#They are rather silly individuals one might say...

[marble-pop]

Blehhh =3

[anantaru]

— his love language

including. diluc, wriothesley, kazuha, neuvillette, ayato, scaramouche, kaeya, childe

genre. fluff & crack, gn! reader

at a regular pace, diluc opens up to you and with such, he reveals that to him actions spoke louder than words, mainly when it came to your loving relationship. the master of the dawn winery wasn't one of sensual speech, in fact, sometimes he was simply at loss of words— hence why showing you instead was all the more easy. it begins in his eyes, how they're always focused on your frame and immediately pick up on when you feel fatigued, the weary expression on your face worrying him the moment you step inside. voicelessly, diluc guides you to your shared bedroom before telling you to relax— afterwards he'll pamper you, boundlessly, do whatever you need him to do even if it consisted of multiple tasks. easy to say, he will still check up on you, be there for you and most importantly, always anticipate your needs, never failing to provide support without hesitation.

everyone knows that words hold the power to uplift and reassure people and their souls, in addition to building bridges between two individuals and so did wriothesley find this to be the most wonderful gift on this planet. he speaks through heartfelt compliments he'd never let you pass on, encouraging affirmations whenever you had a bad day or an artful expression of his emotions through his phrases. within the lively city of fontaine, the man will watch you with earnest eyes and swollen cheeks, "you're so pretty, so beautiful," he was silly, right? making you flustered in front of everyone, yet his words flow like poetry, forcing you to melt as he expressed admiration for your person— a verbal drapery woven with sincerity and love.

since you have been in a relationship for quite a long time, you were aware of kazuha and himself being an adventurer at heart, never failing to perceive solace and joy in the quiet moments shared with you. it doesn't matter where you are, but when he invites you on a journey, you know it's going to end up becoming one of your most dearest memories. in the quietness of the night, kazuha's presence was a calming force and to him, love was found in the gift of uninterrupted time spent together, immersed in meaningful conversations and shared experiences, tender kisses and subtle touches. the connection you had was strong— everlasting, the presence and the beauty within embracing each passing moment.

neuvillette held a lot of personal knowledge which he accumulated throughout the trajectory of his life, although when it came to the relationship aspect of things, he was rather inexperienced. when you two started dating he picked up the habit of expressing himself through physical touch— not necessarily in a sexual way, but in the reassuring kind which brought forth tenderness and closeness, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or a comforting embrace after a long day. the iudex was fluent in intimacy, connection, and the sacred power of making you feel loved in the simplicity of his touch. without wasting time, he always has one arm around you or loved holding your hand as you settle down on his lap, perhaps even offering to massage your shoulders with his soothing touch.

granted, from an outside perspective seeing ayato spoil you with artificial goods might come across as insincere, yet people do not realize that every single gift had a special meaning attached to it. the yashiro commissioner always took it serious, going through the carefully selected goods as he prepared a custom order, securing the gift with a personal meaning and significance. expressing his love for you through gifts and handmade material shone of thoughtfulness and well, there was one necklace that might be your all time favorite. it was when he surprised you with it on your anniversary— and as you inspected it much closer, you admired the complexly designed metal with symbols of his love and the harmony in your relationship— it's utterly beautiful, you tell him as he helped you put the necklace on, the little diamonds attached to it reflecting a deep appreciation and desire to convey his feelings to you.

opening up was hard for scaramouche, yet he realized that if he wanted this relationship with you to be harmonic, he needed to learn and work on it. the moment you feel him open up to you, you couldn't be happier, truly— not only was it a clear sign of effort on his part, but also the willingness to share a hidden piece of himself. despite his rather aloof demeanor, he possessed a subtle way of showing you his trust, in fact, he always needs you to show him that you accept his past no matter what. was it tiresome? not at all, despite some people believing that a relationship like that could become troubling in the future. yet they cannot fathom the deep link you both have and how it came to be. ah well, how beautiful when he holds you in his arms and kisses your forehead before starting to open up, your expression softening momentarily at the calm look in his eyes. it's right there, look close now, when you catch a rare glimpse of appreciation and a hint of vulnerability beneath his composed facade. he's in love, truly, and so are you.

a world without laughter, sounds scary, correct? kaeya believes that everything works more efficiently if you add a little comedy on the side. in your relationship, there was nothing he adored more that laughing together— because in a way, it felt like it strengthened your bond and eased the burdens in your life. spontaneity was another important aspect, you'll never know what the charismatic cavalry captain has in store for you next and you couldn't help but love that about him. really, he had a magical power for defusing tension with a well-timed joke or cheeky banter, finishing it off with messy kisses all over your face and demanding for you to give him a kiss back, in fact, as one might already guess, a world without laughter and without kisses might be straight hell in all of teyvat.

the eleventh harbinger's heart burnt for two different things— first of all it being you, his loved one which he would quite literally do anything for you to be happy, while the second being the thrill of adventure and the willingness to embrace spontaneity, face challenges head-on and earn boastful scars all over his body as a form of trophy. childe's enthusiasm was contagious to the point where the both of you would go on adventures together, or simply try out new things in order to feel a shared sense of adrenaline. freedom was everything in his life, but what mattered the most is for you to be safe— hence why he would never put you in any danger, instead he'd rather get in trouble himself so you could patch him up afterwards. childe knows it's not healthy to get himself hurt on purpose, but feeling you take care of him with your soft hands tracing all over his chest was making it worth it in his eyes.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[moondirti]

daddy kink. inspections. female reader. mean price. fluffy ending. mention of cunt slapping.

latching on to price’s forearm when he anchors it between your legs. he has the soaked gusset of your panties yanked to the side, fingers prodding for purchase along your doughy folds. callouses slipping, slicked. prying for something — what, you don’t know, though you bite your lip to settle through the pain. his touch isn’t as placatory as it would be if was trying to arouse pleasure. sturdy, rather. a little forceful.

similarly, the kitchen countertop is unrelenting below. cool marble digs into your behind, edge cutting into the soft flesh of your thighs. it makes you wish you wore bottoms this morning — before acknowledging how short-lived that would be. there’s a multi-purpose tool on every flat surface available (gifts, from those who don’t know that all he wants, on every occasion, is a tight thing wriggling atop his lap and a bottle of glen scotia), and you’ve suffered enough torn shorts at their doing to have found that the most you can get away with is a pair of cotton briefs and a loose shirt. easy access, he calls it.

like now. you focus on anything but the intrusive ministrations he doles to your poor pussy, whimpering quietly behind bitten lips. though it’s ritual, you have yet to get used to his morning inspections. they alway feel a little cruel in a way you don’t deserve. you’ve been good in the time since you’ve seen him last — sitting on your hands, declining every invitation to a night out, locking your toys in the safe he keeps in the closet — but no amount of pleading your case will get you out of this. he has to see it for himself. feel the undisturbed skin around your hole, the ripe fruit of your clit, plump as it has yet to be unpicked.

“daddy,” you breath, leaning into the strength his shoulder affords when he shoves a finger in dry. it’s hard to keep still as he searches your insides, probing through velvet walls like they’re his own. at this point, all of you might as well be.

“wiggle again ‘n’ i’ll slap this stupid cunt silly.”

your tongue notches itself between your teeth, struggling when you bite down to stifle further complaint. he’s so mean; never as indulgent in the mornings as he is in tipsy afternoons, when he’ll place you down onto his thigh, and let you suck on his fingers to sate the oral fixation that had you mouthing at his groin.

what you find, in your new effort to stay silent, is his arm serves as a better distraction than the metallic wash of blood around your gums. your nails trace it delicately, drifting through the tufts of dark hair that veil old tattoos. the way it will comb to your direction, going one direction when you pave the way, is so unlike the man currently pulling your clit hood back, watching it twitch in cool air. price is fixed, mulish in a manner you’ve learnt is best to let go. rooted in the disciplinarian logic taught to him by his father, and his father before him — tradition sticks, tacky in his marrow. trying to scour it out of him, urge him to see differently, is like taking trouble with the one thing that makes him… him.

you say nothing when he spreads either lip apart.

the muscles creaking from elbow to wrist are more analogous to his character. they twist, writhe, sinew stretching in a way that seems impossible to you. if you squeeze hard enough, you swear you can feel each individual fibre working minutely beneath the surface of his skin. his body is ignited, emanating a dry heat always — which serves your purposes nicely on frigid winter nights, tucked into the expansive furnace of his back. when your fingertips tap the crease of his arm, they sap feverish warmth, along with the elastic efforts that keep you pinned in place.

“legs.” he demands, knuckles rapping on one knee to complete his demand. you’re a little dumb, pleasure slowly bleeding into your veins, making the best of the rough attention your cunt receives, so all you do is blink. once, twice. “wider, now.”

but he doesn’t give you another chance. instead, he shoves them apart himself, his watch scratching the thin skin of your inner thighs.

his watch. black dial and brown leather strap, worn a little with use. though he’s told you the specifics of its make and model, most you remember is that it can also be used as a stopwatch. tactical, utilitarian, as things tend to be with him, but inflated at such a cost that you blanched upon hearing he uses it on the field. don’t you worry about it?

there are far more important things to worry about.

you’ve tried it on your wrist, once, and found that it hung uselessly, several sizes too big. he fills in that extra space so well, veins branching from where it hugs his carpal, adding dimension to the hand that disappears into your pussy.

you wish you would worm your way into his skin, nestle there with all the things that paint this portrait you love so dearly. it would do a great deal for the anxiety that plagues you while he’s away, stressing about loss of mind or limb, or the loss of your daddy in his entirety, out there somewhere where you cannot reach him.

(you wonder, briefly — ridiculously — whether he feels the same about you. but those suspicions are eased when he pulls away from the bracket of your hips, proud smile warping the moustache atop his lip, and places a scratchy kiss to your temple.)

“that’s a good girl.”

[porcelian]

16, CLUMSY AND SHY 01

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: jason todd and you try and navigate young puppy love ;

WARNINGS: none at all, maybe me rambling a bit about emma and eli (boule de suif) ;

WORD COUNT: 2.0k ;

NOTES: this was inspired by @jteime 's asks. haven't added the marvel crossover part, but i enjoyed writing this kind of teen au so much that i might add a second part. it's just i've never done a crossover so bear with me here 🐻

── .✦ MASTERLIST & NAVIGATION & AO3.

THE LINGERING HINT OF CHALK AND DRY ERASE MARKERS DO NOTHING TO SOOTHE JASON'S NERVES. Instead, they leave an uncomfortable taste on his tongue. The smell is a heavy one, just like the weight in the pit of his stomach. It's like an anchor, bringing him down into the dark sea with nothing to cling onto.

Jason threw the idea of trying to compose himself out of the window as soon as he entered the rather small classroom. His hands gripped the dense books and slightly crumpled papers close to his chest, fingers awkwardly wrapped around his pencil so as to not drop it.

Walk into the room with your head held high, babybird. Confidence is key, he remembers Dick saying.

Well, he isn't like Dick, nor Bruce. He can't help but feel the thousands of pairs of eyes on his back, scrutinizing every step he takes.

Comparative Literature.

This is supposed to be a course Jason enjoys, not one that makes him feel as if he's walking on needles, not one that makes the air feel to heavy and the hours spent in the classroom too long and miserable.

Jason speeds to his desk near the corner of the room, next to the window. His eyes often wander to it, watching the same part of the courtyard staring back at him through the window. He settles his supplies on his desk.

The Art of Realism: Depicting Social Class and Individual Morality in 19th-Century Literature.

The title of the essay states back at him. The review session is creeping up closely and the horrid anticipation of it feels as if it's going to eat him whole.

Jason knows it's silly, it's just a classroom, not the streets of Gotham at the dead of night. Hell, he'd be more comfortable in some run down alley than he is now in this room, with it's grating sound of the chalk and suffocating smell of the markers.

His thoughts threaten to drown out the rest of the world, until the sound of the chair next to him being moved catches him off guard.

The sound makes him tear his gaze away from his papers to the stranger sitting down next to him. A new student, maybe?

By the way your knuckles are turning white from gripping the chair to hard, Jason can tell you're nervous too.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer, “I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

He moves closer to the wall next to him to offer you more space, a bit perplexed on why you'd choose to sit with him.

“N–no, it's alright.” He responds, ducking his head down and facing the window. He catches the little frown on your face reflected on the window glass, fogged from the cold air outside. He sees the way the corner of your lips drop as he turns away.

Shit. He's being rude. This is totally not what Dick taught him.

“Uh,” he hesitates, searching for something to say, “are you new here? It's just I haven't seen you around.”

Jason hopes he's right. If not, he's made himself look like more of a jerk in front of you for basically saying he's never noticed your presence.

You nod as you answer. “Yep! I'm really glad I got in.” A small smile dances on your lips in a way that has Jason paying attention with the way your cheeks rise up when you grin, making your eyes smile alongside you.

They smile with their eyes.

He gets caught off guard again when you shuffle closer to take a look at the papers scattered around his part of the shared desk.

‘...wept, and sometimes a sob she could not restrain was heard in the darkness between two verses of the song.’

Your quiet but melodic voice carries the words with a softness Jason only imagined in his mind. The same way he read the words on worn-out papers during the countless nights he spent in the manor library, tucked away, sure of the fact he'd never hear it from another person.

The world has a funny way of proving Jason wrong. He's staring at your lips, thinned in concentration just like your furrowed brows.

“Boule de Suif!—” You exclaim, before your eyes go wide and you muffle your words with a hand over your mouth. “—Sorry!”

Jason chuckles before relaxing into the chair. “It's okay.” He shuffles closer to you, peering down at your own essay written on neat paper, so unlike his own. The words on the pages are all too familiar to him.

‘There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,’—’

Jason can't help but smile as he whispers to you, “—There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness of heart,” he doesn't even notice the proximity of the two of you, the warmth of your presence wafts around him like the sun after a rainy day, “‘Emma’?”

You smile again, the twinkle in your eye appearing again. “Yes,” You breathe out, before your eyes go wide just like last time.

“I didn't even introduce myself.” Your name leaves your lips like a secret whispered to only him.

He thinks of your name, every syllable dances around his mind before he gives you his.

“Jason— Jason Todd.”

Maybe this classroom isn't so horrible after all, he thinks.

*****

The stadium is too loud, Jason concludes after being stuck in there for about thirty minutes. More precisely – thirty-five minutes and forty seconds, now forty-one, since he keeps checking the time and counting down to the moment when the bell rings and he can finally leave.

The air is too heavy, it feels too warm. The gym clothes are sticking and moving across his skin in such an uncomfortable way, he can't think straight. Standing all alone and leaning against the grainy surface of the wall isn't helping either.

If Jason hears the damn ball hit the stadium wall one more time, he swears he'll walk out that door himself–

“Hey!” A nervous voice calls out to him. Surprisingly, it doesn't feel as grating as the sounds of the gym.

It's you. It's you, with your hair, messy in a perfectly imperfect way. A light volleyball rests between your arm and side. Your chest rises with every breath.

Jason feels his own breath get caught in his chest as he stumbled to say something to you.

The class isn't practicing volleyball right now. So, where did you come from?

You don't wait for him to say something. “I was wondering if—” you grip the light ball in your hands, offering it to him“—you’d like to give it a try?” You zip your mouth shut as fast as you say those words.

Jason blinks. Someone wants me to join them, to hang out with them. And hell, that someone is you.

“Best of three?” He suggests.

“Prepare for utter defeat, Todd.”

“I'd like to see you try.”

*****

The courtyard is a little too quiet for Jason's liking. He should be happy, he can finally gather his thoughts without anything getting in his way.

For some reason those thoughts are only occupied by a certain someone who shows up just at the right time, saving him from the utter boredom and misery of Gotham Academy life.

He wishes he could hear you call out to him again. The way his last name sounds so natural on your tongue. How you're so unafraid of speaking it.

Jason thinks you're brave. Probably much braver than him. He still can feel his breath get ripped right out of his lungs when he tries to get your attention. The way your name gets stuck in his mouth, kept inside him just like his wishes and attempts to spend time with you.

The first step is always difficult, Bruce had said to him a few days back, after that it gets easier.

Gets easier? Jason thinks Bruce was lying to him somehow. He feels his face warm up and brows furrowing. Why was the thought of approaching you getting him so worked up?

It's not like you had felt any different. You were nervous too, right? Or did he imagine that? He should ask, right? Yes, he should.

Jason knows exactly where you settle down to eat your lunch— that almost abandoned side of the garden west of the Academy. If he's quick enough, he can make it to you before the bell rings.

He's about to sprint out of the courtyard when he hears the same soothing voice call out to him.

“Todd!”

He doesn't know why it calms him down so quickly.

“There you are.” You say as you walk to him with a lunchbox in your hand.

“Here.” You push it forwards to him, the chocolate chip cookies smell waft in the air and it almost distracts him from the way your free hand is tucking the loose hair strands away from your face. “My dad made extra.”

“Oh—” he stutters while a shy smile appears on his lips. “—thank you.”

“No problem.” You smile at him and he watches the way your cheeks rise up just like the day in the corner of the classroom.

They smile with their eyes.

Jason wonders if you ever notice how he only smiles when he's with you. Do you notice how he only talks with you?

Silly, isn't it?

*****

The sun is staring down at Jason as he walks down the cobblestone road to the gate. Just beyond that Bruce sits in the car waiting.

Jason's gripping his backpack closer to his body. He tried to slow down his steps. His eyes dart around him, trying to find you, with your perfectly imperfect messy hair tied back, neat papers and folders in your arms as you walk home.

He isn't going to back down from this. Jason hasn't backed down from facing robbers and all kinds of criminals in the darkest parts of Gotham and he won't be frightened by this either.

By this, he means asking for your number.

His fingers wrap around the cold car door handle as he glances one more time around the yard, eyes looking for you.

“Searching for something?—”

Jason's ears perk up as he hears Bruce's calculated words. Calculated in a way he knows that his dad is trying not to sound obvious that he has figured out the fact that something or a certain someone is tugging at his son's heart.

“—or someone?”

Maybe Bruce noticed it when his son came back considerably more relaxed and happy after School, or maybe, it was when Dick told him that Jason seemed very interested in learning how to approach someone and ask them to hang out.

Jason scolds himself for being so obvious. His palms start to sweat.

“No—” the words die on his tongue as he spots you leaving the gates of the Academy.

Jason leaves Bruce waiting in the car as he runs up to you, yelling out your name.

He can see how quickly you recognise his voice, how quickly you snap out of what reverie you were lost in and how your eyes search across the yard to find him. Jason's heart aches when he sees how your eyes smile just like last time when you finally spot him.

You say his name, the sound is too sweet with your voice. He wonders how it would sound when talking on the phone. Jason concludes it doesn't matter if it's in person or on the phone, miles away.

He just wants to hear you.

“I was wondering if—” he stops to look into your eyes, the twinkle in them remind him of the lone star in the obsidian midnight sky. “—if I could get your number?”

Jason sees the surprise on your face, the faint pink hue on your cheeks, the fidgeting of your fingers.

“Y’know,” he stammers, “for school work and such.” He's lying. He's sure you know as well, because the warmth of his cheeks is probably caused by the same pink hue on them just like the one on yours.

“Of course.” You blurt out, “why didn't I think of that?” You giggle, the sound of it like a song to his ears.

“Let me be the one who asks this,” He says with a smile, “you always manage to surprise me, so…”

Your eyes nervously dart from his face to the ground near your shoes. “Well—,” you click your tongue, “—you just have to try harder next time, Todd.”

“Next time, huh?”

“Yes.”

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[blossomarlia]

dressing up

When you're unsure how you feel in the dress the boys bought you, they make sure to re-inspire some confidence. (reupload from previous blog, see navigation for more info!)

poly!jegulus x fem! reader

warnings: mostly fluff, sexual references and implied smut at the end, reader has hair and is able-bodied.

You rub the liquid-soft silk of your dress absent-mindedly between two fingers, eyes locked on your reflection in the bathroom mirror. When you'd tried it on just a few days ago, the shop lady had told you you were a vision; now you're sure she was just trying to sell her product.

You want to blame the sizing- maybe it's too small, the wrong shape, impossible to look good in even if you had the body of a mannequin. But even that doesn't seem plausible. It's a beautiful dress, high-quality with a price to match. There's no alternative: you must be the problem, straining fabric with the parts of you that you wish you could just forget about.

You breathe out as much as you can, trying not to flush with the embarrassment you feel at the thought of having to show your boyfriends just what a mistake it was, encouraging you to spend their money on a pretty dress you can't possibly wear. It was wrong of you to accept the gift. Guilt boils hot and hurting in your stomach as you imagine your lovely boyfriends, so pleased to finally have convinced you to let them sponsor such a luxury. How awful to repay them by looking dowdy and silly and not at all right for something so beautiful.

You think quickly, aware of the expectant pair sitting just seconds away in the living room. You can't pass them without revealing yourself, but the prospect is unimaginable. What a waste of money.

“Baby?” James’ voice, soft and cheerful, sounds from just past the door. Your throat tightens. “Not that we’re too miffed, but we would like to see you at some point. You’ve been in there since we got back from the shops twenty minutes ago.”

Shit. You curse yourself for deciding to come in here for a full-body view of the dress, leaving all your other clothing in the bedroom. Exiting naked would usually warrant rather a happy reaction from the boys, but after looking a few moments more at the outline of your body in the mirror, that doesn't seem like a good option either. “Sorry!”

"Not to worry, sweetheart."

James’ white bathrobe is the only reasonable alternative. You grab it off the hook by the towels and wrap it around yourself, nodding contentedly as it reveals only a sliver of fabric at your chest and nothing more. You might as well be wearing a nightie, for all they know. The dress will just have to be returned, and you'll tell them you couldn't find one that fit- technically correct.

You aim to leave the bathroom casually, but that becomes almost impossible when you open the door and find yourself face-to-face with Regulus, his fist raised as if to knock.

“Hi, Reg!” Too cheery. You tamper down your smile and stand on your tip-toes to kiss him, holding the robe tightly around yourself.

“Hello. I was just going to ask what you wanted for dinner. Are you alright, darling?" He wonders, watching you with storm-grey eyes that always seem to see just a little more than you're expecting them to.

"Of course! Dandy." You supply.

He cocks his head, unmoving. "You’re in an odd mood.”

“What? No. This is my usual mood,” You insist.

“M-hm.” His eyes drop momentarily down to the robe, narrowing. “Any particular reason you're wearing James' robe?” 

“Am I?”

The aforementioned individual appeared, suddenly, grinning. “I don’t mind. Looks great, very sexy!”

You wonder if it's possible for your face to heat so much that it melts.

“Incorrigible, James.” Regulus says softly.

You give him a weak smile, squirming away from the impossible weight of their combined gazes and heading for the bedroom. Regrettably, they follow you.

“Why are you wearing it, angel?” James asks, flopping onto the bed. 

You shrug, searching for an opportunity to get them both to leave you alone to change. The truth is that your own robe would've been much too short, and if they see the bottom of the dress they'll probably ask for the whole thing, and that's just not going to happen. You press your fingers into the soft curve of your lower stomach nervously, taking a few steps backwards until your back hits the wall. James' brows pull together. 

“Um. I don't know.”

The two of them exchange a glance. You understand; you're not exactly behaving in a normal manner.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Regulus asks. You like to think you're better at reading his expressions than most- the slight slant of his dark brows tells you he's concerned, but you can't get a good read on the rest of it.

"Yes, I'm fine! Why are you- I- I'm just a little warm."

"Call me crazy, angel," James says, amused, "But taking off the robe might help with that."

Your reply comes too quickly, to your immediate regret. "No!"

There's a brief silence. You feel like a total idiot, but you're sure it beats the feeling you'd get seeing them pretend to like the way you look right now. You squeeze your eyes shut for second, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry," You sound mortifyingly close to tears. "Sorry. I just- sorry."

At a total loss, James stares at you from the bed. Regulus touches your upper arm gently.

"There's no need to apologise, darling, just tell us what's happened. What's made you so upset?"

You force yourself to make eye contact. "Please can you both just go while I get changed?"

Their expressions are awful; knowing you're causing such a fuss over something so trivial, so stupid, you feel like just about the worst girlfriend in the world.

“Is there something you're worried we'll see? Bruises, or something?” James asks. "We can go, baby, but if there's something going on it might be better for Reg or me to take a look. You know I was joking when I said I'd break up with you if you got that tattoo of Margaret Thatcher's face."

You deflate, softened by his attempt to break the tension. Regulus rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch. "What's going on, hm?" He asks quietly.

With a sigh, you stare at the ground, giving up. They're too lovely to stick to your original plan- you'll just have to let it happen, and hope to make up for it another time by looking better.

"...I'm not sure you'll love what you see."

“Of course we’ll love it. We love you.” Regulus says firmly, like it's obvious.

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Angel. Take the robe off, yeah? We’ll prove it to you.” 

At James' insistence, you take a deep breath and stare at the ground as you shrug off the robe, wrapping your arms around your middle. You're keenly aware of the places where your skin presses against fabric, the way it falls, and the heat rushing to your cheeks. Oh, god.

"Fuck." Regulus says, uncharacteristically crude. You curl in on yourself a little further.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not how it looked on the-”

James interrupts you. “Baby? I’m gonna be honest, because I love you, okay?”

“Okay.” You say meekly, eyes stinging. Maybe it's even worse than you’d thought.

“I cannot hear a single word you are saying when you look that good. Like, a single word. It’s all lost on me. I’m going to need a minute.” 

Regulus’ hands are on you before you could properly react to James’ words, drawing your arms away from your body and taking in the dress with hungry eyes. 

“Exquisite, sweetheart," He exclaims, hands on yours. "I would say you’re never taking this off, but that’s actually all I want to do.”

"What?" You manage, smiling despite yourself. You pull your hands away and press them to your face. "Reg, you don't have to-"

“You thought we wouldn’t want to see this?” Hands on your shoulders, Regulus spins you once, before pulling your back against his chest and planting a heated kiss to the side of your neck. “And you called me crazy?”

“You’re- I’m- what?” You stammer. James makes an unintelligible sound from the bed, pressing a dramatic hand to his heart. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us, angel. Holy shit. I'm thanking you. I'm thanking the gods. I'm thanking-"

"James is very thankful." Regulus whispers into your hair. You laugh out loud, a little giddy at all their praise. "D'you know what I'd be thankful for right now?"

"What?"

"You on that bed, darling," He says. You lean into his touch as his hand slides down your side, squeezing a part of your waist you'd prodded critically in the mirror not ten minutes ago. Now you enjoy the feeling of his warm hands through the thin fabric, enjoy having a shape his hands both appreciate so well. "Off you go."

It's an instruction, now, and you shiver at the authority in his tone as you obey. James is on you before the duvet has even settled, making you gasp as he presses kisses all over your face.

“I’m going to destroy this dress. I’m sorry.” He says earnestly. You giggle happily, insecurities not quite gone but coated in a honey-sweet joy that softens their presence.

“I thought you liked it.”

“M-hm. It’s okay,” His hand finds your thigh and grips it firmly, fingers pressing into soft skin. “We’ll buy you a million more.” 

You let yourself enjoy it all for a moment more before giving any space to the snarky voice at the back of your mind, more out of a desire for reassurance than genuine belief that the two boys on top of you would genuinely do such a thing. "You're not- not just saying all this to make me feel better?"

“Why would we ‘just say’ this?” Regulus murmurs against your right shoulder, forearm across your stomach as he does wicked things to your skin that you'll have to cover in concealer if you want to wear anything sleeveless for a few days.

“...I don't know. Make me feel better?”

“You’re stunning. Literally- how often is James speechless, hm?” 

You laughed. “Hardly ever.” 

“Exactly. You're quite regularly the most beautiful girl either of us have ever seen, darling, whether you're feeling the same way or not,” Regulus leans on his elbow to look at you sternly. "We don't appreciate you this way because you look like somebody else, we adore you because you're yourself, and completely radiant."

“I don’t think you don't like me, I promise. It’s just something that’s in my brain- that I’m ugly, or something. It's silly."”

"It is," James agrees, allowing Regulus to return to whatever he's doing to your collarbone. "But it's not your fault. Your only job is to listen to what we're telling you, instead of your insecurity. Yeah?"

"Yeah," You nod, a little breathless. It's very easy to be agreeable when they're doing all these things to you. James kisses a line down your throat, to your chest, to your arm, slipping the strap of the dress down to follow. “I love you both," You manage.

They answer in their own, doubly enjoyable, ways.

[karenssupplystore]

Photo booth (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN! reader)

Warnings: none (let me know if there is any!)

Word count: 1079

There weren't many times when Simon had a day off, but when he did, you better know he'd be spending every moment with his partner. 

Back for a few days after a long mission? Reports are finished in record time and left on Price's desk.

A few hours between long meetings? He's calling you or sending a text, just wanting a moment of peace and to hear your voice before he'll inevitably have to deal with Soap's shenanigans.

Point being any time away from work he has, you're the first thing on his mind, and he will do anything to get that little bit of recharge time with the one person who he feels he can truly relax with.

So when the 141 gets back from a long, few-month mission on the other side of the globe, as soon as humanly possible, Simon's heading home to be with you. 

The first few days are just spent curled up together. Lazy mornings turning into lazy afternoons with lingering touches and tender kisses. Cooking together in the warmth of your shared kitchen, his big arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rests on the top of your head. Warm meals and lots of storytelling, more so coming from your end, but who wouldn't want to know about how the neighbours got into another fight and might be ending in divorce this time?

After those initial days just gently getting back into the calm civilian life, the two of you are more than happy to adventure out for the day. Treating yourselves to a nice cup of tea and a fresh pastry from a rather fancy cafe in the heart of town and a calm walk by river, hand in hand, the two of you find yourselves in a little corner store as the clouds roll over and little drops start to fall.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Bloody hell love, a little rain won't hurt ya," Simon chuckles as you pull him into a nearby corner store as the droplets of rain start to gain momentum, falling in a more rapid succession.

"Yes, but I did my hair today, and I don't want it to be ruined," you answer with a playful roll of your eyes. The store is much more pleasant than the rain, with a warm glow to the lights and, most importantly, nice and dry. 

Deciding to busy yourselves while the rain rolls over, the two of you go up and down the few isles, pointing out little snacks you want to try or ones you have tried and definitely didn't like. Coming to the end of one of the isles you spot an old photo booth pushed into the corner and excitedly pull on Simon's arm.

"Si, look! Do you think it works?" The whole thing looks like it hasn't been used in a long while, but, taking your chances, you pull the curtain open and the display lights up. 

"Suppose it does, come 'ere," a large hand moves to hold your waist as you're pulled onto Simon's lap, the two of you making a tight fit in the small booth.

With an excited squeal you press a few buttons, pulling a few pound coins from your pocket and inserting them into the machine, a quick preview of the photo format appearing on the screen. Before the two of you can plan what your poses will be, the first timer starts counting down.

""Right, just a smile then?" He says, guiding one of your arms over his shoulders as you lean your head closer, big smile pulling at your lips and a hint of a curl on the Brits. The flash clicks and the photo shows before another timer starts counting down.

"Now a silly one!" You say, holding up bunny ears behind his head as you stick your tongue out, Simon doing quite the similar pose. The timer stops and another flash goes off, both your eyes drawn to the preview of the photo. For a burly military man Simon sure does look a bit silly with the tip of his tongue poking out and your fingers as bunny ears behind him, contrasting his usual hard and gruff facade he put son for the average individual.

"Hey, you copied my idea," A playful shove is given to his shoulder as you look at the photo, chuckles leaving the both of you. "Can't help if it's a good idea," Simons voice grumbles though the smile on his scared lips tells you how happy you make him as he pokes a finger in your ribs, making you laugh.

"Simon!" You giggle, half heartedly pulling away from him, "That tickles!" The Brit doesn't stop his teasing and you try to pull away again that you almost fall off his lap, arms flailing slightly but a hand firmly on your waist ensures you don't go anywhere. In the struggle the timer for the third photo finishes and the flash goes off just as you feel like you're tipping.

As the two of you calm your giggles you see there's only one photo left and you turn to look at Simon, exaggerated disappointment on your face. "Look you ruined the photo," you tease as you point to the screen.

"Wouldn't have been ruined if ya were more original," He chuckles, fingers lightly pinching your thigh as he gazes at you with those big brown eyes. "I'm plenty original, thank you"

The timer counting down for the fourth and final picture snaps you both back as you stumble to figure out one last pose.

"What do you we do for this one?" You ask out loud as you try your hardest to think of a cute pose.

Without more than a little grumble of a 'Come 'ere' Simons free hand reaches up and gently wraps around your neck, pointer finger helping guide your face to his as your lips meet his. All thoughts are almost completely disregarded as you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue traces the seam of your lips. Just as you begin to part your lips the flash goes off and the machine begins to print the series of photos.

""ere you go, love," Simon grumbles as his hand leaves your warm skin to grab the photos, handing them to you. Hand on your thigh giving you a gently pat before guiding you off his lap and out of the photo booth, grin on his lips the whole time.

[sanjisboyfie]

suguru's cherished mornings

-> geto suguru x male reader -> really short sorry idk i just had to publically show how much i love him.

-> still jjk universe but the one where this babe doesnt become anakin skywalker and defect away from everyone <3333 because i like to imagine this alternate universe a LOT

his black hair sprawled over the sheets, unfortunately getting painfully pulled by you when you're still sleeping. he winces as he feels it being pressuredly pushed down onto the mattress, giving a slight tug to his sensitive scalp and affectively waking him up.

he doesn't have the heart to even be remotely annoyed or angry with you. not when you look so peaceful sleeping. not when you're so effortlessly handsome it feels almost like his heart physically stops beating at your effortless charm.

he is just that in love with you.

the way you could make doing nothing but sleeping look like art was something special only to his eye, because he was the only one that had his eye on you. or, at least, that's what he tells himself to sleep better at night (he would very much rather not think about the probably high number of individuals that also find you attractive, it'll just put him in a sour mood).

he won't wake you up. instead, he props his head up onto his palm and continues gazing at you lovingly. sure, it can be a little bit creepy, but...okay, it is just creepy, but he just loves you so much. he might pick up the book that's resting on his bedside. he'll sit against the headboard as he reads, smiling softly when you so naturally shift your body to now be hugging his legs and resting on his lap.

one hand will hold the book up for him to read whilst the other traces mindless shapes on your back.

suguru loves touching you, whether it be in the smallest grazes of his fingers or those more heated moments, he loves, loves, loves touching you. it makes him happy - genuinly.

it's his own way of grounding himself, reminding himself that you're really there with him, next to him.

his large hands will run up and down your back until you eventually wake up. the book he's reading returns back to the bedside and he immediately focuses all of his attention on you.

"g'mornin', baby," he'll gently say, shuffling to hold you in his arms and kiss the top of your head, "did you sleep well?"

a tired hum is all he gets in response, but you can still feel him smiling against your skin. you return the question, your voice gravely as you speak.

then he's pressing his face into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, humming in delight as he gets to really take you in, through all of his senses.

he has you in his arms, obviously he can see you, and the last is that he is drowning in your natural scent.

he's obsessed, at this point.

"slept perfectly, as always," when i'm beside you - that's the last part of the sentence that suguru doesn't voice, for some reason.

his arms tighten around your waist. and now you're the one carding your fingers through his hair, to sooth him and relax that tight grip on your body. he doesn't know it, but it's practically suffocating.

gently, as you predicted, his hold does loosen up and allows you to sit in his lap now without him cutting off your circulation.

"should we stay in for a little while longer, babe? are you still tired?" he asks you, but doesn't get a response. all he feels is your body comfortiably slotting in with his and the arms you had around his neck loosely falling into your lap.

"silly boy," he chuckles, finding your habits endearing and amusing. you woke up, just to get comfortable in his lap and then fall back asleep. "i love you,"

there's a low hum that comes from your chest and he takes that answer with glee. he knows you would have said it back if you had the energy or that keen awareness.

_

when the two of you finally do have the energy to get out of bed, the morning finally starts in the bathroom. you're brushing your teeth standing next to each other, suguru sometimes childishly making funny faces at you in the mirror.

you almost choked on the toothpaste in your mouth when he fulls a particularly funny face. some other mornings you're sitting on the bathroom counter with suguru comfortably standing in between your open legs. his one hand will rest on one side of your lap with the other moving the toothbrush in his mouth. that hand near your lap will sometimes go underneath your shirt and start playing with the flesh of your hips.

it sometimes earns him a warning look, which he rolls his eyes at, but eventually does pull away to please you. the other times, though, when you let his fingers dance on your skin - those times he loves.

sometime in your morning routine, one of you will get a phone call from someone in jujutsu society to call you for a mission. usually, it's you since you're not a special grade like suguru. that means you're more high in demand for lesser grade curses.

he doesn't like that, though, so he often tags along with you wherever you have to go. doesn't like being away from you for too long. it makes him angsty. makes him worried.

he wants to be there for you if anything happens. or else he wouldn't be able to live peacefully.

but on the rare mornings, you don't get beckoned for work, the two of you are lounging in your small living room. two steaming cups of coffee are on the table as suguru watches the television with you scrolling on your phone.

your legs will most likely be thrown over his lap, a subtle way of letting him touch you. his hands will always find the skin of your ankle and calf to caress, going up and down your leg as if he was trying to lull you to sleep again.

he may or may not actually be trying to do that too, he wants you to stay here with him and only him for a while longer. and when you're sleeping, you're doing just that. it's his own little secret, though, as he'd never confess these underhanded methods he uses to monopolize your time and attention.

and its usually at times like that: the light pouring in through the opened window, the cups of steaming coffee in front of you two, that skin to skin contact, when suguru feels the most thankful for having you.

you make the mundane mornings something worth living through. he doesn't have to struggle and find reason to get out of bed, not when he has you there to hold his hand through the motions of it. you make his life exciting and he loves you dearly for all that you unknowingly do for him.

"hm, love you, [name]," he'll say out of nowhere.

it makes your head lift up from the couch cushion and away from your phone screen. he catches your e/c eyes with his own, smiling softly at your adorable face.

"love you too, suguru, always," you easily respond, sitting up to kiss his cheek and leaving a lingering scent of coffee on his skin.

but he doesn't wipe it away, he never would.

you collpase back onto the couch cushion into your comfortable position and suguru can't help but note how homey you look.

he loves when he gets to spend his mornings with you because those are the best parts of his day.

the mundane turned special in its own way, all thanks to you and the love he has for you in his heart.

[theresattrpgforthat]

TTRPGs for people with dyscalculia?

THEME : Dyscalculia Friendly.

Hello friend, I’m going to first point you to the Math-Lite Chaotic Murder Hobos recommendation post I wrote up a year or two ago.

What I understand about dyscalculia is that in can affect the ability to do mental math, but I'm not sure how much it affects number recognition. I have a few games here that ask you to read the faces on a die, but I don't think any of them expect you to do any addition. I hope you find something fun on this list!

Cats of Catthulu, by Joel Sparks.

CATS OF CATTHULHU is the beloved rules-light roleplaying game in which the players take the part of ordinary cats, secretly defending human civilization from the Chaos Cults of the other animals. All the players have to do is act like cats, while the Cat Herder arranges exciting challenges for them—anything from snacky time to daringly interrupting dire rituals.

In Cats of Catthulhu, the way the story will go is always a mystery. You and your friends play to find out what happens. One person, the Cat Herder, arranges the secrets and situations, and sets the scene, but even they don’t know where the night will end. The players take the role of individual, ordinary cats. All you really need to do is act like a cat.

It might be a bit difficult to get your hands on them, but the original dice for Cats of Catthulhu don’t have any numbers on them; instead, they have sad cats and happy cats. Whenever a cat does something, they roll 2 of these dice. Rolling a Happy Cat is a success; rolling a Sad Cat is a failure. The reasoning behind these dice is: cats can’t do math!

If you can’t get your hands on cat dice, you can use any old d6, and regard 1-2 as Sad Cats and 3-6 as Happy Cats. You’ll also want to get some kind of physical token to use as Treats, which are player currency used to allow free re-rolls. Cats of Catthulhu is great for groups who are mostly getting together to just have a fun time, ready to act silly and get into all kinds of shenanigans.

DUSK, by Gila RPGs.

Equipped with the latest suntech, you are tasked with venturing out into the Dusk, and helping bring a new dawn to humanity. The Dusk does not want you there. 

Good luck.

In DUSK, you play as Shards, survivors on the planet Obron after the devastating nova-event that saw your world destroyed. Now you wield powerful technology fueled by pieces of your dead sun, in hopes of surviving another day. DUSK uses the LUMEN 2.0 system, and is a diceless RPG focused on resource management rather than luck or chance. 

As a diceless game, DUSK feels a lot different from a number of other diceless games, and I think that’s because of the style of game it’s working off of. LUMEN games are more about strategy than they are about narrative, and in DUSK that’s carried forward in the form of Suntech, items that require energy to power and provide specific advantages.

DUSK is still a relatively new game, but the designer is prolific in the amount of quality work he’s released in the past - and so when he says that there’s more to come, you best believe there’s more to come. If you’d still like to roll dice but you like the idea of the setting in this game, you might want to check out NOVA, which also uses the LUMEN system but gives you dice to roll or LUNA, a game about cultists trying to destroy the moon. Both of these games use pools of d6’s and ask you to look for the highest number, so I don’t think there’s that much math involved.

CASE & SOUL, by Briar Sovereign.

CASE&SOUL is a lightweight tabletop game for telling action-packed stories in the mecha genre. CASE&SOUL is designed for one-shots and short to mid length campaigns. Speed through a lightweight downtime; hire freelancers to pad out your Crew’s skills on missions. Customize your playbooks with SOUL moves, and enjoy a cut-down FITD gameplay with just the essentials for fast and flexible sessions.

Forged in the Dark games use a dice pool, rather than abilities with modifiers. You add dice from various places on your worksheet, and try to roll at least one 4 or higher. Rolling a 4 or 5 is usually a mixed success, and rolling a 6 is a complete success. Personally, I’m a big fan of games that use dice pools, as I’m also not a fan of trying to add up all of those numbers, and having to just look for the single highest dice helps speed up action resolution.

At the same time, Forged in the Dark games can have a lot of moving pieces at once, especially if the GM wants to track a large number of factions, or players want to plan multiple-stage missions. CASE & SOUL advertises itself as a slimmed-down version of these kinds of games, but I can’t tell whether or not that is the case when I look at the character sheets. What intrigues me is the CASE and SOUL tracks; I think your CASE is your Mech, and it receives Harm differently than your SOUL, which is an interesting way to measure how much your mech is (or is not) part of you.

Keyforge: Secrets of the Crucible, by Edge Studio.

In the center of the universe hangs the Crucible, a gigantic artificial world created by the enigmatic Architects and home to countless beings and cultures. Here, impossibly advanced technologies mix with arcane powers to make for a setting unlike any other! Uncovering the secrets of this mysterious world will take all your skills—but the potential rewards are boundless…

Explore this world of boundless opportunity in Secrets of the Crucible, a new sourcebook for the Genesys Roleplaying System set in the KeyForge universe!

You’ll need the Genesys Rulebook for this one, because the main reason I’m recommending Secrets of the Crucible is because of the dice system. Genesys dice don’t use numbers; they use symbols that represent success and failure - and they also have symbols that deepen the nuance of each roll. You can roll advantages or disadvantages that calibrate exactly how much you succeed, as well as triumphs or despairs that give you the same kind of highs and lows as a Nat 20 or a Nat 1 in D&D. This means that each roll tells you so much more about what’s going on around you than just whether you open a door or sweet-talk a guard.

As for the setting, Keyforge is originally a card game published by Fantasy Flight games, about a world called the Crucible, full of secrets that various factions are competing to unlock. It reminds me of the worlds of Magic: the Gathering or League of Legends, with various settings that look very distinct from each-other, and represent different styles of play.

SHIVER, by Parable Games.

WHAT IS SHIVER?

SHIVER is a tabletop roleplaying game that lets players bring their favourite scary movies, spooky tv shows, and horror stories to life. Ever wanted to play through the plot of your favourite film on the tabletop? Or wanted to make sequels, prequels and original stories in the worlds of pop culture you love? SHIVER lets you play that!

SHIVER is setting neutral allowing you to play any story, anytime, and as anyone. Want to play a game of teens in survival mode against a zombie horde? Kids on Bikes who dread exploring a haunted house on Halloween night? Or perhaps a medieval monster hunter looking for a werewolf, vampire or mage? SHIVER can deliver stories and characters for anything from cult pulp classic to Cthulhu fuelled eldritch mystery.

The designer of SHIVER set out with the goal of making games easier for his friends, who had similar struggles with games that had too much math involved. Players roll six-sided and eight-sided dice with various symbols on them, looking for the symbol that represents their character's strengths. The more difficult the task is, the more of the required symbol you need. The game itself is recognized as a class-act horror game, good for everything from pulp-action to gothic fiction to slasher horror. If you don't have the special dice, you can substitute with d6's & d8's, or you can use the free Dice Roller designed for this game.

Tournament Arc, by Biscuit Fund Games.

Are you looking to experience the triumphs and defeats of Space Hyper-Basketball? Need to feel the epic highs and dizzying lows of card games in the post-apocalypse? Want to face the trials and tribulations of the cheese-rolling World Circuit?

Tournament Arc is your very own collaborative sports anime experience, made in the diceless Belonging Outside Belonging engine popularized by games like Dream Askew and Wanderhome. In every thrilling episode, you’ll play the part of the Team as they negotiate the complexities of their daily lives, explore a collaboratively created world, and, most importantly, play the Game.

Tournament Arc is both diceless and GM-less, and is designed to tell stories about teambuilding and competitive sports, although the setting appears to be pretty flexible. The Belonging Outside Belonging game system provides each character type with prompts, and sorts those prompts into different categories. Usually there will be some things you can always do that generate tokens as well as narrative obstacles, and then other things that you can only do when you spend tokens - and as a result, also help characters confront those narrative obstacles. If you have players that like having something tactile to keep in their hands as they play, you might like Tournament Arc.

Warehouse Bitches, by Darling Demon Games.

The Time Worm arrived as it was prophesied just as the crown fell upon his head, and all potentials collapsed into a single haunted citadel, which you call Hex City. You are transgender punks and goths from earth, and in this place your powerful hearts make you witches, daemons, beast-people and arcane architects. We bide our time, smoking and drinking, playing video games and eyeing the crumbling walls of our enemy, The Lord of Olympus.

In Warehouse Bitches, you play as one of the titular warehouse-dwelling trans folk in the hellish Hex City. In this GMless Belonging Outside Belonging game with a unique coin-flip mechanic, you'll wield magic, build allies across the city and fight back against the bastards in subtle ways.

I’ve already explained a bit about how Belonging Outside Belonging works, but Warehouse Bitches adds another layer by using coins as tokens. Using coins, your options are different depending on whether or not the coin is on Heads or Tails. The moves on your character sheet are not just differentiated between Strong and Vulnerable, they’re also differentiated between Heads or Tails, and you must have matching sides of the coins showing in order to be able to use those moves. Characters also have Magic moves, which require the player to flip every coin they currently hold, and reassign those coins based on whatever side they land on.

Warehouse Bitches has only 4 playbooks as it stands now, so a group of 4 players is probably the largest group that can play the book as it stands now. The game is GM-less, but looking at the rules, I think it would be possible to have someone pick up the GM role in order to introduce complications and narrate the actions of various other factions in town. Similar to other BoB games, there are zones that have various elements and details that need to be decided as you play, which will also help provide events and interesting features that keep the game fresh and exciting.

[eowynstwin]

Obviously if your asks aren’t open then feel free to disregard this- (love your work btw I just- I cant- 🥰)

Do you think they keep the dog tags *ON* during sex? How do you think they’d wear them during it? Would they have you wear them?

You don’t HAVE to answer for each individual character obviously if you would rather just do it as a whole or just one that’s fine! Whatever works for you 💕

*cracks knuckles* I’ll do ‘em all. (Sorry for the long post, I’ll put it under a readmore when I get home 🙏)

Do the Tags Stay on in Bed?

Ghost wears his tags because, like the mask, they just don't ever come off. He is two people when he is with you--Ghost is the creature that can protect you, that can do the things Simon Riley would have been too weak for when it comes to your safety. But Simon is the man that could have loved you properly. Simon is the man Ghost believes could make you coffee in the morning, could rub your neck at the end of a long day.

It isn't initially why he wears his tags when he fucks you, but it is now--Ghost holds you in an iron grip, looms over you as he thrusts into you hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall, and feels the tags with a dead man's name clink against his chest. They remind him that you deserve whatever is left of the man who would have been far better for you than Ghost ever could be.

Soap wears his tags fully out of pride. The SAS is his life, is a massive part of his identity, and while he knows not every mission he's sent on is wholly for the good, he holds onto his conviction to act with integrity and compassion no matter what. The SAS might not always do good, but he will, as much as he can.

He wants you to be proud of him, too--he's really doing it all for you, after all. When those tags hang between you as your legs are wrapped around his waist, as they come to rest on your chest when he leans down to kiss you, he wants you to know that when he wears them he's thinking of you.

Gaz has no preference, but more often than not they stay on because he forgets to take them off. Usually, it's because the moment you're both free with enough time to actually have sex, he isn't going to bother with silly things like getting completely undressed--he wants you, now.

So, they've whacked you in the face a couple times as the two of you have gone at it. It's too funny to get mad at, and Gaz always uses it as an excuse to "make it up to you." Sometimes he'll take them off, too, and put them around your neck instead. "Keep 'em safe for me, eh?" he says with a grin.

Price takes his tags off. Over 20 years of service have left him wanting something that exists apart from violence and bloodshed, and every moment he spends with you is that something. He doesn't want to be the Captain with you, not unless he has to be--putting his tags aside gives him permission to just be John with you.

Besides, they'd get in the way. John does his very, very best to please you, to satisfy you beyond any expectation you may have of him, and sometimes that leaves you needing to bite down on his neck to keep from screaming. You’d probably not prefer to break a tooth on the tags’ chain.

Alejandro also takes his tags off, although it’s less about keeping work and pleasure separate and more about the annoyance they can be. When he is with you, Alejo is focused wholly on you, and does not appreciate distractions of any sort. He doesn’t want to have to fling his tags around to get them out of the way, or let them hang to be caught on an errant foot or wrist.

He does, however, love to see you wear them. It’s totally a possessive thing, but in the best way—Alejo worships the ground you walk on, and seeing his name around your neck inspires the same awe usually reserved for the divine. He thinks you could have anyone you wanted, and is humbled daily that you continue to choose him.

Rudy doesn’t care either way if the tags are on or off, and if the topic ever comes up he leaves that up to you. It’s an attitude that is very in-character—Rudy’s satisfaction comes from ensuring that you are satisfied, no matter what. Rudy’s love language, hands down, is acts of service.

Similarly to Alejo, however, he does enjoy seeing you wear his tags. “They belong to you anyway, mi vida,” he’ll tell you, lining your neck with gentle kisses. “All of me does.” (He has been known, however, to forget where he puts them if they do come off. So it’s probably better if they stay on.)

Bonus: Valeria gave hers to you a long time ago. She asks very frequently to see them, to make sure you keep them with you at all times. She promised herself she would never, ever carry their weight again, but she also can’t quite bear to throw them away, so now they stay with the only person in the world that she trusts.

If you wear them to bed, it will inspire a frenzy in her that will leave you limping the next morning. Those tags are a past version of her, a version she emerged from like a snake shedding its skin. While she is never sure how to feel about that previous self, seeing you take care its vestiges satisfies an ache in Valeria that she will never acknowledge.

Bonus: Graves has mixed feelings about his tags overall, being that he is technically not required to wear them anymore. They don’t mean the same thing to him now that they used to. That doesn’t mean they aren’t always on him, of course—he keeps them tucked into his boots. So you never see them.

If you were to ever find them, bring them into the bedroom? It could go one of two ways. On the one hand, you could end up benefitting short-term from the frustrated agitation those tags inspire, with Graves using your body to relieve an old, invisible hurt you never knew about. He will withdraw from you afterwords, though, too caught up in himself to really connect with. On the other, he could just withdraw immediately, recede from you, and the tension of that encounter will linger for days. It’s best not to involve his tags at all.

[gege-wondering-around]

can i just say that Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice are the old school version of Stiles and Derek?

Cause i will shout this from my balcony till it breaks beneath me!

Stiles (Elizabeth or if you want, 'lizzy') not giving a flying f about Derek (Darcy) cause this rich dude has no care for others and just runs on raw pride, which lead all his decisions. Which ultimately makes him look like the worst man on earth to Stiles' eyes, which is why he stays away from Derek.

But then, solitary man Derek will start to fall in love with this intelligent and fine creature (stiles) because he couldn't be more difficult to get!

Stiles doesn't care about society, stiles is sharp and of an intellectual awareness that defy every man in search of the tipycal silly type to ask for marriage, and Derek cannot stress himself enough about this sweet, pretty thing dancing around at balls and answering rudeness with politeness mixed with the most sublime undertone of confidence and assertiveness.

cause stiles doesn't care about money or status, stiles cares about marrying someone he truly loves and when he realized derek did love him, he felt sooooo ashamed of how judgemental he had been of this poor man who just wanted his hand! because derek loved him enough to forgive stiles for his harsh words towards him (cause stiles thought of him as a bad individual and spoke of it to him) from the past and was then a more genuine version of himself.

And as Derek and Stiles tangle their lives together because of friends and family, they end up as the most tight knot that will not be undone! especially after derek hear about stiles' high chin and firm words of 'i may not be engaged to him now, but fear i may will' that he spoke to Derek's aunt when she went to stiles to disagree of their possibile engagement

and what did stiles do?

respond to the rudeness of this lady with the sharpest and most confidence tone of 'we will choose for ourselves' which, when derek heard about this, made him go so out of his path to get stiles.

because they didn't know each other, then they did, and they fell in love. and they weren't going to NOT act on it.

(summary: enemies to lovers. which is now my new obsession- yes, i never invested into enemies to lovers, but now i might do some digging)

I'm gonna write a retelling of this so bad.

imagine.

this kind of pretty stiles (with a sharp tongue and pretty look that defy how his mind actually thinks and hides how much 'intellectual power' he has since, for the time the story it's set in, lizzy is an unusual brave woman who would rather marry the poor guy, love of her life over the rich, cold man with money)

pretty because lizzy is viewed as a very pretty women who is recognized as such in society (which dancy then calls 'the most beautiful women I've even seen in my entire life' after someone says she's not even that pretty)

who's personality can go from this ⬇️

yk, funny, outgoing, polite (sort of) and overall a wonderful presence to have conversations with and engage in sharing opinions and dance with during balls (in which her figure is gracefully dancing and all the other stuff i dont remember)

to this ⬇️

a wonderful undertone of 'f you with respect' and 'who do you think you are', who will also be able to undo you in 30 seconds in a verbal battle cause he has the intelligence and intellectual knowledge to do so and WILL do so without much regards for consequences cause he'll do so in a way that will makes it unable for you to bite back cause you'll end up the one being labeled as rude.

pared with

this angry looking fool, who looks more arrogant than anything most of the day, to most people (and even those who knows him talk very little of his doings, because he hides his true emotions and intentions. and despite pride being his fuel, he's still a caring man who is not talk about much if not for his money = they talk about his fortune and not the values he has, despite the sort of 'contorted' way in which everything is based on pride)

(which could also be older, but who know what I'll end up choosing when i write this - because yes, i love older men ⬇️)

who, ultimately, will look at stiles like this⬇️

because 'damn, you are the only person i want by my side for the rest of my life' and he wont be able to move his gaze elsewhere cause despite being an a-hole to stiles for the major part of theirshared time, he was still able to redeem himself by showing his kindness and actually gets stiles.

while stiles is like

because after pulling up the bad facade of 'i dont give a f about you cause i think you are rude', he felt ashamed when he found he was wrong about him but then darcy (derek) forgives him and he can't hold his feelings anymore and just shows everything through his eyes and the soft laughter he lets out when they talk cause he has still to process how much these two are gonna love each other (this, before they are engaged)

so.

I'll buy the book (cause i read a school fitted version of it), annotate things, write down some coherent line of plot and one day, I'll write everything down.

till then, I'll scream about this from my balcony, thanks for have come to this sort of tedtalk.

and this is for you, my sweet @dontcallpanic, i hope you'll like my little gift as I'm still working, rather slowly, on my replies for you 🩵🫂

[links-in-time]

Wishful Thinking

This is for @weepingtalecowboy who had the wonderful idea of Wind reminding Legend of Marin and the possibility of Wind being his son. Enjoy 😊

He's not her. He's not her. She's gone and Wind isn't her. 

Legend had begun repeating this mantra every time he caught himself staring at the youngest member of their Chain. Every time Wind did something, anything to remind the Vet of his old flame.

It was silly little things at first. Wind liked seagulls. She had loved seagulls. Pictographs of Wind's sister looked remarkably like her. Aryl even wore a hibiscus flower in her hair. Or Wind might say something around their campfire that was just so, her. 

Legend shook the thoughts and images out of his head. He'd tried to forget about Marin. Succeeded in almost convincing himself that she wasn't real. That she had never been real. Besides, he was happily engaged to a man he loved deeply. Dragging up memories from his doomed adventure only succeeded in hurting him. 

But then Legend had met Wind. A carefree and high spirited individual. His outlook on life reminded Legend so much of the way Marin used to talk. Not to mention half his name dredged up thoughts of the Windfish. Although Legend was careful not to show it outwardly, he had quickly grown extremely fond of the kid. Some instinct to protect him had gripped Legend's being and it just wouldn't let go. 

You and Martin talked about Kids. 

Legend physically shuddered at the thought as it crawled unbidden into his mind one day. 

“You okay Lege?” Hyrule asked, as he walked alongside him. 

“Huh, yeah. I was just daydreaming,” Legend muttered, trying not to let his eyes wander to the back of Wind's head. 

“Ooh, what about?” Hyrule probed in his usual curious manner. 

“What's for supper,” Legend lied with a sigh. “I'm starving.”

***

Marin stood in her little cottage in Mabe Village, warm light surrounded her as she faced away from Link. As he approached, Link could see that Marin was cradling something in her arms. She looked a little taller than Link remembered her and he felt taller himself too. The furniture seemed closer to the ground and his view of the room felt off. 

“I've been thinking about names dear,” Marin cooed.

As Link drew closer, Marin turned around. He could see the little bundle of cloth wrapped neatly in her arms. 

“There's Tarin, after my father. But, I was rather hoping you wouldn't mind if we called him Link.”

Link stopped in his tracks. From where he stood he could see the little tuft of blond hair poking out of the swaddling cloth. The bundle made a soft moaning sound and Marin rocked it gently. 

“After all, you mean so much to both of us. Why shouldn't he carry your name as well?”

Link stared unblinking from the bundle to Marin and back again. Was she really telling him what he thought she was? Could the little bundle in her arms, so impossibly tiny, really be theirs. Had he finally done something good? Had he managed to save Marin and make a life for the two of them just as he'd planned. 

The bundle’s moans turned into little hiccups, which quickly became a wail. 

“Oh shh, there, there little one. Your father is here now.” Marin uttered softly, her warm amber hair drifting around her shoulders as she bent down to nuzzle at the crying child. 

Father! 

Link, was a father?! He and Marin had - 

Suddenly the bundle was in Link's arms. He stared down into the softly crying baby's face. The child's lips quivered, large blue eyes staring up at the man cradling him. Link couldn't look away. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could this child, Wind, truly be his and Marin’s son? 

“Link, what's wrong?” 

Link looked up at her and gasped when he found Marin shrouded in darkness. 

“Please don't leave me Link. Don't leave me and our son!” Marin wailed. 

“I won't, Marin I swear I won't leave!” Link cried. 

But as he reached out a hand towards her, Marin faded into the growing darkness. 

“No Marin, not again!” 

***

Legend screamed as he thrashed around. He panicked when he realised he no longer held the bundle in his arms. His eyes flashed open and his addled mind struggled to comprehend his surroundings. 

“Whoa, whoa, Legend calm down. It's alright, you were dreaming.” Sky's voice sounded nearby. 

The soft baritones helped ground Legend in his present. A present where he lay wrapped up in his blankets on the soft pine needles of a forest floor. Tall trees and the mostly sleeping forms of his brothers surrounded him. Legend took a few calming breaths and found Sky's face. 

“I'm alright Sky, just had a bad dream,” Legend sighed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Sky asked, smiling softly but maintaining a respectful distance from Legend. 

“Not really, wasn't anything important.” Legend lied, adding it to the steadily growing list of little lies he had told his brothers. “I think I'll help Wild with breakfast.”

Legend struggled out of his tangled up blankets and pulled his tunic over his head. As he stumbled over to where Wild was pulling out eggs and rashers of bacon for breakfast, Legend's attention drifted away. 

On the other side of the campfire and Wild's stove, Time and Wind sat on a fallen tree, talking and laughing together. He tried to ignore them. Legend just couldn't think about his dream, or Marin, or Wind right now. There was a mission to focus on, his brothers didn't need him distracted with his head in the clouds. 

No matter what his thoughts and feelings about Wind, he couldn't let his dreams influence how he treated his youngest son - BROTHER! His youngest brother. 

Legend sighed and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. This might be more difficult than he thought. 

*** 

Try as Legend might, he couldn't help but keep a closer eye on Wind. He kept close during battle, shielding Wind's back and looking out for danger heading his way. In the evenings, Legend split his time around the campfire between Hyrule and Wind. Or sat between them both whenever he could. He indulged in more of Wind's fanciful stories about adventures on the High seas. Even the ones that sounded more impossible than the last. 

It just reminded Legend more of Marin. The stories and songs she had taught him on the island. How animated she could become when she became lost in a tale. The way she would wave her arms and stare off into the distance as though she could feel the wind on her face and the salt in the air. Just as Wind would do. 

No. Legend grabbed his brain and gave it a firm shake. Marin hadn't been real. She had been part of the Windfish’s dream. And yet. Legend had traversed many different worlds in his time. The Dark world, Lorule and others. Could it really be such a stretch for Koholint island to exist in another universe. After all, Wind existed on a different branch of the timeline to Legend and Hyrule. But that didn't mean he couldn't have visited it once. Or even more than once. 

Legend stared into the flames of the campfire, Marin’s amber hair waving before his eyes. As his mind drifted over endless possibilities, Legend didn't notice how he had leaned against Wind's side. Wind's ramblings somehow became entangled with Legend's memories and eventually Marin’s voice floated to his ears. 

“Mmm, Marin. Could you sing for me? It's been so long since I heard you sing,” Legend mumbled. 

His head rested on Wind's shoulder as he nestled closer to the smaller hero. 

Wind froze. 

“Um, Lege, you okay?” He asked, suddenly stiff and uncertain. 

“Who's Lege? You know my name Marin. Please, call me Link.”

“Legend,” Wind said louder as he attempted to push the older hero off of him. “I don't know if you're dreaming but I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my mother's name.”

“Hmm, what?!” Legend stuttered. 

Sitting upright, Legend looked around. Most of the others had shuffled off to their bed rolls. Sky and Time sat by the fire together, but neither was paying attention to Legend and Wind's conversation. 

“You were talking,” Wind replied. “More mumbling really. I don't think you realised you were doing it. But you called me a name. Told me to sing for you.”

Wind kept his gaze away from Legend. The Vet watched as Wind visibly shrank away from him. 

“Marin, I… I called you Marin,” Legend uttered. 

He was about to reach out and put a hand on Wind's shoulder, but something stopped him. His gaze also dropped to the grass beneath them, but something snapped into place in his hazy memory. 

“Wait, you said your mother's name! Your mother's name was Marin?!” Legend exclaimed. 

Wind mumbled an affirmative. 

“I don't like talking about my parents,” he uttered. 

“But your mother…” Legend started to ask. 

Wind turned a serious stare on him that stopped Legend in his tracks. He swallowed his words and let Wind say his peace. 

“Legend, I don't remember my parents. I only know my mother's name and that she came from a far off island that was lost to the sea. I don't know who your Marin is, but I'm not her. I don't want to hurt or upset you, but I'd rather you didn't bring it up again.”

Wind's words were stern but his voice remained even and calm. Something about Legend's body language conveyed a certain vulnerability he rarely showed to the rest of them. Perhaps the dream he had told Sky about the other day had shaken him more than the Veteran cared to admit. 

“Do you want to tell me about her?” Wind asked, softening slightly. 

“About who?”

“About your Marin?” Wind prompted. 

“Oh, I erm. I'm not really sure I can talk about her.” Legend replied glumly, folding his arms around his knees and resting his chin. “I've hardly ever spoken to anyone about her, not even Ravio.”

“Well you don't have to. And I take it that I remind you of her somehow?” Wind gave Legend a half smile. 

“Yeah, you do. She was wild and free just like you. Always had a smile for me and a song too if I asked. I loved her but… It wasn't enough in the end. I don't really know what happened to her.”

“Whoever she was, I'm sure she cared about you too, Lege. And I'm certain that if you did everything you could, then she would be okay.” Wind attempted to console his brother. 

He wasn't very good at this sort of thing. Wars would probably say that Wind didn't yet possess the emotional range for therapy sessions. But he was trying his best. And Legend wasn't usually one to dig through his past either. Together they muddled through. Wind patted Legend's back comfortingly, while Legend sat with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

Legend began to cry silently. Tears falling from his chin, soaking his sleeves. But he ignored it. Wind's comforting presence was all he needed. His Marin might be gone from him forever, and it may just be a coincidence that Wind's mother had the same name. But it gave Legend hope. 

Hope that he hadn't doomed the woman he'd loved. Hadn't destroyed her world by waking the Windfish. Hadn't failed an entire island of people and creatures because he wanted to return home. That hope overwhelmed and overflowed out through his tears. 

Coincidence be damned. If Marin was Wind's mother then a part of her still lived. Whether or not Legend was Wind's father was beside the point. Marin, his wonderful, fiery Marin, was alive in his little brother. And no matter what, he was not going to fail her again. 

[nilboxes]

I didn't know who to say this too but i was about to explode thinking about this and you are one of the few people in hsr fandom that i trust to understand ratio so my apologies to be dumping this on you all of a sudden but... I think Ratio's technique is so interesting in a way and speaks more about him than people give it credit for. Like...creating a fake version of himself that aggros the enemy is already very meta of how hsr fandom tends to see him, esp with the number of people that started hating him after that "betrayal" scene in 2.1 xD And it makes me wonder about his voiceline where he says something like "im fine with showing my true self if it helps me teach students/cures patients but i find that doing so is counterproductive most of the time"...wdym "true self" sir...and why are your character details completely devoid of any details from your own pov...and why do you get so evasive when anyone tries to ask about your past (going by that one interview when someone asked him what he was like as a child and he's just like "what a silly question, i was a normal boy")...it seems to me the princess is hiding something...

Thank you for your ask OP! It's really interesting to think about your question, and I'm humbled by your trust! I hope whatever I cook can satisfy you in some way. It's going to be a bit long!!

Let's start by saying I do operate under the belief that we know a lot about Dr Ratio and at the same time we only know what he wants us to know, which I find incredibly interesting to his character.

It can go many different ways. A lot of people use this mysteriousness to hint at the following:

1. something sinister (I am not necessarily saying you are doing this)

2. suggesting that he is more than who he is, like he may be more than who he presents to be (may or may not be evil in alignment but just more)

3. he really just thinks divulging further personal information about him is pointless and he values his privacy as an individual rather than a prominent figure

Let me now unpack the most wrongest [sic] take, number 1, which I find to be antithetical to his character, because Dr Ratio has always been aligned with doing good. He isn't your typical good person, but he is morally pushing for good (eradication of ignorance, people finding and reaching their potential etc), and he rather he reminds me of a very stern but nonetheless kind educator who genuinely demands good be brought into the world through one's aptitude and ability (just like himself) and not relying on others to solve problems for you

Number 2 is a little tricky, since we cannot really confirm nor deny that Ratio is no longer truly following Nous after he realizes he will never be acknowledged, he may be aligned to another Aeon or none entirely! I personally dislike the Mythus/Fictionologist take, because again it is antithetical to who he is as a character. Fictionologists will rewrite history and twists facts in order to create the possibility of uncovering more, but this is akin to something called accelerationism, which is in plain words to incite chaos (bad) in the slim chances that from the chaos a great good might emerge/ be produced/discovered etc, a practice and ideology I feel Dr Ratio as he is characterized now would be extremely against. Now I do subscribe to the fact that Dr Ratio may not be following an Aeon at all or we aren't privy to who they are yet, but this is a possibility that there is a facet to Dr Ratio we have not seen yet and will down the line so...

Number 3 is where I am at now, I really, genuinely think Dr Ratio just thinks of himself as some guy who was gifted with the equivalent of 8 genius brains but it isn't anything exceptional. From how he acts, he feels like some guy who had a rather normal childhood (if not really lonely, which I talk about in my twitter thread here) and grew up to be exceptional except in all the ways he wanted/was taught to want/thought he might want.

So I operate on several headcanons about Ratio just genuinely being so smart in a planet that is presumably the remnants of the civilization in the Laurel Wreath Galaxy where a Philosopher King/Philosopher Union was mentioned. This headcanon is heavily colored by this excellent theory a fellow fan made and I have to admit I can scarcely distinguish between mine and theirs while I turn him around in my brain so do give them/their thread a read too when you can, but I do also subscribe to how Ratio must have been exceptional in a civilization that prizes scholarship and enlightenment.

Knowing this, I presume he grew up with a lot of expectations placed upon him, particularly that of gaining the gaze or glance of Nous and ascending as a genius society member or more! That is a lot to place on an individual, especially someone like Ratio who is very much hinted to have grown up very fast due to his vast knowledge and while it's a stretch to say he was forced into growing up fast, because he def wasn't, he was nevertheless seemingly not really given much opportunities to be a child, as the push for him to start university very early could suggest that his aptitude and potential were so valued that it overridden any other needs he may have. If we wanted to ask about his childhood, he would have very dull things to say too, so to speak. I imagine it wasn't eventful at all, but filled with just studies.

Where am I going with this about his statues? They are called Mold of Idolatry! Idolatry meaning the extreme adoration or love of someone. That Dr Ratio makes the statues of himself never seems like the narcissistic sort, that would imply he holds himself in an extremely high regard to the detriment of others, but Dr Ratio isn't narcissistic, he would be a vastly different character if he was. The key to narcissism is that there is a great need, to the point of detriment, for admiration.

Now, look over to how Dr Ratio presents himself to us in his 1.6 quests. He wears his plaster head as not to be recognized by others, to remain incognito if you will, and is content to sit at the sidelines nudging things along in the background rather than swoop in and take the credit as the hero when Duke Inferno was trying to wreak havoc on the Space Station. His heroic deeds are never realized by the people he saved from being spaced, that is not an action of a narcissistic man who would gloat about saving other people. No, he sees his job is done and he walks away without fanfare, without even so much as seeking a thank you from the people he saved. That's one of the clearest and most well-thought of character introductions/demonstrations in the game and a solid proof that he isn't a narcissist (again self-centeredness is different!)

With that in mind, what does the statue imply?

Dr Ratio operates by redirecting attention not to himself so he can freely move in the background. That it looks like him in funny poses speaks to a silliness I feel he never really gets a chance to let loose too often, so his "art" is his outlet. That it directs enemies to attack that instead of him, I can't help but feel like there's a sense of "look at this 'image of me' others have built up, pour your love/expectations/wants/aspirations (and the extreme opposite of that maybe?) to that likeness of me instead, and let me be free from that to be who I could be without all of that baggage"

tl;dr -- it's not that deep but it is?? I feel like Ratio just wants to be left alone to do his thing and that's what the Mold of Idolatry represents.

I hope that satisfies you, anon! Thank you for your question, since I do have more insights to Dr Ratio now. I think I'll also find a way to condense this into a Twitter thread sometime.

[silenced-judgement]

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ⋯ 𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜; 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚜

  ・．⸻⸻˖⁺‧̟⭒₊☠︎︎🦋☠︎︎₊ ˖⁺‧̟⭒⸻⸻．・

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ⋯ 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

┊┊✧

┊✦

✧ .

Identified with Mors (Roman), and Letum (Roman)

Greek God/Personification of Non-Violent Death and mortality

Known Symbols: Inverted Torch, Sword, Theta (θ), Wreath, Wings

Plants and Trees: Poppy and Cypress

Animals: Butterflies

Stones/Crystals: Onyx, Obsidian, Black Tourmaline, Amethyst

Incense: Frankincense, Myrrh, Cypress

Colors: Black, Silver, White, Purple

Death 13 Tarot card

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ⋯ 𝙴𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚜

┊┊✧

┊✦

✧ .

Paean "Healer"

Makar "Blessed one"

Leukokhrotos "White-skinned"

Acherontis "Woeful"

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ⋯ 𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢

┊┊✧

┊✦

✧ .

Son of Nyx, Night Incarnate

Grandson of Primordial Chaos

Twin Brother of Hypnos, Sleep Incarnate

Brother of The Moirai (Fates), Charon, The Keres, Nemesis

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ⋯ 𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

┊┊✧

┊✦

✧ .

Common offerings include: Red wine, olive oil, water, honey, milk, fruit, poppy seeds, black tea, dark chocolate

Other than that, play around a bit with different types of offerings and figure out what he likes, I've only offered him dark chocolate which was also torture to myself since I enjoy it as well, but thankfully he was understanding that I mean no disrespect if I ended up eating it (which I did), though now I have two bags of dark chocolate I got for Easter just sitting in my room unopened.

  ・．⸻⸻˖⁺‧̟⭒₊☠︎︎🦋☠︎︎₊ ˖⁺‧̟⭒⸻⸻．・

The rest of this will be of my own personal experiences with interacting with Thanatos, everyone has their own experiences so yours is likely not going to be the same. I will also include some things I personally associate with him.

  ・．⸻⸻˖⁺‧̟⭒₊☠︎︎🦋☠︎︎₊ ˖⁺‧̟⭒⸻⸻．・

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ⋯ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚜

┊┊✧

┊✦

✧ .

As soon as I had reached out to Thanatos through my Tarot he answered almost immediately, however as someone who had only done a reading once and correctly translated Hestia's message to a friend who was confused on what she was trying to say I am not good with any other Tarot spread as the friend had used a custom spread that was similar in layout to a Yes/No spread. The type of spread I use is the Yes/No spread, where you lay out five (5) cards with Major Arcana and even number Minor Arcana being for "yes" and the Suits and odd numbered Minor Arcana being "no". Personally I prefer this as it's easier for me to understand with my silly little Autistic brain.

The first thing I did after connecting with him through Tarot was actually ask him how he was doing, I don't know why I chose to ask him that, but I said "yes is for if you're doing good, and no is for if you aren't" and then placed out my cards. His answer to me was "No" with a hidden message within the cards in order to explain to me that something didn't go well that day and he was upset, to which I replied with an apology for the fact he was feeling upset and then I asked him if he'd like to just hangout and sit with me the rest of the day, his answer was a yes and as soon as he answered I began crying. I'm naturally sensitive to the presences of beings that aren't exactly within our plane of existence; such as ghosts, spirits, demons, and deities, it's just with everything else besides deities I get a shortness of breath but all presences give me that same sort of tingly feeling one might get when they look down from somewhere up high or are in an elevator and it's going up/down.

From that single interaction alone I've learned that Thanatos is a rather kind individual and enjoys interacting with others. I always thought he was more of a reserved and quiet individual as one may think Death to be, and while he is rather quiet he's far from reserved. The best way to explain him is someone who wants to be around others but can easily become a bit anxious if he feels as if he's making the person uncomfortable and depending on his mood he can become rather introverted. If you feel like he's possibly becoming anxious over something the first time interacting with you, especially if you're as sensitive as I am to the presence of other beings, the best thing to do is reassure him that it's alright and he doesn't have to limit his interactions with you. I had told him near the end of the day that from now on he can come and hangout whenever he wants without me getting his attention first, but he instantly became unsure and worried that he'd overwhelm me due to my sensitivity. Thankfully he calmed down after I explained to him that I'm not overwhelmed and explained my sensitivity to him.

I've only seen him twice in some dreams, the first time he had gotten lost in it (as my dreams are chaotic and I can't control them if they choose to shift to something else) after like 10-20 minutes into the dream, but from that first appearance, he chose to appear as a mix of how he really looks like and the design of the character Thanatos from the game Hades. Turns out, after asking him about it the next day, he had chosen to appear that way just to mess with me and to be funny. Second dream I remember nothing about other than the fact he was there looking normal. Third dream he wasn't there but at the end of it he did send some butterflies in order to say hello.

Normally, Thanatos doesn't need to try and reach out to me, he's done so once through a butterfly, a few days after our dog had passed away but that was just to say hi and for no other reason. I had also drawn the Death Tarot, which was reversed but there was no hidden message. He seems content enough to come and sit with me without me knowing or to watch over me, plus most the time I'm the one suddenly getting his attention by talking to him at random and he's fully aware that due to my Autism and ADHD I wont exactly go and grab my Tarot to talk to him and is content with just listening, dealing with me being extremely random, or, something he did yesterday (28th) and yesterday night (27th) was sit directly next to me on my bed and lean in extremely close just to stare at my laptop screen. I'm unsure if he was trying to comfort me after Hecate scared the fuck out of me with a spider because I was paranoid and refused to sleep at all even after coming to an agreement that no more spiders will be sent into my bedroom with Hecate.

Based on that interaction, I feel as if Thanatos can become rather protective over people he's taken a liking to, his presence itself being rather warm, comforting, sometimes it's enough to make me feel like crying because suddenly all my anxieties, everything is just gone and I feel as if I don't have to worry about anything. Sometimes I'm unsure if I'm smelling lavender or some other floral scent, or even chamomile, which sometimes makes me think he's literally gone and gotten into my teas. I believe at times he's also gone and woken up Hypnos some nights just in order to get me to sleep. While writing this, I've felt warmth against my ear, cheek, felt peaceful, I smell a familiar scent that smells floral of some sort, so another thing is that Thanatos also seems to be rather curious once he's gotten used to someone. Although, as I don't find many people talking about their interactions with him, and based on how he told me that no one had ever really offered to let him just hangout whenever he wants with them before, I have a feeling that a lot of this is actually Thanatos feeling as if he is free to just be himself and that he's in a safe place because when I interact with him I don't see him as Death itself or as a literal Greek God/Deity, instead I treat him as if he's just like anyone else, I don't reach out to him for advice or help, I reach out to him because I genuinely enjoy interacting with him and I'm one of those few people who aren't afraid of death or dying, at least, not the concept of dying, as I would never do anything that actually puts me at a risk of death out of fear of being forgotten and also because I want to enjoy life as much as I can before it comes naturally.

I've also had a natural affinity towards death and the concept of an afterlife and Gods of Death, so to me, Death is a friend and is my friend, which I believe is why Thanatos interacts differently with me.

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ⋯ 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

┊┊✧

┊✦

✧ .

Blue colored butterflies, specifically the Blue Morpho (for those who play Animal Crossing, it's the Emperor Butterfly, literally just learned it's actually called a Blue Morpho. Although the Ulysses Butterfly is also called an Emperor Butterfly or the Blue Emperor and is a swallowtail butterfly)

Red Spider Lilies (Japanese flowers associated with death)

That silly "guh-dong" sound that happens when you get a "Death Approaches" area in the game Hades.

White roses

  ・．⸻⸻˖⁺‧̟⭒₊☠︎︎🦋☠︎︎₊ ˖⁺‧̟⭒⸻⸻．・

[cloudshuffle]

Hi, d for the request can I please have yandere Royal Jade x thief reader?

gem in the rough. yan!jade

nobility au

Her grace, the elegant, classy, duchess Jade, also has a penchant for being frightening.

So terrifying is she that it's said she can make grown men wet themselves at a single glance (this is untrue, on accounts that it was only one man who she caused to wet himself, and there were many other factors involved in his pants-wetting, so he says. I think it’s more amusing to leave it down to the duchess.)

Yet all rumours sprout from a seed of truth. Jade is a formidable individual, demoness or not, and it’d do anyone good not to cross her. She near monopolises the flow of jewels in and out of our borders, and as far as it’s been recorded, none of her ventures have ever failed. She’s wealthy. Some even say she’s more powerful than the emperor himself.

The duchess has an eye for valuable things; things that would pay her back tenfold, if invested in the right way. Despite her cutthroat methods, I know merchants who would kill to be in partnership with her - provided they get an audience with her first. Duchess Jade is a very difficult person to get a hold of.

Speaking of valuable things. I suppose it’s dangerous for a thief to keep a diary, yet here we are. I’ve been feeling rather… lonely and sentimental recently, something about how there might be no one to remember me by. Anyway. It’s been said that the duchess has in her possession something called the Dragon’s Eye - an exquisite, rare, lovely jewel that would buy me not only my freedom out of these borders, but also a life beyond them. I have someone who’s willing to pay.

I do intend to acquire it for myself.

I’ve been watching the duchess’ estate for a period of time now, and I’m quite confident I’ll be able to slip in easily tonight. After that, well, let’s just hope the plans to the castle are up to date. If they aren’t, this will be my first and last entry, which is amusing in a way.

Though aren’t my best heists always the ones less planned?

In confidence, (Name).

I have to admit, the duchess herself isn’t the only frightening thing about her estate.

Security is nearly watertight, and I nearly got mauled at least thrice tonight. But humans are ultimately foolish creatures, and I managed to trick the guards at the outer walls into thinking their mutts were acting up at a squirrel. Still, I thought my heart would jump out of my throat.

The guards in the corridors? Less perceptive than the maids. Those twittery ladies never miss the slightest bit of gossip to pass around. I slipped into a uniform, hinted that the stable boy had his eye on the duchess, and slipped out quickly as they begun speculating on what might happen. He does have quite the looks. Shame he might be fired soon.

And finally I was close enough to slither into her jeweller’s vault, right underneath the guard’s feet. Or the carpet under them. It was a tight, unpleasant squeeze, but what’s playing pretend as a snake compared to my future on the line?

Rumour had it that Jade’s vault was manned by a host of the continent’s best lapidarists, all chained to their desks and made to slave away to produce only the best jewels for her. That rumour always seemed a little silly to me. Didn’t people work best when they were well-fed and happy? But there were no lapidarists. In fact, there wasn’t a single soul in that chamber, not even a guard.

The carpeted floor ate up all sound, and the gems sparkled silently in clear cases. I probably could have stolen the cushions they rested on and fetched a small fortune - the workmanship and the gold embroidery spoke enough.

But I was here on a mission. And though I usually turn away at the sign that something might go awry, maybe it was the temptation of my reward, or maybe it was the sight of the jewel that drove me on.

Fiery red and deepest purple laced with the richest gold. Lovely didn’t even begin to describe such a jewel. Though an eye for aesthetics didn’t come with the job, I think even a blind man could simply feel its beauty radiating from it.

The gold in the middle did somewhat resemble an eye. And I took it with gloved hands and slipped it into a velvet pouch.

Leaving was easy. The compound was designed to keep people out rather than in, and I made it back to my temporary quarters without fuss. I deposited the jewel safely (even I’m not foolish enough to note down where it is), and satisfied at having a job well done, decided to treat myself to a drink at the bar downstairs.

There was a lovely lady at the bar with a presence about her. She looked normal enough with a nondescript cloak and brown hair (save the covering across the lower half of her face), but she didn’t feel normal, and so all the other patrons were giving her a wide berth, even raging drunk. I was in no mood to contend with rowdy, stinking men, so I took up the empty seat next to her.

“Good evening,” she said to me, and I had to sigh. Conversation really wasn’t on my agenda for the day, but she must have misunderstood. “Long day?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Just got home from work.”

“So late!” she exclaimed. “You must be working very hard.”

I shrugged. “I suppose I do.”

Conversation died down, and she left shortly after that. She did tell me she was looking forward to seeing me again.

I wonder what she meant.

Yours unsurely, (Name).

With much difficulty, I’ve finally managed to make contact with the buyer! Pardon the excitement, but we’ve arranged for a meeting at the docks tonight, where they’ve already arranged passage for me. I asked why they weren’t worried about me running off with the jewel, and they said that I likely didn’t want to keep it in my possession any longer.

Which is… true. It’s hard to find a buyer for such a high profile object, but harder still to keep it around me. I’ve been checking on it every day, and I’ve noticed that I feel… somewhat queasy around it. Like it’s a drain on my energy.

Hey, I didn’t survive this long without being at least a little superstitious.

That aside, it was discovered that the jewel went missing sometime in the night that I stole it. Though it’s an important item, the upper echelons seem more interested in covering up the theft than issuing a public notice. I suppose I understand. How would it look if not even the nobility had safe, secure homes?

Regardless, as long as it doesn't harm me, I suppose the jewel and I can coexist for a day longer. And I'll let the stone keep its secrets. It’s not much longer before it’ll be off my hands.

Looking forward to the future, (Name).

I’m writing this entry by candlelight, still sweaty and breathless from escaping from that place.

I made my way to the docks once the sun set. The Eye was heavy in my pocket, but in some way, I felt like the weight of my future was finally in my hands.

I was feeling unusually optimistic. And I’ve learnt, thankfully, that that’s when things go wrong.

Like any respectable thief might, I concealed myself amongst the many crates and boxes waiting quietly to be brought inland the next day. Making the first appearance is always foolish. My boat, supposedly, bobbed quietly on the water with not a soul in sight. Not unusual - the sailors would all be inland at the moment, causing ruckus at the taverns. But it didn’t help to reassure me any better.

Shortly after, a trio of horses and riders come down the docks. Not the most discreet way to get somewhere, and definitely not the level of caution I would expect from someone about to attain the Dragon’s Eye. I knew I was right to be suspicious.

The lady in the middle got off first - I knew she was a lady despite the cloak because she rode side-saddle. Also another unusual detail in this day and age. The other two men at her side moved with a familiarity that I didn’t like; the kind that reminded me of trained soldiers and patrolling troops. They didn’t stir up particularly happy memories. When one of them moved, I caught a glimpse of sheathed blade under his cloak.

Two soldiers. And a noble lady.

I knew this, because Duchess Jade lifted the hood off her face in one smooth motion, her pink curls tumbling out like a cascade of silk.

I bit back a gasp. Because seeing the duchess up close, I recognised her too - the same lady who’d just sat next to me at the inn bar. No matter how she’d changed her hair, using magic or otherwise, it was definitely still her, aura and all.

“My dear master thief.” Her voice rang out, clear and full of authority. I knew immediately that confrontation wasn’t an option. “I know you’re hiding somewhere. You’ve done such a wonderful job, attaining the Dragon’s Eye. Do show yourself so I can present you with your reward.”

From under her cloak, she pulled out a drawstring bag, large and heavy with coin. Jade shook the bag as if to prove its contents, then retrieved papers and slipped those inside too.

“More credit, and legitimate papers for your safe passge.” She patted the bag. “This offer won’t last forever, master thief. Or should I call you, (Name)?”

By the time she finished her sentence, I was already gone.

I pick up this entry, once again by candlelight, once again fleeing.

The duchess knew where I was staying, which gave me valuable time to pack what little I had and sneak onto a transport cart. Once out of the city, I hopped off and hitched a more legitimate ride with another cart. Not that I trusted these people not to rat me out, but there was no way I was stopping any of these men in the dark without giving them a fright.

I’m on my way towards the border. The Eye is still heavy in my pocket, sitting quietly like an obedient child. I hadn’t known what to do with it, and figured it might be better to carry it with me, in case I needed to barter for something valuable. Like a life.

This journal will have to take backseat for now. I get the feeling I need to jump carts soon.

(Name).

[dodger-chan]

Did I procrastinate by writing steddie fic again? Maybe. In my defense, I think this is very funny. Also on AO3.

Warning for non graphic but frequent discussion of sex.

Like a good number of things, it was Wheeler’s fault.

Under normal circumstances, Eddie would have no problem sitting back in his throne and staying above the fray while his little sheep had their silly arguments. Talking is a free action, etc. etc. And they’d wrapped for the night, were only delaying clean-up. But Wheeler, pressed by his friends to join in the defense of their favorite paladin, had gone with a very explicable but awkward choice of phrasing.

“I mean, Steve doesn’t suck.”

Eddie bit down on his tongue. He wasn’t going to say anything. He was not.

Unfortunately, something about the tepidness, the lackluster nature of Wheeler’s tone only encouraged Gareth.

“Au contraire,” he said, standing and making a gesture that Eddie chose to interpret as homage rather than mockery. “Harrington most assuredly does suck.”

Eddie bit down harder. He couldn’t say anything.

Gareth then began to list a number of harms done to the members of Hellfire that were, for the most part, merely tangentially related to the actions or existence of one Steven Harrington.

Perhaps it had always been a little unfair, to blame the social strictures of highschool on one individual who had no part in designing them and had done little more than anyone else in the way of enforcement. But what was the point of a figurehead if not to take the blame?

Of course no part of Gareth’s speech addressed the one way in which Steve truly did suck dick: literally. Steve had taken to oral sodomy like a duck to water. Eddie would love to claim credit by citing his excellent tutelage - largely by example - but he suspected his boyfriend was a natural.

Eddie tasted blood in his mouth. He couldn't keep biting his tongue. But he also couldn't set the record straight, so to speak. Even if he could tell all of Hellfire that he and Steve were dating, it would be beyond inappropriate to discuss Steve's cocksucking acumen with the freshmen.

“It's an interesting linguistic phenomenon, wouldn't you say?” Eddie interrupted Gareth’s spiel. “You are debating the merits and acceptability of one Steve Harrington, but using as shorthand a term that refers to oral sex. A phrasing that suggests people who give head are lesser than those who do not.

“Without making too many assumptions, I feel safe in saying that most of us would like to enjoy a bit of oral sodomy in the future. Now, I may not be the smartest guy in town, but it seems to me that preemptively insulting the people who might suck your dick is a good way to ensure they never will.”

He gave them a moment to digest his speech.

“So I should have said Steve doesn’t blow?” Mike asked, tentatively.

“Blow comes from blow jobs, so that’s the same thing,” Dustin corrected. A little less confidently, he went on. “Bites, maybe? Biting’s not a sex thing, is it?”

Eddie sighed. Surely there were insults that didn’t reflect some aspect of his sex life. Though biting was, at minimum, not related to oral. And it would probably be easier not to brag about the number of little bruises he’d left on Steve’s neck. And shoulders. And chest. All over Steve’s body, really.

Who was he kidding? He needed to shut this whole conversation down yesterday.

(this now has a sequel)

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 13

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The intimacy of last night might have been too much for either or both of them.

sorry you’re not convincing me that scene was like groundbreaking relationship-shifting magical catharsis. but this is ultimately damen’s narration and his perception has never been 1:1 with what’s actually happening, in terms of authorial intent or what i analyze

They were gazing at each other. To Damen’s delight, Laurent reached out to trace a touch down over his body. Laurent was looking at him as if he couldn’t quite believe the fact of him, as if even touch could not quite confirm it. ‘What?’ Damen was smiling. ‘You’re very,’ said Laurent, and then, flushing, ‘attractive.’ ‘Really,’ said Damen, in a rich, warm voice. ‘Yes,’ said Laurent.

this is laurent being soft, but also still being laurent. if that makes sense. the one scene we’ve gotten through his pov has shown that he overthinks every aspect of a situation—the fact that he just awkwardly states that he has observed that damen is hot, in an attempt to ground himself in some kind of objective knowledge, is both adorable and poignant

‘Well,’ Damen owned, turning his head back to Laurent eventually, ‘You are too.’ Laurent dropped his head slightly, on the edge of laughter. He said, with absurd fondness, ‘Most people tell me that right away.’

damen always thought it, but i think laurent appreciates that he didn’t say it then. he really appreciates hearing it now, because damen actually knows him. the compliment has substance and weight and importance that it otherwise wouldn’t. it’s funny bc laurent has used his beauty to manipulate damen before—the baths, verisimilitude, etc.—but i think this is the first time he actually WANTS damen to find him beautiful. maybe even the first time he wants anyone to find him beautiful, for reasons other than strategy (like with torveld)

Sweet and simple in the morning, Laurent’s beauty was heart-stopping.

“you like it simple” my thoughts about that single line of dialogue from chapter 7 is going to continue to be a subject of importance throughout these annotations, as damen ~finally gets what he wants~ from laurent (not using quotation marks bc i don't want to make it look like that's in the text, but i'm being like sarcastic/ironic/whatever)

If there had been a chance for our countries to be—’ Friends.

i like how immature his thought here is, evidenced by the fact that he doesn’t even say it. damen knows it’s silly to think about politics like this, but he’s so attached to laurent as an individual that he’s starting to see vere as a person too. which is both great, bc it shows how much his character has evolved from accepting everything he once believed, but also highlights the way damen can lose himself and his critical thinking in his attachments

'I would have been trailing around tugging on your sleeve, trying to get a look in edgewise.'

cue a bazillion pieces of fanart

After a moment, Laurent said, ‘He would have liked you.’ ‘Even after I started courting his little brother?’ said Damen carefully. He watched Laurent stop, the way that he did when he was taken by surprise, and then lift his eyes to meet Damen’s. ‘Yes,’ said Laurent softly, his cheeks reddened slightly.

this is soooo crazy for them. while i think it does represent legit development, i also think they’re kind of acting the parts of people who are lot more healed and happy than they actually are. like they feel the desire for lightheartedness and vulnerability, and don’t want to deal with the things that make them uncomfortable anymore, so they’re just committing to the bit that they’re fine and seeing where it takes them. see also: the previous sex scene. but they still have big problems (see also: the previous sex scene again) and the book is not over yet

‘No. Listen to me.’ He felt Laurent’s hand firm on the back of his neck. ‘I’m not going to let my uncle hurt you.’ Laurent’s blue gaze was calm and steady, as if he had made a decision and wanted Damen to know it. ‘It’s what I came here last night to say. I’m going to take care of it.’ ‘Promise me,’ Damen heard himself say. ‘Promise me we won’t let him—’ ‘I promise.’

oh he already knows he’s trading himself for damen’s not-son, doesn’t he. which also makes the uncertain and uncomfortable vibes of the previous scene make a lot of sense. it’s kind of a repeat of their sex scene in prince’s gambit, except this time only laurent knows it’s probably the last time (or one of the last times) they’ll ever have together

actually wow yeah, laurent’s insistence here—“listen to me, it’s what i came to say, i promise’—that really nails down the finality and desperation he’s feeling. and damen just Didn’t Get It, and still doesn’t. which is interesting bc he was so pleased in the last scene that laurent was finally being honest, and accepting him for who he was. while laurent was accepting damen finally, and wasn’t even really LYING about his intentions (like right here, he pretty much deadass says it), damen is so distracted and overwhelmed by this romantic victory that he doesn’t notice the tragedy looming

also—“let him” what, exactly? “hurt him?” do you think laurent thinks damen knows what the regent specifically did to him, and could do to his son? bc if i didn’t know that he didn’t know, this line would pretty much indicate that he did. wow that is an incoherent sentence.

Laurent said it seriously, his voice honest; no game playing, just the truth.

damen isn’t actively trying to deceive the reader, but he is definitely incorrect in his certainty a lot of the time. but then again, those words were the truth—laurent is not going to let his uncle hurt damen’s not-kid, and it was the reason he visited last night.

The kissing this time had an echo of last night’s desperation, a need to block out the outside world and stay for a moment longer in this cocoon, Laurent’s arms winding around his neck.

okay what did i just say. we are so fucking back (in terms of actually good analysis)

‘Come in,’ said Laurent, turning his head towards the sound. Damen said, ‘Laurent,’ shocked and on full display as the door swung open. Pallas entered. Laurent greeted him with no self-consciousness at all. ‘Yes?’ Laurent’s voice was matter-of-fact. Pallas’s mouth opened. Damen saw what Pallas saw: Laurent like some dream of a newly fucked virgin, himself unmistakably above him, fully roused. He flushed all over. In Ios, he might have dallied with a lover while a household slave attended to some task in the room, but only because a slave was so far beneath him in status as not to signify. The idea of a soldier watching him make love to Laurent was breaking open his mind. Laurent had never even taken an acknowledged lover before, let alone—

ironic that damen was so overjoyed in the last chapter about this exact situation—that it was LAURENT who he had, being vulnerable and acting like his past submissive partners coughslaves —but when he actually gets spotted in this situation he’s like oohhhhhhh my goddddd nooooo!

like i know i kinda talk shit about akelions a lot, but the persistent theme that it’s inherently some kind of like natural entitlement of the “powerful” (royal, rich etc.) to possess and use people designated beneath them in status just truly reveals how weak and transparent their power actually is. like of course you’re going to look strong, if you only allow yourself to be seen with people you’ve placed in lower stations. some of damen’s shame here must be due in part to his akelion upbringing, but that same upbringing is WHY he got so excited about making someone as powerful and stubborn as laurent submissive and vulnerable to him. in a culture where it’s encouraged to keep it simple, he’s found himself deeply rewarded by the complication of laurent in ways he’d never anticipated, but also afraid of how that complication will come across to his countrymen.

Pallas turned blindly, and made for the door. ‘What is it?’ Laurent looked at Damen, who had detached himself and was sitting with the sheet pulled up to where he had clutched it to cover himself. And then, with the burgeoning delight of discovery, ‘Are you shy?’ ‘In Akielos we don’t,’ said Damen, ‘in front of other people.’ ‘Not even the King?’ ‘Especially not the King,’ said Damen, for whom the King still partly meant his father. ‘But how does the court know if the royal marriage has been consummated?’ ‘The King knows whether or not it has been consummated!’ Horrified. Laurent stared at him. Damen was surprised when Laurent dropped his head, and even more surprised when Laurent’s shoulders started shaking. Around the laughter emerged, ‘You wrestled him without any clothes on.’ ‘That is sports,’ said Damen. He folded his arms, thinking that Veretians lacked any sense of dignity, even as Laurent sitting up and pressing a delighted kiss to his lips had him slightly mollified.

love this lighter shot at the cultural miscommunications here. but MAN is it hard to ignore the giant dark shadow over laurent’s every word and action here. unless you’re damen i guess, but that’s part of why they’ve always worked well together (see other annotations about damen allowing laurent to feel like a person beyond his trauma because he doesn’t really understand it, while still being a fiercely protective and uniquely intuitive partner in romance and life)

Later, ‘The King of Vere really consummates his marriage in front of the court?’ ‘Not in front of the court,’ said Laurent, as if this were unspeakably foolish, ‘in front of the Council.’ ‘Guion is on the Council!’ said Damen.

it is very funny to realize how in vere, sex is basically a form of bureaucracy and political posturing. and it’s like, some people are having fun with it, but others aren’t. as opposed to akielos, where it’s also posturing but sounds like pretty much everyone who is high-class enough to have slaves is very happy to partake. unlike vere, they do it in the privacy of their bedrooms, and people are taught to believe it’s happening and respect it. in vere, if it’s NOT happening in a public forum, no one really gives a shit and it might as well not be happening at all.

basically, sex is a means of political posturing and demonstrating status in both kingdoms, but in distinctly different ways. in akielos, it’s the equivalent of subtly telling everyone at the hedge fund that you have an affluent lifestyle by wearing certain clothes and using advanced technology. you’re perceived and accepted as certified finance bro by tasteful implication. but in vere, it’s more like straight-up driving your third tesla into the office and loudly counting your money during staff meetings (i don’t know if hedge funds have staff meetings) so it’s garishly undeniable to your wealthy peers that you belong

‘I’m sorry Govart is dead. I know you were trying to keep him alive.’

“sorry for your loss, of the man you killed with a chair. we both fuckin hated the guy but he would have made great leverage” they really are rubbing off on each other <3

‘I thought he knew something that I could use against my uncle. It doesn’t matter. We’ll stop him another way.’

and what way would that be. laurent. (also, a surprise tool that will help us later!)

‘It was nothing. There was a knife fight. I got free, and Guion and I came to an arrangement.’

and it was one of the best chapters in the entire series

‘You were taken prisoner, you single-handedly escaped from the cells at Fortaine, and somehow managed to get Guion to switch sides on the way out?’ ‘Well,’ said Laurent, ‘not everyone is as bad at escaping as you are.’

laurent would enjoy tabletop roleplay gaming so much. also i love them

‘When you lost your brother, was there someone to comfort you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent. ‘In a way.’ ‘Then I’m glad,’ said Damen. ‘I’m glad you weren’t alone.’ Laurent pushed himself away, up into a sitting position, and for a moment he sat, without speaking. He pushed his palms into his eye sockets. ‘What is it?’ ‘It’s nothing,’ said Laurent.

ohhhhhh my god (i wonder if mentally laurent is like, ‘well i thought he might have figured it out, but i guess not. how the fu—‘)

‘We should—’ ‘And we will.’ Laurent turned to him, sliding fingers into his hair. ‘But first, we have the morning.’

“and then i will turn myself in to my abusive creep of an uncle as a solution to the problem i’m ignoring. but for now, this is a romance novel, and i’m stepping into your genre for a change”

(which is i think the main thing i missed in my analysis of the previous chapter, by the way. i’ve written so much about damen being forced into laurent’s genre but remaining romantic despite the horrors, but that last scene was a subversion where laurent is forcing himself to ignore the horrors so he can both indulge damen’s perception of them and try to experience it himself as a relief from the imminent tragedy and his past traumas)

After, they talked.

great thing to write after a fade to black sex scene! reminds us what their relationship really is about, beyond the physicality and emotional catharsis. these two fell in love doing battle strategy, remember?

Servants brought a breakfast of fruits, soft cheese, honey and breads on round platters,

glad to see thematically appropriate fruit basket guy is still finding work, even though damen and laurent are un-marrieddivorced

Damen took the seat closest to the wall, affixing the gold pin he had recovered to the cotton at his shoulder. Laurent sat in a relaxed pose, in only pants and a loose shirt, its collar and sleeves still open. Laurent was talking.

i love prince’s gambit

Damen realised that Laurent was letting him in to a part of himself he had never shared before, and he found himself drawn in to the political complexities, even as the experience felt new, and a little revelatory. Laurent never opened his thoughts like this, but always kept his planning intensely private, making his decisions alone.

damen i think you’re underestimating how much laurent showed you in the last book, compared to literally every other person he talks to

‘You are not keeping slaves in your household.’ ‘I can’t imagine why,’ said Damen.

smash cut to the cover of captive prince, a novel by cs pacat

‘You hate the idea of slavery. It turns your stomach.’ Damen said it, a flat statement of truth. ‘If I’d been anyone else, you would have freed me on the first night.’

doing my analysis for me. how far we’ve come

‘When I argued the case for slavery in Arles you didn’t try to change my mind.’ ‘It is not a subject for an exchange of ideas. There is nothing to say.’ ‘There will be slaves in Akielos. We are a slave culture.’

wow, i’m actually kind of surprised damen hasn’t already committed to dismantling the entire practice. i know he gets there eventually, and maybe he wants to at this point—but he’s still like, “well other people are going to do it and that’s their right.” maybe that’s the incomplete part of his development here: he’s decided that it’s wrong for HIM to be doing, as a result of his experiences and tastes, but hasn’t quiet grasped that is a universally wrong practice, even if it’s his friends and allies doing it

Damen said, ‘Are pets and their contracts so different? Did Nicaise have a choice?’ ‘He had the choice of the poor with no other way to survive, the choice of a child powerless to his elders, the choice of a man when his King gives him an order, which is no choice at all, and yet still more than is afforded to a slave.’

yep, i’m a little rusty but i do remember a lot of my laurent character analysis having to do with the fact that he would rather be doing something on purpose even if it isn’t something he wants to do, than given no choice or ability to HAVE thoughts or preferences at all. free will is extremely important to laurent, and the idea of losing it is both terrifying and shameful to him. so even in situations of financial desperation or lack of power due to age or status, laurent still believes that there is more of choice to willing submission than just never being “afforded” the ability to make choices in the first place—even if slaves live under less stressful or overall comfier conditions. even the most desperate, poor, powerless victim still has more personhood and autonomy allowed to them than a slave. and without that foundation of personhood and autonomy, there is no purpose to life.

laurent thrives on having purpose, and suffers without it. and in his big pov chapter we're also told that he often has hope, despite everything, and has to regulate it in order to be realistic. there is no purpose for a slave, and there is no hope for a slave. at least with veretian pets, at least for laurent in the veretian court, he still had purpose, and he still had hope. i think the only time in laurent's life where he did NOT feel purpose/hope was when he was under the regent's thumb, which had only happened because laurent lost hope and purpose due to auguste's death and leaned on the regent for comfort. and that situation had only really changed because the regent stopped being attracted to laurent as result of natural aging, not even because laurent was eventually able to change things due to his own internal strength. that's fucked up, man. but it does explain laurent's perspective.

Damen felt again the shock of hearing Laurent voice his private beliefs. He thought of him, helping Erasmus. He thought of him visiting the girl from the village, teaching her a sleight-of-hand trick. For the first time, he caught a glimmer of what Laurent would be like as a king. He saw him, not as the Regent’s unready nephew, not as Auguste’s younger brother, but as himself, a young man with a collection of talents thrown into leadership too early, and taking it on, because he was given no other choice.

damen, assessing laurent’s situation: he was given no other choice, but he’s still trying his best :(

laurent, miserable and tired but possessing free will: i am MAKING the choice to do this to the very best of my ability, using my compassion and intelligence in a way no one else could. even if it sucks, even if i could do something else (because i absolutely could), i am CHOOSING to be the kind of king my people deserve. having “no choice” would mean lacking the will to choose to do anything but the exact thing i’ve been trained to do, which is how both akielion slaves and princes are groomed to live (re: the latter—consider damen’s musing on his father, the military, and tradition)

I would serve him, he thought, and that itself was like a little revelation.

back in book 1 i highlighted the overall thematic question: can there be honor in submission?

yes. like this. so much has led to this line, subtly and slowly, and we’re finally seeing it said outright. damen would serve laurent because of the person he is, not the royal status that has been put upon him by birth. and he’d be doing so as a person with free will, acknowledging laurent’s complications as well as his own, instead of the imitation of a slave who can’t choose anyway so might as well just go along with it.

in other words, he’s leveling up his commitment to the bit <3

‘I know what you think of my uncle, but he is not—’ Laurent spoke after a pause. ‘Not?’ ‘He won’t hurt the child,’ said Laurent. ‘Whether it is your son or Kastor’s, it is leverage. It is leverage against you, against your armies, and against your men.’ ‘You mean that it hurts me more that my son is alive and whole than it would if he were maimed or dead.’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent.

laurent: i know that you think my uncle is simply bloodthirsty and evil, and would only think to injure or kill your not-son, but you don’t understand that he would rather sexually abuse a young boy than kill him. because he did that to me. which you haven’t figured out. although you did know about nicaise. but you seem to have a blind spot about the entire topic.

damen: wait, what do YOU think i think of your uncle?

laurent: ignores the question basically, the kid wouldn’t get hurt, because it’s useful to my uncle to keep him intact as leverage against us both. (especially against me, because i know what he would do to that boy, but if i explained that i would have to explain why, so i’m not going to mention it specifically)

damen: so like. he won’t kill the kid because he can torture and manipulate us with it more effectively if it’s alive

laurent: somehow i have told the truth and you do understand it, but there is so much that you still don’t understand

He said it seriously, looking into Damen’s eyes. Damen felt every muscle in his body ache with the effort of not thinking of it. Of not thinking the other, darker thought, the one that at all costs must be avoided. He tried to think instead of a way forward, though it was impossible.

possibilities for “the other thought”:

1) the obvious one, and the most likely in my opinion: the regent would assault the child.

damen has a reason to suspect this, because he is aware of both nicaise and aimeric

in terms of craft and characterization, this a little hint that damen might have considered laurent being abused, but eventually dismissed the notion because it is TOO dark and too upsetting to acknowledge

^^^ active repression is in-line with damen’s overall tendencies

2) the other darker thought is the death or torture of the child, which laurent is explicitly telling him will not happen. damen is accepting that “comfort” uncritically because it doesn’t make him feel as upset or powerless as the alternative. the regent’s abuse of young boys is not being considered at all.

‘My uncle knows you won’t move against him while he holds the child,’ said Laurent. And then, calmly, steadily, ‘So we get him back.’

not going to lie, i’m not the biggest fan of the baby as a plot device. but i get why it’s used, and how it connects a lot of characters, especially like jokaste and kastor who haven’t been present in previous books. i just think it might have been more effective if it was a child that damen and/or laurent actually knew—although i do understand that the baby’s “royal lineage” probably comes into play here. but i also think a big theme of the series is about honor coming from integrity in action, rather than blood or status. but it is just a fuckin baby, and a baby is the ultimate symbol of innocence and helplessness. so maybe it’s just kind of a wash.

also the confusion about the paternity kinda just annoys me. i get that to damen it doesn’t matter, but then like. make it kastor’s baby for sure, then. that would give damen’s integrity and family oriented nature even more of a spotlight.

(maybe it is confirmed to be kastor’s at some point. i didn’t pay that much attention to this plot beat the first time around)

He looked for changes in her, but the cool, untouchable air was the same, as was the particular way that her eyes regarded him. She had the same colouring as Laurent. She had the same mathematical mind. They were like a matched pair, except that her presence was different.

it’s both telling and sweet that damen is so used to having his mind changed by laurent, who ended up so much more honorable and understandable than originally believed, that his first instinct with jokaste is to look for signs of that same potential. as opposed to damen in captive prince chapter one, whose first thought seeing laurent was “he would be an expensive sex slave”

There was a part of Laurent that was always in tension, even when he affected calm. Jokaste’s unassailable composure seemed like serenity, until you knew she was dangerous. A similar core of steel, perhaps, existed in both.

i think you might have just been down bad for jokaste in a specific way, and down bad for laurent in a different way. jokaste definitely isn’t making you feel serene now, is she? and laurent, inversely, is a great comfort to you when you first thought he was unpleasant. another example of the overarching damen nice=/=good and mean=/=bad theme.

She didn’t seem perturbed by her incarceration, or even really to notice it.

like damen in the cell, internally attentive to every little detail. i bet jokaste is too.

He said, ‘Is there a child?’

he wants it to be untrue, so the regent doesn’t have leverage over him. i also think he’s partially asking if it’s HIS, although that’s more of a personal thing that wouldn’t impact his actions in saving the kid

‘I have told you that there is,’ said Jokaste. ‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ said Damen. The attending women seated around Jokaste were of varying ages, from the eldest of perhaps sixty to the youngest, Jokaste’s age, around twenty-four.

he's learning!

‘Let me tell you what is going to happen. You are going to be executed. You are going to be executed whatever you say or do. But I will spare your women, if they agree to answer my questions.’

damen immediately doing what he’s so upset the regent is doing to him and laurent is fascinating. like “oh i have an idea of how i can challenge jokaste into talking! use human lives as leverage! wonder where that came from, anything recently happen…? oh right.”

He said to the soldiers behind him, ‘Take them.’ Jokaste said, ‘This plan of action will mean the death of the child.’ He said, ‘We haven’t established that there is a child.’ She smiled, as if pleased to discover a pet capable of a trick. ‘You’ve never been very good at games. I don’t think you have what it takes to play against me.’ He said, ‘I’ve changed.’

this entire war hinges on schroedinger’s inconvenient baby

also, jokaste was born in the wrong kingdom. i think part of the reason she’s so terrible is that she’s bored in akielos. vere’s political landscape would be enrichment for her and she’d probably thrive in that environment, and feel no desire or need to establish her status by getting pregnant by a prince

okay sorry but like. au where laurent reluctantly teams up with young noblewoman jokaste a year or so after the regent stops assaulting him, and they work together to overthrow him through complicated court political maneuvers. laurent is motivated by obvious reasons, and jokaste is mostly just personally slighted by the regent’s misogynistic court and therefore annoyed, but deep down they both know she cares about him and wants things to be better. and obviously he cares about her bc it’s laurent and he cares about everything, just doesn’t want the world to know it

‘You are the only one protected in your arrangement. These women are going to die. Unless they talk to me.’ She said, ‘You have changed. Or is this the new power behind the throne? Who am I really negotiating with here, I wonder?’

damen wouldn’t. he knows it, jokaste knows it, and laurent DEFINITELY knows it. he would not tell damen or expect damen to do this as anything more than a bluff to assess jokaste’s commitment to the bit

He was already nodding to the nearest soldier. ‘Start with her.’ It wasn’t pleasant. The women resisted, and there was screaming. He watched impassively as soldiers took hold of the women and began to drag them from the room.

wait holy fuck did he do it?? it’s not entirely clear. but i think he fucking did??? is it written vaguely to make the reader have this exact confused reaction?? hold please i’m reading more

EDIT: it's "women" and not "woman." i originally read it as "woman," meaning that the first was specifically resisting and screaming as she died, and then the soldiers seized everyone else. if it's plural women, i think it's safe to say that the first woman did not actually die, the soldiers just mobilized in a way that made kyrina scared enough to tell damen the truth, despite jokaste's warnings

‘No,’ said Jokaste. ‘He will not kill a roomful of women for loyalty to their mistress, Kyrina.’

still not saying outright if he killed the one woman, and i have to wonder WHY, if not to intentionally confuse and stress out the reader. it could go both ways with these carefully chosen words of dialogue—“he will not kill a roomful of women for loyalty.” “roomful” could imply that he already killed one but she thinks he wouldn’t kill multiple (but from what we and jokaste know of damen, that assumption makes very little sense—he’s not really like a utilitarian trolley problem kind of guy, although i guess laurent is). but “for loyalty” implies that she does understand damen, and the assumption that he would not kill for the REASON of loyalty, because it’s something he respects in himself and others. hhhhh

EDIT: see previous annotation

‘There is a child. He was taken to Ios.’ ‘That’s enough,’ said Jokaste. ‘None of us know if the child is yours. She says it is.’ ‘That’s enough, Kyrina,’ said Jokaste. ‘There’s more,’ said Damen. ‘Exalted—’ said Kyrina— —as Jokaste said, ‘No.’ —

turns out when your status is predicated on power earned by force rather than earned respect, the people serving you are going to submit to the strongest person in the room. unfortunately for jokaste, she just stopped being perceived as the strongest person in the room

‘My lady did not trust the Regent of Vere to protect her interests. In the case that there was no other way to save her life, the wet nurse could be instructed to bring the child to you—in exchange for Jokaste’s freedom.’

she’s out-veretianing the regent of vere.

oh ALSO!! it’s neat how based on jokaste’s attendant calling him “regent” and not “king,” jokaste must also casually refer to him as such, not actually respecting him or his false title

Damen sat back in his chair, and lifted his brows slightly at Jokaste.

that’s laurent-brand cuntiness. should have added a lean though

'There is no way to circumvent my conditions.'

that phrase is like catnip to damen and laurent. one time damen ripped a metal grate out of a wall

Jokaste, he thought, believed that it was impossible for him to travel into Ios, and that there was no place where it was safe for him to attempt an exchange. But there was a place where two enemies could meet without fear of ambush.

i like how the kingsmeet is set up for a way for damen and laurent to ensure that the regent doesn’t hurt them, but in a twist it ends up being the regent’s plan to anger damen so much that damen breaks the rules and tries to throw hands

‘But you’re a fool to trust him. He has his own plans.’ ‘He has never pretended otherwise,’ said Damen.

true. and perfect for this exact conversation. this is what‘s really being said, i think—

jokaste: laurent may be giving you good ideas, but it’s stupid to trust him because he’s definitely also keeping some of his manipulations from you

damen: he’s never claimed to be honest, which ironically makes him more honest than you. i know he has secrets and i trust him anyway, because i know him. you never even gave me the chance to know you, for whatever reason, and i was a fool for trusting you and faced the worst consequences imaginable. at least when laurent tortured me, we both thought he was my enemy. you tortured me when you were supposed to be my ally. you have not earned my trust and respect, and laurent has, and ultimately that’s your loss. because i know you appreciated my integrity and honor, two things that you believe that you can not afford to have yourself.

(maybe it’s not that deep. but i think it’s satisfying to consider, with the little we’ve been told about their history)

He looked at her, alone on the low couch. He couldn’t help but remember the day they met. She had been presented to his father, daughter of a minor noble from Aegina, and he had been able to look nowhere else. It was three months of courtship before she was in his arms. He said, ‘You chose a man who was bent on destroying his own country. You chose my brother, and look where it’s left you. You have no position, no friends. Even your own women have turned on you. Don’t you think it’s a shame things had to end this way between us?’

NOPE IT’S THAT DEEP I NAILED IT

“i loved you so deeply and immediately and would have done anything for you. kastor doesn’t give a shit about you or this country. the way this ended between us was your choice, and it was a bad one. your loss.”

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Kastor should have killed you.’

and we know he’s right, and that he hit a vein, because the woman who pretends to be cool and detached and in control basically just tells him that she can’t handle him being around.