#I recognize a few of these that you like to use :3c

[lorelune]

some quarry

|| mydeimos x reader || E/18+ || dark content || yan mydei & self destructive reader || wc: 12.5k || ao3 ||

You are very familiar with dancing and its many forms. It's unfortunate that Mydei has taken note of your fondness for flames and their consequences.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: helloooo!! this fic is a trade with beloved oz (@owlespresso)!! they asked for yan mydei and dears i delivered. mydeimos is a character i find narratively so fascinating and i hope that was injected at least a lil into this fic :3c thank you to mao (@yinyuedijun) for beta reading this piece as well!!! getting a second set of eyes on mydei and his character in this form was so vital truly

please mind the tags on this one!! this fic does include explicit noncon/dubcon near its end. in additional, yandere themes like stalking and mydei being QUITE overprotective. read if you'd like, don't if it's not your cup of tea!! that being said, enjoy! 🩷

CWs: dark content, yandere mydei, gender neutral reader with afab anatomy, noncon/dubcon, stalking, protective mydei that goes too far, self destructive reader, avoidant reader, almost bath sex, a single non-verbal threat of ankle breaking, fingering, piv sex (pronebone), reader is a dancer, a few references to phainon/mydeimos, author-brewed kremnoan lore

It is difficult to dance with flame when daylight lays eternal, endlessly. It’s hardly as fun, as enthralling and mystifying, to dance with light while it's so light. 

The tradition of bibasis was created long before you were born, back when the Titans were sane and Castrum Kremnos had yet to fall to Strife driven mad. There used to be a dark sky then— night— where the scholars of the Grove say that balls of light, hearths hung in the heavens, dotted the sky, weaving fate.

You like to imagine what the Era Chrysea could have been like. What it would have been like to live forever and dance with your flames under a starry night sky. It feels romantic and nostalgic despite you never having experienced it before. Perhaps it’s a collective memory, etched into the soul in a way that the Grove has yet to understand. You know you’re not the only one who yearns for bygone days that you didn’t live. 

You, thankfully, have enough of your wits about you to recognize that the only way is forward. There is no night sky for you to perform your bibasis. Only dark enclaves, carved in the stone cliffs below Okhema. They are no Castrum Kremnos, it’s a relatively polar living situation, but you have found you don’t mind it all that much.

Especially since you can dance your bibasis as your ancestor’s intended— as a shining light in the deep dark.

The cave is nearly perfect circle cut deep into the rock face. Along the sides of it, a Kremnoan crowd jeers. You can hear how impatient they are, hungry for a show and the camaraderie that will follow. The room is pitch black, the torches haven’t been extinguished, so you can slip into the center of the room unnoticed. 

With a spark of flint, the bracelets around your wrists and ankles ignite. 

The flames throw light across the room, casting shadows over the faces of your audience as you walk a wide, sweeping circle over the space. The aulos sound, trilling as your dance truly begins.

You know the steps by heart.

It’s as easy as breathing. You kick off the ground, jump, and kick your leg as far back as they’ll allow. The licking flames around your ankle streak through the dark, and a chorus of cheers follows. Your arms crest above your head, lowering down as you fall from your leap. You follow inertia. Falling low, throwing your legs out, and dragging the licking flame slowly over the ground.

The heat of the flame doesn’t burn you yet. 

It only hastens you.

...

You dance like this until it hurts to breathe. Until your muscles ache and the flame threatens to brand you with its mark. It eats through the wound, slow-burning cloth enough that you feel it singeing hairs on your arms and legs. 

It’s not until the end of the dance that you notice the crown prince idling near one of the crudely arched entryways.

Your breath catches when you notice him. You nearly stumble and fall on your ass, which would be very embarrassing considering you do this dance once a week and haven’t had any notable stumbles since the Kremnoans’ earliest days in Okhema. Most of your missteps simply get integrated into your routine, your leaps and low lunges. Losing your track record of improvisation and finesse over the crown prince would be understandable, but a blunder nonetheless. 

You can’t help yourself; you spin on the tips of your toes over the crown prince. He’s easy to spot. Even among your people, he towers over them. His shoulders are broad, his chest ample. The shadow he strikes is mouthwatering.

You’re brazen in the way you stride up to him, a flourish in your steps. There are a few cheers from the drunkest members of your audience. Mydei looks unaffected, despite the way you stalk him like a large, predatory cat. You do see his gaze flick up and down your body. It’s brief, a hardly there glance. It would be easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. 

You’re a bit hurt he doesn’t ogle you or at least look at you a bit longer. 

Half the fun of these things is twirling around the desire of your onlookers. Being ogled by near-strangers is another part of the dance you’ve become so familiar with. You would figure that Mydei, despite his title, would show a wisp of want at the very least. The crown prince is a man— he can’t be immune to your curves, steps, and dress. He comes to your dances often enough to actually indicate that he wants to be here.

But he never shows desire, really. No matter your provocations, no matter the way that you curve your spine and leap, streaking with flame, Mydei stays stone-faced. 

It’s your own personal game to attempt to get some reaction from him. It’s too entertaining.

You sidle up to him, wearing a sly smile. His shoulders square. In time with the aulos, you spin closer, bracing on one foot, pivoting with a sweeping gesture. The flame licks your skin; your dance is almost over. 

Your back presses to Mydei’s front.

He’s hotter than the flames on your extremities. He’s a furnace, a forge, smelting something far more dangerous than a sword or spear. 

You tilt your head back, speaking with a curling tone and cat-like smile. “Crown prince.”

It’s a whorish greeting, but isn’t it meant to be? You hear him huff out a breath, you can’t tell if he sounds annoyed or amused. You don’t stay close enough or long enough to find out.

Rather, you push off Mydei, an immovable wall of muscle really, and leap back into the center of the room. In a swift motion, you undo the barely-there knots of the fabric on your wrists and ankles. It’s practiced, you’ve practiced this part, because it really would look clumsy if you did it wrong. 

They’re all dropped into a smoldering heap in the fire basin in the middle of the room. From your waist, you swipe a small bottle tied there. You take it in one go, the burn of harsh liquor coating your mouth like its own layer of flame. 

In a single motion, you spit into the fire pit.

A high plume of flame follows, lighting the residuals of your garb and the logs and kindling you laid out long before your dance. 

As the flame explodes and you raise your hands above your head, the crowd roars. 

And your crown prince remains silent.

...

After you dance, the Kremnoans of Okhema do one of two things. Party or bathe.

Today, you’ve chosen to party. Mainly because Mydeimos hasn’t ditched the gathering as he usually does. Which affords you the perfect opportunity to bother him.

It helps that you immediately have a few goblets of wine.

You’re handed one almost immediately as the torches are lit after your dance. It’s thrust into your palm with a slap on your mostly bare back from one of the spirited, older women who always attend your dances. Your biggest supporters, really. 

The alcohol helps chase off some of your self-consciousness too.

What you wear during your dances is... revealing. Worse than revealing, it's really nothing at all. Your chest is partially bound in silks. The skirt tied around your waist billows where it falls over your upper thighs. The little shorts you wear underneath would be entirely indecent if you wore them alone.

(You suppose that even these garments, despite how scantily clad they make you feel, are somewhat generous covers, given that when the bibasis was performed on Castrum Kremnos, the dancer would be essentially naked.)

(And Okhemans are far too prudish for such dress despite their love of public bathing.)

You down the rest of your goblet, wiping over your lips with the back of your hand. A pleasant buzz settles in your blood and behind your eyes, it makes staring down Mydei all too easy.

Some of your aforementioned aunties are crowding him, talking his ear off, it looks like. His arms are crossed over his chest, which is really doing some insane things for his tits, and despite the fact that the aunties are definitely in their cups and talking relative nonsense, the crown prince listens diligently.

He’s a good man. It’s too bad that you enjoy messing with him so intensely. 

As you approach, you half-bow, spreading an arm out wide as you. “Crown prince. How rare of you to linger like this.”

The aunties giggle at your dramatics. Mydei looks unamused. Not blank-faced, not angry, but a third thing you can’t identify well in your state. Perhaps disapproving— that seems right. This feeling of his is entirely directed at you; the aunties have been spared from his ire.

More for you.

“He’s been waiting for you,” one of the aunties slurs. “‘Says he’s worried. Aren’t you lucky?”

“Cora—!” Another of them admonishes, slapping the other woman’s shoulder. “Don’t interfere!”

You smile at Mydei, burgeoning with an otherworldly amount of mischief. 

“Waiting for me? I’m honored. Are you looking to share a drink? I’m sure I can find something—”

“I don’t drink.”

“Ah, yes. Your delicate sensibilities—how could I forget? Pomegranate juice, then?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Suit yourself.” 

One of the aunties, Cora, hands you a half-full goblet, and you take a heavy gulp. It’s honey wine, rich on your palate and sticky in your throat. She takes it back from you, scuttling off with the rest of her group. They’re giggling like school girls as they do. You lick your teeth, sucking off the last sweet wine. “What did you need from me, Mydeimos?”

He stares at you with a scoff. His arms are still crossed, but it doesn’t seem like he wants them to remain that way. The crown prince isn’t the type to be tongue-tied, so you find it curious that he seems to be. You tilt your head and invade his space. Your palm falls over his chest, the thump of his heart like a drumbeat. 

“Don’t—”

“Loosen up, my dear prince.” You gesture around you. “It’s a party. Even if you won’t imbibe with the rest of us, enjoy the festivities.”

“I have better things to do.”

“And yet, you’re here, waiting for me, apparently. And you still haven’t told me why, either.”

“Let us speak elsewhere.”

“Oh, something needs to be said in private? How brazen.”

“That’s not—”

“I don’t think of you as particularly prudish— why not just say it here? I’m sure you can keep your voice down.”

You tilt on the balls of your feet, leaning your weight into him. He bears it without flinching. When you sway, blood too slick and lush to not to. Mydei steadies you with a hand on your waist. His hold there is far too gentle. You could call it tender, though you’d blame such a description on the wine roiling in your veins.

You grin up at him, smitten. His face is flushed, red painted onto his cheeks, melding into his handsome features, both high and low. The staining flush fades into his hair and melds with the firelight. 

“You’re drunk,” Mydei says. It’s simply a fact.

You hum and nod. “I would certainly hope so, by this point in the night.”

“I had hoped you’d be sober enough to be able to take this seriously for at least a moment, but I thought too highly of you, it seems.”

That makes something odd and painful twist in your chest. Mydei looks at you like you disappoint him— all the time. Not as though you’re a nuisance, but that you’re more trouble than you’re worth. It’s a look you’re used to, but the expression rarely matches his words. He’s terribly polite with his own people, and you are one of those, and so he is polite with you, even if his face looks like he’d rather be scolding you.

As he is now.

You push off of him with a scoff.

“Fuck off,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Find me in the morning. Perhaps I’ll be ‘serious’ enough for you then.”

He says your name as you spin around, ready to scamper off into the throng and forget that Mydeimos has a unique dislike for you. 

He snatches your wrist— actually the middle of your forearm. You flinch with the contact, spinning without thinking, kicking into his stomach as a reflex. It’s a messy move, one born of muscle memory rather than technique. The liquor in you makes the motion sloppy.

Mydei catches you, holding you up with a wide hand under the back of your knee. Your breath catches.

“You burned yourself,” he says.

His gaze flits from your wrist, burnt— scalded. He’s being dramatic— to you, all disapproving again.

“I’ll find a healer later.” You attempt to break from his grip, but he holds you there. 

His gaze is lit with fire of his own, lightning that cracks the sky and shatters the land. It pierces you, running through you. It’s immediately sobering.

There’s far more than disapproval in it.

You jerk, stumble, and fall on your ass. Your head— spins— fucking ow— and you accept someone’s hand— not Mydei’s— and rise on shaking legs. You feel like a fawn, cloven-hooved and clumsy as you walk backwards away from him. The mouth-drying wine won’t be enough to make you forget about— this. 

He calls your name once more, but you’re already fleeing the scene.

...

You avoid Mydeimos the next morning. And after that too. You avoid him at all times, actually, with an expressed amount of effort that is legitimately difficult to keep up with. 

It’s for the best— you tell yourself this often as you avoid his most frequented locations. You dodge the Chrysos Heirs when you see them out and about, worried Mydei will pop up just as easily as they seem to. The Kremnoans tend to prefer the hot baths, your crown prince is no exception, and despite your own partial nature to the steaming, almost bubbling baths, you don’t go near them. Instead, you resign your daily soaks to the more populous open bath and deal with its just-above-tepid temperature. 

The aunties notice. The uncles, too. You’re a notable figure in the Kremnoan population— the dancer who flirts with flames and dares to show the world. 

The type of dance you do is a dying art.

It’s why Mydei took note of you, you think. Your performances are spectacles. They have been ever since you were skilled enough to twirl on your own and not be afraid of the flame licks. These days, you spend your days teaching the young Kremnoans who want to learn. Or practicing yourself while the little ones watch. It’s less of a performance then and more of a demonstration. 

Your… selfish interest in Mydei started when he began to show up at these informal lessons. You like to think that this is mainly because you were holding them at one of the training arenas that he frequently sparred with that snowy-haired Chrysos Heir at. He made a habit of watching you spin in the daylight— not with your usual fire, just the yellow-white glow of Kephele’s Burden. It’s only you and your steps, the taps of your bare feet on stone before you throw yourself in the air. 

You really enjoyed his attention back then.

Because— you respect Mydeimos. How could you not? You’re not dumb, and even if you don’t keep up with all the political intricacies of the relations between Okhema and the displaced Kremnoans, you know Mydei is willing to do just about anything for the comfort and safety of his people. That includes you and your unseemly vulgarity and provocations. 

You know that just beyond your range of conscious awareness, Mydei is protecting your dying dance. 

As much as you respect him, you must torment him. A little. Because he is so damn stoic and impenetrable. He revels, yes, he’s battle-forged, revelry is vital, but there’s a part of him that holds back from the other side of the coin of carnality. There is violence and pleasure. You tempt him with the latter.

It’s really... really easy to. He’s built like a fucking brick-laid wall. He always uses scented oils after bathing. Seeing him after a hot bath is fucking lethal. Slick with oil, smelling of herbs, spice, and his own unique musk even after luxuriating in Okhema’s best baths. God forbid you stare at him and the gleam of his tattoos; you’ll be done for. He takes good care of his hair too. One of the aunties helps him trim it every few weeks; her wife rebraids it whenever she sees him out and about.

Mydei is also very... cute. You’d never say this outloud as some of the traditionalists around you would probably consider it treasonous. But thinking that the crown prince is cute is not a thought crime, and you can’t silence the little, cooing feeling you get around him sometimes. 

Despite who he could be, Mydei remains so kind-hearted. One might not see it if they weren’t looking for it. But you do. The way he entertains the children of your people so easily. He will weave them explosive tales of battle and valor. He ‘spars’ with them too— which is really just him letting the kids beat him up until he throws them off him (lightly) with a battle cry, meant only for play and not bloodshed. He lets the Kremnoan grannies tease him and pinch his cheeks when he thinks no one is looking. 

And he looks at you with pride.

Maybe— your desire is simply to please him more. And your cultivated sex appeal is an avenue to that. And it’s just... flirting. That’s all it’s meant to be! Your purpose when dancing is to be enticing and prideful; it’s what you embody. You don’t find it to be too out of bounds to impress yourself on Mydei for a bit of playful flirting.

It had been playful, anyway. 

...

You’re hiding in a private bath, late in the evening. Scrutinizing the burn scars on your wrists, slick with rivulets of water, dripping lazily back into the steaming pool below.

You burn yourself all the time— at the very least scald. You don’t understand why Mydei made such... a fuss about it. About you. It irks you. 

This isn’t how you’re supposed to play together, Nikador slain.

Mydei— he fucked up the rhythm. You’re supposed to antagonize him, and he’s supposed to take it like a good, stoic crown prince despite your behavior probably annoying him a great deal. You’re supposed to not care, dance into the crowd, and make ‘fuck me stupid’ eyes at him, and neither of you are supposed to do anything about it. You don’t fucking want to do anything about it.

Mydei has apparently decided that he’s done playing, you think.

A bathhouse worker announces herself before ducking inside of your room. She carries a goblet and a plate of cut fruits. Blush fans out over her rounded cheeks. 

“U-Um,” she stutters, sandals slapping the wet tile of the floor. “Mydeimos requested these be sent to you. And that he’ll be waiting outside the bath to speak to you. He said it’s urgent.”

You grimace and roll your skull. The back of your head bumps the tile behind you, not hard enough to ache, but hard enough to thump. 

“Please tell him to leave me be,” you sigh. “And you can take the fruit.”

“I— Um.” This poor girl. You rise from the bath, the light, thin cotton of your bathing dress clings to the curves and edges of your body. Stretching, you paw at your nearby waist bag. You have a handful of balance coins you can give her for the inevitable trouble you’re causing her. 

You extend your arm as far as it will go, and your bag is still a little too far out of reach. The bath is simply too luxurious to get out of fully at this moment, and you huff before throwing one leg up and over the side of the tub.

You arch your back, stretching low, and just barely snatch the leather belt of your bag. 

And, fates aligned, Mydei enters the room. His presence emanates over the steam-filled. Your poor bath attendant looks like she could pass out. And clearly— clearly— Mydei was not expecting to see you tummy-down, ass-up, arched on the bath tiles while nearly naked. 

He flushes crimson, matching the reddest parts of his hair. You don’t fare much better— your cheeks heat, and you immediately slip back into the water.

“Mydeimos—” You sound shaken; you are. “How brazen. I’d kindly ask you to leave.”

He— stutters, already shuffling back. “I— will be waiting outside. Have the decency to speak to me yourself.”

You snap back at him, “And you have the decency to respect my modesty.”

Mydeimos stares at you. His pupils slitted. They cut into you like a blade. It makes you feel too exposed.

Your modesty has never mattered to you before this moment. He knows this. So do you.

He turns, leaving you with the click of metal boots on tile. “Find me later then.”

You won’t be, actually. You’re going to be avoiding him twice as hard because clearly he wants something from you and you have zero intention of giving it to him. Even knowing what exactly he wants, actually.

The poor attendant looks like she has forgotten how to breathe. You crawl back to your bag and hand her a lump of coins with an apologetic look on your face. You imagine it’s quite pathetic. You must be quite pathetic. Turning down the crown prince, slick and indecent in your thin robes, and heavily tipping an attendant to both apologize and encourage her to stay quiet.

She seems to get the idea and scampers off, leaving you alone with the tray of juicy, ripe fruit and a goblet of what is undoubtedly pomegranate juice to taunt you. 

...

Mydei is at your dance that same evening.

You see him before the torches are snuffed. He sees you too, you think, but you force yourself to ignore him in favor of your performance.

It only half works.

The cloth around your wrists is bound such that the outer layers burn slowly and an inner layer is soaked with a viscous, fire-retardant liquid. It keeps you mostly... mostly unburnt. In the old days, in Castrum Kremnos, dancers like yourself wore the extremity burns that came with your art with pride. They were indicative of prowess. You’ve found that Okhema is less accepting and prideful when you walk around the streets with fresh wounds. So, you’ve become very diligent in wrapping your wrists and ankles to prevent actual, lasting injuries. A few flame bites don’t scare you.

However, this evening, you’re unnerved by Mydei’s unwanted presence. His gaze feels like a brand, hot iron tucked into gemstone embers, a silent threat that you’ll be burned by something other than your own controlled fire. 

Frustratingly, you know that if you asked him to leave, he would. He’d probably just be waiting around a corner for the remainder of the night, ready to stalk you down like a big cat.

Mydeimos remains, and you attempt to dance as usual. But the whistling of the aulos and the drumbeats feel a little wrong, and you’re embarrassingly off-beat. You stumble more than once but disguise the blunders with a well-timed lunge or leap. The fourth-ish time you misstep, you turn on your heel wrong, and pain shoots up from your foot to your leg. It hurts badly enough that you snap your jaw shut, teeth clattering against each other. Your leg gives out, and your knee crashes into the stone floor.

The most sober of the crowd seem to still— this isn’t part of your usual routine. You rise and try to make it seem natural, but your next step— fucking hurts— and you crash to the ground. The wrapped cloth around your limbs begins to slip off, you fully put your hand onto the burning strip of fabric that has been shed with your stumbling.

“Fuck—” You curse under your breath and flinch away from it. 

You don’t even realize Mydei is there until there are large, hot hands under your arms, hauling you back and away. You— fuck him— fight against him, elbow and kick at him, but he is the indomitable crown prince, and he is not moved by what are essentially the swats of an angry kitten (you are the angry kitten).

With a dizzying amount of dexterity, especially given the low lowlight, he tugs the remaining flame-ridden cloth from you. He snuffs it just as easily. It all happens so quickly that you can’t protest properly, can’t curse him out either. The torches are relit just as Mydeimos stands, dragging you up with him, still hoisting you under the arms like you’re nothing more than a doll. Or corpse.

“This performance is over.” His words won’t be questioned even as you begin to snarl at him under your breath. “Take part in your regular merriment all you wish.”

‘Regular merriment’ is the two barrels of wine that have already been popped open and dipped into. 

The crowd still manages to cheer (traitors, all of them), the aulos and drums resume, and despite your protest, Mydeimos drags you from your stage, your theater, and you have a sinking feeling that your one-sided game has come to an end.

...

It becomes immediately clear that you cannot run from Mydei now. He has corralled you, cornered you so efficiently. Your egress has been smashed, no alcohol to blame or drunkards to weave your way into. 

You cannot hide from him as he drags you away.

Well— not drag. Carries. Over his shoulder, specifically.

You protest— because how could you not? All of your kicking and snarling doesn’t do anything more than get Mydeimos to throw you over your shoulder like you’re nothing more than a sack of grain that he’s helping a passerby move from one place to another. Except you’re not a sack of grain, you're a vaguely tipsy dancer who would much rather be enjoying the afterparty.

Mydeimos only sets you down once you’ve sufficiently punched his spine and lower back. It doesn’t affect him, and he carries you all the way to the hot bath without issue.

He sets you down on one of the massage tables; he treats you more gently than a sack of grain then. His touch isn't unkind and he makes sure you settle, unwobbling, on your backside, legs dangling off the edge of the table. One of them is already swollen around the joint of your ankle.

Mydei frowns— he notices too. He drops to his knees to inspect it. 

With an uncomfortable amount of reverence, he scrutinizes the injury.

“Mydeimos.” You hope to interrupt his... overt concern. “Stop that. Stop this. It’s unbecoming.”

Mydei, with one hand cradling the underside of your knee, lifting your foot closer to his face, and the other cradling the sicklish instep of your foot, flicks his gaze to you. It moves back down to the injury, to the burns that marr the skin there. There’s a ring of thickened, textured skin from your fire dancing. You never saw them as— a bad thing. Battle scars, you thought of them as.

With the way Mydei is eyeing them, like they’ve personally offended him, you can’t help but feel an edge of... guilt for allowing yourself to be injured like this. You usually don’t care. Scars are nothing to be ashamed of— your mother taught you that when she was stabbed in the gut by a Furiae tideling. She still wore the revealing tops she adored, the ones cut to show her stomach and the molted, gnarled skin there.

Your little burns are nothing against that. Yet, Mydei looks at them, looks at you, like you’ve been grievously injured. 

“I should forbid you from your dance,” he says, voice clear and irrefutable. “This is unacceptable.”

“Fuck you.” You kick him with your other leg, not hard but enough to startle. “No. That’s— stupid.”

“You’re hurting yourself.”

“Nikador slain, Mydeimos. It’s a few minor burns, once a week, in exchange for the joy and excitement of our people— your people— I say it’s a fair trade, don’t you think so?” 

“No. It’s not.” He drops your ankle, futzes around under the massage table, and pulls out a long bandage. The kind that stretches and holds pressure. He wraps it gingerly around your swelling foot. From the stash that you didn’t even know was there, he grabs a salve. Gauze and bandages too.

You frown. With a lurching tilt, you attempt to snatch the supplies from him. “I can do this— my fucking— self—”

Mydei rights you with a single hand against your sternum. The metal of his gauntlet is slick with condensation from the bathhouse air but still a bit chilled against your skin. 

He stares at you. That sharp gaze of his leaves you defenseless, uncomfortable in your skin. 

“You cannot be trusted with your own well-being.“

There’s… something in the way that he says it. A finality to his words, a statement of absolutely unflappable fact, he provides you. It makes you feel… small. And foolish and weak.

“Yes, I can be.” You sound defensive, it makes you cringe inside yourself. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my ‘well-being,’ thank you very much, Mydeimos.” 

His jaw locks, tightens. You see the strain of it in the tendons of his neck. He— he still hasn’t let go of the fragile skin and bone of your ankle. As you sober up, increasingly quickly given the conversation you’re having, you’re aware of the ache in your limbs. The sting of burns that you… may have ignored. But it’s your choice to ignore them! 

In a rush of motion, Mydei stands, still holding your leg. The flow of the action pushes you back, flattening you to the massage table so that you’re forced to lie on it. When you try to at least get on your elbows, keep your tender belly somewhat less flat and exposed before you lose your composure any further—

Mydei stops you. A hand laid over your sternum pushes you back down. The sharp points of his gauntlet tease into your skin. A threat that you’re sure many others have felt before under his hand.

You didn’t think you’d ever be one of them, not like this. 

“You are not a fool, nor are you stupid,” he says. “And I would think that you have enough sense to put aside your childish ego when it comes to something as paramount as your own health.” 

“It’s not— it’s not a childish ego—“ You feel like you’re being flayed open under the heat of his gaze and touch. “It matters to me— and to others—“

“There are far safer ways to indulge your dancing.” Mydei fingers drum over the bones of your ankle. “Your performing peers have almost entirely put aside dancing with live flame.” 

“Cowards.” You spit, voice trembling. 

“No, they’re just more honest than you.” Mydei leans forward. He eclipses the haze of steam and low, warm light of the room. “They don’t want to experience such pain in order to provide joy. You disregard that pain in favor of… what?”

“Fuck you, Mydei.” You really push up against him now, but it’s unmoveable. “Let me up—“

“Attention?” Mydeimos stares at you, grips your ankle harder. “Is that what you crave so badly?”

“I ‘crave’ my ability to move and exist as I wish—“ 

“Clearly not,” gently, but firm all the same, Mydei squeezes your twisted ankle. A half-formed sound escapes you as pain rockets up from the appendage. “How would you expect to move, let alone walk, when you’re injuring yourself so carelessly?” 

“Let me up—“

Mydei’s grip on your ankle tightens. It— hurts, actually. More than a little. An involuntary noise, a squeak, a fucking whimper bursts up from your throat. 

“You have a liar’s tongue.” Mydei tells you. 

His gaze flicks to your ankle. Then back to your face. Then back to your ankle. He squeezes— harder. He’s still not putting anything close to his full strength into it, but you have the bones of a dancer, the body of a mover, not a fighter.

He’s… not going to—

“Mydei—“ you feel paralyzed, frozen. So unsure in your belly and behind your eyes. 

He’s not going to break you, is he?

Mydei pushed your ankle the wrong way. You can’t help but squirm, attempting to tug yourself away. He is unyielding. Your words of protest are stuck in your throat. 

“What you really want,” he says, “is just a game, isn’t it? The feelings of others. A drunken sport for you, is it?” 

“That’s not—“

“Don’t lie.” It’s a threat, you realize. Mydei's hulking form moves closer, pinning you fully. Your legs are forced around his body, bent at the knee. It would be an intimate position under other contexts. 

Not this one. 

“A-And so what if it is?” You manage to crack a smile, nervously looking between Mydei and your ankle that— he wouldn’t, would he? “Flirting a little— it’s within my right, isn’t it? I’m not hurting anyone.”

Mydei frowns at that. 

“How callous of you.” 

It clicks then. It’s like you’ve been dunked in the cold bath, not the hot one that you’re flattened so close to now. Immediately, you’re sober, you’re so alert it feels like your heart is going to tear out of your chest. 

The swirl of emotions in your chest is overwhelming— shame— fucking shame— fear, hot on your tongue too. Sadness at your misunderstanding; you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. 

“O-Oh.” Is all you can manage to squeeze out. 

Mydei inspects you. He has you where he wants you, you think. You’re immobile, forced to reckon with whatever he presents you. You can’t do anything but take what he says— and it’s Mydei, so of course you believe him. Something awful grows in the pit of your stomach, like a fungus that crawls along the lining of your guts. The backs of your eyes sting. 

“Do you understand?” He asks.

You’re certain that he’s going to break your ankle. Shatter it right then and there. 

“S-Sure.”

Mydei stares at you, then lets down your ankle and releases it. Free of pressure, the promise of something far worse than being pinned is not quite gone, but it’s... somewhat diffused.

Mydei opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the laughter. The floating, high kind, fueled by wine and merriment. A gaggle of girls stumble into the baths, you recognize them as some of your regular attendees. They hang off each other, bracing themselves on the railing down to the bottom platform, to the bath and the massage tables.

You freeze, Mydei looks unphased. 

The girls notice you and— gasp. Audibly. The fucking dramatics.

“Oh my gods,” one covers her mouth, the strap of her dress slipping down her arm. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not—” you rush to say, pushing against Mydei’s hand. 

It’s a jolting movement, one Mydei doesn’t fully expect, and, perhaps by reflex or perhaps with some repressed intention, the claws of his gauntlet dig into your chest and he pushes you back into the damp wood of the table. 

Blood pinpricks where the gauntlet digs in.

Mydei notices, scowls, and then an unreadable look takes over his features. He lets you go without another word and departs wordlessly but swiftly. He looks back at you just before exiting.

His gaze pierces you. It’s a promise, it’s a threat, it’s a death knell that every fiber of your being tells you that you must avoid.

...

You do see a healer the next day. Or, rather, you contact your usual girlie, requesting a house call. You did manage to drag yourself to your little home the night before, but walking on the sprain was a pointedly bad idea.

She fixes you up with a splint and gives you a bit of ointment to put on the small wounds on your chest. The cuts spread out from between your collarbones, all the way down to your sternum. Your healer, a doe-eyed blonde, tells you that they’ll scar in the shape of a star (“How pretty will that be?”)

You have to make sure it doesn’t scar.

Your encounter with Mydei... unnerves you. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen the crown prince intense before. You’ve spied on him and that Deliverer Chrysos Heir more than once during their spars. Mydei strikes with blows that would maim an opponent with any less strength and finesse than the other. He fights with intention, and he speaks the same way. Mydeimos bears a heavy crown and an even heavier burden, and he’s constantly vying for control and sway between the elder Kremnoans and the seats of Okhema. He does not do this with pretty words; he does so cuttingly. He is kind to those he wishes to be kind to and lethal to those he wishes to be lethal to.

You’re not sure which side you land on anymore.

It’s a bad idea, continuing to attempt to ignore him. But this time, it feels more... paramount. Less childish and more like you’re trying to save yourself from something bigger than the fallout of your brazen flirtations.

You lock the door and hide in your little apartment for four days.

It’s coward behavior, but truthfully, you don’t know what the fuck to do.

You don’t want to face Mydei. You don’t know what will happen if you do face him. You’ve already canceled your dance for this week, citing your injury while thinking of Mydei’s disapproval of you performing at all.

You shouldn’t care so much about his opinion. 

You haven’t before— it’s not like you weren’t somewhat aware of his disapproval. Or, his perceived disapproval. In your mind, the reason why he always left your performances before their end, before the carousing and revelry, was because he was too disgusted by the overtly… enticing nature of your dance and flagrant disregard for your safety to stay. 

You have always disregarded his… disdain? Lack of interest? That’s half the reason he was so fun to tease, or attempt to tease. Getting a rise out of the crown prince was one of your pleasures for a while.

Now? You’re… perhaps a little scared to get a rise out of him. Your ankle still throbs, bruises have bloomed under your skin where he gripped so fiercely. You’d, actually, like to avoid attracting his attention at all for the time being. You don’t want the crown prince to have any opinion of you. The ideal situation would be for you to rot in your apartment for as long as it takes for Mydei to forget about... whatever all that was, and you can go back to your dancing in peace. 

However, you cannot rot in your apartment forever. One must eat, and your stash of bread and olive oil runs out very quickly. Not to mention that you’re... perhaps— going through some very big, complex emotions, and nothing soothes like a carb smothered in high-quality olive oil. You’ve been indulging and your empty pantry is the consequence.

You venture out of your apartment on the fifth day, wearing a cloak to cover your face (rather dramatically) and heading to Marmoreal Market during its least busy hours. It earns you some odd looks, but you don’t particularly care. You’re in your hermit era. Your ascetic era, actually, because you’re going to make the cask of olive oil and two loaves of bread you purchase last for at least a month. 

... Okay, maybe not complete asceticism, because one of your favorite vendors has a fresh batch of sesamous rolls out, and you’re just a mortal, human person, and you cannot resist the supernatural call of a flakey, nutty pastry when all you’ve eaten for a week pantry basics.

So, you procure six. Which is excessive, but you make decent money as a dancer, and you’re kind of going through something.

With your wares secured, you start to head back to your home. Your safe haven where you can pretend the crown prince didn’t consider breaking your ankle. Or bedding you. Or some unholy combination of the two. You can’t be sure and truthfully, you don’t really want to be sure. 

(It’s unfortunate that the lionesque crown prince has been on the prowl for you.)

His voice, low and rough, bounces off the marble of Okhema’s inner hallways. You freeze when you hear it, panic lancing through you. He’s not far and it seems he’s rounding a corner, talking to— fuck— Cora, damn woman.

You scamper back up the hallway, looking desperately for a place to hide. A pillar to duck behind, a cart to hide under— fuck, you’d slip into a pond if it would allow you to escape this impending interaction. 

Mydei, however, is a warrior and far faster than you in every regard. The hallway is relatively empty, and the best cover you can find is behind a not-so-large pot and vining, flowering plant that curls through one of the open air windows. It’s— not really cover. But if Mydei wasn’t looking for you, he wouldn’t see you.

Except, Mydei is very clearly looking for… something. Probably you. Scanning left and right, up and down as he walks. Cora chatters by his side, her arm looped through his. Traitor, you think. You thought Cora was on YOUR side. But, apparently not. 

(It’s easier to blame her for things she doesn’t even know then acknowledge any of the unpleasant feelings that have been creeping up your throat the past few days.)

You flatten yourself to the wall, praying Mydei doesn’t see you.

It’s foolish, really, because one look in your direction and his eyes lock onto you. Regardless of your cloak and shadow-covered face, he recognizes you. You curse under your breath and kick off the wall. Running off is paramount. You can (probably) lose him in the markets and their growing crowds. 

You’ve never been known for your speed or stealth, however. Only the grace of your steps. It doesn’t help that your splinted ankle is already aching from all of your walking. 

Before you’re two steps from your hiding spot, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck, tugging you backwards. You choke, grasping at the cloak’s tie around your neck. It only takes a single motion to loosen it, and it drops to the ground. You whirl around to curse at Mydei, who is still staring at you along with a very mischievous-looking Cora.

“Oh, dear,” she says, hiding a smile behind her palm. “I fear I may be about to intrude on something.”

“You’re not.” You straighten yourself up and overdramatically (or perfectly dramatically) brush dust from your robes. “This is actually harassment. Cora, could you escort me home, please?”

You give her a pleading look, probably looking like a sad, wet puppy, but she does not waver. Instead she looks even more pleased, giggling to herself as her frizzy, silver-grey curls bounce around her jaw. 

“If this is harassment, I ought to get into the business of being harassed.”

“Don’t joke, please.” Mydei frowns. “And what would Sara think of such pursuits?”

“She’d attempt to join in, Mydeimos!”

You turn, ready to leave this weird, flirting-but-not-flirting exchange. Mydei seems engrossed enough, but he still shoots out a hand to grab your shoulder. You curse, ready to snap at you, but he’s at your back. A furnace-like presence that eclipses everything else in your line of sight.

“I’ll escort you.” Mydei says it in a way that brokers no argument. 

“I’ll pass, thank you.”

“It’s not an offer.” He tells you, stooping so just you can hear. His tone isn’t harsh, but it’s unignorable and sharp enough to pierce. You shudder. The phantom pain from the healing bruises on your ankle makes itself known.

You sigh, looping your arms with Mydei, reluctantly, like it’s the worst fate in the world. Cora howls as you do. Mydei looks rather unimpressed. Your theatrics don’t seem to phase him, not actually— rather, whatever he is seeing underneath your performance is what’s bothering him. 

You wish you were drunk. Maybe you should’ve bought wine along with your sundries. 

It’s too late to regret now as Mydei steers you away from Cora and the vining, budding plant that could not hide you from the eyes of your undying crown prince.

...

Mydeimos does not, actually, take you back to your apartment, much to your chagrin. He leads you into the baths through a back entrance. There’s no chatter between the two of you as you walk. You have no interest in attempting conversation when you are being dragged through the bathhouse somewhat against your will.

It’s only when you think of the blessed loaf of bread and fresh baked goods that you start dragging your feet.

“Mydeimos,” you huff. “The steam in here will ruin my groceries. Unless this is some shortcut back to my apartment that I’m unaware of, take me home.”

“I will.” Mydei continues to walk because you, tugging on his arm, really does next to nothing to stop him. “After we talk.”

You sigh. It’s not really worth it to fight him on it at this point. Maybe, after you talk or whatever, you’ll be free of his oppressive presence and can go back to dancing (and maybe even forget about his stunt at the hot bath. Maybe.)

Mydei drags you far into the bathhouse, down hallways you don’t recognize. The marble molts from white and grey to black and silver. It’s almost warm beneath your feet. Part of you thinks to ask for more details of where you’re being led, but you think better of it. It gets quieter and quieter. The air feels thicker.

Eventually, you find yourself a private bath. Far larger than the ones available for rent in the main bathhouse. The basin seems deeper, wider, with a current curling in the water from somewhere you can’t identify.

You eye the round bath and its blueish, perfect-looking, steaming water, then look up to Mydei with a scowl.

“We’re in private.” You extract yourself from the loop of his arm and cross your own over your chest. “What did you wish to talk about?”

Mydei looks at you, deadpan. You revel in the reaction. “Do you enjoy being daft on purpose?”

“No, actually. Though, I would very much enjoy forgetting about the... events that followed my dance.”

Mydei frowns at you and clicks his tongue. It’s then that he decides shedding his already objectively indecent outer (and inner) robes is the best course of action. You scoff and turn away from him. You do not need to see this man naked. He already wanders around half-naked and you have enough mental images of his likeness stored in such a state to not need to see him entirely undressed.

There’s a slight splash behind you, and it’s only then that you turn around. The churning water that comes up to just below his tits protects some of his modesty. Bare minimum decency, really.

You frown so hard that you think you might get a headache.

“Get in.” Mydei nods to the bathwater, steam already making his hair frizzy.

“Absolutely not.” You frown. “For a litany of reasons, I will stay on dry land while we ‘talk’, Mydeimos. Allow me this much.”

Mydei stares at you. He looks at you with the same precision and violence that a lance piercing a fragile chest would have. It makes you freeze in place. 

It’s only then that you become aware of how close you are already to the bath’s luxuriously large basin. How Mydei, far stronger and swifter than yourself, is not all that far away from your tender, healing ankles.

Your gaze snaps from your feet back to him. It’s already too late.

In single deft motion, he has you by the calf and pulls you into the bath. One of his arms shoots out as you crash down, you feel it on your back, up your spine, to guard your head and neck despite plunging you into the uncomfortably deep bath. You yelp as you hit the water, half-drowning as your head slips under the water. Mydei hauls you up a moment later and drags you next to him. 

You must look like a wet cat. You feel like a wet cat— a pouting one as you stare at him incredulously. Your light clothes are soaked and— indecent. Fucking indecent and half-floating in the water with the current and heat of it. 

“What the fuck—” 

“I wouldn’t have had to do that,” Mydei interrupts, stern in a way that makes your stomach flip, “if you didn’t keep running away.”

“I’m not running away.” (You are.) “You just cannot let this fucking— thing go. This a you problem.”

Mydei looks sick based on his expression. You lean away from him in the bath, crossing your arms, horribly aware of your own exposure. 

You feel like a cornered animal.

“You’re so—” Mydei sighs. His composure is fracturing. Part of you is deeply enchanted by watching this occur and the other is horrified by it. You’re so close to him, so bare to him. It makes your skin itch. He breathes out through his teeth then stares at you. You feel his gaze down to your marrow. “Your obstinance is infuriating. But, you’re aware of this, aren’t you? Are you taking pleasure in the trouble you cause?”

“No—?”

“I don’t believe you,” Mydei’s tone is scaring you. “You revel in this. The affections you give and how you dash from the consequence of your kindness, whether it be bad or good to you. You run from the recompense. You cause reactions only to turn the other way when they actually occur. To yourself, even to your own body. It’s been difficult to watch. Unbearable, even. You look away from your own discomfort with such dexterity.”

“Choke,” you say reflexively. 

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say. Mydei’s jaw locks.

“Must I give you a taste of your consequences in order for you to understand their severity?” 

“I think—” You drift away from him in the bath. To the otherside of the pool, hopefully creating enough distance that you can slip away. “That you should go spar with that snow-haired one who clearly wants to fuck you. How about you blow off some steam that way, yeah? I’m sorry for flirting with you and not sticking around for anything else. Just kinda my thing, you know?”

“It’s—” Mydei pinches the bridge of his nose with his uncovered, ungaunleted hand. “Is that all you think this is about?” 

Seeing the bare skin of his muscular forearms pre-massage table incident would’ve probably had you salivating and causing problems. Now, like this, exposed and all too aware of how your clothes are sticking to your skin under the water, the sight brings you nothing but distress. He’s strong beneath the little armor he does wear.  

“Look,” you interrupt him, kicking away from him (with your bad foot— ow—) to a distance that feels safer, “Even if I was flirting with you— I don’t owe you anything beyond that. It’s just... light-hearted, yeah? Besides, you’d know if I wanted you in bed Mydei.”

This— strikes him. You can see in the way his expression darkens. It’s a good distraction. Mydei may be a brutal fighter, but there’s a tender heart there. You admired it, prior to him tossing it aside to pin you down and nearly break one of your limbs. 

“Would I?” Mydei asks, his body coiled tight.

You heft yourself up out of the bath and sit on the lip of it. The air is much cooler than the hot, hot water. Steam curls off of your skin.

“I would’ve just asked if you wanted to fuck.” You shrug, attempting nonchalance. You have no idea if it's landing.

You’re mostly lying. You haven’t had anyone in your bed in months. Physical pleasures that drift so far, so seriously, haven’t interested you in quite some time. You get enough contact from the revelrous dancing following your performances and the dirty, frantic kisses you share with strangers on the way home. This carnality never follows you past your apartment door. 

Back when you were fucking, more regularly, it was long-term partnerships. This whole flirting with no strings attached thing scratched an itch in the back of your brain entirely polar from that. 

You don’t bother explaining any of this to Mydei. It— it feels too late for that. 

“Do you only know how to lie?” He asks.

You look away from him to the condensation-slick stone and dark tile of the floors. They seem far more interesting than affording this guy any amount of further eye contact.

“Depends on who you ask, I guess.” You shake your head, tracing a vein of marble with your eyes. “For what it’s worth— I’m sorry for playing with your feelings. I didn’t realize you’d take all this so seriously. That’s my folly, and I’m sorry for the trouble it’s caused you.”

Silence follows.

Your words crest over the light gurgle of the ever-filling bath. The syllables lay heavy in the air. You don’t know how you really expect Mydei to respond. All you hope is that he lays this stupid heart-to-heart, intervention nightmare to rest and you can go back to wallowing in your apartment until your ankles and wrists heal enough for you to resume dancing (with flame still, by the way.)

In the seething silence, you stand with a sigh. You decide, actually, that this encounter is done. Hopefully Mydei got his scolding out of his system and whatever hurt feelings linger in him can be resolved by that so-called ‘Deliverer’ blowing his back out in a few hours.

You get two steps from the bath before you realize you are terribly, horribly wrong. 

Mydei grabs your ankle. The sprained one, the one that is swollen and wrapped because you stopped wearing your splint early because it was annoying. Pain shoots from the limb and as he yanks, you drop. There’s no cushion to the fall other than how you catch yourself on your hands. The sting is immediate and you nearly crack your skull on the tile. 

You turn to give Mydei a piece of your mind, because what the fuck— but he’s already rising from the water. Naked, half-hard, and so much bigger and stronger than you are.

It all hits you then. 

The situation at hand, really. How much you’ve pissed this guy off, how far you’ve pushed him— the fact he brought you to the depths of the bathhouse to a private room to have this conversation. ‘Conversation’, you realize too, is generous.

This is a duel, one you were destined to lose.

“No—” You push up from the tile, scrambling on the slick surface, but in a single move, Mydei has you pinned on your tummy. A hand splays out between your shoulder blades and he climbs to straddle your hips. Just over your ass. The garment you’re wearing is so thin and the panties you’re wearing are just simple cotton. They’re soaked through.

“Mydeimos— wait—” You need to stop this. It’s vital, it’s vital— you need to run.

“I’ve given you an opportunity to listen. I’ve explained how you ended up in this state.” He applies pressure to your back. It squeezes the air from your lungs with exhales against your will. “And yet, you can’t even do that much. What you do hear— is devoid of the actual intent that I know you understand.”

“Let me up, Mydei!” You shove at the ground. Mydei gathers your wrists in one large, scalding hand and pins them to your lower back. His grip burns more than your flame ever did.

He leans down over your body, flattening you. 

“You have no idea how to take care of yourself.” His voice is hushed, sticky in your ears and you whine. He’s— he’s stupid and dumb and you’re scared— “Mind and body, you’re so reckless with yourself and care not for the harm you inflict on yourself. And on others.”

“Mydei, p-please—” You’ve been reduced to begging this quickly. Your pulse rabbits under your skin.

“You were given many chances.” Mydei hand drifts down your back, following the slope of your spine, the curve and bow of it. “You were presented many opportunities to acknowledge your behavior, really acknowledge it, and you still didn’t. I know you’re not truly ignorant to your own patterns. You wouldn’t be so adept at turning away from them if you were ignorant.”

You try to kick your legs up. Your feet hit Mydei’s back with no effect. 

“As a result,” his words are rough and silken all at once. “You’ve forced my hand. You must be shown the consequence of your actions.” 

You squeak out his name, turning your head under the pressure of him. When you finally meet his gaze, it’s impenetrable. Your— stupidity, foolhardiness— idiocy and indifference have brought out a side of the kind-hearted crown prince that you never expected to be on the receiving end of. 

Dread pools in your gut and you claw against the floor.

...

You know it’s not just about flirting. 

It’s about the wounds. It’s about the way you care not for how many mornings you wake up hungover with the taste of someone else’s spite and berry wine still clinging to your teeth. It’s the way you don’t mind the burns you get, that you ignore the sting and aches you get from your art. You don’t eat sometimes, entranced in learning new steps to a new melody. It’s how you cozy your way up to anyone who suits your fancy and will give you the time of day. It’s about how, despite how legitimate their affections may be, you twirl from the potentiality of closeness and back into your flames. 

If you didn’t know these things before, you know them now, on the tiled floor of the private bath. 

You tremble, grasping at the slippery ground for any type of purchase as Mydei pushes a third finger into your cunt. 

It’s too much, too big, too fast. Mydei’s hands are a warrior’s, strong and rough from years of training, and you feel the texture of them as they work their way, with some difficulty, into the clutch of your cunt. Each callous drags against your opening and you drop your head on to the tile, barely restraining a pitching cry from the back of your throat. 

Mydei, for his part, fucks you with his fingers slowly. You’re not all that wet for him, despite how he’s alternating between slipping his other hand under you to rub your clit and petting over your hip as if to calm a startled animal. 

You are a startled animal, really.

“I y-yield—” you choke out, again. You don’t know how many times you’ve said it at this point. Your throat feels dry despite the damp air. “I yield—!”

Yielding won’t stop whatever Mydei is doing— you know this, but you have to at least try and resist.

He hushes you in a way that isn’t tender, but isn’t cruel either. His thumb strokes over your side and you barely keep yourself from crying. You bury your face in your arms.

For how much you don’t want this, Mydei isn’t being cruel with his touch.

There’s force behind how he is pinning you down. How his legs are braced over the backs of yours, how one of his hands presses into the center of your spine to keep you belly-down. He bears down on you unrelentingly.

But it’s not cruel. It’s not harsh— just— unignorable 

His fingers drag on your insides, pressing against your sweet spot with an infuriating amount of tenderness given your predicament. He’s drawing desire out of you, coaxing you into a state you have so diligently avoided.

The delirium of carnal pleasure. Fucker.

A noise lodges itself in your throat. You can’t tell if it’s one of discomfort or desire. 

He continues like this, fingers curling in you with enough gentleness that you could, under different circumstances, fool yourself into thinking it was the touch of a proper lover. The pump of his fingers in and out of your cunt gets easier, wetter, much to your dismay. You don’t want to admit that there are little, pleasurable sparks beginning to curl from your toes up to your spine. 

You hope that what’s making you slicker is blood and not your own arousal. 

Mydei strokes your back as his pace increases, each thrust into your insides begins to punch. Each stroke and curl is directly over your sweet spot. He’s learned your body so well, so quickly.

“Fuck you—” You spit at him, breathless, unfortunately. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

He sighs behind you, squeezing your hip in a way that you’re sure will leave a bruise. “Even like this, you deny yourself?”

“Especially like this!” You shout, your voice bouncing off the tiles. “You c-could’ve, like, I-I don’t know— asked me to dinner or something first.”

Mydei stills behind you. His fingers are deep in your cunt as he does, too warm and keeping you too full. He shifts forward, you can feel it, feel the looming shadow he casts over you. His hand tangles in your hair, dragging you from where you’ve been hiding in your arms. Pain nips at your scalp and you gasp with it.

Mydei is nose-to-nose with you, his gaze hot and piercing and uniquely infuriated.

“If I had, you would have said no.” His lips press to your cheek. “Even if you had wanted it.”

He’s the fucking worst— he really is.

Mydei doesn’t drop your head as you squirm beneath him. His fingers move again, harder, faster, pumping in and out of your hole with sick, twisted squelching sounds. You’re slick, you’re wet, and you are undeniably... enjoying this. On some level. Somewhere. And Mydei’s right, isn’t he? That, had Mydei propositioned you traditionally, you would’ve turned him down. You might’ve even laughed in his face. He probably has known that reality longer than you’ve been aware of it yourself.

You have no retort; you can only glare at him.

It’s hard to maintain your disposition like this— as pleasure rolls over itself in your belly and as Mydei is slowly undoing all of your carefully kept defenses. Maintaining— nonchalance has, more or less, gone out the window.

Mydei wants that, you understand. He wants to break you down, and it’s working.

You lose yourself in the feel of it, in the unrelenting weight and presence of Mydei at your back and his fingers in your cunt. It’s hard to think beyond that and the glowing sparks of pleasure that make you drip. It’s— a little hard to breathe with all the steam. And maybe you’re breathing a little too frantically from the shock of being penetrated and not really wanted it. Maybe your own helplessness has made you more a prey animal than a dancer.

You feel the heat in your gut coil tighter, hotter— burning— as he curls his fingers just right, rolls the pearl of your clit with a haunting amount of dexterity. 

“I h-hate you—” you sob, giving one last, valiant attempt at bucking him off of you. “— Mydeimos—” 

Mydei growls. Something angry and more animal than you’re used to. A swoop of something akin to terror shudders through you. Mydei doubles his efforts at taking you apart with nothing but his hands.

You come around his fingers. Your cunt flutters around his digits and the sickening wet sound of flesh and slick goes static in your ears. A sound is ripped from your throat, one that you can hardly hear as pleasure overtakes you.

Before you can really come down, Mydei flips you, so you’re on your back with your legs spread. He kneels between them. Still naked. Fully hard. The tip of his cock is a raging purple, wet with pre.

“You still cannot let go of your liar’s tongue?” He grabs your jaw in one hand. The gesture is firm, but tender, in a way that’s so him. 

You whine— you can’t make yourself form words. Your so-called ‘liar’s tongue’ is too thick and heavy in your mouth.

He looks at you then— examines you, assesses you. Your chest heaves as he does, shivering in the sticky air.

“One more opportunity,” Mydei says. “Listen well, flame kin.”

You nod with a rolling, loose neck.

Mydei strokes over your cheek. “Admit that you revel in your own suffering.”

You whine, trying to close your thighs. Push him away— please, Nikador slain—

He continues, “Admit that you seek your own suffering and push away pleasures. If you can, which I know you can, this ends.”

“That’s basically just admitting that y-you’re hurting me, you know.”

“I’m giving you what you want, apparently—” Mydei’s hand finds its way to your throat. It doesn’t squeeze, but the threat of pressure looms. “Pain. Even if we both know that that’s not really what you want, is it?”

Something weird knots in your insides. You want to push Mydei away, but you know it won’t work. You want to run from this bath, but you know that won’t work. Mydei has you in his grasp, under his predator-like gaze and you cannot escape it.

Your attempts have been feeble. Your sharp tongue hasn’t done you any favors either.

“What do you think I want?” You ask him, voice shaking and breathless all at one.

“Pleasure,” Mydei says, so matter-of-factly. “You’re just too rabbit-hearted to allow it.”

You want to lambast Mydei, it’s a knee-jerk reaction. But you abstain. You’re too tired, too worn down by... everything.

“Fine,” you say, far too softly. “I—I would prefer to hurt than feel good, most of the time. I know it’s not great. Are you happy?”

Mydei sighs.

He looks vaguely disappointed and for a very terrifying moment, you think that that’s not enough. That he’ll find some other way to wring more of your very fragile truth out of you. You’re not sure you could take it, truly. You feel close to shattered— the heart of you fears how else Mydei would push you.

He rubs below your eyes and pulls his thumb back wet. You didn’t even realize you had been crying.

“I’ll accept your answer.” Mydei says. “But know that I am watching— and expect a change in your behavior.”

“S-So no flames?” You swallow. “And w-what, no revelry?”

“No flames.” He reiterated. “I’m certain the Grove can create some alternative that is safer. And you may still revel, but if you wish to entangle yourself with the physical, you will find me.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll find ourselves back here.” He nods to the bath. All of its cruel tile and stone. Your ruined bag of groceries, tossed into a corner. There’s a massage table in the corner you hadn’t even noticed. “And you will receive the carnal from me, regardless.”

The part of you that is used to twirling and spitting is quiet. Dead, maybe, if not dormant. You rub your eyes and think about your bed. About the pastries that are soggy and inedible at this point. Your isolation and the fearfulness you’ve carried over simply being seen.

(How running and hurting has worn you down and how unfair it is that Mydei saw it so easily. And, in retrospect, maybe he was quite patient with you.)

“Okay.” You sniffle. “I-I agree.”

Mydei sighs again. This time, it’s pure relief. A knot comes loose within him so visibly. His slick shoulders sag and he sinks on his knees just a fraction. You, for your part, collapse into the tile. Boneless, wrung out, and slick still dripping out of your core.

...

It’s after one of your dances, sometime later. Normalcy has taken a new shape and you have allowed it too. 

(Though, you hardly had much of a choice. You’ve been leashed.)

Your body is... mostly healed. Your ankle still aches sometimes. On your worst days, you need a cane. A perfectly crafted piece from a Kremnoan artisan, commissioned by Mydei when he noticed the way your limp persisted.

(When you saw that the healer Chrysos Heir about this persistent injury, she had been quite perplexed. The wound was entirely healed, a sprain shouldn’t linger like yours has. ‘It must be psychosomatic,’ she had said.)

You still dance. You still revel. Even without flame licking your skin, you still lunge and leap. Your revelry is, perhaps, more subdued. You do not sidle up to potential prospects so brazenly. Truthfully, you don’t entertain any suitors at all these days. Either because you don’t look for heated gazes the way you used to or those gazes aren’t turned to you as often anymore. 

(You suppose that even if your new leash isn’t visible, it’s still noticeable.)

You do not antagonize the crown prince in the way that you used to. You would say that your roles have flipped, but that isn’t entirely true. 

You used to tease— Mydei does not tease. But he does take.

You often find yourself as you are now— laying, stomach down, with Mydei overtop of you. He cages your skull in with his forearms braced on either side of your head. His breath is hot and loud in your ear as he presses his cock into your dripping cunt. 

You groan in unison, your sounds far more pitchy and desperate. 

Mydei isn’t too rough with you these days. He fucks you well when you need pleasure. You’ve gotten better about going to him for it rather than him having to track you down and fuck you stupid in a shadowy corner. These days, you end up in a bed. Surrounded by his scent usually, being stretched and opened with his fingers and tongue. Pleasure is given to you in heaps, and you have found it is much easier to accept it than attempt to run.

(Not when the lion-souled crown prince has made you his quarry.)

When Mydei grabs your hips, bare-handed, you keen. You sink into the bed, arching your back into a slope that angles his cock just right inside of you. Your toes curled as he fucks you hard and deep. He might be praising you for your good behavior. Words are being panted in your ear, but you feel a little too out of your body to tell what they are. 

You feel even further from your flesh when Mydei’s rhythm begins to stutter. You feel like a different person, experiencing this connection from a thin, spidery tether, when he spills inside you. The gush of sticky warmth, followed by the feeling of being— full— keeps you far away. 

You’re brought back when he presses a kiss to your nape. Then another to the side of your throat. He turns you easily, gently, easing onto your back. 

You feel so exposed like this. Belly-bared, chest heavy and dewy with sweat. Between your legs feels, somehow, sticky and numb all at once. Your lips are parted with each heaving breath, a little too fast, a little too prey-like. 

Mydei looks at you with a fiery reverence that scares you a little more each day. 

“Beautiful,” He breathes, his braid half-undone and bangs sticking to his forehead.

You don’t get to digest the comment before he’s nestled between your legs, thighs up on his shoulders, eating his cum out of your cunt like it’s his last meal. He’s slow with it, but firm. Always firm, always unyielding in what he decides is true and right. Before all of this, you admired him for that resolve.

Now? You’re not sure if you scorn it or love it.It hardly matters, anyway. 

You come on his tongue while he sucks your clit. Your voice cracks and shatters, made raw so easily. Your vision crosses and you tug on his hair with enough force that it must hurt, you think.You think about apologizing for it, but you choose not to. Or maybe you’re simply too wrung out. 

Mydei pulls up and away from your core. His lips are slick with your slick, wet with his own spent. He grabs your jaw and kisses you, filthy and slow. The mingling taste of you keeps you just tethered enough to writhe and keep your legs spread for him, in case there is more to be had.

He breaks from you, panting, and pulls your head into the crook of his neck. It’s a gesture that feels like it should come from a lover, not whatever Mydei has become to you. Your keeper, your jailer— maybe a lover, too. Someone with such a cruel title wouldn’t treat you as gently as Mydei does.

(It’s easier to think this way.)

The smell of him invades you. Gone is the light scent of incense and fragrant oils that permeate the room, and all that remains is unique, familiar musk of Mydei. Sweat, polished metal, and bur

You lean into the hollow of his throat. It’s better to embrace, rather than to resist.

(Your ankle throbs.)

For some time, you stay like that. Eyes shut and world slow, you shiver as the high of ‘pleasure’ wears off and leaves you off-kilter. What tethers you to your reality, your relatively new, somewhat uncomfortable reality, is Mydei. It’s always Mydei. The heat of his touch, the piercing nature of his attention, and the specific flavor of uncomfortable tenderness he reserves for only you. 

It’s not so bad. It’s less painful in some ways. There’s no more flames licking your ankles and wrists— the only embers that are allowed near you are the ones within Mydei’s own gaze. 

(Maybe— it’s just a different type of pain. One was yours to wield and torch yourself with, and the other is a scalding reminder that leaves no visible mark.)

Mydei must notice you’re too deeply in thought. His hand cups the nape of your neck, his thumb rubs little circles around your spine. He’s warm like a hearth, kind like one when he wants to be, too. You knew that before, and you know it even better now.

It’s better, you remind yourself, to work with your conditions the best that you are able to. It’s better, it’s better, it’s better.

You lean into Mydei’s warmth and go slack. You hear him breathe a sigh of relief as you do. 

[peach-top]

boo! miss me! can i get a shadow milk cookie and yn cookie who's a faerie, (gn reader) yn cookie is researching dark moon magic which catches shadow milk cookies attention and he finds them amusing!! :3c

❝ TRICKSTER'S FAVORITE RESEARCHER ❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: gender neutral

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: shadow milk cookie x gn!reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: you somehow captured the interest of shadow milk cookie

everyone knows. ALMOST everyone knows that dark moon magic is forbidden. pure vanilla and white lily are one of the few cookies who use such dangerous magic when they were students and there's you. a faerie here at the faerie kingdom, secretly doing research on forbidden magic. the reasoning for this is unknown or you wish to learn dark magic?

you have books and strolls scattered around your desk in your room for your research, scribbling notes about some spells, “Interesting…This magic is truly fascinating. I can see why it's forbidden.”

unbeknownst to you, a figure floated above you, watching you with an amusing look in his eyes. he has been watching you for a while the moment you start researching dark moon magic.

“They truly are fascinating, huh?” a voice snickered. you jumped and stumbled back against your desk, knocking over some books. the figure laughed, “Did I scare ya?”

“Huh?”

“I won't harm ya. It'll be a pity…or maybe not~” shadow milk cookie chuckled. “Anywayyyyy~ What a little faerie like you are researching dark moon magic for, hmmm?”

you adjusted your glasses (sucker for glasses) and responded, “That's nothing you need to know. Who are you?”

shadow milk cookie dramatically gasps, “Whattt?! It breaks my heart to know that you've never heard of Shadow Milk Cookie!”

you rub your chin, trying to recognize the name. you heard this name from somewhere, but where. shadow milk knocks on your head, “Knock, knock~ Anyone home?”

shadow milk cookie then click on a light bulb from above your head when you finally figure it out, “Shadow Milk Cookie, one of the beast cookies.”

“Ding-a-ling! Correct!” the beast cookie beamed, but he was expecting something from you. fear. he thought you might tattle on him like a tattletale, but nah. as much as he despises bravery and hope, but something about you seems different which interests him more. he's not gonna question it.

shadow milk cookie take a seat on the desk and pick up one of the books, “Let me ask again: What a little faerie like you are researching dark moon magic for, hmmm?”

“...I want to test it. I would like to understand why it's so dangerous, so I wanted to see for myself.” you responded. shadow milk cookie grabbed your glasses from your face and placed it on himself, ignoring a protest from you, “Nerd, but I like your guts, my little faerie. I've heard you've been doing some dark secret behind the fool king's back. Unlike that annoying White Lily Cookie, you're not as twice as annoying as she is.”

you grabbed a back-up glasses from your cabinet, “...Not like I wish to do something bad, just doing this because of curiosity.”

“Curiousity, of course. It's pretty risky, ya know~” the beast cookie grinned as he lie on the desk while kicking his feet.

“I'm a researcher faerie. I did plenty of risky shit around here. I don't need anyone's approval, not even Elder Faerie.” you huffed.

“Oh-ho~ I like you~” shadow milk cookie snickered, leaning closer face-to-face with you, “All bite and bark~”

“Don't you mean, “All bite and no bite”?” you raised your eyebrows.

shadow milk cookie pouted, “Don't correct me. I know what I'm saying!”

“Might as well need to go or you'll get caught.” you told the beast cookie. shadow milk cookie sulked, “Awwwwww~ I wanna stay a little longer. I know how to myself hidden.”

“...” you sighed. it's not like you can get him to leave, so you just let him stay, “Fine, but don't cause trouble for me.”

shadow milk cookie beamed, “Ok, pookie~”

“Don't call me that…” you cringed.

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on other stories, too.

rules

crk masterlist

[freckliedan]

omgomg What hornyposting have they done - same anon :3c

check out my fuck energy tag for receipts on varying levels of overtly horny moments to things that ping for me but possibly not universally. but also, an in depth but not exhaustive list:

they have a bondage bar on their bed which dan has flippantly replied to a tweet about

sister daniel video

the april fools nude

dan probably agrees that phil is naturally ginger despite his hair color being an auburny brown at best due to pube color. sorry that i said it out loud rather than keeping it implied.

interactive introverts shock buzzers shown im witl were bought from an online sex store, dan told us on twitter

halloween pumpkin carving video has "so horny they're stupid" energy, dan's in a mesh shirt

this ii era liveshow in australia; the next video on the gaming channel was of the dumber ways to die mobile app.

ii era "getting that d vitamin" shirtless dan selfie ft clothes in the bushes behind him. photo taken on a brief break from touring when dnp + martyn and cornelia were spending a few days on vacation. "lapping up the d vitamin" comments about phil as well in a liveshow afterwards

phil's ii era side to side by ariana grande insta story

phil's mysterious white stain on his costume shirt insta story from the lead up to ii

"please be gentle with the handcuffs, i have sensitive skin" from witl/ii—sensitive skin is usually about like.. being sensitive to scented soaps and stuff. this is not an intuitive connection to make. it leads me to believe that's knowledge they have from experience

when the ii dvd was released, the bbc rated it whatever it rated it (can't remember) because of a couple engaging in erotic roleplay (amongst other reasons) which dan acknowledged on twitter and did not disagree with at all

dan's horny attitude about dentist visits

handcuffs and videogames sims moment

dan's kinky tumblr reblogs from the era when it was normal to rb softcore porn on here, including a fair amount of horny qbout blood posts

in that light: dan wrote and published the urge

phil bringing up mpreg as often as he does pings as horny for me; the hand falls into this category in a deeply bizzare manner imo

phil recognizing a delivery guy from gay emo porn

dan hogtied in christmas garland on their breakfast bar in manchester

dan's 2009 nakedbooths—nudes posted largely to flirt with phil. particularly the nakedbooth dan posted of himself in phil's bedroom where phil's holding lion in frame to censor dan's dick

phil's "milk" dailybooth

dan's "i WANT you to tie me up" dailybooth comment on phil holding up a belt

dan on formspring answering whether he swallows or spits

dan replying to someone in the comments of a phil vid pointing out hickies he had after dan visited him in 2009

uma thurman tweet

formspring answers about cherry & piña colada lube + cherry reference in the vday vid + sleuths online spotting specific lube in one of their suitcases at one point

phil used to post constant thirst traps before dan came into the picture have you SEEN ry @dnphobe's emo boy edit?? have you seen phil's check yes juliet and toxic vids????

thank you for coming to my ted talk, i know i'm missing loads.

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader

cw/tags: This chapter has no smut but still contains highly suggestive themes and sexual implications. Mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. fem!reader suffers with self-worth and bad memories, including past insults and abuse.

notes: After so long finally part 2!! EEEEEEEE I am so excited but also so nervous pls ;w; like if you want the first part can be read as a standalone and have a "happy ending" but now I am committed to the emotional roller coaster, A/B/O dynamics and LONG BURN PINING so yep >:3c hope this does justice to everyone's expectation tho. And hope you like it and accompany me on this tale hehe

As a lil sidenote brackets [] now indicate past actions/words and bad memories, regular italics for emphasis, inner thoughts or the little pinyin I sprinkled here (which btw is taken straight from genshin wiki so...).

<- Part 1 Part 3 ->

Being precious all of the sudden was… different.

Your hand subconsciously kept touching your bonding mark, as if to make sure it was still there, to soothe you.

After a quick meal just between Zhongli and you, consisting of some soft rice buns and delicious minced meat packaged inside a crispy pastry shell, you were then offered some new clothes. It was much more elaborate and certainly more layered than anything you’d worn before: a long skirt and flowy sleeves in a silky soft fabric, beautifully embroidered and hastily modified to make a hole for your tail to slip out. A sash keeping everything in place while accentuating your figure. You immediately loved it although it felt a little heavy and restricting.

Now, you quietly follow Zhongli as he leads you around the palace. He’s back to his former fully-human appearance, wearing an elegant attire, and everywhere you go, people bow at him and cast curious silent glances at you. It was rather unnerving.

It’s fine, you are used to being stared at, judged. You hold your tail up close for comfort.

The place is huge and you quickly get lost trying to map it out in your head, simply following along until you reach a large room with a few simple beds scattered around. Bookcases and cabinets stacked the walls, filled with all sorts of books, papers, jars and things. A pungent smell present in the air.

A green-haired man leans over a desk, glasses perched on his nose as he frantically scribbles some notes. What seems like powders and plants litter the space around him, along with a few more glass containers, incense, and a tea set with a steaming fresh cup.

“Baizhu.” Zhongli’s voice calls and you stiffen a little, hearing it again after a while of silence. It is still warm and deep but with a more reserved and regal tone like when he first met you.

The green-haired man (a Beta, you recognize) looks up and blinks in surprise, then smiles brightly and says some words you do not understand, you shuffle in place.

“Yes, this is her.” Zhongli replies. “I will ask you to speak in in common tongue so she can understand as well, I don’t want to unnecessarily unnerve her.”

Well, that is… very considerate. It eases you a little.

“Of course, your majesty.” He turns to you, his eyes were a bright amber, also with slitted pupils. Was it common in liyuens? “My name is Baizhu, the royal doctor and apothecary, pleased to meet you, empress.”

Empress?!

“E-Empress?!” You can’t help but blurt out.

“Why of courssse.” A high-pitched voice hisses and you almost jump when a white snake peaks her head from her coils at the desk, staring up at you. “You’re mated to hisss majesssty the emperor, sssso, it would be underssstood you’re now the empresssss.” Her split tongue flickers.

Baizhu chuckles. “Changsheng, be nice.”

You don’t know what to answer, mostly because you’re still reeling from the fact that you’re apparently now an empress, and because there’s a talking snake.

Liyue is weird…

“I decided to bring her here exactly because of that.” Zhongli turns to you and suddenly holds one of your hands, softly, staring at you with such affection it makes you melt. “Darling, would you let him check your bonding mark for a moment?”

You’re a little nervous, but it is not like you can refuse… right? You nod quietly.

Baizhu approaches and examines your neck and you fight the urge not to flinch or growl. No Omega likes it when a stranger is so close to such a sensitive spot. He hums and tilts his head but doesn’t touch you. “It seems it’s already healed due to her illuminated beast blood but the scar is present. I’d say the bond has been properly established, congratulations your majesty.” He smiles warmly.

A grateful bubbly feeling creeps up your chest. Properly established. So, it’s true.

You feel Zhongli’s hand squeeze yours lightly and look down at it, then back up at him. “Thank you, Baizhu. I will not keep you any longer. We still have a lot to do and I’m sure you do as well.”

Baizhu bows at him (at both of you, you realize) and then you’re on your way. Not before hearing the snake’s hissy whispers again

“A fine yin, hm…?”

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

This is… your new home.

Zhongli shows you around some of the areas in what he called the “inner court” of the palace complex. Everything is so… large and open and lavish it has your head spinning, your eyes darting in every direction trying to take in all at once, walking fast on your new clothes. He guides you along the dining hall, a small temple, crosses through an enormous main hall where he explains audiences are held, and then a gorgeous outer garden that completely takes your breath away.

The wooden gilded architecture in golds and reds, the fresh wind and gentle sun. All sorts of new sounds and smells. The painted walls and high ceilings. The new plants and flowers. The chatters in a different language… everything is so distinct from the desert.

You soak in the new environment. Inhaling deeply.

It is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Finally, he guides you to another room, it looks similar to the nest room where you’d first been at, but larger. It is sparsely decorated with a large and comfy looking-bed, a desk, mirror and a small table with a couple chairs and a tea set. It smells nice enough.

You peek up at Zhongli.

“This will be your room.” He explains.

…What?

“We kept it simple for now but you are, of course, free to furnish and decorate it however you’d like. It’s close to my own room and anything you might need.”

Wait what?

Your ears lower down and you seem to deflate a little, disappointed. “H-Huh? But… I-I won’t be sleeping with you?” You ask softly.

Mated pairs sleep together, don’t they? They share living chambers and mix their scents together to symbolize their union. That’s what you’ve always been told. You are to always be near your Alpha, at his beck and call, warm up his bed and be ready to please.

Maybe things are different in Liyue? Or maybe it’s because he’s an emperor. Master didn’t tell you anything, so maybe you are just making a fool of yourself right now on your-

Zhongli clears his throat and looks at you a little surprised “I simply thought you’d be more comfortable having your own space, we… don’t really know each other very well yet, and I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Impose? As in order? But he’s your Alpha! “B-But I want to! Please! I-I mean… I thought that since we’re b-bonded…” You mumble shyly.

His cheeks turn a little pink, you like when that happens, he looks a lot less serious. He cups your cheek and you inhale looking up at those gorgeous golden eyes. “My dear dragoness. I don’t want you to feel forced to do anything you don’t want to. I know you were raised… differently, I cannot claim to understand your experiences, but listen to me: you are safe here.” He says the last part slowly, enunciating each word. “No one will scold you or punish you, least of all me. I want you to be free to speak and choose what you want.” He sighs. “Though I know it’ll be difficult...”

Furnish, impose, free… you don’t know any of those words.

But no punishment, to choose what you want, to be safe… it sounds surreal even.

What do you want?

His eyes soften at your nervous silence. “Let’s try this… do you really want to share my room, or would you like to stay here? I won’t be upset if you do.”

“I…” Your tail curls around you. “I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.” You mumble.

“Then it would be my honor, however, this room will stay ready if you change your mind, alright?” You glance around at the room again, and nod. “Now that that is settled, I have one last thing to do. I need to introduce you to a few very special people before I leave to-”

“Leave?!”

You didn’t mean to yelp like that.

“J-just to do my duties, I am not leaving you, I promise.” He corrects, a little taken aback. “I am sorry my dear, but as much as I’d like to spend every moment by your side right now, I have a few pressing matters to tend to. I know you’re nervous, everything is new and scary and overwhelming but I promise I’ll leave you in good hands and be back as soon as I can.”

You nod, now feeling a little embarrassed at the whole ordeal. You’d been feeling so at ease with his presence, showing you around, listening to his voice name and explain everything you saw that you’d almost forgotten. “You’re the emperor, I’m sure you’re very busy. No need to worry about me, I’ll behave, my lord.”

He frowns a little at that but says nothing, and you choose to say nothing else either.

Going back to the main hall, you immediately spot three people lined up looking at you with a mix of the already expected curiosity and excitement. One of them in particular immediately catches your attention, he’s an Alpha and you can’t help but feel a little nervous…

“Allow me to introduce you, these three are my most loyal and closest council members: Ping, Ganyu and Xiao.” Zhongli gestures at them and all three bow lightly. “Like you and I they all have the blood of xiānshòu, and you can ask them for anything should you need help or have questions. I hope you learn to trust them and feel at ease.”

You nod quietly, still a bit fixated on the other Alpha.

“Xiao, or general Alatus, is one of Liyue’s strongest, most resilient and skilled warriors. He usually keeps guard at the palace to ensure my wellbeing and now yours as well, if you ever feel danger call out his name and he’ll come.”

Ah, did they notice you were staring…?

With a gesture of his hand Xiao manifests a gorgeous Jade spear, crystalline green shards reflecting light as he taps it by his side, standing firm, you flinch in surprise. “My spear shall now serve you too, empress.” His eyes too are golden and sharp, filled with a certain rigidness and determination you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Thank you, Xiao, dismissed.”

Xiao hums quietly and promptly disappears in a burst of black and green smoke, you stand there a little startled, your hand clings to the brown fabric of Zhongli’s sleeve.

“He might be an Alpha as well, but I promise you he’ll cause you no harm.” Your alpha murmurs softly towards you.

“O-okay…” You squeak, a bit embarrassed.

“Ganyu here is one of the most reliable people in the palace, perhaps the entirety of Liyue. Everything of importance reaches her ears and passes through her eyes. She’s able to organize meetings, events, report, compile information and assist every negotiation and decision of this palace with stunning efficiency. She too will help you with anything you need and might be in charge of a little logistics regarding you settling in for the next few days.” Zhongli smiles.

The young woman with long blue hair and… horns? chuckles and blushes a little. “Your majesty, you're too kind, I merely love doing my job.” She puts her hands together and beams at you, sunset eyes bright. “I’m so honored to meet you, rest assured I’ll take care of anything you need. I hope you feel comfortable and welcome at the palace!”

That sounded like a lot. You weren’t used to people coddling you like this. You didn’t want to give anyone trouble or work. “T-that’s alright, thank you.”

“Now, Ping is probably going to spend the most time with you, she’s very knowledgeable in culture, history and the inner workings of the palace amongst other things. She has graciously offered to teach you liyuen and anything else you’d be interested in.”

Unlike the other two Ping has a certain calm aura to her, contrasting Xiao’s seriousness and Ganyu’s excited energy. You can tell she’s a gentle old soul as she approaches you with a soft wrinkled smile and graying hair.

“Don’t worry young empress, while Lord Morax here is regrettably busy with a work-packed schedule,” She gives him a playful side stare “You and I will have some fun. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” She takes your hand and pats it comfortingly. It’s kind of an awkward gesture for you, but you still welcome the warmth and good intentions.

Zhongli chuckles quietly. “In that case, I’ll leave you in her care and see you at night for dinner, alright?” He seems to hesitate for a moment but then cups your face in his hands and places a soft kiss at your forehead. The unexpected gesture has you blushing scarlet and your heart speeding up like crazy. His thumb brushes at the scales under your eyes, so affectionate in the smallest ways… “I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll be fine, yes?”

You stare at his golden eyes, the red lines, his handsome face framed with dark hair, his serene smile.

You don’t like this. You don’t want him to leave. The idea makes you uncomfortable.

But it’s not like you can say no.

You nod.

“Thank you, Ping.” Both of them exchange a glance and then he turns to the blue-haired woman still in the room. “Ganyu, if you will.”    

“Right away your majesty!” She scurries after him, talking quickly in foreign tongue while both walk away.

You stare after him for a moment longer.

“It’s a little difficult, isn’t it?”

You quickly turn back to Ping and then look down, ears folding back.

She laughs softly. “No need to be ashamed dear, it is understandable that you are unsure with all this, it’s a lot of changes for such a short time and you bond is still fresh, but let’s take it easy.”

Your hand brushes at Zhongli’s bonding mark again. “O-Okay…”

“Are you hungry? Tired? Perhaps you want to rest a little?”

You want to scurry away to your mate’s room and curl up there, that’s what you want, but…

“Um, aren’t you… going to train me?”

Ping blinks a little taken aback “Train? Oh! Teach?”

Same thing.

“Well, yes. I did offer, but only if you’re feeling up to it young empress. You can take your time, we don’t have to start right away. And like I said, take it easy, it's only your second day here.” She explains. “You won’t be absorbing any information if you are uncomfortable and jittery like this.”

“S-sorry-”

“No need to apologize at all. Now tell me, is there anything you’ve seen or heard today that you’re curious about, anything you want to do?”

What you want…

You think back a few hours earlier. The infirmary, the small temple, the grand hall, and…

“The garden.” You speak. “Can we go outside and see?”

Ping smiles brightly. “Of course! I’m sure there are a lot of things there that will catch your interest and cheer you up.”

Your tail sways a little after you as you follow the old lady along the corridors.

------------------------         

The garden is breathtaking.

More than a garden it feels like a whole different world. Bright and exciting and colorful, full of life. It reminds you of an Oasis, but just… more!

A grand pond with multicolored fishes and a couple of turtles sunbathing. Walk paths made of stone, plants everywhere you see: in trees with vibrant yellows, oranges and all shades of greens, in flowers with soft colors and small petals, in thick bushes. The light filters through the leaves and there’s the soft tweets of small birds.

“It’s… so pretty!” You exclaim happily.

“I’m glad you think so. Gardens like this are carefully cared for and preserved to impress, but they also represent beauty, abundance a sense of harmony.” Ping explains as she is now the one following after you, skipping along the path. “These trees you see are sandbearers, and that one is a ginkgo tree, you can tell the difference by the shapes of their leaves.” She points at each one and you follow with your gaze, picking a small leaf from the floor, golden and fan-shaped.

“Ooh…”

“See those smaller fishes? They’re goldfishes. The bigger ones are kois.” She gestures at the animals freely swimming around. Some of them are huge!

“What do they eat?” You blurt out.

“Well, usually algae and wheat. We can get some another day and you can feed them.”

“Really?!”

“Of course.”

“Oh! Is that a koi too? It’s so… long and pretty.”

“Ah, that one is a golden koi. Lord Morax has a few of them here. They are also called Jīnchì Jiǎlóng or ‘false dragons’ you know? For the small horns and long bodies. They do resemble your tail a little, don’t they?”

You move your tail forward and stare at it, then stare at the serpentine fish.     

“Yes, sort of… Jin chi… jia long.” You mumble.

“Here, I think you’ll like these ones. Come with me.” You eagerly follow after Ping as she rounds the pond and guides you towards a few red bushes. They’re dotted with pink round flowers. “These are silk flowers, Nícháng-huā, usually harvested to make clothes, but there are many special ornamental variants and between us both, your dear mate has a weak spot for these so he has quite the collection.” She chuckles.

“Orna…metal?”

“Ornamental, it means mostly for decoration.”

“Oh!” Suddenly you feel dumb, you’d thought for a second that was a liyuen word too. “I’m sorry… I don’t even know common tongue very well.” How could you even expect to learn liyuen?

“No worries, dear, learning a new language is a daunting task, it takes a bit of work every day. If you keep learning, using and practicing words, you’ll get there.”

You smiled softly. Ping was so… patient and supportive.

So much different from…

[You have to try harder.]

[Tch that is not good enough.]

[Are you stupid?!]

[Useless omega.]

You looked at the budding silk flowers and blinked. Once. Twice. Why was your vision blurry now? What was this feeling?

“Oh, oh young empress please don’t cry. It’s alright” Ping’s alarmed remark helps you understand. She fusses over you. “Are you ok?”

You wipe at your tears and smile, a genuine bright smile.

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you truly mean it.

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

After a rather fancy bath (the kind of like you used to take before being presented to Alphas, with bubbles and scented oils...) and a good dinner Zhongli and you headed over for his chambers for the night. You couldn’t help but be a little… nervous.

This is stupid. He’s your Alpha.

He’s been nothing but kind to you.

What if he wants to… d-do things?

Then you’ll do it. He’s your mate. It’s your obligation.

You were the one who chose this anyway.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, anxiety creeping up your chest. Were your fingers trembling? Was the room suddenly cold?

As expected, the bedroom was quite matching his style. Golds, browns and a bit of red and black here and there. Dragon imagery adorning some of the walls, a tea cabinet with a small table and shelves filled with all sorts of trinkets from precious stones and books to a beautiful fan and a tea set.

And then there was the bed.

A large canopy bed, enough to probably have your body and tail fully stretched across and still fit in the mattress, beautifully decorated and filled with fabrics and pillows.

The scent of Zhongli’s Alpha pheromones was definitely strong.

He yawns and runs a hand along his forehead, combing along his hair before pulling out the clip on it, letting his long dark locks spill free. He takes off his robe revealing his naked torso and you jolt.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.           

You undress as well into your light sleeping clothes and gingerly slip into his bed, curling up around his pillows, surrounded by his scent.

His.

You are his.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine-

“Darling, is everything alright? Are you uncomfortable?” He asks concerned, climbing on the bed as well and reaching out to touch your arm. You squeak. “You’re… terrified, what’s wrong?” Then Zhongli’s eyes widen a little. “Oh. The scent… I completely overlooked that, my apologies. Is it too strong? Are you ok? Should have given you some things earlier for you to scent and include them here. This is no good…” He rambles a bit to himself as he sits up and crosses his arms thoughtfully.

You stare at him, anxiety still surging through your veins but now mixed in with confusion.

“Would you like to sleep in the other room we prepared for you instead?” He sighs.

“I… t-this is… you… would just let me leave?”

Zhongli tilts his head slightly, now he looks confused.

“I promised you that the room would be available-”

“So, you don’t want to mate?”

Silence.

He stares at you for a moment as you grip at the bedsheets, still tense.

His eyes widen as realization settles in.

Ah. The pink dusting in his cheeks is back.

“Y-You thought that… no! My dear, no, no, no…” He coughs into his fist awkwardly. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong idea. A-As I said before I want you to be comfortable and feel safe. No Alpha will force you to do anything you don’t want. Not even me. And you don’t have to feel forced to do things you don’t want to, either.”

You look down. Although you feel slightly more relieved.

“I want to stay here. A-and if you want to, I’ll service you, my lord. I was just… nervous, sorry.”

“I assure you there is no need for any of that.” He says softly. “Here.”

He pulls the covers and slips them over you both, lying down facing you but still keeping a little distance. You do the same, curled up face to face with him.

He’s so effortlessly handsome.

And kind.

And you like him.

But he’s still an Alpha.

“Is this alright? We’re just going to sleep, I promise.” He brushes some hair away from your face.

You nod.

“Is there… anything you want to talk about or ask me?”

You... don’t know.

You shake your head.

“Hmmm. Want to share about your day? What were you up to with Ping?” He gives you a playful smile. Suddenly he feels less like an imposing strict emperor, or like a scary Alpha. He’s just your Zhongli.

“She… showed me the garden. I wanted to see.”

“Ah, the royal garden has many fascinating sights and it’s a beautiful landscape to retreat to and ease one’s mind. I had the feeling you’d be interested.”

“There were so many beautiful things. She taught me about the silk flowers, nícháng-huā. And all the trees and fishes and birds.”

“Oh? Are these your first words in liyuen, my dear?”

You giggle. “I… suppose they are. She also showed me your turtles Jiàn and Fù and told me what their names mean, they are so cute. Oh! And we saw the liúlí bah… bai… bǎihé! I sang to them and they bloomed! It was... amazing.”

“I see. Not everyone can achieve that, I’ll admit I’m quite hopeless at singing.” He chuckles “What more did you learn?”

Feeling much more content and at ease you continue retelling all the new things you had experienced and the vocabulary you had learned including how to introduce yourself and some greetings and basic words. Talking for what felt like hours until weariness and sleep claimed you both.

Zhongli simply listened and stared at you, captivated. He seemed content as well.

It made you happy.

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

For the next couple of months, you established a sort of routine.

You’d wake up early alongside Zhongli, even though you didn’t need to, you simply enjoyed having some morning tea and breakfast with him. Afterwards he’d go tend to some of his official duties and you’d stay with Ping Lǎolao, learning more and more each day. By now you could even follow some basic conversation (provided the other person didn’t speak too fast) although reading and writing was still extremely difficult.

You’d expressed interest in some gardening and even headed to the kitchens to prepare some food by yourself. The maids claimed there was no need for the empress to do such ‘menial tasks’ but as an Omega you pride yourself in certain things, and cooking for your Alpha was something you’d yearned to do.

You were overjoyed when Zhongli praised your Jade parcels.

You’d always have lunch with him and some days he’d accompany you for a stroll or you’d stay at his study for some leisure time, or even at some meetings. It had been a little unnerving at first but you also knew it was important to know others and be known in the council, as well as understand Liyue outside of the palace walls. After all, you are an empress now.

At night, you slept close to him. The initial awkwardness of sleeping at opposite sides of the bed soon traded for a much cuddlier approach, often with you curled up to Zhongli’s chest or him spooning you, tails often intertwined together. The bed and the entire room now have a mix of your combined scents, like true mates.

And so, life was good…

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

You’re slowly pulled out of your sleep as Zhongli stirs in the bed. You grumble a little and yawn, already missing his warmth. It was so pleasant…

“Good morning, my dear dragoness.”

“Morning…” You mumble, not opening your eyes and instead blindly reaching for his pillow to hug and cling to. “Can we stay for longer?” You whine.

“You definitely can, but I have to go.” He kisses your forehead “Rest, my dear.”

You pout but say nothing. Squeezing at the pillow and burying your face in it.

It smells so good…

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

“Hmm… is it warmer today?” You wonder aloud as the maids help you up with the layers of your hanfu. The clothes still hot and heavy in contrast to what you used to wear at the desert, but today seemingly more so… the sash feels more constricting than usual. “I-I think I’d like to wear something a little lighter… if possible.”

“Of course, your majesty, no problem.”

You smile at them, grateful.

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

Sitting at Zhongli’s study room you practice some basic liyuen calligraphy while he seemingly goes over some important documents. The silence is comfortable and a warm cup of Qixing tea steams at both desks. Yet, something keeps bothering you.

You huff lightly, scratching and picking at the scales of your tail, irritated with the uncomfortable feeling. Why is it so itchy? A couple of them fall off, revealing new glossy ones underneath.

“Ah…” So that means…

You stop for a moment. The feverish feeling, scents being stronger on your nose, the urge to nest and cling to your mate.

Hmm… part of you is a little excited. And yet, there is fear.

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

“You have quite the appetite today, dear. Eat slowly, the food won’t go anywhere.” Ping chuckles as you practically pick a little of every dish while still trying to keep some modicum of elegance. Chopsticks weren’t that easy after all.

“Yes… I think… I think it���s my pre-heat hormones.” You sigh before munching on a shrimp ball.

Your heat…

Your first heat with Zhongli. With any Alpha to be honest. You’d always had to endure them on your own (Master couldn’t have you get pregnant) and they were excruciating and debilitating, crying out for days with your skin burning and itching, trying to sate yourself with your fingers and humping pillows. But now… you’re happily bonded.

Would it… feel good again?

Like, that first time you two mated…

You feel your cheeks heat up.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?”

You’re brought back to reality to see Ping staring at you seemingly a little alarmed.

“Pre-heat? Young empress, are you going into heat soon?”

“Y-yeah? Probably um, tonight…? Or tomorrow.” The onsets are always so quick, and your cycle has always been more or less stable.

The elder places her chopsticks down. “Have you told Lord Morax?”

“Um. N-No, not yet. But… m-maybe he already caught on...” You tilt your head.

…Right?

Then again even you took a couple of days to identify the signs, and now for sure you were at the brink of it. Maybe he’ll mate you tonight…

Hm… how will Zhongli react to your heat scent?

You have to do your best!

[Be a good omega.]

Ping stands up, her expression still gentle but with a sort of urgency to it, your instincts catch the feeling she’s worried about something.

“I have to inform about this, please stay here dear.”

Now you’re nervous. You nod slowly.

Why does it feel like you did something wrong…?

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

After that, things get… chaotic.

It’s only a while later that you find yourself at the infirmary. Ganyu and Zhongli are also there and everyone’s anxious pheromones in the air do not sit well with you (subtle as they are, your nose is hyperaware right now).

“I’m sorry the symptoms are already settled in. At this point it is simply not feasible to give her suppressants, she has to go through this heat.” Baizhu says, looking troubled.

Feasible? Suppressants? More unknown words but…

Is there something wrong with your heat?

Ganyu scurries off and Ping starts talking with Baizhu on the other side of the room. You cling to Zhongli’s robe, trying to soothe yourself with his presence but his scent is… agitated.

You whine to call out to him. You’re scared.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Zhongli pulls you close, cupping your face again, staring straight at you. “No… no my dear dragoness, of course you didn’t, it’s just…” He steels himself searching for the right words, it doesn’t ease you in the slightest. “We didn’t expect your heat so soon. I should have known, noticed… I’m sorry.”

Why is your alpha apologizing to you? That is ridiculous.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“It’s… not the right time.”

You’re so confused.

Don’t Alphas like it when Omegas are in heat? Soft, pliant, warm, needy and ready to breed.

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated to do this…” He says. “And… you could trigger my rut, you could end up pregnant. I don’t want to… scare you, or hurt you. It’s much too soon for us to share your heat. I thought we’d have more time for you to get acclimated to Liyue or…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind. For the next few days you’ll be in a separate room, yes? No one will disturb you during your heat, I promise.”

“B-But then… I… what…?”

Alone?

“Usually omegas take suppressants, like a type of medicine, to stave off their heats so they don’t have to face these risks or suffer them alone, and then when they’re ready, when they want, they choose to share heats with their partners.” He explains.

“But I want to! I… I’ll be good!”

Zhongli sighs. “Darling you are good, you are precious to me. You don’t need to prove anything or do things because they are ‘expected’ of you.”

He’s not listening!

He asks you what you want. He says you can choose. But now that you tell him, ask him, beg him even… he denies you?

How come you’re always making the wrong choice?

Was it all a lie then?

“But I- T-then- Why-… YOU’RE CONFUSING ME!!” You yell, tears stinging in your eyes.

There are a few gasps and you see not only Baizhu and Ping, but Ganyu and some of the maids staring at you in shock. You cover your mouth, eyes wide at the sudden burst of fierceness and emotion.

You yelled at him.

You talked back.

You should be punished.

He stares at you, frozen like a statue for a few moments. You stare at him, pitiful, your eyes begging. A whimper leaves you and Zhongli lets out a shuddering breath.

Oh, your Alpha wants you, you know it.

"Please..." You mumble, voice so small.

"I'm sorry my dear, it's better this way." His hand moves towards you, to cup your face again or brush at your hair you're not sure, but he stops himself before you can find out. He sighs, averting his gaze and looking conflicted, and then turns around.

This is your punishment.

"It'll be just a few days, you'll be well-cared for. This is for the best." He says sternly, voice pinched.

And then he leaves.

Your heart shatters.

Everything is a blur after that. You’re gently guided along towards an empty nest room, the same one you'd first met him at, there are some things with both your scents on it but they feel sterile, washed anew.

Your hands start trembling. Your eyes start to water. Your lips quiver. Your throat feels tight, choked and dry. Your body feels feverish, hot and restless.

Zhongli rejected you.

“Your majesty please calm down."

[Useless.]

[Moron.]

[Whore.]

You could no longer breathe, hear nor see. You feel like you're drowning, unable to process what just happened. Your mate…your precious mate…he…he…

He abandoned you.

“Your majesty…?"

You scream.

[mydetheturk]

96. "Is that… is that my bra?” stryfewood :3c

Meryl walks in on Wolfwood surrounded by their laundry. It's hanging on every available surface, except for the chair Wolfwood is sitting in and the wash basin Wolfwood is forearm deep in. His shirtsleeves are rolled up past his elbows, held in place by his sleeve garters so they get less wet.

She has to stare for a moment because while yes this is a fairly common sight, this is a lot more laundry than she’s used to seeing him do in one shot.

“Nick?” Meryl says. “Is everything alright?” She’s got no idea, really.

“Yep.” He carefully rolls a bar of soap against something along the washboard and dunks the fabric back down in the water. “Needed doing.”

“Alright…” Wolfwood’s clearly deep in thought, mentally clocked out and going more through the motions than actually thinking about what he’s doing. This is either a good day or a bad day and Meryl is no longer sure which.

Meryl squints, recognizing the fabric Wolfwood pulls out of the water.

“Wait a goddamn second, is that my bra?”

Wolfwood pauses, only now actually looking at what he’s holding. “Looks like, yeah,” he says. He grins, holding Meryl’s bra up like it’s nothing. “It’s cute. I like the polka dots.”

It’s one of her more practical bras, one that Wolfwood’s pulled off of her on several memorable occasions. Meryl unfortunately agrees with Wolfwood in that it’s cute – the bra itself is white with little pink heart shaped polka dots. A girlfriend back in college had gotten it for her as a gag gift one year without Meryl even realizing she’d managed to get Meryl’s measurements – and without a measuring tape. It’d been impressive then, and it’s still a little impressive now, a few years after the fact.

Meryl doesn’t wear it too often, not wanting to wear it out. It usually lives in her spare clothes box in the back of the jeep. Why Wolfwood was digging through there is anyone’s guess, really.

“So. Laundry day?” Meryl asks.

“Yep.” Wolfwood dunks the bra in the rinse bucket beside him and carefully wrings it out. “Realized a lot of stuff had stains. So I got started. Almost done, really.”

It sure looks like he’s almost done. Meryl’s pretty sure the only things he hasn’t washed are the clothes they’re currently wearing.

Wolfwood hangs the bra on the wire that’s strung between the bed frame and the table.

“Alright, pretty boy,” Meryl says. “Strip.”

Wolfwood jumps a little, blinking his grey-brown eyes in confusion.

Meryl strips off her shirt and tosses it in his face. “C’mon, what’s left? What we’re wearing?”

Wolfwood pulls Meryl’s shirt off his face and grins. “Oh I’ll get you,” he teases. He drops Meryl’s shirt in the laundry bucket and grabs her with his other hand, reeling her in.

Meryl goes easily, laughing bright and loud.

[gubbles-owo]

okay fuckit, gather 'round: it's gubbles' storytime. girl's band cry hyperfixation be damned, it's bringing up so many Things in my heart. i say i've never performed live onstage, but that's not entirely true. while a far shot from actually taking part in a band and playing a show, allow me to tell you the tale of the closest I ever got to that: a random session at jamspace, pax east, 2016.

.......... senior year of college, i was brought onboard with another group of students who had not only completed a game demo for a class project, but wanted to take it further. a lil VR game, simple in concept and clean in execution, i was invited to do music and audio for it. (i was, of course, the sole game audio/music-focused student on campus, as my school's gamedev program didn't really have a dedicated audio designer track). ultimately it fizzled out and not much came of it, but for a good chunk of time it was everything. our future ambitions, something to carry us forth from graduation on into the industry, to cement our own little foothold in the vast world of game development. we took the train to boston so many times, showed off our game at SO MANY local events, hell i had never known how to navigate a complex subway system, and here we were sifting through every few weeks or so. it was a wild fucking time, and honestly? i wish i could experience it again. something about the weaving of fantastical future prospects with the tangible, corporeal experience of it all. once foreign subway systems, sprawling in a subterranean web of concrete and metal, the sidewalks of city streets lit by the glow of the city, now strangely familiar in such a short span of time... *ahem* right, where was i... right, pax east. our school provided a limited number of booths for teams to show off their projects at pax east, and being one of the big promising projects stirring up on campus, we were granted a spot. (actually i had TWO spots because two separate projects/teams i took part in got accepted, so i had to pull double duty for a lot of it LMFAO). i've been to pax before, but as a fan and attendee, not as a developer. so this was an entirely new experience... ...and that experience was having the booth you sit at all day right next to the massive league of legends (ew) stage!! they blasted music constantly! half of it was just percussion loops from Heavyocity's Damage, and i know because I RECOGNIZED THOSE PERCUSSION SOUNDS and even USED SOME OF THEM IN THE PROJECT I WAS WORKING ON. see, the convention floor is loud. like. incredibly fucking loud. it's one thing if you're walking around as a fan, you've got other talks in siderooms to go to, and you can always step out and get some fresh air if you're feeling overwhelmed. but ya can't do that when you're on shift to demo your game to con attendees for the next several hours, can ya? :3c so yeah, long story short, i got sick. real fuckin sick. i had to YELL over the din of the convention the entire time, and after just one day, i had already lost my voice. and i mean COMPLETELY LOST MY VOICE. i could not speak, only painfully croak. i had to resort to crude hand gestures and typing shit on my phone to communicate. it was rooouughhh. and after bringing this up with my teammates, they agreed to cover my shifts, and let me rest. because the con was so fucking loud, and i was still stuck there sick all day, i informed my team that i would be headed to the jamspace room to pick up earplugs. and by "earplugs" i mean. haha well. lets justr say. a bass guitar. (srry for screenshot but tumblr hated this paragraph for some reason and kept blocking the post):

i was sick as fuck, and for sake of my health, should probably not have pushed myself. HOWEVER. i would NOT i repeat *NOT* let this sole opportunity to slip me by... i've always wanted to perform with other musicians, so fuck it, i am doing this. so the next twelve minutes i shuffled my sickly ass alll the way around to the room at the very end of the hall. i had taken note of the open-stage timeslots the day prior. i had one hour to do this shit. one hour to make the dream come true. i cannot describe the nervousness i felt going into that whole thing. i lied to my teammates. i couldn't speak. a dark room with a little clipboard to fill out a timeslot and instrument, and an empty, brightly lit stage on the other side of it. but i shuffled stage right, strapped on this bass, and asked for a pick (because im a fake bassist). and. holy shit.

i had no voice, but with that bass strapped to me? i could make the entire room *shake*. and words cannot describe how utterly fucking powerful that felt.

a few other randos took up the other instruments. i don't remember much about them, only that they intimidated the HELL out of me. i had done like concert band in high school, i've jammed on instruments in my room, but this? this is something entirely different. we played through a couple tracks... they kept suggesting "hey how about x song from y band?" but my stupid-ass doesn't have a degree in classic rock like everyone else apparently does, so i shrugged and said i didn't know how to play it. we finally settled on the one song suggested that i was, at least passingly, familiar with... metallica's enter sandman lmfaO the "passingly" there is very important, because while i know the general flow and structure, i wasn't sure about the specifics. when we got to the first pre-chorus, i notice something had shifted, and i was no longer playing the right notes. i must've either sounded terrible or look visibly confused, because the guitarist to my left turned toward me, angled his fretboard to be clearly in view, and taught me how to play the riff while performing it onstage. and i did it!! i picked it up, just like that!! it was just the earlier bit but transposed up a few steps or smth, but god, just. that little moment right there? that quick moment of guidance mid-performance? holy fuck that is magical. the other awesome moment was somewhere in the bridge, like. okay. i could barely hear myself, as the guitars and vocals and cymbals right behind me were all incredibly loud (they didn't have earplugs btw lol). but i wasn't sure i was like, contributing much to the song? and while i admittedly improvised this bit, for the build up into the final chorus, i stopped playing. i let the guitar and the drums have their space. and slowly, quietly, high up on the fretboard, built back up until WHAM, i come back in full force with the chorus. IT WAS SO COOL. LIKE. the mix sounded so weak and thin without me, and the contrast of making the entire fucking room violently vibrate with the flick of my wrist on the downbeat? holy FUCK. IT'S MAGICAL. MAGIC IS REAL Y'ALL AND IT IS ONSTAGE. anyway yeah, played that song, some members swapped out but no one else was signed up for bass, so i stuck on for a lil longer. another guitarist taught me how to play one of the splatoon themes, and while it was fun, the drummer kept us both going on that one riff for a looot longer than we wanted to lmfao fun fact! none of my team knew i did this!! they probably would've been PISSED had they found out!! actually they stole my con pass on the third morning, which made sense cause they had someone else fill in for me at the booth, but none of it was communicated to me and i was piiiiised. wound up navigating the subway and trains back home, all by myself, for the first time. but YEAH it was AMAZING. it wasn't an established band playing a local show, it was just a bunch of randos fucking around. and god. i... i really want to be part of a band someday. i want to feel this again.

even if just for one show, for one song, for one moment... i need to feel the weight of the room underneath my fingertips.

[isolement]

one thousand goddamn words, i do not apologize. i like body horror, gimme a break

woe, neopolitan hc be upon ye

tl;dr: it takes about two weeks for the transformations to finish, including; a body that changes height day by day, as well as other characteristics hour by hour; vertical, slit-shaped pupils; sharper, pointier teeth, and more of them; nails that grow out into claws; cat-like ears on the side of their skull; and their voice, suddenly restored but with a horrible curse: a case of voice of the legion, where the curious cat's voice quietly weaves in and out of their normal, speaking voice.

make no mistake, this is not 'neopolitan gets cute cat ears and goes "nya! :3c" constantly. this is straight up body dysmorphia, a violation of their body image, and gods they fuckin hate it. every time they look in a mirror, all they can notice are the features that weren't there a few weeks ago, the things that don't belong. i think only well into the ending chapters of rwby — if not well into post-rwby content — does neo come to terms with what happened to them. by the way, if your character values living, do not call neo the 'neocat'. they will kill them. no bit, kayfabe off. this is direct mun to mun communication here, neo will actually harm and attempt to kill your character.

the consequences aren't evident immediately. i'd say that by the end of neo's second week back from the ever-after, there's no new surprises in store for them. their condition won't get any worse, nor does it get any better. attempting to fix it via surgery or semblances do nothing, because their body recognizes it as 'yeah this is normal now.'

putting this under readmore so it doesn't clog up the dash too much. this is the list of consequences/transformations neo is subjected to as a part of the curious cat's possession of them, ordered from first to appear to last to appear:

the first day back from the ever after, they discover that they're a whole inch taller. unsure of whether this is a very late growth spurt or not, they're decidedly happy about it, and maybe mention it offhandedly to like yang or scarlett or someone idk. however, the next day they discover they're two inches shorter. this means that neo's body shifts over time. height usually ranges from 4'7" to 4'11", with a median of 4'9". it also applies to other parts of their body. while their height changes day by day, eyes may be slightly larger or slightly smaller hour to hour, mouth might tilt a little, small things that are just barely noticeable if you have a keen eye.

the morning of the second day, they get up out of bed and stretch, like they usually do, however, they swear they can feel their arms lengthen, distort, distend just a tiny bit, bones creaking and groaning before slowly, lazily easing back into their normal length, as though their arms would really rather stay those few centimeters longer.

maybe a couple days after leaving the ever-after, neo notices their eyes end up resembling blake's, with vertical, slit shaped pupils. their eye color remains the same, and their semblance can still affect it like normal.

the next two happen about a week after leaving the ever-after, heir incisors and canines grow sharper, pointier, with the back teeth remaining human as an odd mix of the two. they also notice that they have more teeth, much like the neocat's. dentist appointments are off the table now. likewise, neo's nails start growing to a long, sharp point unless they take care of it via filing or clipping their nails. they stop using acrylic nails at this time, as that would require letting someone see their nails, so they stick to just painting them or w/e the phrase is.

a week and a half later, they note that their ears have grown more cat-like, almost perpendicular to their skull with pointed, rounded tips and tufts of pink and brown fur covering the base and a little bit of the ear itself. their ears twitch, move, showing their emotions and god do they do airplane ears a lot. this... they almost don't mind, but they hate it all the same.

two weeks later, a particularly tricky lock causes them to vocalize a "hmmm," and they jump in shock. as their vocal cords were completely shredded to the degree where such a noise is physically impossible, it's an understandable surprise.

their voice is restored, but with a notable undercurrent of the cat's voice that weaves in and out of their own. under stressful situations, this is intensified to the point where their own voice ends up taking a backseat. suitably, neo does not like talking. for future reference, their natural speaking voice is remarkably similar to casey lee william's, but with a cadence and tone more similar to valkyrie from thor ragnarok.

neo's semblance interacts with this in an... interesting way. see, i've hc'd that their upgraded semblance's clones and audio mimicry is based off of how they remember the people and sounds. so clone!roman is much more dramatic than he was in real life, because that's how neo remembers him, they remember the showing off and snarky comments. his voice is also wrong, because that's how they remember his voice. when neo attempts copying their voice with their semblance, the cat's voice dominates, while theirs is barely audible.

neopolitan hates all of it. the illusion once used to cover up the scar on their throat instead covers up their entire face, eyes made to look like normal, ears hidden by their short haircut, mouth covered by a hand if they even yawn or open it to eat, wearing thick, padded gloves to cover up their sharpened nails, all of it repressed and hidden away in an effort to pretend like they're still them.

but they know the truth. they know it every single time they wake up and look at themself in the mirror, every time they measure their height to see if the pattern's changed, stretching and trying in vain to ignore the sounds of their bones desperately wanting to grow, to lengthen.

but hey, at least they can captain holt ruby by walking up to her and saying "no one will ever believe you." and walking away. that's the one upside, and neo does take genuine joy in doing that and keeping the bit going for as long as physically possible

[one-annon]

you know what. lets spice it up.

COIN FLIP :3

heads for harringsmith.,.,... fluff or angst i do not mind. preferably no fog/high school-ish au :3c whether its in hawkins or springwood is up to you im giving you freedom

tails for chemicalshipping!!1!1!1 same rules apply, except you saw-ify it by making john less murderous if just not at all :3c

have fun pooks

COINFLIP - TAILS! CHEMICALSHIPPING "BAD DAD, BAD KID"

hi raz....

i know i didnt..fully follow the rules..but i know we talked about it and you like the idea so erm...hope you dont mind me yammering about my favorite trap w/ hints of chem...

this is also a little au indulgent.. if you wanna read why daniel and brent work for jigsaw go look at @jigsaws-disciples

also tw for period typical homophobia!! i love making eric worse than he is normally

this was not meant to be 2.9k words LMAO

eric matthews was a mean son of a bitch.

those were daniel's first thoughts as he stared down at the task he was assigned with. he and the boy he was with had been working under jigsaw's apprentices for a few months. really they didnt do much. sometimes they handled things as small as grocery runs, or sometimes they would handle making parts of traps. today, daniel and brent are in charge of checking every place a game has been played.

daniel was glad brent was going with him. he knew they would be in places that bring back some not so great thoughts. there was no reason to check on the rotting bodies. really, they did it just to check if the police had been there recently. they didnt have another officer on their team once lawrence placed hoffman in the bathroom, so they had to be careful with their actions.

first on their list was the meat factory. the pair could already cross off the house that includes rooms that haunt daniels nightmares. with daniel's seemingly never ending streak of bad luck, they ended up using the house as a sort of hideout. just somewhere to be when they werent helping out or in college classes. since the remodel that hoffman had mostly done, his memories had been a little nicer to him. it wasnt the same, gross house as before. and the front door opened.

brent had never known daniel's father. the two of them never exactly spoke of them. by the time they arrived in the room where the detective lay dead and rotting, daniel's demeanor had changed.

this didn't go unnoticed, of course. brent could read the other fairly well. he knew when daniel was upset by something. if he had known previously, he wouldnt have accepted the task. he wouldve asked for something different for the two of them. he took note of how daniel tensed up as his eyes met with the rotting corpses of two people on the floor. one of them was still wearing the supposed trap for him. brent couldnt help btu wonder what the hell the man had done to get himself into that.

the other man seemingly had died from blood loss, someone had shot him. brent didn't recognize either of the men and it seemed daniel didnt either. from how it looked, no one had been here. the gun supposedly used to shoot the blood loss corpse was near the desk toward the front of the room. brent stepped over the body with the spine contraption, leaning over the desk to look at the monitors. there were different rooms on the screen. somehow, the cameras still worked. one or two were out of order, only left with static, but the rest worked fine.

"anything interesting?" daniel asked, watching brent's movements. he was trying to distract himself from the small sounds of sparks and the awful smell of blood and rot. the main thing, though, was the large trap beyond the desk. daniel knew who the men in that trap were. he didnt want to think about that right now.

brent shrugged. "looks like some trial thing." his looked downward to the bag next to the desk, sifting through what was inside. his eyes lifted to the man with the curly hair. "he's still got his tape. and there's a folder in here. must've been another zep situation." he straightened his back, holding a stained envelope. "forced to be the apprentice for a little, yknow?"

the two boys knew about the history of failed apprentices. zep, who one of the other disciples had very strong words about, was supposedly part of another game. they had already seen his corpse. it was next to a man who daniel knew a little too well. the best part? they lived right above that game. daniel hated that goddamn house. from what they were told, these trials were supposedly another game for a possible apprentice. two, actually.

one had been an associate of hoffman's, the other being an old friend of john's. neither boy had personally met john and befriended him, but they were told stories by the apprentices who knew him. melissa's father enjoyed telling stories of how he was helped by john. he spoke of the man like he was a god.

"makes sense." daniel agreed, glancing up to the rather obvious trap in front of them. "wasn't mark in this trap?" he stepped over the corpses, avoiding any broken glass and thanking the shoe store on the corner of his favorite outlet store for having platformed combat boots. he hugged the right wall, looking past the fencing and to a high voltage power box. "he was supposed to get like electrocuted or something."

brent followed behind him, making sure not to slip on the water that was still covering the floors. "i think so." he stood on the edge of the contraption, holding his arms out to keep balance as it tilted to the right with a loud, rusty creak. he took another step, practically jumping over the water to make it to the leather chair that sat in the middle of the water pool. the taller held onto the edge of the chair, laughing and smiling at daniel. "jesus!" he muttered, shifting around to sit in the chair.

daniel rolls his eyes, chuckling. he steps away from the fence, moving to the other side of the trap. "youre gonna get electrocuted, brent! watch out!" he stepped up onto the little platform there, kicking aside chains. he was grateful that what looked to be some sort of heat rays were off. the platform wasnt very big. if mr. emerson's rambles to him were right, this would hold a melting piece of ice. they both had a good laugh, playing around on something they shouldn't. it was like they were kids again.

the older shifted, planting his feet in a way that would make it harder for him to slip off the platform. there was still water in the dip in the seesaw part of the trap. if it was still in working order, he would be electrocuted if he touched it. brent's eyes traveled up above daniel, two long metal rods with squares of the same material were above him. they were connected up to a pulley sorta system. following the wires, his eyes landed on the door. daniel had to duck down to avoid the metal. someone's head mustve been crushed.

brent wasnt totally aware of what had happened in this room. he only knew that four people were involved for this section, one of them being mark. he was somewhat aware of how to trap worked…but he wasn't fully sure. looking at it now, it was easier to piece together. this one felt like a domino effect of some sorts. whoever was supposed to replace daniel would get their head crushed between two blocks of..what? ice would be the most reasonable. especially with all the water involved. the two big metal poles holding it would be released when the door was open, but who was supposed to go through the door? the man who was shot?

he wondered if there were camera recordings of this room.

daniel turned his upper body, trying to look around the room while holding his balance. he ignored brents look of curiosity. the nerd was always thinking of something. now, daniel may not have been the most observant person ever, especially not when compared to his father, but it didnt take a shitty detective who planted evidence to find the corpse behind them."oh.." he hummed, eyebrows furrowing. "there's our victim." he pointed to the body, laughing awkwardly. "good god.."

brent turned to see what daniel was eyeing, letting out a whistle that said 'holy shit thats awful.' he craned his neck to get a better look at the body, hoping he could identify this rando. "looks like a prisoner of some kind." he stood in the chair, holding one long leg out and catching the bottom of his boot on the edge of the trap before lifting himself up and jumping to the concrete floor. daniel did the same, joining brents side near the body. "who do you think it is?"

dan had a pretty good idea. the body wasn't yet rotted enough to be bone. "i dunno." he said, bending down. he reached into his pocket, pulling medical gloves diana had gifted them and sliding them onto his hands. he wasnt touching the damn thing! "theres not many people i know who john would put in somethin' like this. but if mark was in it..then it's gotta be something for cops right?" he looked up at brent, smiling at the confirmation. "and..i dunno, maybe the other guy is a cop too." he pointed a finger to the man who was shot, hesitating before looking back.

daniel took a few seconds to breathe before lifting the pant leg that wasnt covered by a foot brace. it was there. just barely. the skin hadnt yet rotted enough to make it fully disappear. on his right ankle, a name was written. daniel's name tattooed in some cursive font. said boy inhaled slowly, biting his lip before dropping the pant leg. "fuck." he muttered, all laughter and fun from moments ago vanishing. "thats my dad, dude." he whispered, voice cracking near the end. this wasnt surprising. he knew this. why did it hurt so bad?

it wasnt very often he thought about eric. mostly just when he was reflecting on his life or when he was wandering through the graveyard. sometimes he would be reminded just by the watch he wore. his father gave it to him. said it would be helpful for his school tests. well, he wasnt wrong. it helped him keep track of times for tests..just not the educational type.

memories of his fathers funeral came back in full force. daniel went thinking his father hated him. daniel watched as the casket with nothing in it but a photo of his father was lowered thinking that his father didnt want to see him again. he couldnt help but remember how much he wanted to see his father when he was pulling needles out of the skin of the only person he trusted; of someone who his father framed and arrested.

to say daniel was surprised was an overstatement. he knew his father was dead since he was helped out of the safe. a nice man had helped him out of the building. he said his name was adam. said he was there to help him and he was going to get him to a hospital. daniel had done nothing but follow him. he couldnt help but remember how much he wanted to see his father when he heard knocking on his hospital door, followed by a shout of "danny, its me your cousin!" and then arguing about something. he knew that voice. he knew who was arguing behind that door.

that voice would be the one to get him through the next few years. it would be the one to distract him as he drove back to his mother after his fathers funeral. it would be the voice that would get him motivated enough to get his ass out of bed and go to that stupid therapy group his mama had started forcing him to go to.

daniel couldnt help it when tears started to blur his vision. it had been years, he shouldnt be crying over his fucking hotheaded father. he heard brents voice, as gentle as ever. such a contrast from the singer who soothed him through the beginning of his adulthood. "oh…daniel, im so sorry…" he felt a hand on his back. warm, comforting. such a contrast from the one that would drag him back to the truck after the police caught him doing something he shouldnt.

the older wiped his eyes, letting go of a shaky exhale. "its fine. ive known he was dead for years." he blinked back new tears as he looked at the body. it's head was missing. brain and flesh and muscle were scattered around the pooled blood, which had more or less seeped into the metal/concrete below them. daniel had to swallow to prevent himself from vomiting. that was his father. despite the urge to vomit, he reached forward, picking up half a piece of lower jaw bone. daniel looked at his friend, lip twitching in a frown.

brent was quiet for a long moment, staring at the bone before meeting daniel's gaze. "..i..i know how to preserve bones." he assured, reaching into his side back and opening a large bag for daniel to put the bone into. "once we're home i'll get it good for you."

"i dont want it. just…we'll go by the graveyard tomorrow. put it there." daniel suddenly said. he stood, shaking his head and pulling the gloves off. "we needa get outta here, brent." his words were rushed, obviously the boy didnt want to talk about it anymore and what he said was final. that was that. they would bury the bone in the morning.

brent sighed, closing the ziploc bag a third of the way before pressing it against his stomach and closing it the rest of the way to seal it air tight. "okay, thats fine." he studied daniel for a long moment, just thinking. he was always way too good at reading daniel's feelings and daniel hated it. "its okay to cry, yknow? i cried over my dad's death. i mean, you know that. i wont judge you or anything."

daniel hated his stupid voice. he hated that voice that was oh, so comforting to him. he hated that his voice that was oh, so comforting to him. it would be the voice that convinced him to go back to therapy over and over. it would be the voice that comforted him while he cried. it would be the voice he was so grateful he got to go home to. it as the voice that was connected to the man he loved so dearly. he hated how he loved him.

his father taught him that was wrong. he was taught to shame people with those thoughts. he couldnt. he knew people personally now who were that way. he knew the man whose voice carried him through his father's death. he was told their music was against that shit. he was told that its okay to be that way. he still couldnt help it though. he couldnt help how soft and gently brent looked at him. he felt pitiful. he hated feeling pitiful. he hated how beautiful brent looked in the shitty factory light.

"i know that." he scoffed, stepping over his fathers corpse and toward brent. brent held his arms out, helping daniel across. if you asked why daniel matthews, a 32 year old man, was freaking out like a middle schooler skipping class for the first time, he would say it was the blood. it was not the blood. it was the way brents hands held him as he stepped over. it was the way brent checked on him to make sure he was okay. it was because his heart thumped faster because of it.

he straightened himself up, and inhaled. "cmon." was all he said, swallowing hard. daniel subconsciously toyed with his tongue piercing as he walked. he felt brent's hand on his shoulder but he didnt dare say anything. his father wouldve killed him if he found out about his and brent's shitty secrets. whatever. his father was dead. has been forever. daniel lifted his arm, giving a nice middle finger to every corpse in the room.

his father wouldnt approve of the way he interlocked his fingers with brents, or the way he bumped shoulders with him as they walked down the hallway. he would scowl at the way daniel made sure to keep a hand on brent as they checked the rest of the buildings, at the way brent let their hands stay hooked together on the ride back home.

daniel couldnt really give two shits what he father thought. he never did. it wasnt like his father could think now anyway, he was dead. the next morning, the two thoroughly cleaned the jaw bone. they took the short walk to the cemetery, hunted down the grave of detective eric matthews, and dug. they only dug three feet. brent tossed a flower to the grave, and daniel (much like he did with the casket was buried) spat on the grave. just as a final fuck you to his father, he held brents hand as they left.

daniel matthews was one mean son of a bitch.

---

i love the ice block trap sm...anyway references i used for the trap below if anyone wants to use them!! tw for gore n blood n stuff..

vv

[paincomes]

IM SORRY I DONT HAVE THE NERVE TO SAY THIS WITH MY NAME SHOWN BUT FHSBDHSHHDHDHDJDJD

IM OBSESSEDDDDD with the new Aegean seas update 😭😭 The way Paris seeks even unspoken permission for EVERYthing 👀👀👀 if u get what i mean. Giving very devoted guard dog. A character trope I happen to be insane for.

The way Delta is just a Grade A bitch. But also respects Paris’ decisions. And recognizes when he is vulnerable and holds himself back. I’m obsessed.

(I am choosing to willfully ignore the fucked up power dynamic what I cannot see cannot hurt me xoxoxoxoxo)

In the AU universe is this something that happens often between them?

hehehe thank youuuuu :3c

ya!!! idk which parts of this to respond to first agajshsjs. this is like the furthest ill go into noncon/dubcon territory. i know you said you were ignoring the fucked up power dynamic but i have to talk about it right

its coercive in the sense that delta initiated. but he wouldnt have done so if he didnt think was genuine interest. and there was! it was reciprocated and delta wouldnt have forced paris to do anything but like. how much room is there to actually say no in that situation if he had wanted to. additionally paris is the one taking on all the risk if they get caught. cause ur not supposed to do that shit!

it happens semi-frequently. delta perceives it to be less serious than it is because of a generally stunted sense of empathy + baseline royal entitlement. but also delta just has sex a lot and has fucked quite a few of his friends without feeling like it really meant anything so he is always just a little cavalier about it. but even he is not totally unaware of the power dynamic and he knows that paris is genuinely v emotional so he exercises more caution w him than he would for most people.

its an extremely weird situation for paris. i actually intended to write his POV for this but it ended up not happening and he also ended up being way quieter than anticipated due to moodiness. he is into it but it also does make him think delta is weird and/or insane a lot of the time. it also ties into his whole like. need to be useful and his kind of resentful sense of protectiveness and responsibility over delta. and additionally that same fear of disposability? but to him eventually it does become just. not a big deal given the proximity they keep and delta’s general sense of clinginess. like it makes sense for him that it evolved into what it is now. 🩷.

[vacantgodling]

climbs into your askbox

hi i'm responding a little late to your request for wip questions but that's okay

anyway. head empty rn, but i'd love to hear a bit more about a wip of yours i've been curious about!!! vampires don't take road trips. i would like to learn more. i realize that's not a specific question so: looking at the main cast, what's something each of them would hate to be *seen* as and why? (i.e. if someone would hate to be seen as stupid, or would hate to be seen as unreliable, something like that)

or alternatively. silly question. rate the main cast in order from "will show up exactly on time on the dot to the function" to "will like clockwork show up at least an hour later than they were told to." feel free to elaborate on your rankings if you want!

this took me forever to answer im so sorry 💀💀💀

eee you are always welcome in my inbox :3c

i did make a powerpoint intro for this wip too so i link just so you can stare at it later lmaoo -> here

but these are both EXCELLENT questions, and for once i may have answers bc ive had these ocs for like a decade 💀

so, ig if we stick to the main main cast (which ngl is hard to determine for me but i suppose that’d be darren, dave, liz, olice, and veronica… at least for the first half of the book lmaooo) — for the easy question of who’s showing up on time versus who is showing up late in that order:

dave, veronica, olice, darren, liz

as for why:

dave is a lawyer and a generally punctual person and is somewhat anxious. he prefers to be 5 minutes early.

veronica is a wannabe socialite and so her image is contingent on if she shows up on time and so she’ll be there on the dot.

olice is used to her mothers antics and she feels like it’s rude to be ridiculously late so she tries to be there between on time or 5-10 minutes late at the most.

darren is more lax and tends to get distracted so if he shows up like 30 minutes late to the function it’s chill. the only time he’s on time is when dave is with him LOL

liz is an Actual socialite but she doesn’t care about that or social events in general so she tends to be “fashionably late” and people “forgive” her bc of her status 🤷🏽‍♂️🤷🏽‍♂️🤷🏽‍♂️

for the harder question:

DARREN: the way this is actually a hard question for my actually emotionally intelligent son LMAOOO. i think in general he hates being seen as dramatic, or someone who makes a big deal out of things. he’s a chill guy, and for his own sanity he prefers to stay chill if and when possible. the times that he’s had outbursts or had people accuse him of being overly dramatic are the few things that haunt him in life. i think the reason as to why… it’s a bit hard to say. but i think it comes down to the fact that in not wanting to be bothered with things himself, he tries not to bother other people. he’s more likely to assume that he’s getting on someone’s nerves or pissing them off and would just ghost them to avoid drama instead of fully confronting the situation. he Will if he needs to, but he’d just rather not because … idk? he just doesn’t think it’s worth the trouble. he’d rather keep his peace and be wrong than rock the boat and be right. it’s definitely something he’s kinda picked up from his dad, but darren manages to be waaaay more chill that even dave is because he just keeps people at arms length unless it’s his dad or olice. he learns how to do that less but the idea of letting people in enough to ruffle his inner peace is also. hm. not something he’s fond of. so basically, he’s not conflict avoidant he’s more conflict neutral and likes to take the path of least resistance if any of that makes sense.

DAVE: he hates being seen as weak. he recognizes that this is very irrational but it’s a fear and discomfort that developed from his own father, who was extremely harsh on him growing up, and even harsher if dave got upset or cried or wasn’t “manly.” so for him, being “weak” comes with a host of trauma around it that he’s still working through many years later. it doesn’t trigger him as bad as it used to, but it definitely still can.

LIZ: liz is a bit weird because she doesn’t really care how other people perceive her—she just doesn’t like being responsible for those assumptions people have of her character? so i wouldn’t say she hates being seen as competent but she hates being seen as something she’s “not” or something that she doesn’t take credit for. she’s not responsible for your preception of her yknow. if i had to say why it’s because she’s fiercely independent. she’s going to do what she wants to do and what she thinks is best no matter what and she’s usually not interested in hearing other people’s opinions; she’s quite stubborn. bending to other people’s whims is a bruise to her ego and she has done it before and hates herself for falling to that sort of weakness instead of doing what she wanted to do. so in a manner of speaking she hates being seen as controllable and hates being seen as weak in a somewhat similar way to dave, but more because of her personal pride than trauma. she’s an extremely proud woman lol.

OLICE: ngl, she hates being seen as her mother’s daughter. veronica hasn’t been the Best mother to olice. after she decided to return to the us and break up with her father in india (without even saying a word mind you so olice has never met the man. and before anyone says “maybe he was abusive” as the author i’m telling you, he wasn’t. veronica just got in over her head and then bailed, only thinking of herself but then didn’t take the proper steps to make sure her daughter felt loved or to be a good single parent 🤷🏽‍♂️), olice has only been treated by her mom and her mom’s extended family as a doll or an extension of her mother. better to be seen, not heard; the only interests that were fostered in a meaningful way were the ones that she shared with her mother. veronica often speaks over her and isn’t cognizant of her needs, more content to chase her aspirations than care about her daughter unless her daughter can be sort of “used” for something. she hates being reminded that they’re related. she refuses to go by the american (and technically legal) name that her mother gave her which is clara. her mother did at least tell her the name that her father wanted to name her/the name she and him agreed on in india which was olichudar and that’s why she goes by that. clara and olichudar have similar meanings which is how her mother came around to the name (clara meaning bright/famous, and olichudar meaning brilliant) but olice doesn’t think it suits her and she hates being called it. she also has her mothers sister’s name as an “honor name” so her cousins and extended family call her “cc” a lot and she hates it to Death. she became grateful when her mom started dating dave because it was through him that olice started getting some of the freedom to express herself and to try and reconnect with her indian heritage; with dave keeping veronica distracted or off her back about it. even though many say that her mother loves her in her own way (even dave sometimes and that’s the only thing she and he disagree on), olice has never felt real, unconditional love from her mother. especially when she compares it to dave and darren’s relationship. they’re close, dave takes an active interest in the things darren likes, he’s supportive and cares about darren’s comfortability and cares about loving him more than anything else, even veronica. and olice can look back on her life before dave and darren and think how she was content with crumbs from her mother; veronica only wanted olice around when she could brag about her or show her off, then toss her to the side when she didn’t want to deal with her. no interest in olice outside of how she looked being a “strong woman raising a kid on her own” when as far as olice knows from her mother’s own words, her bio dad wanted to be there for her. meeting dave and seeing his relationship with darren has made olice much more bitter and resentful of her mother but the only reason she hasn’t tried to push her and dave breaking up is because she doesn’t want to lose what she considers her real family and father figure. olice is sure that one day she’s either gonna have to cut contact with her mother, or her mother’s going to abandon her. and i won’t tell you which one, but this roadtrip proves one of those theories right. :)

also to be said, veronica isn’t a traditionally abusive person towards olice—not physically or even verbally. what olice goes through is more akin to my own relationship with my mother growing up, where it’s more neglectful and about not being seen or not being emotionally valued versus being physically taken care of. i don’t call it “abuse” in the book specifically just because i have a hard time thinking of what i went through as abuse myself but it definitely Hurts and is unhealthy and that’s what i want to get at irregardless. all of this to say, as an aside, this is something i always knew but never talked about but veronica and olice’s relationship vs darren and dave’s has always been olice is who i am and veronica is who my mother was (in an exaggerated, less religious way) and darren is who i wished i was and dave was who i wished my mother was 🤷🏽‍♂️🤷🏽‍♂️

VERONICA: this is sort of a roundabout, 2-part answer, but she hates being seen as both “the other woman” and as “poor” — and basically both of those answers circle around into an inferority complex. with the first, it stems off of her insecurities when it comes to being with dave, and as much as i love dave to death and am somewhat uncharitable to veronica (because of darren really 🤷🏽‍♂️) i do *understand* where she’s coming from. you should never be made to feel “not good enough” in a relationship; and it’s hard to tell where the divide is for dave Specifically makes her feel that way (though not necessarily intentionally; hurt people hurt people etc etc) or if this is a particular Complex that she projects onto him. but the fact of the matter is, all of the things about their relationship, she has pretty much had to pursue herself. she met dave at an event, and she took a liking to him. she approached him, flirted, got his number, text incessantly until he agreed to a date, then two, and constantly made their plans, and was even the one to ask him to be exclusive. dave was very very passive in a lot of this, and when she was under the assumption that his former partner/baby mama (liz) was dead, it became easy for her to justify her actions. dave was grieving and clearly had been for too long, and she just wanted to get him out of his shell—he was too handsome and too kind to be alone for the rest of his life, in her opinion (not that it’s really her call to make, but i digress). she was only giving him permission to be himself again! and in some ways she is correct, wallowing over liz for the rest of his life certainly isn’t healthy, and dave on some level is aware of that, which is why he sort of… went along with everything regarding veronica. and they had a healthy relationship Before she found out that liz was actually still alive, and dave was just still in love with her. now, ngl, im not 100% sure how she finds this out; bc dave certainly doesn’t talk about liz that often if he can avoid it, not even with his own son, so like hell is he going to talk about it to the new woman he’s seeing (he’s just that kind of guy). all i Do know is that it was several years into their relationship, and around the time that she and her daughter olice moved in with darren and dave. and when she found this out, she was fucking livid honestly. what does this woman who Left You when you needed her most have that EYE, a present, loving, caring partner, don’t? so anytime she and dave had a spat, anytime she clashed with darren or anything went wrong, she became more and more bitter. convinced that she would always be a second fiddle to this woman she’d never met. and the worst part is, she is Partially proven right when liz finally does enter the picture and suddenly dave and liz have more sparks and chemistry than she (in her mind) feels like she and dave have. and this could potentially be because liz is darren’s mother and veronica has never taken an interest in dave’s son the way that he has wholly embraced being a father to olice, but in her micro-defense, darren has never wanted a mom in general, let alone a new one 🤷🏽‍♂️ ANYWAY though, all of this sort of stems from her childhood (as many traumas do) especially in comparing herself unfairly to her sister, cynthia—unfortunate because cynthia adores her and they’re thick as thieves but to veronica cynthia was always the sister who got what she wanted. she was beautiful, the belle of their hometown, grauated with honors, went to college and found a man who was head over heels for her and who spoils her like crazy, has a big happy family, is Rich…. and what does veronica have to show for her life? she got pregnant on a missions trip and abandoned the father, she never finished college, failed relationship after failed relationship where on more than one occasion she’s been “the other woman” … it’s too much! and no matter how much dave assures her that he has no plans of getting back with liz, the man can’t look at her and say he loves her even after ten years together. SO!!!!

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

A Date Night HC with Black Mask and F!S/O 🖤

S/O loves to be spoiled and pampered by him. She teases him wearing a dress he likes on their extravagant date night to a high-end restaurant ... There will be a few surprises from him too :3c S/O is his enabler and lets him get away with a lot of his behaviour, and up to mischief herself.

"It's a good thing we pay so much to eat here, or they might actually kick us out-" Black Mask x F!S/O (Valentine's Event 2024)

Oh god don't enable him, he's already impossible. This ask is for the ongoing Valentine's Day Event!

TW: Suggestive, NSFW, fingering

Valentine's Day. The perfect excuse for an obnoxiously extra date night to show off to everyone else. No matter how far Roman got away from his roots, some things never changed. He was better than everyone else, as were you. Certainly one of the best parts for having a girlfriend like you was his ability to show that in public.

It was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that you could have almost anything you wanted. When you didn't ask for much, he made it a mission to spoil you. Spa days, special treats here and there- You deserve it, you put up with his shit, after all. Seeing how much you enjoyed it just eggs him on.

So tonight he let you know exactly where he was taking you. Some high end place he's put a lot of money into for under the table deals. Tells you that you can pick whatever dress you want, but the panties? He's got those set out. Black and lacy, with stockings he pictures rolling up your thighs. Why wouldn't you take the opportunity to fuck with him back? A slinky number you knew got him hot when he saw it. Just a little too short and accentuated your body in all the right places.

You could hear the sharp, huffing inhale through his mask when he first saw you come out. You could feel how firmly he had his hand on your inner thigh while riding in the car, then how it moved to the small of your back as you entered the restaurant. He'd been quiet other than small talk. Telling the waiter to take you to "his" table.

He then forced his way to sit next to you, hand back on your thigh and creeping up, "You think you're fuckin' cute, huh?"

"Adorable, thank you for asking." The calm facade on your face flickered only for a second as his pinky moved up and down the front of the lingerie between your legs.

His gaze was intense, even when the waiter came back to ask for your order. It was then he ordered for you. Expensive. Something you definitely wanted but might not order on your own due to the price or the fuss of it. And a bottle of something old and fancy. His hand never left it's place until you moved it.

"Since you seem to like these so much..." You found yourself hiking up the dress almost to your hips. Another patron happened to look over... and quickly look away when they found Black Mask glaring back at them. And there in your hands was your now removed panties, which he snatched away to tuck in his pocket.

The wine was brought to the table, then... along with a box. He made a motion with his hand to you, "Happy Valentine's Day, doll."

Then, as you opened it- It was a bright red teddy bear... with a bracelet. The bracelet itself wasn't anything crazy. Yet you recognized it as one you'd been admiring a month ago. You hadn't asked for it. Yet he remembered the way you'd looked at it and decided you needed to have it.

"Allow me." He was already taking it off the bear and putting it on your wrist, "Yeah. Suits you just right."

"I... Thank you-"

"Don't say anything about making it up. You're gonna make it up right now." He's leaning to your ear before his hand tucks between your thighs, "Open up."

Before you could really respond beyond giving more space for his hand, he was plunging a finger inside. Praising you for being wet. Drinking his wine in his other hand as if he wasn't making you writhe. His palm pressed against your clit, making one smooth movement of penetration and stimulation. When someone walked by, he'd add another finger or push harder to get you to moan.

By the time the food came out, he had you on the edge. Yet he pulled away. The plates hit the table and he was licking his fingers. Looking at you knowingly. A little appetizer for himself.

Then he was cutting into his steak as if nothing happened, "We'll continue this later."

It was delicious, there was no question. Both you and your partner were taking small bites. Enough to assuage the hunger- You'd both be taking leftovers and finishing after certain events that night. He almost laughed when the waiter asked if you wanted dessert.

"Nah, fuck off. Give us the check."

It would have seemed the two of you were on the same page. Until, at least, you were leaving the building. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw something black fall from Roman's pocket and hit the ground. He was already pushing you forward before you could turn around. Your mouth agape as you realized just what your partner intentionally dropped on the floor of the fucking public restaurant.

"Sir, you dropped your-" a waiter paled as he found himself picking up your recently worn underwear.

"Yeah, thanks kid." Roman sneered behind the mask, "She was just telling me she was feeling cold." He held them up to you, knowing you were going to snatch them from his grip.

It was in the moment you didn't know if you wanted to fuck him or kill him. To be determined.

[akira-ichigo]

Can you tell us more about Hellebore (and their relationship with Adale if you dont mind)?:3c

Ooh sure !! Thank you a lot it's the first time someone show interest in my oc ha ha.

Be warned that the ocs I create can be...cliché ? Or not very good ha ha xD and Hellebore have some inconsistencies in her story

At the very beginning Hellebore is the daughter between Harebourg (alternative AU were he doesn't end up as an ice cream and forgot by Tot at the end of season 3) and another oc of mine Nasel sometimes before the Great Wave (she was very very young before the Great Wave).

Hellebore in normal outfit Hellebore in her Xelor outfit

She's a Xelor who loves sciences and technologies and prefer to read book and create than sociabilizing and doing friend.

At her 27 she decides to try travel, curious about the technologies on other island.

She lands on Brakmar first during a big meeting between the High Autorities of other island (Frigost beeing isolated a lot of people had forget them or doesnt count them as a nation).

She met Adale who was under the fake name Elada one night near a tavern and they end up talking about sciences , Adale being proud of Sufokia and Hellebore very curious. Hellebore wasn't dress in her "Xelor outift" this time.

First Meeting

Hellebore isn't familiar with courting (and I imagine Adale likes to flirt / tease because he's fabulous & handsome and he knows it) so she ends up easily red or fluster but as soon as the conversation is about sciences / technologies she becomes more confident and comfortable.

They continue to meet and talk everynight, "Elada" flirting sometimes with her as tease. Hellebore starts to develops an interest in him (first time she spend so much time with someone who share her interest and who's not her father) and starts considering him as a good friend, maybe more (consider that she's really new / kind of pure to bonding to people so she can mix "interest" / "friendship" / "love").

At the end of the week, on the last night of the big meeting event, they had a good time together and take their way the morning after.

They will meet by chance at Astrub a few weeks later, but this time Hellebore wore her Xelor outift when she crosses "Elada" s path.

He doesn't recognize her and was in public as the "King of Sufokia", letting out his narcissism / selfishness etc...his true self (he toned it down when he was with Hellebore at Brakmar and she doesn't notice at first).

It immediately breaks Hellebore's hear as if a filter was disable on "Elada" for her xD

Feeling betrayed and stupid for falling for him, she ends up changing to become a little bit harsh or annoyed everytime they interact.

But a part of her finds some hint of the man she knews at Brakmar (passion, proud of his nation, loyal to Sufokia, loves sciences and technologies, love his people etc...) making that she can't totally hate him (and she's aware that she was very naïve).

For their relatshionship I don't know if I'll be able to describe it correctly xD

I'll say that Hellebore hides who she is to Adale (she called herselft Hellen).

Adale on his side is mixed between "Damned this woman goet on my nerves !!" but as nobody really stand agains him (because he's the king, or people likes him or just avoid / ignore him) he's kind of curious ? Or make a king of challenge / deny like "this woman will fall / is interest in me but doesn't show it !"

Adale : If you ask me nicely, I can change my shift and free some of my Ô precious time to go with you

Hellebore : Peuh ! No thanks, I'd like to be alone !

Adale : Insolent !!

They are able to have some nice talk.

I'm aware that the age gape between them can be huge if we follow Adale's canon age , but it was something I didn't think about when creating Hellebore ^^"" In my mind they are close in age (3+ years old for Adale)

She was made first following my Waven character.

Hope it wasn't too cringe ha ha, i'm not used to share my oc's stories (and I'm aware that they might be not well build)

Thank you for your question :)

[kratt-au-void]

Hello ^.^

I would like to see more of the Paradise au. What exactly is going on? I want some details :)

I would also like to see more WonderlanD au posts. These two I feel like have had more posts combining them with your other aus than on their own, and I don't know what the aus are really about.

Also, I would like to know more about what's going on in the Bloody Bouquet au. All I know there is that there are flowers coming out of Martin's mouth. Is there a reason for that?

You are right that those aus don't have a lot of content on their own and thats because they need a little rewrite. Theyre made for me and im a little ashamed of them not gonna lie 😅

BUT, yeah i can tell you more :D

-Paradise! Its just Chris and Martin having silly adventures! You know like exploring the jungle or the sea, or living life in college, or having a peaceful life in the suburbs, or even flying in space or playing inside their favorite games! Nothing to worry about! Yeah maybe their memory is not great, they swear they already visited this jungle before, or that they already graduated why are they still in school? But that's just a weird thing of them hehe.

Now, what is exactly going on? Its all Zach's fault. You know how he has devices capable of controlling animals to do his bidding? Well he focused more on that and managed to create a device that could trap the human mind. Its not perfect, it needs maintenance from time to time, but it works.

Getting Chris first and using him to lure Martin next, he managed to take them out of the way,

trapping them in separated paradises, managing to create one for his own.

-WonderlanD! For as long as people have traveled the seas, a mysterious island has been the center of many tales, full of colourful plants and unique animals never seen in another place. Few are the ones who had found it and made it back alive, for the island of Wonders is not what it seems. The island moves. It never appears in the same place twice. Because of this, many shipwrecks paint its shore.

The Kratts receive an anonymous message. "There's an island in this coordinates. It's full of new species, you will like it." None of them knew about the myths and stories around it. Naively, they went.

At the arrival they could already see all these new beings flocking around them. Friendly, fluffy, delicious fruits to eat and cute little animals begging to be pet. Truly a Wonder.

They decide to stay and explore. The plants growing taller the further they entered the island, barely letting the sun pass through. The bros called the rest of the crew to go deeper with them, as they found something to eat before sleeping. They only left the shore for a short time but when they got back, somehow, their entire ship fell from the island into the sea.

They had noway to leave. No comunication. Nothing but what the island could give. And so they use it. They eat its fruit, they drank its ponds. Days and days of this. Soon, their bodies started to feel weird...

aaaand thats all i have for now, still need to fix some details. But dont worry, they'll be fine :3c

and last, Bloody Bouquet! Yes there is a reason for the flowers, its called hanahaki disease :D! Flowers grow inside you when you have unrequited or one-sided love. In this case, Martin has fallen in love with Zach but he's oh so scared of confessing :( so he hides his feelings and the flowers until he can't anymore. After finding out (and getting over the shock), Chris decides to help him confess, hopping Martin gets rid of the flowers and they can go back to their normal lives.

There's a little detail both of them don't know. In this AU, the flowers hold meanings. They can recognize the dark red carnations and its meaning loud and clear: Love and affection.

But there's another one they can't seem to find, the purple petals arent enough and so they don't give it much importance. If only they knew, (blood warning)

if only they knew the race against time to cure Martin was long lost

when he started choking on those cute poisonous aconites

[collegeoflore]

12 and 23 for Xarrai

8 16 and 24 for Ieriyn

for that Tav meme?

tysm!!!

(questions are here)

xarrai:

12. What opinion does your Tav have about the Gods?

the short answer is: not a fan.

the long answer is xarrai sees all the gods as tyrants - look at shar, who demands her followers give up their memories; or mystra, who takes chosen after chosen and keeps them like pets; or vlaakith, who. well. vlaakith. they're cruel rulers who demand obedience and worship from their followers, even those who claim benevolence. as far as xar is concerned, bane is just the only one being honest about who he is and what he wants. they don't really give a shit about what gods others choose to worship but they are silently (or um. not so silently) judging anyone who is particularly devout. every time shadowheart talks about shar early game xarrai is just nodding along like yep. mmhmm. yeah sure. and aggressively rolling their eyes when they walk away lmao. there's an element of bitterness to it too, though. here they are on this adventure surrounded by people who desperately want the favor of their gods but all xarrai wants is to be well and truly forsaken by bane. (at the same time, though, they recognize the only reason they're still alive is because he hasn't forsaken them - bane doesn't suffer fools or failures, after all - so it's a bit of a double edged sword.)

23. What are 2-3 songs that your Tav would relate to?

this is actually the hardest question u could have asked bc i have an almost 40 song (and growing lol) playlist for xarrai LMAO. these are a few i've been really vibing with the last few days, but i don't know that they're the ones xar would relate to the Most by any means.

burn your village - kiki rockwell

metaphor - the crane wives

kill all your friends - mcr

and honorable mention for grey veins by ls dunes. i had this song on repeat for like two days while i was starting to build their character because i picked this game up like right after i saw lsd in concert and it ended up coloring a lot of how i viewed xarrai initially lol

(mutuals feel free to lmk if you want the link to the whole playlist (or my astarion and/or xarrastarion ones) - i'm a dirty apple music user and the playlist has my government name on it so i don't wanna post it publicly but i am down to share)

ieriyn

8. Did your Tav have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single?

yes! he had a couple of boyfriends when he was still in school. nothing super serious, honestly - just your typical teenage relationships and all the drama that entails. in the last few years he hasn't really had many partners - a fling here or there, but again nothing serious. i will say though he has a thing for older men with big brown eyes :3c (gale never had a chance is what i'm saying. it was over for him before it even began. this twink is going to ruin his life.)

16. How does your Tav feel about killing?

not good! as of where i am in the game right now (about to defend the grove from being raided following some #mistakes ieriyn made when talking to minthara) he hasn't killed another thinking creature ever. he really really doesn't want to and has spent half the battles the party has been in so far more or less cowering in a corner for fear of killing someone accidentally if he uses his magic. he's honestly kind of dead weight. but defending the grove is going to change things - he can't sit there and do nothing when this is his fault and he knows he has to pull his weight or the party is going to end up dumping him on the side of the road, assuming any of them survive this. (lae'zel and astarion in particular hate his fucking guts for being so useless and yet trying to take the credit for shit anyway lol) i don't think he's ever going to feel good or even necessarily okay about killing, but i do think he's going to learn to deal with it anyway.

24. What first impression does your Tav give off to strangers?

i think initally ieriyn comes off as a spoiled brat tbqh. he's deeply out of touch with the way "normal" people live and has really never been outside his bubble of wealth and comfort, which makes him difficult to talk to i think. he's also heinously arrogant - sometimes because he genuinely believes it ("i'm a special gifted magic kid and soooo powerful and strong") and sometimes because he's trying to cover up for what he doesn't know or what he's afraid of. this is smth i imagine is going to be extremely different by the end of the game, but as of rn he gives a pretty shitty first impression LOL

[hazyaltcare]

hello hazyaltcare crew! i just wanted to pop in and say how much i respect each and every one of you, this blog is so well run and you're all so talented when it comes to the stuff you guys make for us out of your own free time for nothing in return. especially considering the wide variety of source material, i believe one of the mods said in a question that they try to do basic research for unfamiliar sources and that is so sweet and going above and beyond. one of my sysmates has a request lined up and he's from a super obscure source that is like never on a whitelist and he appreciates it a lot too, he told me this is one of the very few blogs that he'd feel comfortable requesting something from. absolutely love the vibes, thanks for giving us such high quality stuff and running this blog, and we hope you all have a really nice day today.

I'm glad we've been so successful thus far in creating a safe space. Its not the easiest thing to do, but its worth it. I also especially appreciate you recognizing all the work we put into edits. From research to the actual act of putting things together and trying to make it look nice, I& generally try to go above and beyond, and im glad its been showing. We are very glad your systemmate feels safe requesting here, btw. Hope ur having a good day.

Mod Haze (🫁Rob)

Agree with Rob here, not all of it is easy, but it's really worth it. And yeah, you're right - we indeed do basic research for media/people we do not know! That's why we're open to all sources, even though each mod has their own whitelists (wonder when/if it'll get posted?)

As for talent, I say we have lots of skills from years of practicing art, so it's nice to hear that they are high quality! ;D

We're happy he feels comfortable here, and we hope to provide for more people like him for the foreseeable future. Wishing you a good day too, you kind anon, you. :3c

Mod Vintage

(Other mods feel free to add.)

[puddlebunny]

1, 2, 7, 12, 13, 20, 24, 48, 49 for nsfw asks :3c

Omg tysm for asking I had sooo much fun answering!!!

1. What is your most tame kink, and why do you like it?

Probably being heavily praised. It's very much an extention of my pet-play kink but oooo I love being told how good and pretty I wanna be the goodest boy forever 💕

2. What is your most extreme kink, and why do you like it?

Maybe my cnc kinks. I like being objectified/used as a toy or doll like so much so I find a lot of appeal in freeuse kinda scenarios my body being used as a tool for pleasure with my own totally secondary is just sooooo hot. Even better if there's multiple tops but I haven't gotten to have that experience yet lol

7. A genie has granted you 3 nsfw wishes, what are you wishing for and why?

I want a salary to be a full-time sex pet. For my spouse, for his friends, for people that come visit me during the day, whoever wants me.

I want a sex room! I want a room with toys and furniture and good lighting and an attached bathroom!!! I want a sex room soooo baaaddddddd

Finally I would probably wish for my t-dick to be a small penis. I love my genitals a fucking lot but I've always wanted to also have a penis since I was like 14 so I think that would be in the mix

12. What is your go-to fantasy? Why do you think you enjoy it so much?

I have several, unsurprisingly, but there's one i really like that's set in an ABO context where I'm an Omega that works for/participates in this game where they release me into a like lazer tag area basically and let a group of alphas track me down and catch me. That one's a lot of fun lots of stuck in a wall, pinned down/captured, cornered prey kinda scenarios. I love love looove being like weak to a more dominant person(s)!!!

13. Do you have a favourite sexual memory? If so, what is it?

I have some really fun memories hmm a few years ago I did shrooms for i wanna say the second time with my spouse and we made a blanket nest on the floor of our living room and had snacks and were naked and I remember having sex and the shrooms made it so I couldn't really cum like normal so we were just rolling on the floor fucking and kissing and touching and I was whining like a dog I literally felt like I was in a dream it was so fun

20. Is there anything completely non-sexual that always turns you on?

I'm like bigtime submissive so I find it extremely sexy when I'm like out with my lover and he takes total control of the situation deciding where we go, ordering for me, stuff like that. I'm such a sucker for having my decisions made for me.

24. What is your perviest confession?

It makes me sooo horny knowing there are strangers just out there in the world who get off to pics of me 🥵❤️❤️❤️ and I have no idea i might meet them and they could recognize me but I wouldn't have any idea. It just really makes me drip

48. Describe your favourite nsfw body part that you have. Why is it your favourite?

Okay so my tits probably ❤️ I'm enby so there have been periods in my life where I've struggled w chest dysphoria but I'm not there rn and as I've gotten older I've let go of some of my fixation on having a body that looks like the "right kind of trans" bc 1. All bodies are the right kind of bodies and 2. Booobiiieeeessss yaayyy kitty bouncy squishy titties with the sensitive nipsssss yummyummyummmmyyy gettem sucked forever hoorayyyyy!!!!

But really I love how fun and pretty my chest is and I love how much pleasure I get from them so lot of love there!

Honorable mention: the last few months I've really started to sexualize my feet more, I've been posting feet pics daily and it's made me so muxh more appreciative of my feet!!! They're so beautiful and I have the most craaazy arch I love having this new found love for a part of my body!

49. What is you favourite nsfw body part on other people? Why?

Oh my god i love arms. I love broad shoulders. I'm also big fan of tits I love mine and I sure as fuuuuck like other people's too!!! Also also also also I fucking love small dicks more small dick love thank u for having a peen I can just like swallow and fuck forever thank uuu ilyyyy