your skill in inquisition got so well known that he came to see for himself one night. You didn't know he was watching when you raked deep gashes down a heretic’s arms and pinned them closed with those wicked stinging needles you've come to love. You didn't know that when you stepped out of that room and he was there, smiling and giving you praise, that he may have been feeling just as electrified as you were at the moment. 

He must have felt it. He must be feeling it if the way he lifts himself up against your blade is anything to go by. The high pitched noise in his throat you don't dare call a whine makes your insides twist and shiver. Shakes the words you've been searching for loose from your thinkpan.

 "You like this?" Your voice comes out a breathless whisper. You feel stupid for asking, he must like it if he is letting you, there's no way he would let you this close if he didn't. 

Unless that soft pusher of his is telling him you need it. Unless you slipped up somehow and he saw the aching need to cause hurt that you have inside you. Unless he is forcing himself to take it as he thinks no one else will- Unless- 

The shaky whimper that comes from him along with "Oh brother please-" snaps you from your thoughts. Back to reality you smell the slightest twinge of blood in the air. You look down and see that while you were having a miniature double damned crisis he had shifted close enough to you to have pierced himself ever so slightly with your knife. Just a few inches above the arch of his hip a pool of royal purple fills and finally drips down his side and disappears. Your throat feels too dry and your mouth too wet. 

You have drawn the blood of your holy king. You have cornered him on his throne and cut into him. He is shirtless beneath you, those kind round eyes watching you with fondness undeserved.

You don't feel the knife slip from your hand but you do feel his arm come up around your back. You do hear his soft, sing song praise at the edge of your conscious mind. 

"Good." He tells you. "You did good. We don't gotta do no more than that. Felt good brother, don't go getting harsh on yourself now. Ah shit you poor thing…" 

"Good?" you shoot back at him. Looking up to his face, bristling with the feelings this whole situation has brought up. What is this to him? Why is he doing this? He always looks at the family soft but does he let the family sit in his lap and take knife to his flesh? Does he rest his hand on their back and praise them for doing so? "I stabbed you and you tell me I did good?" 

He chuckles. "Well, yeah. Hardly call that a stab, little brother. It'll be gone in a night at worst." His hand moves along your back in a slow motion. Your claws twitch. "What'd you think of that? Tell me." 

You can't disobey him. 

"It felt like sin, but not. Felt too good to be right. I thought- I thought you were going to laugh at me." You say. His eyes widen a little and his hand gives a soft squeeze around your waist. "I thought this was some fucked up joke. Some, motherfucking- some prank or cruelty done on me to amuse you." 

"Aint nothing like that-" 

"I thought I was dreaming, for a second. It don't feel real. Having you here, having you so open to hurting. My Lord you asked me to-" the words trail off in a pathetic wheeze as they leave you again. 

He just stares at you for a bit. You know your face can be cold and unreadable like ice when you want it to be and fuck if you don't want that real hard right now. He sees through you clear as still water anyway. His hand on your back moves up to tangle into the roots of your hair, you try to resist but fail and end up pressing back against his hand. 

"I asked you to hurt me, didn't I?" He asks even though there's no need to clarify. You don't think you could forget what he said if you tried your damnedest. The way he came to you in the halls as you wandered without reason, asked you to walk with him, talked with you like normal then got real quiet. Got a favor to ask you, little one he had said. Don't have to be doing it if you find yourself unwilling but I got a curiosity in me I think you could help sate.

He took you to the Big Top and made brief yet rattling inquiry on your desire to cause pain. Rumor spreads even as you try to forget the words whispered that made every drone season harder than the last. You winced despite yourself when he simply asked You like causing pain, brother? He did not look at you with distaste. Or with plain curiosity as he claimed to hold. He was fascinated. 

Things moved fast after that. Patience was never a virtue your lordship took much pride in. After you had affirmed his claims he had gestured for you to come up to his throne. He invited you up onto said throne, into his lap, and set the knife cool against your palm. He had asked you to…

"-take the knife to me as you like, that's what I said, yeah?" Your Lord's tone is calm, even, as if he is just double checking the facts on an arbitrary mission report form. You nod at the words because that really is what he said and here you are all rattled right to the marrow at it. 

"Cool, and that's what you did. Did it real gentle like too." 

"I stabbed you-" 

"Hey, knock shit right the fuck off." He frowns at you for the first time today. Disapproving on your statement of fact. Your hands twitch and while you don't know where the knife went you still got claws and the urge to tear into him again. Make him get his understanding on good and true about what threat you pose. You would never. 

"I'm fine, little one." His hand rubs gently at the back of your skull. "Better than fine. That was… that was real motherfucking sweet what you did for me." 

For him. He asked, you delivered. He commanded, you obeyed. You did good.

Your face must do something ugly with how his hand briefly stills. The fins on his ears twitch as he looks you over. You're ready for the disgust to settle into his features but it never comes. 

His mouth opens a second just to close the next, tongue flicking over his lips as if he was nervous. You almost laugh. Nervous, The Grand Highblood? Impossible. 

He breathes in slow, you catch the movement of his chest with your peripherals. Messiahs you want to sink your teeth in and taste him. What he says next is like a slap in the face. "Did you like it..? Would you want to do it again?" 

You look at him, really look at him. Surely there would be something, anything, letting you know this was all in jest. You hate to think so low on your Lord's humor but if this ain't some bad joke you don't know how you'll deal. 

You find nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Round and dark and royal as they come while still walking on land. Maybe a little hope but you quickly disregard it as your own. 

"I…" the sound cracks out of your throat. He grants you time to get your shit together. Moves his hand from your head down to your back, heavy but gentle. You shiver at the feeling. The sheer size of him and everything else about him.

It wouldn't be wrong to say you thought he was fine as fuck. Everybody with a working set of ganderbulbs must. Tower of lean muscle that he is, got legs for nights that had you near running to keep up with him in the halls during your first few perigees on ship. You're only a little ashamed at the fact you snuck glances whenever that dark shall left his shoulders. 

You imagine what you may feel getting to cut such a pretty motherfucker again some night. Then imagine if that pretty motherfucker was your king. Getting to hear him say 'brother please' again in that whispy way. Wondering what sounds he would make if you pressed harder, how much he could take if a stab in the hip would heal in a night. 

It all makes your bulge do something down right shameful with how it twists and tries to slip out. Your legs attempt to close and are stopped both in part by you realizing how obvious that would make your predicament and by the body you're still straddling.

You glance down, glaring slightly at the obstacle between your knees, only to be met with the still bare lower abdomen of your Lord. You look back up, not too quickly, and look at his face instead. He is watching you, lips slightly parted and eyes curious again. 

"I… that sounds… are you fucking with me?" 

He seems a little taken aback by your words and you fear you fucked up before he starts to laugh. You let out a little wheeze of a chuckle as well, compelled by whatever joy he has found in this scenario. He smiles at you, clear and bright. 

It takes on a sly edge as he says "Shit, if you're offering. I ain't gonna take what you don't wanna give, little one. Fuck. Fucking does sound good though. Especially when you got those miraculous hurting hands." His eyes drop down to where your hands rest against your thighs. If you were a fool you'd say he looks enticed. 

You feel your face heat up under your paint. A cocktail of emotions are swirling around in your head. Arousal, shame, confusion, to name a few. 

You take a sharp breath- watch his hands twitch- and exhale it slowly. "My Lord, I- … A brother could get a real twisted idea of what all you're asking of him. Give me the grace of speaking plainly on it. If you please.” You say, keeping your voice even, not even letting a hint of begging come through. 

The Grand Highblood sighs softly at that. He shifts underneath you, sitting up straighter. You go to move but his hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping it in place. Fuck but he's real big- and he let you get a knife in him what a day- 

"Grace you ask for is grace I will give, little one." He looks at you, a little more serious. More familiar too how you see him on the night to night. He spares a glance over your being before he continues. “I want you to hurt me. Only in ways that you want. If how you want it is to just swing around every other scattering of nights when you get the itch I'll gladly take it.” 

-Before you can even start to reel at the idea of being your Lord's torture booty call he continues-

“If you want something more steady, like the beating of a pusher, fit with all its running blood and fluttery fits, then that I can also happily do.” He tells you, looking at you fond again. Not seeing through you straight out the back but like he can see inside you. He doesn't look disgusted by what he thinks he's finding. 

You blink at him. Your mouth is an unreadable line because you will it so. He blinks back at you like a delayed mirror. You think you gather what he is saying but it's so outlandish and wild you cannot ignore the doubt it stirs in you.

“Plainly, My Lord.” You remind him brazenly. 

He laughs his soft sing song laugh at you before saying “Wanna be matesprites?”

You die. You think. That's the only explanation for the rush of everything that fills you up and threatens to blind you over three simple Alternian words. Or you're already dead and this is some hall of illusions you must endure as punishment for your transgressions. 

When you come back to yourself he's looking at you softly, with slight concern, the same look he had when he told you it was okay to back out.

Before he can tell you the same again you manage to say “Yes.” without a waiver to your voice. “If it pleases you.” You add, because you’ve been more mannerless tonight than is truly smart. 

He smiles, but it's quirked at one end, following the tilt of his head. “Would please me just fine. Would it please you though, little brother? Talk plainly at me.” He chuckles, tossing your request back at you like it's all a hate-friendly game. 

“Abso-motherfucking-lutely it would, My Lord.” You say in a near whisper, watching his face. The more genuine turn of his smile and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes show he is well and truly pleased with you. 

“Bitchtits,” He says, and wraps the other of his long arms around you to pull you up against him. You manage not to make any embarrassing sounds of delight or startlement but it does take you a shameful few seconds to realize that he is hugging you. That's it, just a hug, a simple act of affection you've seen even hate-friends give to each other on the off nights. You return it half a moment too late but you do return it. 

He's broader than you by virtue of being your own body type scaled up several notches. Being pressed flat to the expanse of his chest lets you almost feel the beat of his pusher. You can smell so much of him, his hair, his skin, the faint lingering of his blood and you certainly smell how it took him to have you put knife to his flesh. Maybe there is a rumbling sound he is making that is too low for you to hear yet, or maybe there isn't.

It's nice. It tells you what you're too stupid to realize with just your eyes. He is alive and he is happy. You squeeze him slightly and he returns the favor. Delayed mirror. 

You're taking a risk, both of you. Him so high and important and you so closed in and quiet. To let another in could spell disaster. Specifically each other. You could be planning to take his place for all he knows. He could rule you unfunny and excommunicate you. 

When you pull back, maybe hoping to voice some of these concerns, he just smiles at you. His eyes are lazy and fond, his breathing is going steady again as he comes down from the excitement of the morning. You can't bring yourself to ruin this moment for him, so you take heed of one of the first lessons all laughsassins must learn: keep your motherfucking mouth shut, motherfucker. 

He keeps smiling even as you both get your shit together, settling down after the impromptu knife play and quadrant dealings. He finally lets you off the throne. You get your feet under you and feel less dizzy than you probably should. A quick mental check tells you that you did not die, your body is fine, and nothing is missing. With that out of the way, you spare a glance over to The Grand Highblood. 

He rises as well, towering over you once again. He quickly finds the knife and literally tosses it back into his sylladex; the blade flying over his shoulder and into the flashing colors before both promptly disappear. Fuck but his modus really is wild to see up close and he's so cool for knowing how to just go with it. Another way he's blessed you imagine. 

You get to see it flash again and barely make out the various things that come out get quickly tossed back in get flung out get juggled till he finds what he wants and it all goes away. All in a matter of seconds. The Grand Highblood stands there with a new shirt in his hand like it ain’t no thing. He catches you looking and looks all the more pleased for it. 

He re-dresses and you're mad about it. Which is wrigglerish and stupid, you remind yourself. You can't rightly ask he stay half naked for you. At least not yet. 

If he means this all to be for true maybe one night you will have the right to ask he stay naked. Fully naked. Just to let you look at him in all his hurting glory. Regal and holy and yours and fuck your bulge is in a Messiahs damned knot and your head ain't much better. 

“Off to ‘coon now, brother.” You hear him say. You only blink at him but he still finds the question in it quick enough. “Was late already when I pulled you out the halls, even later now. Both of us got shit to do come moonrise. Don’t we, little one?” He tilts his head at you, leading your thoughts with the question till you find the answer buried in the back of your pan. 

You do have shit to do. You were asked, at some time that is eluding your memory, to assist one of the laughsassination feeders with a ship wide lesson. Did she ask you herself? Given you can’t fully recall the interaction you would say she did. You can’t miss that.

You don’t curse or even sigh. You just lower your shoulders a bit in defeat. He chuckles all the same. You manage to give him a small smile that he returns to you bigger and brighter. 

“Suppose we do. Thank you for your time, My Lord.” You say, all formal. It gets a small snicker out of him and you feel like you’ve won something. 

He leads you to the giant double doors of the Big Top and wishes you luck on all your endeavours of the coming night. Before the doors open he bends down to press a quick kiss to your lips. It lingers only enough for you to return it and then a single beat longer. After that he pulls back and he is once again so much taller and older than you and you have to leave. You make sure to give at least a slight bow of respect before walking out into the halls. 

It is a walk, not a run, even as you get further from the throne room. Your strides are steady and quiet. For all the few passerbys know you were simply taking a stroll to clear your head in the late hours. Your mind is clear, actually. For a few seconds. 

With his sweet smiling face gone and only your lingering shame as company your thoughts get real nasty real quick. 

What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? 

Did you really just do all that? Did he let you- ask you, you remind yourself- to do all that? Are you two something now? Something more than leader and follower? Perish the thought. Burn it. Destroy it. Leave nothing but ashes in place of a stupid wriggler’s dream. 

You hurt him and it was wonderful. You walk. You want to do it again. You walk. He wants you to do it again. 

You walk and walk and walk all the way back to your room and manage to get inside with no one knowing anything except you. No one knows what you’ve done except you. What horrible things you’ve done and will do again. Awful awful beautiful things. 

You are going to pay for this. You just don’t know how yet.

[flurry-of-beaus-pop-pop]

Agatha, that boy is not yours ~~~~~~

They are totally going to use Billy to draw out the conflict between Agatha, who will want to save Billy to redeem herself for not being able to save Nicholas, and Rio, who is once again going to be asked to take someone away from Agatha that she has grown to love, simply because it's her job.

The twist though, in my opinion, is that it's not going to happen like it did before, that Agatha will succeed in saving Billy, while simultaneously accepting the death of Nicholas and forgiving Rio for her role, and that's going to be what gives her all her powers back, what allows her to finish the Witches Road.

I also still think that this may be Rio's trial because the trials are making each witch face what they fear most, and while it doesn't seem like Rio fears much, I do genuinely think having to take Nicholas from Agatha haunts her, and that the idea of having to do it again is terrifying for her.

I'm not 100% sure how it is going to play out - whether something happens to Billy while on the road and Rio is there or if Rio is needing to take Billy because he technically cheated death, but I am pretty confident this is the conflict we're going to see.

What do y'all think? Hit up those comments and tell me your thoughts!

[darkfictionjude]

It's been forever since I've been in your inbox.

I, the reader, 100% love and support Nia trying to protect herself from the perceived threat that is/was crowny. Just like crowny is allowed to be as accepting or bitter over the (perceived) abandonment.

My crowny, though, is bitter over it and basically following Nia's behavior. Tit for tat treatment, basically. "You ignored me, so I'll ignore you. I'll be civil because, unlike common misconception, I am not some feral animal"

- many asks nonnie

And that is extremely valid! Like I’ve said, it’s more than ok and understandable to be angry about the abandonment because it left Crowny with no one but Sally who was far away

confession: I do like the drama that comes from crownies who fight with Nia while still wanting to be their friend or at least be acknowledged cause it’s so funnnnn my favorite fight scenes and it really shows me why those two were friends in the past

[1000sunnygo]

The Three Captain's Interview (2021) Part 2: Mayumi Tanaka as Luffy & Namikawa Daisuke as Kidd - Translated

The ask I received got deleted, I'm sorry! 😩

I've decided not to half-ass it, here's the remaining part of the interview with Namikawa san and Mayumi san's answers.

👒 : Tanaka Mayumi (Luffy)

🌷 : Namikawa Daisuke (Captain Kidd)

+ Kamiya Hiroshi as Law (already translated, check here)

-

Q. How did you feel when you got the role?

👒: I was mostly indifferent, as the work (the manga) itself was unknown to me back then. In retrospect, I think it was for the best. I mean, if you know it's a deeply beloved work, you'd feel greedy, won't you? That's why I passed the audition without feeling nervous. Looking back now, maybe it matched Luffy's freedom.

🌷: I remember vividly. Among the eleven rookies with more than 100 million bounty, Kidd's was the highest. I had a clear image of the voice that would express Kidd's powerful appearance, but I couldn't imagine myself playing the role of Kidd. So, I didn't know how to do the voice. I kept thinking about it while recording. I still have a hard time doing Kidd's voice, but it was even harder back then than it is now.

-

Q. Did you have any specific thoughts or feelings while playing in One Piece?

👒: In One Piece, there is the unshakable pillar called 'Eiichiro Oda' , but it's not enough to rely on him. I want people to think, "Wow, One Piece really is amazing" when - including myself, all the individual creators' imagination, music, scenarios, and everything else come together! We'd like to continue to create moments in anime that surpass the original manga.

🌷: Many One piece fans would say it's "fire" when expressing their opinions. Thinking about what makes them feel fired up, I can clearly see it in the scripts. The lines of a good scene are spread over several cuts. I feel that the timing; or rather, the process of speech delivery is given a high importance. So, in pursuit of an impact on the audience, when the scripts says "haah?" I myself try to stretch it with "HA~aah??" - to make everyone feel even more fired up.

[T/N: The Japanese word used was "hot", while "fire" expresses a different type of feeling, I think it works as a closer substitute.]

-

Q. Impression of the character you're currently playing?

👒: Someone who accepts his weakness, says "I can't" when he can't do something and then relies on his friends, and never wavers from the freedom of doing so.

🌷: He's surprisingly kind and considerate of his crew mates. He'd often be like "Let's go!" and pull in some of them, but that's not because he's afraid. I interpret it as saying, "I'll protect y'all no matter what, so let's enjoy the thrill of going ahead together!"

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Q. Thoughts on Mayumi Tanaka's Luffy?

🌷: Unwavering...isn't he? The story moves on, but the same old Luffy is always there. Regardless of the state you're in while watching anime, you can always relax and enjoy One piece. I think this is where Mayumi san's Luffy comes off as an undisputed champion. It's quite difficult to keep things the same for decades, so I have deep respect for it.

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Q. Thoughts on Daisuke Namikawa's Kidd and Hiroshi Kamiya's Law?

👒: Some voice actors separate their personal lives from work, but those two are as transparent as I am! It doesn't have to do with their roles, but that makes it comfortable to work with them, so I enjoy it a lot.

🌷: Law looks cool, but he has his passionate sides; he has the calm aura, but he also becomes emotional. You need to incorporate a variety of elements to express those subtle ups and down in a Law-like manner, so I think it's an incredibly difficult role. That's why I think Kamiya kun puts a lot of thoughts and efforts in his performance.

That said, I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy regarding their rankings in the worldwide popularity poll (laughs). Law was in top 5, and Kid was 23rd. Even though they don't have the same screentime frequency, they were introduced at the same time, but the difference was so big... Like, I understand Law's charm, but it was frustrating!

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Q. Do you think it's possible to win against Kaidou?

👒: Of course, it's possible. But the absolute winner has to be Tesshô Genda (Kaido's voice actor). I don't think I can compete with that deep voice.. Well, I'll win though (laughs)

🌷: I want to believe that Kidd wouldn't lose his heart over his defeats. He doesn't intend to be beaten by anyone.

(T/N: Fun fact, Mayumi Tanaka doesn't read the manga. She only learns the manga's events when she reads her script. Sanji's actor Hiroaki Hirata does the same, and he admitted that he doesn't know much of the parts of story where sanji is absent.)