#allow me to forcibly be nice to you

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey hey, was wondering if you could do a headcannon for jason and dick when their s/o is sick cause im sick as hell rn and need some comfort <3

I hope you get better anon and I also hope that this gives you something to chuckle at in the meantime.

Jason:

He’s like a mother hen when your sick and it wouldn’t been funny…had you not been sick and forcibly bed bound by him.

‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘I’m dying.’

Jason looks at you blankly. ‘Hi dying I’m Jason, now take your god damn medicine.’

He takes your recovery more seriously and makes sure that you take your medicine on time when they were needed. And if you were to make things difficult for yourself, he will straddle you if needs be just for you to take medicine that you were upset wasn’t grape flavoured…

Will tuck the blankets right under your chin if you’re feeling cold and if you were still feeling cold, he’ll offer you one of his warmer hoodies to wear in hopes that they’d stop.

He honestly can’t either you sometimes but has to remember that he loves you and that he’d stick by you no matter what, even if you do act like an outraged child when sick.

God sake do not ask him to get you ice cream when you’re sick, he will forbade you from eating that crap. You’re meant to be getting better, not worse.

He even makes you a nice warm soup amongst other foods to help you during your recovery process also.

Jason may seem strict in his methods in taking care of you but he means well and will apologise if he thinks he’s been a bit too much of a dick by sitting bedside and holding your hand, kissing it every so often.

‘I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being harsh chipmunk, I’m only trying to help.’ He’d say.

‘If you’re being sorry for being a dick, then it’s only fair that I say sorry for acting so childish when you’re only trying to help. And I really appreciate you for everything you’ve done for me.’ You’d reply as you both let out a chuckle before you allowed Jason to take care of you without any complaints to be made.

You get better by the end of the week and Jason spoils you by letting you have all the ice cream you could dream of, but please for his sake don’t eat it too fast and get brain freeze.

Dick:

Will let you eat ice cream because how can he say no to your sad, sick face.

Even when sick Dick spoils the hell out of you.

Does not make the situation any better in all honesty.

He’ll probably take more offence that you were sick than yourself as he takes your temperature and tutting.

‘38°?’ Dick says as he looks down at the thermometer and muttering under his breath, ‘Not good.’

You only look at him blankly before sniffling as you cling to your plush frog, unamused. ‘I hate you.’

He’d might even get Hayley to help ‘heal’ you by just letter her be her cutest self and not currently crushing your legs, seeing as how she’s not a little blue pup anymore. she’s yours and Dick’s baby however and you didn’t care because seeing her try to nurse you back to health with her licking never failed to put a smile on your face.

‘Thank you sweetheart Im beginning to feel much better.’ You say as Hayley continued aggressively licking your arms, hands and face.

If you were to tell dick you were cold/still cold, his immediate response was the cuddle you but when you stop him to remind him that your sick, he only shrugs and probably boasts that he’s got great immunity before cuddling you. (Lies utter lies)

Let’s be honest he probably ends up getting sick after you start to recover and demands for you to repay him for taking care of you.

dick is okay at making food but might mutter ‘this isn’t the way it looked when Alfred made it’ under his breath while making you some simple soup before consulting Hayley, who only whimpers and shies away from it.

‘Take out it is then.’ He’d say and tries to take credit for it once it comes, but you see through the bullshit but we’re too sick to say anything about it.

[satorusugurugurl]

Love Bites

Summary: When the clock strikes three in the morning, Count Gojo pays a visit to his beautiful liver, aka you.

Pairing: Vampire!Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: blood drinking, biting, blood, vampire sex (yummy), praise kink, monster sex, unprotected sex, cream pies

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Kinktober day Twenty-Nine: Count Dracula! I'm going off of three hours of sleep, we're almost there! Two days left!! 🥲 I'm so tired

The grandfather clock in the parlor downstairs chimed as the clock struck three in the morning. Upon hearing those three chimes, you sat up in bed, your shift sliding off your shoulder as you glanced at your balcony door in pure excitement. A bat was seen off in the distance, one of pure white, cerulean eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the giant harvest moon.

You threw off the covers, slipping into your slippers as you hurried for the door to your balcony, pressing your palms flat against the chilled surface. The bat glanced around before darting for your balcony, twirling as it did. If anyone had blinked, they would have seen the swift transformation. The bat's wings became a long navy blue cape, flapping in the wind. The tiny creature now towered above you, the same cerulean eyes transfixed on you as a gloved hand came to rest against a panel of glass right where your hand was.

The heat from your breath caused the glass to fog as the man bowed his body slightly to allow him to stare into your eyes. Snow-white tufts of silky hair flowed in the wind as the man’s lip tugged up in a smirk, revealing the dimple in his cheek and the sharp, elongated fang. He was beautiful, handsome, the ideal man.

And he was yours.

“Good evening, Sweetheart.” His voice was thick as honey, making every nerve sing in approval as he drummed his fingers against the window panel. “Are you going to let me in?”

Your delicate fingers moved, unhooking the lock before you stepped back, opening both of the French doors, allowing the cool hair to flow in, causing your shift to flow, extending the shape of your body to the Count before you. You could feel those predatory eyes glancing over every part of your body with unfiltered lust. But as much as he wanted to move, to step inside your quarters, you both knew he could.

“Are you going just to let me stand here and catch a cold, Sweetie?” he lifted his arm, placing it against the wooden door frame before leaning in as close as he could without crossing the threshold. “Or will you invite me in to keep each other warm on this cool October night?”

As much as you wanted to play hard to get, to draw this out, you knew you couldn't. You needed him; your neck throbbed with the desire to have his fangs in the neck, to have him test you, your blood, lips, and elsewhere. You reached up, untying the lacing to the top of your shift, and as soon as it was undone, the flimsy material pools around your glorious body.

“Come inside~” your fingers trailed further to the blue silk ribbon tied around your throat. “Let me offer you a refreshment.”

Satoru was drawn into your neck as the silky choker joined the nightgown. It was where he had sunk his teeth two days prior. They had been healing nicely, meaning it was time to break the skin again, to taste you, all of you.

Without so much as a warning, Satoru snarled as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you up firmly against his broad and muscular body. His lips found yours as he pushed you further inside the room until you fell back against the bed. Where your lover didn't waste time, shutting the door was a flick of a finger before he made quick work of disrobing before staring down at your bare legs.

“I want you to experience nothing but blissful ecstasy tonight.” Satoru purred as his fingertips trailed over your heated flesh.

"Mhmm, I like the sound of that." You hummed, shutting your legs in anticipation. "I’m all yours, Toru."

The second he saw your thighs press together, Gojoved forcibly spread your legs again, growling softly at the sight of your sliccoated folds. "You're mine tonight. All fucking mine." He leaned down, kissing you deeply.

“Mmm~!” You moaned, kissing him back with as much eagerness as he had. "Fuck you taste so good." You whispered before running your hands up and down his well-defined and toned chest.

Seeing you eye him like an autumn pastry caused an amused hum to rumble through his chest before he kissed down your cheek and to your neck. "I promise this won't hurt a bit." He smirked against your skin before sinking two fangs into your neck. It was similar to the prick of a needle, but the overwhelming pleasure that accompanied vampire bites followed. Warmth and ecstasy spread through your body from your neck.

You gasped, your hips bucking wildly at his bite and bite alone. "A-Ahnn, oh fuck!" you cried out, throwing your head back against the plush pillows. You were cumming already, the bite making you long for more. "Again, please, I want more of you!"

“Oooh~” He gently kissed your fresh bite. "Mm, I want to, Sweetie, but I can't. Just be patient and wait just a little bit. I don’t want you passing out on me, not when the fun has just begun. No need for me to go overboard just yet."

You were a little disappointed, but you still nodded in approval as you whimpered, grinding your hips up and on his erection. "God, I'm so wet for you," you growled, looking into his eyes.

He growled back with a grin. "You want my cock, baby? If you ask nicely, I'll give it to you~" But his voice held in ill intent because he wanted you just as bad. So you would play his game like he wanted.

"I want your cock. Please fuck me, Toru.”

Satoru flushed slightly, not expecting you to be that honest about it, before he nodded quickly, "F-Fuck, yeah, okay-"

"Come on~!" you cooed, pushing his pants down.

Gojo nodded, pressing the tip against your folds before slowly sliding inside. "Mm—Fuuuuck."

"M-Mmm~" You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're so big~" Satoru smirked, holding your hips as he pulled you deeper, growling when your hips met with a wet squelching sound.

You breathed out a sigh. "Fuck~," you said, looking at him. "Oh fuck, this feels good."

Satoru smiled down at you. "Not only can I bite you, but I've got a pretty big dick, too." He chuckled before pulling out experimentally and thrusting back in.

You moaned, arching your back slightly. "M-Mmmphm, Y-You're so fucking big~! God fuck, the biggest thing I've ever had."

"Mind if I take another drink, Sweetheart?” He grinned as he nipped at your neck, licking at the previous wound. "You'll probably be fine~"

Your eyes rolled back. "I’ll cum again if you do." you looked at it with a blush. "P-Please~" Satoru chuckled before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, sucking a gulp of your blood down with a moan, speeding up his hips. “A-Ahh!!"

Your toes curled as you squirted on his. I know the pleasure of his fangs and dick sending you over the edge. Your entire body felt like it was melting as Satoru moaned in your ear before biting you again as his hips slammed into yours, filling your up with his cum. Your back arched as you came a second time from the bite. Your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed.

He released you almost immediately, this time panting as he slowly pulled out. "F-Fuck Fuck. So fucking good~" He praised as he rocked in and out of you slowly but steadily.

You twitched and panted, staring at him. "T-That was amazing!" You hummed before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your body as he rocked against him. “But I want more Toru.” His cock immediately started reacting to your touch. He twitched inside of you, winning a satisfied groan of pleasure from him.

“Oh~? You want me to fuck you again, Sweetheart?”

"Y-Yes," You whispered, shifting so you were on your side. "Fuck me like this.

Satoru chuckled softly, nodding as he lifted your leg, grinding against yours. "Like this?" And with that will be station he slammed balls deep inside of you to with a grunt

"F-Fuck! Nnngh!" You's eyes watered as you grabbed your breasts. "Harder, fuck me harder~!

Gojo bit his lip with a feral grin as he watched your play with your tits. "God! You're so fucking hot!" He growled, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he slammed into your wet cunt, his feet digging into the mattress.

Your back arched off the bed, screams coming from you as you squeezed around his cock. "B-Bite me~ oh god fuck bite me!" your eyes rolled back, drool rolling from the side of your mouth.

Satoru felt his fangs descend, a growl rumbling in his chest as he leaned over, biting the other side of your throat. "Fuuuuuck~" You screamed at the sudden pleasurable pain and could not contain it before you were squirting on Gojo's cock, your eyes widening. Gojo couldn't help the instinctual growl that came as he sucked down a bit of blood, his hips slamming into yours and stopping as he pumped you full of cum again.

“T-Torru~” Your body slumped as you tried to regain your breath. "Oh fuck. Satoru kissed your neck, slowly pulling out of you again.

"Are you alright?"

“Mhmm~ never been better.” you purred in satisfaction as Satoru lay on the bed holding you close to his chest. “Welcome home, my love.”

Satoru smiled, rushing away a strand of you hair that he loved. “Thank you love, but you know.” You giggled as he nuzzled into your neck “as long as I’m with you, I’m always at home.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918 @draculemon

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[sanakimohara]

maybe more seungmin pet play please..🙈

[ OWNER ] K. S.

[ A/N ]: college has started for me…pray for me…

[ SUMMARY ]: request, (took my time with this one ;) )

[ PLAYLIST ]:

[ WARNINGS ]: NSFW + SMUT + MDNI + PETPLAY + ‘MEAN’ SEUNGMIN + IMPLICATIONS OF NON CON AND DUBCON + MASTER/OWNER KINK + MENTIONS OF DRUGS/WEED

Owner Seungmin tells you, “Dumb pups learn from their mistakes,” as he shoves his length deep into your constricting pussy. You yelp loudly as your walls forcibly part to fit around his twitching girth, his fleshy head prodding your cervix, and the feeling of it stuffing you full worsens the urge you have to release right then and there. It's written all over your face, brows knitted together in confused frustration and pleasure as Seungmin gathers your legs and presses them up and into your chest. His cock sinks deeper at the new and freed angle he's made for himself, daring your womb to relax and gush all over the thick muscle. You gasp when he shifts his hips away inch by inch, halfway out of your trained cunt before he says anything in the midst of your whining and crying for him not to move so soon again. “Hold it, pup.” he snaps his hips forward right as the words leave his lips, chuckling when you shake your head frantically and moan obnoxiously loud.

Owner Seungmin acts dismissively when you paw at his lap randomly, whining and begging to be as close as possible to him, and though he appears indifferent to your pleading, he allows you the chance. Without a glance from his phone, he bounces a leg, tapping it gently with his free hand to gesture you onto his lap. You straddle him immediately, always eager to be given a special place to sit. Seungmin is unbothered as you toy with his belt/jeans, letting you do what you please if you remain pleasant and obedient. A few grunts fill his chest when you get your hands on his cock, gently pumping him until beads of warm precum begin to drip from his tip and on your soft hands. You’re slow, head tilting to one side as you stare at nothing but his shaft hardening in your grasp, feeling painfully empty without it snuggled inside your tightening walls. You whimper quietly, frustrated by the visual reaction your body has each time he moans, not hiding how good you make him feel but refusing to put his entire attention on you. Seungmin stares at his screen, ignoring your doe eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition, having to settle for the lewd sound of his cock greedily fucking your hands as his hips roll in a steady rhythm and the occasional up tilt of his lips, the more worked up he gets. You’re simply doing as he trained you to do, pleasing your master when you need something fun to do, so what point would there be for him to reward you with a treat when it’s something you started? Seungmin isn’t that nice…not at first. He glances at your adorably dumb expressions, becoming determined. You give up persuading him and decide to take what you want. He doesn’t stop you from pulling your panties to the side, smirking as droplets of cum ease from your folds as the blue cotton squishes them together. You give him one look right through your lashes, and he doesn’t hesitate to nod, “Go on. Have your playtime, pup.” He kneads your ass to steady you as you do just that, rising on your knees inches above his cock to ease down on the throbbing muscle with a hand around its base. A high, bare audible whine vibrates your throat, taking his cock in one swift go, stuck there with his tip nuzzled to your womb, and held there until Seungmin has completely relaxed and taken a look at the small rise your stomach, his cock causes on impact. “What a good girl…” he moans, eyes sliding shut, head reeling back, and knuckles nearly turning white as he grips the phone for a sense of stability as you start to ride him with the guide of his other hand on your hip. Depending on his temperament, you’ll either have his undivided attention or have to work on it until he’s done scanning through his phone. You don’t mind either way, knowing you’re a good puppy for him by the slow and sweet pace of his thrusts and tender glances he spares you.

Owner Seungmin gives you a variety of tails to choose from. Fluffy ones are your favorite, and he adores them the most. He starts you off small first, ensuring you can larger plugs over time, not wanting to stretch your sensitive rim too fast. He allows us to choose the first set of ears, tail, and accompanying collar. “You’re sure you want this one, baby? I’ll buy you another when you can keep the first in without fussing.” You nod eagerly, smiling ear to ear as he double-checks your choice, “I’ve always wanted a y/f/c set, and it has a cute collar leash, too!” You zoom in on the product on his phone, admiring its details as he hums in agreement before kissing the top of your head and hitting the purchase button. “Thank you, Min,” you whisper, grateful as he pays for it without hesitation, laughing when you lovingly bite into his shoulder. Seungmin huffs, blushing, seeing you leave a tiny lick over his skin, his head nuzzled close to his as you pine for a kiss, which he gives with a roll of his eyes. “Spoiled mutt..” he mumbles against your lips, grinning, feeling your fingers brush through his freshly cut hair. You swore he looked entirely different with the new style, pawing at him like you were in heat more often than usual, and Seungmin hardly minded your constant touchiness.

Owner Seungmin ‘pets’ you quite a lot. Head pats are essential. Chin rubs go hand in hand, lazily running his thumb back and forth across your cheek or lips. He lets you lean on him often, knowing you’d rather be all over him in private but behaved enough to deal with just curving off his body heat in public. Being alone with Seungmin is a broad contrast; when neither of you wants to do anything more than cuddle, he adores ‘petting’ you in other ways. Groping your breasts over or under your thin tops, causally rubbing them when you rant on about your day, gently rolling the pads of his fingers around your pert nipples until the stand perfectly peeked through the fabric. You never get used to him handling your body so easily, able to suppress soft sighs and mute moans for the better part of his teasing but still red in the face whenever his hands venture elsewhere. Seungmin gets a real kick out of palming your stomach, halfway listening to what you’re saying as he tries to count exactly how many loads of his cum he’s filled you with. You fight to keep sane when he sets a hand over your pussy, gently cupping it as if to remind you that it’s his when no one else is around. God forbid you have your tail and ears on. Seungmin has a terrible habit of playing around with you even more, purposely toying with your tail to hear you whimper loudly, feeling the glass plug it’s connected to swirl in your ass, muttering in your ear how cute you look with match ears and a pathetically desperate look on your face as you press your thighs together in excitement. You love it and hate it all at once. You are looking at the part of his ‘perfect puppy’ but unable to escape the less than innocent ‘petting’ that comes with it.

Owner Seungmin asks Felix to help him bake special treats for you occasionally. The ingredients aren’t unfamiliar to the blonde, a brownie mix that combines more than a pinch of THC and CBD. Felix is confused when Seungmin sets out two baking trays with dog-treat shapes. “When did you get a dog?” He asks, easing a brow but picking them up along with the packs of cannabis additives he brought. Seungmin shakes his head, a plain smile on his face, “I didn’t.” The answer is short and confident, throwing Felix off entirely as he begins to pull out the materials for two batches of brownies. “You don’t have a dog, but are you making dog treats? Don’t tell me you’re eating these yourself.”

“No. Not for me. For Y/n.” he causally answers, turning on the kitchen sink to wash his hands before turning to dry them and coming face to face with a rightfully shocked Felix.

“I’m sorry…these are for who?!”

Seungmin sighed, rolling his eyes as the younger struggled to keep from smiling like a madman who had just discovered the secret to life. “For Y/n…now, can you help me out or not?”

Felix swallows a stunned laugh, racing with the possible explanations as to why you -one of the sweetest, most friendly people he knew- would need dog treats. “Alright…y-yeah, let’s get started then.”

An hour later, when you walk through the front door of their dorm, announcing your arrival with a bright smile, you’re oblivious to various looks Felix throws your way as Seungmin pauses, helping him to return your hug and kiss. He speaks up when you hurry into the kitchen, clearly excited by whatever Seungmin whispered in your ears when you greeted him. “Are these really for you, Y/n?…”

Felix lets his eyes wander your face, puzzled by how amazed you look, admiring the brownie treats cooling on a backing mat. “Yeah…they look so good too!” Your response came as natural as Seungmin’s had, and Felix felt utterly dumbfounded for a moment until he spotted the tag on what would be a perfectly normal necklace. A lock tag jingles on it when you move, ‘good pup’ engraved into it and catching his attention before your bright smile does. “Why do you ask, Lix…?” You see no name on teasing him a little, and you are already aware of Seungmin, nor were you shy about your dynamic. Felix wasn’t the type to let his curiosity go unanswered for long. “Uhm…u-uh Nothing…never mind!” his freckled cheeks go warm as you blink at him slowly, chuckling when he fails to keep his gaze away from your necklace. Seungmin brushes past you both, snapping Felix out of his trance long enough for you to bump his slightly agape mouth shut with a gentle tap of your finger. “Thanks for helping with my treats, Lix…” you speak lower, watching his eyes soften, and his stance shift to hide the erection you already caught a glimpse of. Seungmin peers at you over Felix’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded, watching you tease the younger for a bit longer. You had figured out the same thing Felix had about you, and maybe, just maybe, your little discovery would be helpful.

Owner Seungmin is prone to taking advantage of you. Occasionally, if you’re extra well-behaved, he’ll slip you one of the ‘treats’ he and Felix made. You take it without much thought to how strong of a high it causes, strung out of your mind in under an hour, and so so so pliable. You practically nod and whimper ‘yes’ to everything he says. Your eyes are blown wide from the drugs, your head is light as a feather, and your every nerve is on fire. You’re vulnerable, entirely dumbfounded, and Seungmin revels in it. You make it so easy for him, a whiny mess as he pounds into your slippery pussy like his life depends on it, and you love it. You tremble and shake every time his cock bullies into your sweet spot, eyes rolling, tongue lolling out of your drooling mouth, and your breasts bouncing with every impactful thrust he gives. Seungmin is hyper-focused on making you go a little dumber, spilling his cum into your quivering walls over and over until you sob loudly and beg him to let it all settle in your pussy and leak out. You’re sensitive, overly stimulated by the minor things; his hand squeezing your throat till air barely slithers through it, his breaths fanning your skin, and the stretch of his cock as it throbs inside your sloppy cunt for what feels like hours. You love these types of treats, love how well he takes advantage of you in the process, and madly in love with borderline disgusting things he mumbles in your ears the whole time to make you involuntarily cream around his shaft while tears roll down your flushed cheeks.

“Aw, your poor pup…is it too much? Master giving you more than your previous pussy can handle?..”

“Filthy fucking mutt…you’re enjoying this aren’t you?..”

“So well trained…”

“Fuck, I love stuffing you full like this, baby…feels so warm and perfect..”

Owner Suengmin is mindful of your needs. A few head pats and kisses to the tip of your nose? Done. You want to rest your head or sit in his lap? Do it. He never minds. Giving him a bracelet specially made to remind him you're his? He’ll wear it and never take it off. Ownership goes both ways, and Seungmin remains steadfast in your dynamic.

[ A/N ]: I’ve gotten back into AOT (Attack on Titan) recently and I’m really considering starting a new page for my fave character (Captain Levi)…it’ll be my FOURTH tumblr page but oh well-

[ Ao3 LINK ]: n/a…yet

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]:

I have something mildly inappropriate to say about him…but I’m gonna keep it to myself and let this post speak for me- credits to creator 🖤

[tritoch]

Have you got any thoughts to share about Sphene? I saw your post about how misrepresented FFXIV’s female characters are, and I���ve been hoping to see anything more than the typical “Evil AI colonizer etc.” or “Tragic woman who can never change ever” or “Wuk Lamat’s girlfriend”. Maybe our interpretations will differ but I’ll be happy if you can provide anything more complex than those.

Sure! Throwing all this under a read-more for anyone who hasn't finished 7.0 yet. I think I'll probably expand on this more later but wanted to get initial thoughts down. (Note after writing: I meant this to be brief but uhhhh brevity is not my strong suit sorry. This take just sort of ends abruptly because I realize I'm rambling.) Again, spoilers through the end of 7.0 MSQ.

I think Sphene is the sharpest work the game has done yet in casting the antagonist as the noble double of the protagonist (a well it returns to a lot with Emet, and Zenos, and Golbez, and...). But because the protagonist here is Wuk Lamat and not the Warrior of Light, that's also a much more defined and interesting role. To me, Wuk Lamat is, above all, the Righteous Queen, who rules thoughtfully, wisely, and justly, and whose claim to the throne is justified by her moral clarity. Sphene, in turn, is also a wise and good queen, one who undertakes all her actions with her people first in her hearts, a sense of compassion towards all, and a clear eye for the consequences and costs of her intended course of action. And it leads to utter disaster, for her, her people, and the people of Tural. That rocks!

The first half of 7.0 is about justifying the fact that Wuk Lamat's going to be Dawnservant. Wuk Lamat is compassionate, curious, wise, and open-minded. She wins over rebels and malcontents not by asserting her authority or by strength of force, but by taking her obligations to them (as her subjects) seriously. She knows many of her subjects personally and takes a great interest in their lives, and she respects even those who openly oppose her.

And everything Wuk Lamat does, Sphene does to 11. Wuk Lamat respects her subject peoples and is curious about their cultures? Sphene forcibly annexes Yyasulani, but goes out of her way and expends Alexandria's limited resources to enable the remaining Xak Turali to live in their accustomed way if desired (…to the extent allowed by the new permanent lightning storms and the internal conflicts caused by regulator adoption). Wuk Lamat cares about her people not just in the abstract but as individuals? Sphene visits sick kids, knows them by name! Wuk Lamat understands the burden of rulership is too great and cedes half her power to her brother? Sphene recognizes her own weaknesses and makes a deal with the devil to keep Alexandria's culture alive! Wuk Lamat is willing to die for her people? Sphene will forcibly traumatize herself into being a better queen, if that's what rulership demands.

For an expansion that spends the first half being like "wow isn't this perfect candidate for the crown so likable and humble? wouldn't it be nice to be ruled by a good king?," it sure is funny that the final boss is THE QUEEN ETERNAL and she hits you with attacks like LEGITIMATE FORCE and ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY and ROYAL DOMAIN. This, to me, is Sphene's role: she complicates and questions the themes we've developed in the first half. Most importantly to me, she makes us ask: what is devotion to a people or culture even worth?

There's a thing I kept thinking of constantly during Dawntrail, not because I think it directly influenced the game in any way but because the parallels were so stark and startling. It's Jonathan Hickman's New Avengers #18 (2014). Truthfully, I'm not a big comics guy; I only know this sequence because Ta-Nehisi Coates cited it as inspiration for his Black Panther run on Twitter once (I also didn't read TNC's run, I was following him for politics talk). Forgive me, comics people, if I get any details wrong. The parallels are almost comical, though. It goes like this:

A superhuman secret society formed of some of the smartest heroes (and villains) in the land re-forms to oppose an existential threat caused by incursions from other dimensions that threaten to cause literal collisions between Earth and its alternate dimension counterparts. Seeing no other alternatives, they undertake work on a weapon to destroy these other worlds. T'challa—king of a fictional hyperadvanced nation called Wakanda, and also the superhuman Black Panther—meets with his ghostly predecessors, the previous Black Panthers/kings, for he fears the moral stain on his soul and the souls of the people of Wakanda, if they survive explicitly by killing their alternate counterparts, will be too heavy to bear. His ancestors are not impressed.

To them, there is no question at all. A king's duty may be complex in the execution, but it is simple in its conception. Your people come before all others. Always. This is, must be, the fundamental ethic of a good king. To do otherwise would be a betrayal of the social order on which this imagined good monarchy is built. In a situation like this, the only option is to do what you must to protect them. "Will there be a cost? Yes. Might the universe burn? Let it. . . . You will kill them all if it means Wakanda stands. The golden city must never fall."

"I will do what I must" is Sphene's guiding principle. It is so important to her that when she recognizes that her sentimental attachments are making her waver in her duty, she severs them entirely, sacrificing her whole identity to the throne. It is also implicitly Wuk Lamat's position: she has no choice but to fight Sphene because to do otherwise would be to fail to protect her people. In fact, it's briefly even sort of the Warrior of Light's position, as when you tell Sphene before her trial that you understand what you must do, which is shut her down to protect others.

(One quick thought about the Warrior of Light: one cool thing about the antagonist this time being a double in a more exact way than Emet or Zenos is that it means other characters get a chance to relate to her differently than Wuk Lamat. The Warrior of Light, for example, is pressed into her service immediately upon your first meeting as the Queen's Champion, there to defend her if need be against all evil. This role is further affirmed by both robot Otis and Endless Otis, who essentially hand off their role as her knight to you, and reinforced when you flash back to the "might I call upon your aid" moment right before the end. Except, of course, you are loyal not just to her, but to the principles she represents, which her own acts betray, and so your ultimate act of aid is to essentially pass judgment on her and execute her. In a sense, you become the internal safeguard that a political system is supposed to have to protect against this very issue, and which Alexandria explicitly lost when it cast out/forgot Otis. Very Voeburt/ShB tank quests, it owns.)

But really, it's Sphene who embodies this sort of grim logic best. Aside from her transformation into the Queen Eternal, it's also why she suggests you simply become Alexandrians. It's the only way for her to reconcile her values and worldview, which have backed her into a corner where preserving Alexandria has come to mean a maximalist declaration of war on all life outside its borders because the kind of absolutely pain-free life she envisions for her citizens is completely unsustainable.

In this reading, one of Sphene's main beats is to unsettle what has preceded her in MSQ. In nearly all respects, she shares your values. She prizes life, is curious about other cultures, believes in the greatest good for the greatest possible number. But she is also a queen, and therefore irrevocably (in her eyes) tied to her state. Gulool Ja Ja and Wuk Lamat (and Koana) are the mythical wise rulers, thank god--but what if Wuk had inherited a Turali state that wasn't desperately in need of cross-cultural understanding, but one in a state of war? What value would her deep love for the people of Tural have held then? Sphene says, it would have held no value. If the survival of your people means harming the innocent, you harm the innocent. Kingship allows for no alternatives.

But she also concedes, in the very next breath, that she is still kind of wrong. Because what happened here was not inevitable, despite her programming (a brief note: to me Sphene being programmed is exactly the same as Emet being maybe-tempered, it's a fantasy gloss on the idea of social and cultural education. "I was programmed for this" is really no different from "I was trained and educated for this"), because the truth is that this kind of thoughtful, principled devotion to the state and its people is also a form of sentimental attachment, in the end. One that is maintained not because it is natural, and necessary, but because the monarch, too, likes it, and gets something from it.

In so many ways, in so many senses, the monarch is the state. Kings and queens may fancy themselves merely a reflection of their people's needs and desires, but of course even a cursory glance at history will tell you that far more often, states reflect their rulers. Sphene and Wuk Lamat both suggest that their conflict was inevitable, but was it? Or is the truth, as Sphene glancingly acknowledges here, that she turned her own fears and desires into the same policy goals that led to this tragedy? And if so...what does that say of our Good Queen, Wuk Lamat? Perhaps this could be different if they met earlier, says Wuk Lamat. But when? When did Wuk Lamat ever not love her people so dearly that she would not have sacrificed herself for them, or caused mass death for the sake of their survival? When did Sphene not believe the Endless to be people, or the preservation of Alexandria to be the most important thing? Maybe she means "had we met before you met Zoraal Ja," but of course, we the player actually saw their meeting. And we know that Sphene even then was not the hapless naif she'd like to pretend. She always knew exactly what she was doing.

We know the price of this kind of thinking, this Hobbesian view that states are engaged in a struggle of all against all. Living Memory lets you walk through it. To preserve Tural, we exterminate the Endless. We befriend them, learn about their lives, promise to remember them, and then we destroy them and their homes, leaving nothing but a bleak blank landscape and the sound of wind. This is what Sphene would have done to Tural and Eorzea. Indeed, it's what she's already doing to the people of Yyasulani, because no amount of well-intentioned aid can make up for trapping people under the dome for 30 years and systematically eroding their culture through the resonators.

To me, this is what makes Sphene really work, that way she has of forcing Wuk Lamat and the player to commit the same kinds of sins she has. We'd like to think ourselves better than her, but of course, we've already reconciled with and integrated Mamook's brutal eugenicist regime back into Turali society well before we ever met Sphene. At the end of our long "wow isn't having a wise queen cool???" expansion, we are met with "Legitimate Force" and "Absolute Authority" and see them for what they truly are: nothing but tools of violence. No longer does the idea of the Warrior of Light hanging around Tural as Wuk Lamat's advisor have the same attraction, now that we have been reminded of the way the putatively unquestionable logic of kingship can ultimately lock even the wisest and kindest rulers into a path of war and exploitation and destruction.

I think Sphene is FFXIV's most interesting and nuanced depiction yet of a leader. She really, truly, wants nothing more than to save her people and protect them from pain. But even seemingly loving and compassionate goals like these can readily lead us down dark paths. She's a "hard men make hard choices"-type character, a noble but misguided opponent, but as a loving and elegant fairy queen instead of a grizzled knight or extremely sad man. She fucking rocks.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 5 - Wouldn't It Be Nice?

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John introduces Doll to some normal people, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Doll is kinda sorta Catholic? Who knew (me I knew)

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly this chapter is pretty mild all considered.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz come back a few hours later with the blue sports car (a bit scratched up, but tail-light repaired) and a pick up truck that looks a lot like the one John had before, but a generation older, and green instead of gray. John speaks to them briefly before he coaxes you into the truck and drives off, promising that the others will be gone before you get back.

He drives a few miles down the road, and pulls up in front of a little farmhouse. It looks idyllic, children and a dog playing in the yard. Two people on the porch wave, and John hops out and circles around right quick to open your door and help you down.

The couple trots up to greet you both. "Who's this?" The woman asks, looking at you and beaming. "You finally introducing us to a girlfriend?"

"Doesn't feel like the right word, does it, doll?" John winks at you, like your circumstances are all just a funny little blip, nothing nefarious or terrifying about it.

"No, it doesn't," you agree, keeping your face carefully neutral. "I'm Dalisay. Nice to meet you, um, Melissa, right?" You stick your hand out and shake hers. There’s no sense in being rude to them, just because they know John. He’s probably smart enough to keep his old life, and his boys away from his new one as much as possible.

"The very same! We were a bit worried John was going to be an eternal bachelor. Nice to see he's found someone." She introduces her husband, Rob, and her kids, Hannah, Haley and Jackson, who are ten, seven and five, respectively.

"Do you want to see the puppies?" Haley asks, grabbing your hand. Jackson grabs the other one and they pull you along to the garage, not waiting for an answer. You very deliberately don’t look over your shoulder at John, because you’re fairly sure that he’ll be looking back at you with a sickeningly hopeful expression. His comments from last night still ring in your ears, and you’re not willing to indulge that foolish fantasy of his.

The puppies are in a play pen with high enough walls to contain them, but still allow their mother to hop in and out. She hops out to inspect you, sniffing your outstretched hands warily. Her tail starts to wag after a moment, and you give her a proper pat, smiling. The dog has soft ears and a silky, black and tan coat, but you're not sure what type of dog she is.

"What's her name?" you ask, kneeling down.

"Bonnie-bell," Hannah says. "And our other dog is Charaid."

"Proper Scottish names," you say. The kids all have a slight burr, and although Melissa sounds scouse, it's the first hint as to where you are.

"Da said we was gettin' too English, livin' in London," Haley says. "I like it better here anyway. Mum says maybe we can get some coos. "

"I grew up near Aberdeen," you say. "But I've lived in Manchester too long. Lost my accent."

"No' far off, then, aye? We're only about an hour and a bit south and west," Rob says, appearing at the open garage door to supervise. His stern face looks friendlier now that he knows you're not proper English. "Was worried John dragged some poor city girl out'f England to live out here."

You hum. "Well, I am something of a city girl now. Been in Manchester since I was seventeen."

"Weel, welcome home then," Rob says with a wink. "We'll get ye proper re-acclimated soon enough." He leans over and plucks a puppy out of the sleeping pile inside the pen, and hands it to you. The pup is at the age where its somewhere between looking like a potato and a proper dog, maybe six or seven weeks old. "Gordon setter, by the by," he says. "Good dogs."

"Cute too." You settle the puppy in your lap, petting its soft little head. Bonnie-bell licks your wrist and hops back into the pen to lay down next to the others.

"Ye want one? This girl's no' spoken for yet. John's been hemmin' and hawin' about it, but I figure he wouldna want ta leave ye home alone, neither."

"Oh, I'm not sure I'll be staying that long. I'm only here because there was an incident at my apartment and John wouldn't hear of me staying anywhere else." You're not certain why you're stretching the truth to fit around what he and his wife think is happening, but you have no idea what John would do if you did say something. Maybe he would laugh it off like you were making a joke, or maybe he would snap. You don't really think he would hurt these people, but there's a wide-eyed prey animal in the back of your mind that warns you to be cautious, to be careful.

"We'll talk about it," John says from behind you. You hadn't even noticed his approach, with the noise the kids had made when they dashed back outside. "I'm trying to convince her to stay."

"Ye've gotta buy her a ring, ye daft bastard," Rob says, laughing. "A good catholic girl isna goin' ta wait for you ta get yer head out'f yer arse."

"If you don't, I'll introduce her to some lads in town that will," Melissa threatens. "Pretty girl like her has better options than you, old man. Better make your move before she realizes it." She swats John on the arm playfully.

You laugh nervously, touching the little cross around your neck absently. The puppy in your lap seems to sense your discomfort, because she starts wiggling in your arms and trying to lick your chin, little tail wagging. John kneels down beside you so he can pet the puppy too, eyes creased with a smile. "Is that it, doll? You need me to buy you a ring?"

"John," you say warningly. "We don't need to talk about this right now."

"No, I suppose you've had a rough morning. I'll try again later."

"You're impossible."

"Think you might kind of like that about me," he says.

"Not remotely. I think you're an awful, stubborn man," you tell him. Your voice comes out softer and sweeter than you intend, like you don't really mean it, even though it's true. The smile around his eyes grows deeper.

"I am." He picks up the puppy and holds her up in front of his face. "What do you think, girl?" he asks. The little dog's tail wags furiously, and she answers with a high pitched yip. And then she endears herself to you by trying to bite John’s nose. He looks stunned for a moment, but he grins when you start laughing. “Guess we’re all in agreement then,” he says, setting her down in the pen and standing up.

You accept his hand up, and quickly put a little distance between the two of you, before he anchors you to his side with a solid arm, or tries to reel you in close for a kiss. Rob and Melissa invite you in for a cup of tea, and somehow you end up sitting at a dining room table that’s obviously mostly used for crafts, and handed a piece of blank printer paper by Haley, and told by Jackson that you should draw dragons with them. The walls of the dining room are filled with tacked up juvenile masterpieces— Dragons seem to be a particular fixation of Jackson’s, whereas Hannah and Haley have more varied portfolios.

John stands leaning in the door to the kitchen, talking to Rob and Melissa quietly enough that you can’t quite pick up his words over the children’s chatter. You hate him a little for this, dangling Rob and Melissa’s idyllic little life in front of you. The implication is obvious. We could have this, his blue eyes seem to say when you look his way. Wouldn’t that be nice?

It’s frustrating, and confusing. You want to keep him at arms length for your own safety, but he’s already doing his best to roll right past your doubts and better judgment, like they’re just silly barriers between now and the future he’s dreamed up for the two of you.

And worse, you do want it.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” he says on the drive back. Jackson had been so excited about the dragon that you drew for him that he’d shown his parents and John.

“There’s a long list of things you don’t know about me,” you say.

"For now. We'll get there, sweetheart."

You hum, looking out the window. Spending time with the Stuarts has you wistful and homesick for something you can't get back. Days like this, you'd usually pour yourself a glass of wine, look through your family photo albums and have a good cry before going to bed early. It's been a while since it's caught up with you like this, but you'd always been reliant on your routine, burying grief in structure and familiarity. "Do we need to?"

"I'd like to."

"I'm not going to be what you want me to be."

John drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "What is it that you think I want?"

"Some little housewife. Someone soft and sweet to come home to."

"You seem plenty soft and sweet to me."

You sigh, pulling your arms around yourself. "I'm not consistent. I don't know what Johnny told you I was like, but he only knows me from work. I'm not like that all the time."

"I don't expect you to be."

"You say that now, but you'll change your mind."

"I'm not stupid enough to change my mind based on a bad day or two, doll. You're allowed to be upset. I wouldn't blame you if you spend the next week slamming doors and snapping at me. I'm still going to like you." He puts a hand on your knee and squeezes gently. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to have such attractive hands, and you shouldn't be attracted to hands like his, scarred knuckles, a few fingers broken and healed crooked. You know he's killed people, know it would be so easy for him to kill you. It turns your stomach that you feel any kind of desire for him at all.

Men like him are no different than the ones that killed your parents. Dealing death is not a noble trade, there's nothing honourable about exporting violence.

You push his hand away, and keep your eyes trained on the window.

He sighs, but he doesn't press the issue, just clicks on the radio to fill the silence.

When you get back to his house he sets you up in a cozy room down the hall from the more open main space where the kitchen is, an office of some kind with a couple of arm chairs and a desk with a clunky looking laptop set on top. The room smells kind of smoky, but you're just glad to have a door you can close while he "moves some things around". He opens the laptop up so you can watch something, but you just curl up in one of the armchairs and fall asleep.

When you wake, the door is open, one of your blankets is draped over you, and there's a mug of tea sitting on the desk, alongside a couple biscuits. You uncurl, your muscles stiff and joints cracking from not moving for too long, and pick up the tea. It's cold, like it had been left a while ago, but you drink it anyway, and eat the biscuits. There's a note underneath, explaining that John had run out to the shops, and that he'd be back by 18:00. You shake your head, and check the time on the laptop. 18:00 exactly.

Military habits must die hard. You imagine he’s usually prompt too, so you wander out into the main room, and put the clean dishes in the rack away. You realize that the living room side has been rearranged, condensed to a slightly smaller footprint, with some open space left by the far corner behind the bigger couch. The smaller leather sofa has been replaced with the little red love-seat from your apartment, and your T.V. is sitting on it’s familiar perch on the refinished credenza that you’d painted twining vines and little red flowers up the side of. You’d found it on by the curb on the Kinsey’s street a few years ago, and your friend Ripley had bused over and helped you carry it all the way back to your apartment.

You’re not sure you like seeing more of your things merging into John’s house, like any of it belongs there when you still want to insist that you’ll be leaving soon. You hate him for being presumptuous, but you can’t help but think it’s sweet, too, that he makes space for you so readily, that he’ll happily include your painted flowers and colourful blankets and bright red couch into space that was all his just twenty four hours ago. That he would leave you tea and biscuits for when you woke up, that he would tuck a blanket around you while you slept. You’re not used to someone wanting to take care of you, and it feels strange.

Strange, but nice too.

You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s twenty past six, and John still isn’t back. It’s getting darker out there, the sun nearly setting, and as much as you try to tell yourself that you’re not worried, it’s hard to deny the stab of relief when you finally see the truck's lights pull up the wooded drive.

You slip on your trainers and step outside as he parks. He grins at you around a lit cigar as he hops out. “Did you miss me, doll?” he asks, insufferably smug.

“Your note said you’d be back at six,” you say lamely. “I just wasn’t sure if you’re usually on time.”

“Usually am. Got caught talking to Wells, down on the corner. Seems someone drove right through his fence last night. Teenagers, like as not. I’m goin’ to help him fix it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You grimace. He must know it was really you. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm. By the sounds of it, you’re quite the driver. Soap said you nearly ran him off the road. That what they teach these days?”

“Defensive driving is well and good, but offensive driving gets you the last good spot in the lot,” you say.

He laughs out loud at that, and leans over to pick up a big paper bag from the passenger side. “Here, can you take this in while I grab the groceries?”

You take the bag (which is slightly greasy and smells like curry), and shift it to one hip. “Can I take anything else?”

He nods and hands you a second paper bag, this one with two wine bottles inside. “Wasn’t sure if you liked red or white, so I got both.”

You settle the bags in your arms and turn to walk away. “Bad time to tell you I like rosé hm?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder.

“Terrible timing. But that’s alright. One more thing, doll.”

You turn back toward him, and he’s right there. One big hand cups your jaw and then his lips are on yours, pressing a kiss that tastes like smoke against you. You stand frozen, holding onto your cargo for dear life, too surprised to do anything. It’s just as well, because in that moment you’re not sure if you’d slap him or pull him closer.

He pulls away without trying to deepen the kiss, which is a relief. You’re certain that you’d drop dinner and the wine.

“John, that wasn’t fair.” Your feet are still frozen in place, and his hand is still on your cheek, his fingers threaded into your hair.

His eyes practically sparkle. He’s entirely too pleased with himself. “Not fair because I kissed you, or not fair because I stopped before we got to the best part?”

Your cheeks flame hot, and you pray that he can’t feel it. “You can’t just— You’re impossible.” It takes concentrated effort to take ordinary, measured steps to the door instead of running. The effect he has on you is apparently very obvious. He never would have tried it if he didn’t know you were teetering on the edge of giving in already.

Boundaries need to be set-- Set and followed-- before you can really even contemplate letting this get any further. Unchecked, you have no doubt that John will have you underneath him in a matter of days. Once that happens you know he'll never let you go, and you'll never have peace of mind if you don't really get to know him first. You know he's not as good as he makes himself out to be, but you suspect he's a better man than your deepest fears might whisper to you. He's genuine about his wants, but that's not enough. You need to know him before you can trust him.

You set your packages down on the table and turn to open the door wide for John as he carries a tote full of groceries into the house. “Thanks, doll.”

The paper bag rips when you open it to pull take-out containers out, setting them on the table neatly. "John, can we talk?" You ask, glancing at him as he stows things in the fridge.

"Course, doll. What's on your mind?"

Nerves threaten to choke you, so you take a steadying breath, in and out, trying to quiet the sea of dread that pitches back and forth in your stomach. “You can’t just take what you want from me. Not if you’re serious about wanting this to be something. I’m afraid of you, John, and I’m not going to fight you. If you push me, I’ll fold, and I’ll hate you for it.”

He pauses, holding a box halfway lifted to the cupboard. It takes a moment before he moves again, setting the box on the shelf slowly. The silence is palpable in the room, settling across both of you like a thick blanket of snow. You fold the ripped takeout bag flat, nervous, the crinkle of heavy paper hardly breaking through the rush of blood in your ears, the panic that grips you by the throat. It’s as though the admission has given your body the chance to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last two days.

You’d been drugged and taken from your home, you’d been handed off to someone you didn’t know, with no clear indication if you’re free to leave or not, you’ve been picked up and manhandled and shot at.

Darkness flickers in the corners of your vision. All you can hear is the pounding of your own heart, the sick, dizzying drums of war, and high pitched ringing like a flat-lining hospital monitor, and screaming, and the rapid burst of machine gun fire. No. The screaming you hear is just in your head, the gunshots aren’t real, they can’t be. It’s not happening, it’s over, it’s been over for a decade, you’re safe.

Except you’re not safe.

Hands land on your shoulders. You lash out, fists striking something solid, knocking the hands away. You have to get away, you have to hide until it goes quiet again. Arms wrap around you in a tight hug, stilling your thrashing limbs and bringing you down to the floor gently.

“Doll! Dalisay, sweetheart, you’re alright, come back.” The voice has authority. You know that voice. It rumbles, shaking loose memory. “Come on, love, breathe slow. You’re okay.” You breathe in, warm spice and tobacco smoke, not burning petrol, not scorched flesh. You’re kneeling on the floor, and John is holding you tight, thighs bracketing yours.

The fight melts out of your limbs.

You’re not safe, but you’re not in danger either. John loosens his hold on you and cups your face, his worried face eclipsing all else. “Doll, where’d you go?” he asks. “What happened?”

“Panic attack,” you lie, because that’s easier to say than My parents were killed in a terrorist attack while we were visiting London ten years ago and sometimes I get so stressed out that I forget it’s not still happening. “I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack, doll. Worked with Simon long enough to recognize PTSD. You were somewhere else.”

It’s hard to imagine that Ghost is as fallible, as human as you are, but you suppose there’s no shortage of opportunities for even the the biggest, toughest military men to to wade hip deep in trauma. The worst day of your life would be just another mission for them. The worst day of their lives would probably kill you outright.

"Yeah, I guess it was," you admit haltingly. "Everything just caught up with me. I won't let it happen again."

He shakes his head. "Did I set it off? I need to know— I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

"No, it's not like that. It’s just stress. It's been building since I got here."

"I guess that's what you meant in the truck, huh?"

You nod weakly. "I don't think I can explain it any better right now. But maybe tomorrow."

"Alright." John sighs, some of the tension in his shoulders releasing. " I don't want you to be afraid of me, doll."

"Then you're going to have to give me time, and space. I need to know what kind of man you are. And you should get to know who I am too.” There’s a wrinkle in his shirt, so you fixate on that rather than look right at him, smoothing it out with your fingers. “Let’s worry about becoming friends, for now. And then we can see if there’s something more.”

He doesn’t like that, you can tell by the way he pulls his hands back, reluctant to let go of you. But still, he nods, and smiles ruefully after a moment. “Guess I’m not as patient as I think I am. Too eager to get to the good part.”

You laugh lightly, the sound shaky from frayed nerves. “John, if we can be kind to each other, and come to an understanding, then it’s all the good part. You can’t build the things you want on foundations like this and hold it all together with sheer force of will.”

“You sure about that?" he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve heard I’m pretty stubborn.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. You still feel unsettled, your heart still pounding, your stomach still roiling with anxiety. The emotion in those blue eyes is something you can't identify, something fathomless that strikes you with a foreign kind of fear, the kind that's shot through with hope that you shouldn't feel.

“You don’t know me too well yet, John,” you say gently, “but so am I.”

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[luveline]

HIIIIII! I’m so obsessed with you and this series but If it fits into the storyline maybe could we get something where princess hasn’t been seen or heard from all day and the whole castle is gossiping that she ran away and Prince Steve hasn’t been able to pull away from his duties to find her but he eventually does. Kinda vague but I know if you do this you’ll write it better than I could ever explain it lol 💖💖

thank you so much! ♡ prince steve au fem, 1.3k

Steve is in his politics class when he hears the first whisper. There are many awful things that come with being the future inheritor of an entire kingdom, and the very worst in his opinion is having to know the politics of the surrounding kingdoms, cities, islands, island kingdoms and their cities. It's exhausting.  

And what cruel torture is this? His mother and father insist he needs to find his soulmate before he turns twenty four, but when he does find you he's not actually allowed to spend time with you. You're locked away like a sick fairytale and Steve spends hours at a time wondering what you're doing, what you're thinking, if you've been eating properly. He went from knowing nothing about you to not enough. 

Your name is like a lime spotlight. He hears it and he perks up, a trained dog, looking out of the corner of his eye at two service maids changing the eucalyptus sconces. 

"I heard she tried to leave a few days ago and got caught. If I were Y/N I'd never walk again, let alone run away. I'd have someone bring me a pot to piss in–" 

"Shush!" the second maid laughs. "What if someone heard us?" 

They're lucky the others in the room are distracted, less lucky that Steve is a moth to your flame. 

"Wherever she is, I hope she doesn't come back. Prince Steven doesn't flirt with us anymore, it's depressing. Do you think my tabard makes me look fat?" 

Wherever she is? Where are you? 

Steve starts to stand and gets forcibly sat back down by his tutor. "Don't make me hit you with the stick, Steven," he says, his teasing lost to a permanent monotone drawl. 

It continues more of the same but in different places. He hears possible locations at fencing practice, motives between sickening spoonfuls of pot pie and biscuits he can't stomach. Guardsmen talk of you in alcoves and the seamstresses whisper it between pins held in their lips, until finally Steve's had enough. 

"What use is fitting me for my suit if the bride's run away?" he asks, pulling pins from his thighs. "This is ridiculous. I'm done." 

He scrambles into his clothes and shoes. He's buttoning his shirt in the middle of a wide hallway when Robin appears. "Public indecency, nice." 

"This is my house." 

"No need to brag." She offers her hands to take his jacket so he can button faster. "You know your princess is missing, right?"

"Where have you been all day?" he asks. 

"Where do you think? I've been looking for her. Safe to say she's not in the Palace. Where did you say she lived before this?" 

"I… don't know." 

"Useless. We've no hopes of retrieving her then, unless you want to put out a mandate for her return." 

"Stop talking like that," Steve says, scrubbing his jaw tiredly. "I know where she is, I think. You can't come with me." 

"Why?" 

"It's a secret." 

"You can't leave the Palace without me. Do you know how close I was to getting fired last week?" 

You and Steve snuck out before dawn to explore the city together, and to finally get to know one another for a chunk of time. It wasn't enough, but it was a good start. Steve told you a few secrets, and it's about to come in handy.

"Good thing it's not outside of the Palace, then," he says, grinning at Robin mischievously as he takes his jacket from her, turning to walk backwards and steadily away. "Stay here."

"I'll find your dumb hiding place!" she calls after him. 

Steve shrugs into his jacket and descends the stairs. It took him years of being constantly watched to evade the eye, and if you've successfully secluded yourself where he thinks, you're a natural royal. Steve slips down another set of marble stairs, through a hallway, into one of the many intricate drawing rooms, to finally slip unseen behind an ornate oil portrait of his great great great grandma. 

He finds you sleeping in his den. The walls are tacked with teenage dreams, the floor littered with books he had good intentions of reading. You're curled on your side on the cot, the rinds of blood oranges at your chest and your lips stained mildly red from eating them. There's barely any light in this secret room; Steve can't stay here long without getting claustrophobic, but he needs to come here sometimes or he ends up feeling a different kind of trapped. 

He turns the latch of the oil lamp and lights a match. When he touches the red head of it to the lamp's dish, blue, green, and hyacinth-purple light sprays the walls and your snoozing face. Cutout stars remain, the shade of your skin left alone. 

He resists the urge to wake you with the tip of his thumb pressed to one such star, instead kneeling by the cot to shake your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, "you okay?" 

You blink. Sleep crusts your left eye and your lips are chapped, the whites of your eyes a sore red as you meet his. It's funny, nobody looks pretty waking up, but Steve thinks you've just about managed it.

He gives into what he wants, his hand riding the gentle curve of your arm. 

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly. 

You stare at him like he's not what you were expecting. 

"You okay?" he asks again, rubbing the crook of your elbow in search of an answer.

"'M fine," you say, barely audible through hoarseness. 

You sit up and wipe your eyes. Steve reluctantly takes his hand back, not wanting to overdo anything. It's the strangest feeling in the world to know someone will love you one day but they don't know you yet. Stranger still to know you're all alone here, and if Steve doesn't advocate for you, there aren't many who will. 

He's happy to do it. 

"Did someone say something to you?" he asks gently. 

He wouldn't speak to you like this if you didn't respond, your posture slouching forward, relaxing from that tense rigidity you hold whenever you first see him. 

"No one said anything to me, Steve. Your– my lady's maids wouldn't leave me alone. I'm not used to, uh, having my entire day planned for me." You collect your orange rinds into your palm. "It feels childish now, but I needed to be by myself. Do you know what I mean?" 

"I've been doing what other people tell me for years." He takes the orange rinds from your hands. There's nowhere to put them, so he keeps them. He didn't want you to get your fingers sticky with pith. "And it drives me crazy. That's why I told you about this place." 

You make a face like your breath is caught. He sees it everyday. He's starting to worry you're too easily panicked. 

"Have you eaten anything else today? We should go."

"Will they make me do all the things I should've been doing?" you ask. 

"It's evening. We'll have dinner on the terrace, your lady's maids won't come up to you while we're together." He seals his promise with a quick kiss to your knuckles. Your soul mark glows palest pink. "You're sure it's nothing else?" 

You, hesitant as a dormouse, trail the side of your pinky finger against his wrist where it rests on the cot. Purple‐blue light like iris petals paint your skin. "This is all really crazy," you whisper. 

"I know," he says back, voice dropped to a murmur to match you. He can't offer you a better response —this will always be crazy. 

You nod slowly for a moment, visibly thinking. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" you ask. 

"I want what you want." 

"Maybe I want what you want, Steve." 

You make his name sound like an inside joke. He tucks the glow of his soul mark out of view as it burns a rosy hue. 

[merakiui]

Y-yandere tsum tsums..? /j

I am so relieved to know someone else is on the same brain cell as me because this was my first thought when I saw the tsums with the characters LOL;;;;;; just the idea that the tsums have more rizz than the students because they're cute and can get away with anything because they're just having harmless fun. Floyd's tsum could shove itself into your chest or crotch and, though it's very embarrassing, you'll laugh it off because the tsum is just being silly and exploring, albeit exploring in very awkward places. Floyd is going to tear his tsum apart for being so bold and skipping bases he hasn't even arrived at yet.

Or Riddle's tsum making itself oh-so-comfortable in your laundry, specifically amidst your undergarments. Riddle is beyond infuriated and flustered when he learns of what his tsum has done. He apologizes so stiffly to you, all while strictly admonishing his tsum in the same breath. Of course this indecent behavior will not be tolerated and must be swiftly reprimanded! But it would be nice if his tsum happened to snatch a pair of your underwear for reasons that will remain undisclosed.

Or Leona's tsum watching you bathe, sitting so comfortably on the edge of the bath, admiring your figure. You let it do this because it's just so cute and there's no way such a cute thing would have any ulterior motives. Leona's tsum is bold, so Leona can't exactly fault it because he'd do the same thing if he was in the tsum's place. Or the tsum sleeping alongside you, curling up on your pillow or in your arms and resting so soundly. It glares so viciously when Ruggie tries to collect it the next morning on account of Leona's orders to retrieve it. To think it would gravitate to someone besides Leona...

Or perhaps Jack's tsum actually plays the role of a helpful wingman and tries to set you and Jack up together. Maybe it knows Jack likes you so much, so it attempts to get closer to you to prompt Jack to muster the courage to tell you of his feelings. Of course when the tsum goes about it in very roundabout ways (i.e. following you everywhere to the point where it's invasive and embarrassing), Jack's going to mistake its intentions... ^^;;

Or Cater's tsum getting you to pose in very,,,, compromising ways so it can take good pictures. You might think it's weird, but the tsum is bouncing up and down and it appears so happy. Naturally, you just want to ensure it remains pleased so it isn't compelled to misbehave. Cater never thought he could be jealous of a plushie, yet here he is, gripping his phone in an iron-tight fist and smiling so forcibly while his tsum is so obviously flirting with you.

Or Epel's tsum essentially making Epel become immensely clumsy for the day. He's always chasing after his tsum, only to run into you every time and end up in very awkward positions. His tsum trips him and he falls right into you, or the tsum trips you and you fall on top of him. The tsum probably knocks into Epel's head so the two of you kiss by complete accident. It's a very troublesome tsum, but Epel isn't going to complain. As annoying as it is chasing the tsum around campus, it's allowed him to fall into your chest, to kiss you, to feel you up under the guise of making sure you're okay... :)

Or Sebek's tsum taking the opportunity to be held by you. It looks so happy in your arms. Sebek is distraught. How dare his tsum act so unbecoming and bothersome towards someone he admires! More importantly, how come he isn't the one being held? :( Sebek's tsum loves to follow you around just as much as it enjoys trailing after Malleus. The tsum will even want to follow you all the way to your bedroom, at which Sebek sharply draws the line. If he can't reach that place with you yet, then his tsum certainly won't! >:(

All of the tsums definitely get lots of kisses from you because they're too adorable. You'll fawn over them. Meanwhile, the students are suffering because they want to be kissed and hugged, too. T_T

[tossawary]

Looking up some things has turned into reading the last 100 or so chapters of the "Naruto" manga for fun, because why not. Some random assorted notes so far (as of finishing Chapter 661):

This end fight is so fucking long, there are so many characters, and the pacing is bordering on excruciating. There's some stuff happening here that's delicious, but there's a lot of messy back and forth of the narrative focus that I personally am not fully vibing with. I cannot imagine trying to follow this split story weekly. This is common enough to a lot of big shounen mangas.

I generally like the basic artstyle here (the use of white and black especially), but the quality of page composition, panel composition, and scene clarity generally is obviously suffering heavily from these chapters being pushed out too quickly. I can barely tell some characters apart and some panels are just messes of lines. This is also common enough among mangas, so eh, it's also whatever.

It's kind of funny to me how Hashirama and Tobirama and Minato suddenly become major characters for like a solid 30 chapters or so. Like, yeah, I can see why Founders Era fic is popular. The flashback chapters themselves are pretty short, but Madara is one of the main villains in this fight, and the undead Senju brothers are suddenly here to kick ass on a level apparently far beyond most other characters. The grudges and betrayal here are delicious. These are also the people who founded Konoha itself, the main location of the manga for hundreds of chapters now, honestly not that many generations ago. It also helps that the Founders feel like they have nicely complete tragic arcs and lives to work with, instead of the relatively open-ended narrative mess that the main Naruto characters live in.

Also, Hashirama can definitely act the idiot and I think some of his choices / opinions are stupid as hell, but he's obviously a very clever and observant and ruthless person. Tobirama went on to become Hokage after his brother and will not hesitate to forcefully give his opinions, but it's also clear in some scenes that Hashirama is still the one in charge between them. Tobirama seems to fairly naturally fall into a very useful support role to whoever he's fighting with, including Minato and Naruto.

I like both Minato and Tobirama because I have a weakness for characters who engage with their magic systems to make new things. Minato improved on the Flying Thunder God technique and Orochimaru improved on the Edo Tensai technique, but Tobirama invented BOTH of those things? PLUS Shadow Clones??? All of which are basically carrying a significant part of the battle right now? Like, damn, Hashirama has his Mokuton, and Tobirama was stubbornly like, "Not being left behind. Fuck you."

So, yeah, the "Hashirama versus Madara", "Tobirama versus Madara", "Minato (plus Naruto & Tobirama) versus Obito", and "Kakashi versus Obito" are probably my favorite parts of this. Not knocking on Naruto or Sasuke or the large background mob of characters here, but they just do not have the same personal, ugly, emotional history in this fight, so I don't really care as much.

Ino can forcibly link hundreds of unknown minds together so Shikamaru can broadcast battle plans??? Holy shit??? The vibe I'm getting is that she was using the link apparently created by Naruto's chakra to do this, but still. Both Ino and Sakura have the potential to be incredibly OP badass characters and they are generally just... Not Allowed to take the spotlight here.

Shikamaru had this big dramatic chapter about surviving to become Naruto's future advisor someday, and I had to repress the urge to holler, "Gaaaaay!" at the screen. I do love the inherent homoeroticism of a right-hand man. (Also, *waves a hand vaguely* Gaara's whole everything.)

To be honest, though, I'm not even sure what Sasuke has spent the past fifty chapters doing. He's there! He sure is there! I think he just got stabbed, so now he gets to be emotional motivation for Naruto again. As far as I understand it, not being sure what Sasuke is actually doing sums up basically everything he does in the manga. There are too many characters here.

On that note, the vibe I'm getting from Orochimaru is that he's also mostly just here to spectate. Like, yeah, I know. Characters like Orochimaru and Sakura and Tsunade are keeping everyone alive with their bare fucking hands right now, but also, give Orochimaru some opera glasses and an alcoholic beverage and it wouldn't feel that out of place.

I'll probably have more to add at some point, but these are the (not that serious) notes off the top of my head.

[r3dmooon]

Someone to Take Care of — Wally Darling x gn! reader

summery: Reader gets injured! Don't worry, Wally's there to help you feel better.

tw: Getting hit (by a ball)

a/n: First Welcome Home fic. I feel pretty good about this one! Didn't really knew how to end it tho so oops.

wc: 0.9k

Master List

Sitting on my porch, I crocheted a blanket I’ve been meaning to make for awhile now. It was a beautiful sunny day, bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds rolled overhead. How could I not sit outside? I’d look up from time to time, spotting a fluttering butterfly or bumbling bee. Taking a deep breath, the smell of freshly cut grass filled my lungs. I could hear the faint sounds of Julie laughing and Frank grumbling. A nice day indeed. 

“Well howdy, neighbor,” A familiar voice greeted me. I looked up in surprise, not having heard Wally walk up to me. I met his half lidded gaze with a small smile. He adorned his usual white button up and blue cardigan, and not to mention his iconic rainbow pants. 

“Hey, Wally,” I greeted back, resting my unfinished blanket in my lap. A warm breeze swept through and I felt myself relax at the feeling. “How are you doing?”

“Doing better now that I’m with you,” He replied smoothly, his lazy grin seeming to grow a bit. “How about you?”

“Doing great,” I replied, drawing my gaze over his shoulder, the immense eyecontact making me feel a bit uncomfortable. His head tilted a tiny bit, but he didn’t change his expression. 

“That’s good to hear,” He hummed, his monotonous voice somewhat comforting. “I see you’re working on something, mind if I join you?” I met his gaze once more, and noticed that he seemed to be carrying his art supplies. 

“Oh!” I exclaimed, feeling a bit dumb for not noticing sooner. “Of course! It’s nice to have some company.”

Wally hummed in agreement and sat on my other porch chair. He set up his easel and supplies and I continued on my blanket. The content feeling I had before only grew as now I was in the company of a friend. It was refreshing. It was like that for a while, a comfortable silence settled over us, only the humming of bugs and laughter of friends nearby breaking it. Though for some reason, the feeling of someone watching me made me tense a bit. I glanced over at Wally from the corner of my eye. He seemed to be in his own world, painting whatever it was on his canvas. I couldn’t help but feel curious. 

“(Y/n)!” I snapped my gaze up at Julie as she yelled. She had a worried look and waved her arms erratically. “Watch out!”

I didn’t realize what was wrong until it was too late. I cried out in pain as a ball hit the side of my head. In reflex, I held my head, squeezing my eyes shut. Ow, it hurt real bad, but I’ve been hurt worse. The sound of rushing feet surrounded me as I heard the worried voices of my friends.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” Julie cried, sniffling slightly.

“Are you alright?” The low voice of Barnaby asked.

“I told you to be careful,” Frank scolded, what I’m assuming was Julie and Barnaby. 

“Now now,” The calm voice of Wally spoke up. “Let’s not crowd them. Don’t worry everyone, I’ll make sure they’re okay.”

I opened my eyes, rubbing at the spot I was hit. My heart crumbled at Julie’s teary eyed expression. Barnaby still looked worried and I could see Frank seemed slightly worried as well.

“I’ll be fine,” I forcibly smiled, trying to ease their feelings. “Just need some ice and I’ll be right as rain.” 

Julie gave me a quick hug, and I hugged her back. They all waved as they walked off, ball laying forgotten at the bottom of my porch. I’ll have to return that at a later time. 

“C’mon neighbor,” Wally coaxed, hand out towards me. “Let’s get you some ice and a treat for being so brave.”

“I’m not a kid, Wally,” I replied with a small smile, accepting his hand and allowing him to pull me up from my seat. “...but a cookie does sound good right now…”

“Ha ha ha,” Wally laughed, his somewhat unnerving but oddly endearing laugh. “I’m sure Poppy would love to give you some as a get well soon gift.” 

Wally led me into my house, and I was hyper aware of the fact that he hasn’t let go of my hand yet. Having me sit on my couch, Wally leaned down and pressed his mouth to my forehead, his way of giving me a forehead kiss. I felt my stomach flutter as he slowly let go of my hand and made his way into my kitchen. I stared down at my hands in my lap, many feelings overwhelming me. I could still feel the imprint of where his mouth once laid. Do I like him…more than a friend? No, no I couldn’t. Wally’s just being a good friend and taking care of me after I got hurt. I’m just not used to being taken care of. That’s all. That’s what these weird feelings are. 

Wally quickly re-entered the living room, pressing the ice pack gently where I was hit. I still felt a bit shy, glancing up at him from time to time in the corner of my eye. Whenever our eyes met, I felt myself fluster and looked back down at my lap.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wally asked. 

I nodded the best I could with the ice pack pressed to my head, “I’m just not used to being taken care of.”

Wally’s gaze seemed to soften, a seemingly lovesick expression if I didn’t know any better, “It’s nice to know that people care. I care about you, neighbor.” 

I felt my chest tighten, the moment seeming more intimate. I wasn’t sure how to reply. I tried to bite down the smile threatening to overtake me but I didn’t do too well in that effort. 

“I care about you too,” I reflect. Wally only smiled, and I smiled back. I suppose getting hurt isn’t so bad if this is the outcome.

[givehimthemedicine]

i read the Lumax analysis and ngl i feel the same about Byler. why is Will practically doing all the work. Mike just ignores him, then Will speaks up, gets shut down. no apology to his face. then Mike has the gall to pull the "b-but you won’t abandon me, right 🥺?" card seconds before they move to Cali and Will eats it up.

Mike was scribbling his next letter to send to El, while Will was making a painting as a gift for him. when they reunite at the airport, Will is so giddy, and happy even when he spots Mike wearing the Minion suit. he is going in for a hug, fully expecting he’ll get one. despite the lack of phone calls he believes that Mike is gonna match his energy. he doesn’t. he is ignored. again. when Mike realizes he is losing him he swoops in to apologize. what do we get for rest of season? it’s just Will comforting, reassuring Mike and listening to his problems. he notices Mike being upset as they are burying the corpse and talks to him, he notices Mike moping as he reads El’s letter, etc. then the grand culmination - van scene.

i give Mike a pass for not noticing Will sobbing as hes muffling his cries with his hand and turned around. but what about before? when he was giving the van speech at times Will looked and sounded like he was 2 seconds away from bursting into tears. how did Mike not notice something was wrong when he was obviously paying attention to him. and if he did that’s even worse.

Jonathan being there isn’t an excuse. he could have said something, anything, subtly to check up on him or comfort him. he didn’t do that. "you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all. like she’s better for being different" ok so why are the Duffers so allergic to showing us that. when was the last time that happened. season 2? when Mike said it’s not his fault Will doesn’t like girls, that they are not kids anymore, him wanting to play DnD, which led to Will having a breakdown and destroying Castle Byers, his safe place and cry as he ripped up their photos and called himself stupid - was he feeling better for being different? or worse? did he feel uplifted by Mike shoving in his face how normal he is unlike Will? that he’ll never be like them? that they are moving on, being grown ups and Will is stuck? could some bully at school outright calling him a slur be as hurtful as the things his best friend, someone he trusted and loved said to him then? that he never received a proper apology for.

Mike gets free therapy sessions. Will gets a few crumbs of attention and affection when Mike gets forcibly separated from El.

Mike and Will aren't characters I pay particular attention to, so the townsfolk will please forgive my newborn take.

I absolutely see your point and agree Mike has had terrible PR with Will on many occasions. but while he's often an asshat when it comes to Will's feelings, I'll say at least Mike is regularly shown to be concerned for Will's welfare in the life-and-death-plot way, and is actively involved in making plans and taking actions that save him. (Mike's the one to rally the party to go out and search for Will. to insist he's alive somehow after they all saw his dead body. to build "hey let's make sure we don't also kill Will" into the MF-killing plans. etc)

that's where I think a comparison to lumax isn't so tight because I can't think of anything Max has ever done for Lucas's welfare on either a plot or feelings level. (the writing has never really given her an occasion to save or help Lucas the way he is for her.)

and for all his shit, we have also seen Mike be really good to Will on the feelings level (mostly thinking about his incredible loyalty in season 2 and the swings speech. his commitment to Will in the front half of the show is on par with that of Joyce and that's saying something). it sure would be nicer if that was more recent/consistent, but it has happened, which I can't honestly say for Max. the nicest thing Max has done for Lucas so far is allow him to be nice to her.

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 5)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

This is not a full on story but if you want more l'll be happy to add on upon request

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Isobel’s apartment after Drew’s party

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

After two decades on this planet never did Isobel think a family friend would be the one to make her feel so understood and seen. She’d been coasting through life with blind emotion, never truly processing her feelings because to Isobel they were inferior compared to others who could lay it all out on the line.

Then there was Drew, someone who for so long she viewed as an dense asshole who so naturally read into her heavy silence and didn’t run at what he found. He made her feelings valid, made sure she understood that her feelings were normal not a burden. Isobel never wanted to be an inconvenience and when that was always on the forefront of her mind her lightest grievances felt like meaningless complaints.

Not only was Isobel quiet because it was her default but because it was what made her comfortable, and because of that she made herself feel invisible. Drew without effort was making her feel so seen it only made her want to hide from the light, to push him away because full transparency would unveil everything she tried to hide.

Though his intuitiveness was unnerving, she couldn’t ignore how nice it felt, and completely allowing herself to revel in the feeling of trusting a person on a somewhat emotional level—to shine in the light—was something she hadn’t done since her last relationship.

Drew’s unwavering gaze has her pinned to the back of the couch, she couldn’t decipher if that look was waiting for her to rebuttal, or silently daring her to argue with his revelations he’d come to. They both knew he was right, the arrogant smirk he couldn’t help but let twitch onto his lips was proof enough of his confidence. “What would be an appropriate reason to end this then, Drew?”

Isobel asking him this question would normally unsettle him but the innocent look in her eyes, the taunt in her tone, the way her arms lifted to wrap around his neck told him she was about to start fucking with him.

In the past, Drew never had to consider what would constitute and warrant breaking things off with a girl because he’d never been in a situation that involved the need. Now, for him Isobel wasn’t just a girl, she meant something to him, especially when everything she gave him was more than just a touch or a kiss.

He’d like to think he would be man enough to tell her if there was someone else, but right now he didn’t think wanting another woman was a possibility for him. She had him on a leash, sure it was leash that Isobel wasn’t utilizing to her full capability, but nevertheless it was there, waiting for her to take hold. He didn’t know if that would mean anything to the girl, hell she once had a man in her life that claimed he loved her all the while entertaining other women.

“When I stop letting you know your worth, Izzy, when you don’t feel that from me there will be no objections on my end.” Drew promises, his forehead falling against her as her nails gently scratching across the back of his neck, “I would never want to drag you along.”

Drew always was bracing himself when it came to Isobel, never knowing what was going to come out of her mouth or where those hands or lips would find themselves. She was a force no matter how reserved she was, what she gave him was always like a hit of the most potent drug—she could never disappoint.

“Doesn’t it suck that you can’t completely ensure that doesn’t happen?” she replied with a hum, her words were cynical but she didn’t pull away, if anything she leaned further into him.

“Isobel-“

“No, Drew,” she interrupted him before he could continue to build some unrealistic expectations and promises, Isobel had forcibly learned not to rely on hope after being severely cheated on. She learned not to expect a man to want only her because disappointment would only fill her in the end. “I don’t need grand declarations from you about the future, let’s just see how this plays out, yeah?”

She could tell he didn’t like what she’d just implied, that she’d basically said she didn’t trust him, and she only expected the worst out of them together. Her words were harsh, but she had no reason to completely trust Drew, and doing it for her own sake? That would only result in disaster.

“I can do that, but we’re still talking eventually.” He squeezed her left hip in his large hands, probably to show her he was serious, and Isobel was all for it as long as it wasn’t just about her.

She was the one who obviously had all the insecurities, but this thing between the two wasn’t just about her. Still, it felt like her inner turmoil would overbear the conversation, or prove to be rudimentary to what actually mattered. But she would try because he insisted, something she wasn’t used to.

“You sure are making a lot of demands tonight.” Isobel murmured, licking her lips, his blue eyes watching the movement. Never did she think she could thoroughly enjoy a man telling her what to do, but when Drew did it drove her wild. Part of her wanted her to obey while the other half wanted to make him just as insane.

It made Drew feel good to be able to look out for her—he wanted her to feel secure more than anything—that need came from depth him like it was his destiny. And when she submitted to that, to him taking care of her, it filled him with inexplicable emotions that drew him closer to her.

And when she praised him for having her best interest, teasing him about getting firm with her just as she was now, it made the man want to drop to his knees. He recognized that playful look on her face, the suggestive glint in her eyes was his weakness, her eyes in general would be his end. Years and years of lackluster family dinners and he’d never noticed how enticing one look from Isobel could be, it was was all consuming.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his blindness to all that was Isobel was because his body knew once he really did see her his world would shift.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line, Izzy Bear.” Drew half joked.

Isobel’s eyes drunk in the slight upward tug on his lips, the darkness surrounding them not taking away from the edge, and when she drug them upwards to meet his, that was when Drew knew he needed to pull away. “Where are you going?” She frowned as he took a step back putting some distance between the two, their fingers brushing each other before they dropped to their sides. Drew immediately slid his into his pockets, needing a barrier to keep him from pulling her back in to wipe that look off her face.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you, Is.” He breathed as he leaned on the wall behind him, getting even further away from the girl.

“What do you mean?” Isobel questioned.

The girl was fully aware of what this was between them, and though she wasn’t usually the causal type, Isobel couldn’t help but want to be attached to him at any possible moment. But that strained look on his face had her sighing in retreat. “You had some drinks tonight, Is, and we both know one drop of alcohol gets you going.”

Drew couldn’t help but chuckle as the girl rolled her eyes at his little dig, he’d partied with her plenty of enough to know a cup of beer could put her past tipsy, and he’d been so busy drooling over her the whole night he hadn’t touched any drinks. She’d caught him off guard earlier in his bedroom, but he was serious about not disrespecting her and letting things get out of control on an unleveled playing field would be the exact opposite of that.

“You’re such a prince, Drew.” Isobel sighed sarcastically, throwing him an annoyed squint before turning and walking away towards her room, “I’m going to go get ready for bed.”

Drew just stood there in the silent darkness not knowing what to do with himself when she disappeared down the hall. When the boy heard the shower begin to run he sighed and sat on the couch, deciding he would wait for her to come back out before he left. Drew had never spent the night in the same building as Isobel unless it was family related, and he didn’t want to cross any boundaries that she wasn’t ready to take on.

They had less than a day left before they would be embarking on their drive back home for the holidays, and he still had some things that needed to be packed. He smiled to himself knowing Isobel was probably fully prepared to get in his car and hit the road at this very moment.

He fell into such deep thought he hadn’t noticed Isobel’s return, and when he looked up and saw her walking towards him he wished he walked out of that door when he still possessed any ounce of resolve. She was bare faced, skin dewy from whatever moisture she’d lathered on, and her body was covered in an oversized cotton tee that he prayed was hiding shorts beneath. She looked refreshed and comfortable and did nothing short of take his breath away.

“You could’ve come back and waited in my room.” Isobel smiled, shoving his shoulder and giggling when he actually fell into the back cushions of the sofa. She was doing her best not to fidget under his gaze, his eyes roaming over every inch of her.

Drew stiffly sat back up, running a hand through his short hair, telling Isobel something was obviously frustrating him, “I gotta go home and do some packing for tomorrow, Izzy.”

“Drew, no.” She dragged out, whining in protest and completely melting any tension present in his body. Isobel verbalizing her want for him was like a calming melody he couldn’t help but take in, “I want you stay with me tonight, I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.”

She held out her left pinky finger, the only appropriate way to fully back up her words. He stared at her hand for a few seconds, contemplating her offer before finally curling his around her smaller one. Isobel couldn’t help but smile, immediately grabbing his hands and attempting to tug him off the couch.

“Come on we can put on a movie.” Isobel suggested as he followed down the hallway where her bedroom was.

She finally dropped his hand when they got to her bed, rounding the mattress to get to the other side and crawling under the covers. Drew’s mouth dried out at the sight, she looked adorable and he just wanted to grab her and hold her all night, “You’re cute as hell, Izzy.”

Isobel brought the comforter up past her nose, hiding the bottom half of her face as she watched him turn away, unbuttoning and pulling off his pants leaving him in black boxers and a shirt. The muscles in his back contracted and stretched as he leaned downed to pick them up before walking over to her desk and placing them on her chair.

He silently commanded her attention, getting on her bed from the foot of it and reaching to the light above them and turning it off unknowingly causing the hem of his shirt to reveal the skin leading into his boxers, “Drew, can you take the shirt off please?”

He cocked his head to the side, shaking it in disbelief at the girl hiding behind the covers, and if he didn’t how much of a clean freak she was he’d think Isobel was just trying to get him naked.

“Anything for the princess.” This had been a thing between their families for as long as he could remember, Isobel asking for something and everyone making sure the princess was satisfied.

Sure, she didn’t get everything she wanted, her parents didn’t want to raise a monster. But when it came to Drew, he’d always found it hard to say no to her, he simply was adverse to seeing that look of disappointment on her face even as a young boy.

Isobel released a breathe when he finally got under the comforter after discarding the shirt, she had the most beautiful chest staring back at her and couldn’t touch. She was hoping sleep found her quickly tonight or promises would be severely broken.

“Have you never spent the night in a girl’s bed?” Isobel asked.

Drew looked down at her trying to decide if she was being serious, but seeing her swallowed up by all her blankets and pillows was about the most unserious thing he’d ever seen, “Why do you ask that?”

“Cause you are about as stiff as a board right now.” She smiles, Isobel had never seen the guy so tense, and he was the most laidback person she’s ever met. Who knew getting him in her bed would be so awkward? Especially since the two had done far worse than share a bed for a night.

Drew knew he was being rigid, hell his body was so close to the opposite end of the mattress he could tumble to the ground at the gust of a wind—regardless of her obvious joking one would actually think he’d never been with a girl in his life. Clearly that was far from the truth, and it was just this girl in particular that had his every sense being triggered just by lying there beside him. He was way too aware of Isobel, the breathes she released causing her chest to rise in fall in an even pattern, the smell of that vanilla scent that was always gently gracing his nostrils and clouding his mind, and the fact that the body of the girl he could not get out of his head was just an arm’s reach away in all her glory. The mere thought of her soft skin being under the same comforter had every hair on him standing alert because as much as he wanted to pull her against his body he knew he probably shouldn’t touch her. Not when he couldn’t seem to control himself when it came to her, and not when Isobel always seemed to be on a mission to tease him out of his mind. She didn’t make him uncomfortable in any way, it was just the thought of ever making her feel that way that had him hesitant to relax.

“I always get nervous when I’m near a pretty girl.” He stated, partially explaining why he was being so taut before getting more comfortable in the bed, and when he saw the smile that spread on her soft lips he swore his body melted into it.

Isobel was used to Drew complimenting her looks, he even did it when they were younger, but that intense look of longing in his eyes was new. It lit her aflame, made her feel like no man had ever viewed her the way he did, like he had never looked at another girl in that way and it only solely belong to her.

“There’s no need to be nervous, I told you I would keep my hands to myself, Drew.” playfulness was clear in Isobel’s eyes but she remained on her side of the bed.

So much had changed since that day on the couch, including how much the two wanted each other. And with that it seemed as if Isobel who was hesitant with their relationship lacked the least amount of control physically. Sure, she could keep her emotions on lock as long as she kept them barreled in her mind, but her want for Drew? That was coursing through her veins and influencing every movement she made around him.

He made the girl so shy when they were around others that her cheeks felt like they were going to burn off just hours before at his party, but when it was just them alone she knew he wouldn’t judge her for wanting him.

“And I believe you, Izzy.” He chuckled making the girl roll her eyes as he folded his lean arms behind his head. He was so far, but still suffocated the space with his presence and the fact that he had her undeniable attention annoyed her.

“You know I’m as clear headed as ever after that shower, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I want you to be the only other guy to fuck me.” Isobel sighed, fingers tapping the fabric of the comforter between their adjacent bodies. That simple action was teasing for Drew, with weight of her words lingering between them, the sound of her her nails scratching along the material made it feel as if his blood was vibrating in his veins like it was getting ready to travel down his body, “You’re going to regret being all gentlemen like real soon, Drew.”

There wasn’t a trace of a threatening tone in her voice, and as much as he wished to hear it there wasn’t any trace of alcohol impairing her speech—it was just the same old Isobel’s.

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his eyebrows at her nonchalant voice, speaking as if she wasn’t lying down beside him and telling him she was ready to have him inside of her. He wasn’t going to go back on his word, but still her entertaining the thought of them fucking had goosebumps scattering his skin. He wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep with such things racing through his mind because when he shut his eyes he knew exactly what would brighten and form in that darkness behind his eyelids.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow when there isn’t a trace of alcohol in my system, okay?” She mocked, but it didn’t piss him off, it only caused that heat growing inside him to rise a tenfold.

And all he could do was lie back as she patted his bare chest with her dainty hand before she turned her back to him and eventually drifted to sleep. When he heard her tiny snores fill the room he forced himself into an a sleep laced with all that was Isobel.

•

Isobel had never felt so warm waking up, sure she’d woken up on occasion drenched in sweat from the heater or a bad dream, but this warmth was different. It was so many things at once, a woody, sage smell mixed with her favorite vanilla scent filled her nostrils, and then there was just the feeling of being held that caused that warmth to spread throughout her entire being pulling her to hold on tighter to what was surrounding her. It was just familiar. Making her want stay in that state of rest forever as her eyes remained sealed shut.

The girl was so aware while also being weighed down by the high of such a relaxing sleep. Her awareness kept her from drifting off again as that warmth continued to swirl throughout her partially conscious body. A content hum vibrated in her throat at the heavy feeling settling beneath her, and she locked her legs tightly around the warmth. And a much throatier sound threatened to escape her at the feeling of pressure pushing against her right between her legs.

“That feels nice.��� She found herself whispering against the soft feeling of skin on her lips, the thought and sound of her small voice making her eyes snap open.

Her face was buried in Drew’s neck his scent gracing her nostrils as it was only thing in her airway. She made little movement to look up and see he was still asleep, quiet snores leaving him with his hand locked firmly around her waist. The two were plastered against each other despite being on opposite ends of the bed before falling asleep. Isobel sighed at the feeling of her breasts being pushed against his hard chest, that sound alone seemed to make imaginary floodgates burst open in more ways than one.

As soon as the sound escaped her, Drew mirrored it with a grating moan followed by his hips flexing up in between her legs he was nestled between. His hips had snapped into her so roughly she slid up the bed and the headboard softly knocked into the wall. That warmth returned shooting through her and pushing an unmistakable moan out of her mouth that cracked open against his neck at the feeling of his hardened dick dragging against her heat before he relaxed back on the bed still fast asleep.

Drew was obviously enjoying himself, the slight smile on his soft, pink lips completely telling of that. Isobel was far from uncomfortable under his movement and she planned to cuddle further into the man, that was until he began to slowly roll his hips back and forth against her pussy as if he were fucking her in the moment. The sensuous sight of his hips rolling into her so carefully and the feeling of his erection rubbing against her made it feel as if sweat misted out of her pores and coated her entire body with it.

Without a second thought she roughly broke out of his grasp, pushing him onto his back as she lowered herself down to his legs well away from his crotch. Isobel was smacking Drew’s chest when his eyes cracked open, though it was the feeling of his back falling against the mattress that interrupted his dreaming. He couldn’t recall what he was exactly dreaming of but he knew it felt good.

He looked up at Isobel hovering over him, her hair a black curtain around her pretty face as little pants drifted from her mouth. Her dark brown eyes darted all around his face as if she was looking to see if he was really there before breaking out into a fit of laughter on top of him causing his entire body to shake with her.

“What are you doing, Isobel?” He asked with confusion set deep into his features, never once had he woken up to a giggling girl sitting in his lap.

The girl laughed a little while longer before she was able to contain herself, staring at him until her eyes began to trail down his body, his following her gaze where they stopped on the tent in his boxers. For about a minute the two just sat in silence, eyes darting between his morning wood and back to each other’s eyes as Isobel sat there with an innocent smile on her face.

“Drew, you were humping me in your sleep.” Isobel told him in between more laughter and his face immediately heated in embarrassment.

“No.” He countered, dragging out the word like if he said it longer what she’d just told him wouldn’t actually be true, but the hard on in his pants wasn’t helping to plead his case.

“Yes, you definitely were,” Isobel was thoroughly enjoying tormenting him. She was genuinely having fun with him in the moment, not worried about what was going on outside of their little bubble they were in, “And don’t worry your little brain, you did not make me uncomfortable okay?”

Just as Drew could so easily read her, she was subconsciously picking up on his emotions little by little. She couldn’t decipher if it came so naturally because of how fast they’d been moving intimately or because she’d known Drew since he was in middle school. And right now worry was present in his blue eyes as they continued to scan her for any sign of discomfort.

Her smile made him relax as much as his racing thoughts would allow him to, he knew sleeping in a bed with her was a bad idea as soon as he slipped under the sheets. He knew he had enough restraint to not touch her when she’d been drinking last night, but the fact that he couldn’t seem to stay away from her when they were asleep unsettled him a little, “You promise I really didn’t make you uncomfortable, Isobel?”

“Pinky promise.” She insisted, offering her pinky up to him for the second time in the last twelve hours, and once again Drew entertained it and wrapped his finger around her’s.

As they looked into each others eyes it made the small gesture feel like they were promising so much more, it was like an unspoken bond was growing between them, and no terms needed to be discussed because their locked gazes expressed everything that wasn’t being said.

Drew didn’t immediately let Isobel’s finger go, he kept it latched onto his as he pulled her hand towards him before sealing the promise with a soft kiss to the back of her hand, still staring into her eyes. Her body fell into his at the feeling of his lips on her skin, she could feel him pressing against her stomach but ignored it as she spoke, “Were you dreaming about me, Drew?”

“Don’t ask me shit you already know the answer to.” His tone had some warning in it but his eyes were distracted.

Isobel only hummed in response, reveling inside at how worked up he was getting. “Fuck.” He muttered when the girl began to slide herself up his body, her breast grazing his torso until they were pressed against his chest. His big hands found their way onto her hips, holding her there like he thought she would disappear from his lap.

A squeak left her mouth from Drew flipping their bodies around, placing her onto her back and covering her lips with his own in a hungry kiss. He breathed harshly through his nose, air vacant in his lungs from just simply kissing Isobel, their hearts pounding against each other’s. When his tongue broke the seal of her lips he wasn’t shocked at how good she still tasted despite just being asleep because after all this was Isobel. It made him mold himself further into her body. He wanted to get as close as possible to find a single a flaw and even then he knew he would still cherish her because it would make her all the more real.

He was addicted to the way that they kissed each other. He’d never kissed a girl with so much greediness and passion, it was a perfect concoction of both and the taste made him ravenous for her. Isobel’s head pushed further into the pillow behind her, relaxing her mouth as she gave him more control over the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Reluctantly removing his lips from her, he dove back in for a few more kisses like he couldn’t get enough, deeply moaning into the last one as his nose nestled tightly into the side of hers before bringing his attention to her neck where he left the softest pecks. His wet lips puckered against her sensitive skin, traveling down to the expanse of her collar bones and chest that he stretched neckline of her shirt to reach. All Isobel could do was lie there and whimper in his ear as he took what he could access with his greedy lips. The feeling of his tongue flicking her own and his large hands rubbing up and down her thighs had her close to delirium.

“We have to stop, Iz, I need to go pack.” Drew begrudgingly mumbled into her neck not heeding his own words as his mouth remained attached to her skin. Isobel groaned in resistance as she tightened her arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, knocking the breathe out of him when she grazed his dick. But as good as she felt pressed against his throbbing member, it was the perfect reality check because if he didn’t stop now he didn’t know where things would lead, “Isobel, come on we have a long drive ahead of us.”

When Drew used her full name she knew he was being serious, and as sadistic as it may be she usually liked to mess with him to see what reaction she would get out of him. If he would snap on her because she liked to see him worked up, not knowing if he would completely ravage her or unleash some type of foreign anger. Drew had always been so gentle with her, always doing what she asked, and she was curious to see a side of him he’d always kept away from her.

But now she knew it was in their best interest if she actually listened or it would mess up more than just their impending car ride together, “Fine.” She huffed dramatically. Isobel had been in deep thought about how they were going to be able to face their family with everything going on between them, and there was only one plausible thing to do that she planned to eventually tell Drew before they got home.

She immediately pulled the comforter back over her body when he got off her and walked over to grab his pants. The evident bulge in his fitted, black boxers claimed her full attention, her mouth practically salivating when he stuck his veiny hand down his pants to readjust himself to fit his zipper over it.

And when he looked over at her, catching her blatant stare and his eyes mirrored that same look of desire she knew they both weren’t going to survive this trip back home.

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART 6

[redwoodcolony]

ive never heard of a clerc before, first thing that comes to mind is a store clerk lmao

Also you're lucky people for some reason arent getting mad at the leader and deputy age gap whenever I play clangen and get an age gap like that I'm yelled at by others to forcibly break them up or change their age in the code ☹️ wish I had your freedom lmaoooo

English isn't my first language so I thought clerc and cleric were basically the same thing because of DnD 😔

Also warning, big block of text incoming, I hope my English is good enough so you can understand everything !!

TW for talking about age gaps

I am very sorry you had such experiences. :( I am actually very anxious whenever I post as I fear I might get yelled at. Actually, posting this very post makes me anxious because I know talking about this subject can be very difficult. I actually rewrote his post like three times already😭

For now thankfully, everyone commenting on this blog has been very nice and kind :)

If it helps here is how I treat age gaps, maybe it can help you solve some of your issues with your public ?

I try my best to have the age gaps as small as possible, I only allow larger age gaps if the cats both meet as full grown adults (which is the case for Silversight and Spectralstar ! I actually have a little backstory post for the founders in preparation !)

I usually let the game do its own thing when it comes to couples, I mainly use my mediators to strenghten family bonds (mainly with adopted kits, because the game doesn't automatically strenghten these relationships)

If the cats are both colony-born, I will break the couple up if the age gap is equal or superior to 6 moons and the younger party is less than 30 moons old. Otherwise it makes me feel uncomfortable

I can make an exception for colony-born cats, as an example if the two cats only start being attracted to each other when the oldest is 90 moons old, and the youngest is 80 moons old ? It feels less weird to me, like they had time to experiment around with their feelings and everything before settling together you know ?

For a colony-born cat and an outsider, I can allow larger age gaps as long as the outsider joined when the colony-cat was already a full grown adult. I usually allow the game to make them an official couple when the younger party is at least 30 moons old. This means that Valleyfall x Oddspots is forbidden !!! It's just a one-sided crush on Oddspots side !

Generally I will ignore a lot of the romantic feelings the cats have for each others in-game if it makes me uncomfortable lol. You don't have to make everything that happens in-game canon in your comic if it makes you feel queasy !

These are just personal rules I give myself, otherwise I feel uncomfortable when playing and drawing my cats !

(The following part is just me rambling about canon Warrior Cats issues and how it influences Clangen and therefore most playthroughs of the game)

I think the age gap issue is due to the general canon Warrior Cats Clan setting, because if you do follow the classic Warrior Code™, you aren't allowed to take in domestic cats and loners; which means you can't add new blood, but it also means that all your cats know each other since birth. :((

In the canon books, it leads to weird ahh relationships like Thornclaw and Blossomfall, Onestar and Whitetail, Ashfur x Squirrelflight or even Brambleclaw x Squirrelflight (we often forget that both Ash and Bramble were warriors when Squirrel was born lol)

The one way the canon books found to remedy to this issue was to add a lot of useless background characters, so that they could reproduce more and regularly, giving a steady flow of new kittens of similar ages to ship with the main characters. This isn't really a good solution in the long run, seeing how incredibly big ThunderClan has become, but it's also not solving the big "everyone is related to each other" issue. :(((

That's why I decided to create the Colony instead of a Clan, so that I can change the rules, so I can integrate outsiders and domestic cats with no issue, introducing both new blood and characters who don't know everyone since they were born :)

I hope this helps you a bit ! :)

[thelunarfairy]

Hihi! Starting off saying I really like your theories. Good job!!

I wanted to ask about the human yorishiros. So far there are two, belonging to n.6 and n.7, who are both shown to be somewhat "God like" (Hakubo is a shinigami, Hanako seems to have the wall god inside him) so I was wondering if there were some requirements to have a human yorishiro, like being powerful, and if it affected the school mystery? And another question, which is mostly your own thoughts rather than an analysis since we don't have enough info, how are human yorishiros made? Do they just wake up knowing what they are and what purpose they serve? Sumire died long before school mysteries were a thing, but she knows about them. How? I've also seen theories about Kou becoming a yorishiro and I'm wondering how that could happen. And last, I really would love to see Tsukasa and Sumire interact. It's too late for that since Sumire is dead, but they're the only two human yorishiros so far and they have some parallels/similarities, i wonder if they've would've gotten along. I think Tsukasa would've liked Sumire, not sure about her, tho. She's hard to read. Sorry for the wall text! Thank you and have a nice day!! ^^

Thank you, sweetie!!!! 🧡🧡🧡

Yorishiros, the most mysterious in history, if I may say so. No one has ever explained how they originate, what the requirements are, what the rules are about what can or cannot become a yorishiro.

Do they need to be alive? And if they are alive, can they become a yorishiro?

We know that when the seal is removed, the yorishiro is destroyed. Objects and humans disappear. They can be destroyed by people like Nene (who we don't know exactly what she is) and by the owner of the yorishiro.

Nene is a kannagi, as already mentioned, but she is apparently special, since the other Kannagis apparently cannot remove yorishiros, there is something special about her here.

In general, that's all we know, besides of course, the purpose of the existence of yorishiros, I don't need to repeat that because you already know.

It is difficult to develop anything conclusive about them because of this.

What we can ponder for now is how it is produced. Mitsuba took the place of number 3, but his yorishiro remained there while Mitsuba did not create a yorishiro for himself.

Which means that no one told him how to do it or that he needed one (so, Sumire and Tsukasa probably discovered that they are yorishiros by themselves).

Mitsuba is being forced to create a yorishiro through violence, a survival instinct, and yet, Natsuhiko did not explain how to make one, he just wants him to create one.

We do not know how the process will occur, how the yorishiro is chosen and what the requirements are for it, it is difficult to even create hypotheses.

But, since Mitsuba will apparently have to choose quickly and forcibly (for his own survival), I wonder if it is necessary to have the person he chooses as his yorishiro be close to him or not.

Besides, is it the owner who decides the yorishiro or the God who is demanding it?

That's because the yorishiros are used to control their owners. They are forced to take care of the passages, and the yorishiros are there so that they fulfill this duty.

If they are there by force, then it is probably not them who choose (hypothesis), but the God chooses based on the feelings they have for the objects, people.

If Hakubo had to choose a yorishiro, would he choose Sumire? If he did, then why didn't he know she was in his boundary?

So, I think Hanako discovered at some point that becoming one of the seven mysteries would allow him to have a yorishiro and it would be something more important to him.

Or, since he's the leader, he was the first one to get a yorishiro.

Which makes me wonder, if your yorishiro is going to be something you love, you wouldn't want it to be, because your yorishiro is doomed to destruction.

So imagine, if you love something/someone very much, and it's going to become a yorishiro, doomed to have its seal removed or be destroyed in the future, would you want it?

And of course, when an enemy finds out what your yorishiro is, they'll want to destroy it (if they can).

Yorishiros are literally weak points.

So, I wonder if it's something you can choose or not.

We saw Natuhiko say that Mitsuba should have chosen it already, so that might be the case, but how would you explain Hakubo's reaction? Would he choose Sumire as yorishiro and then forget about it??

Tsukasa and Sumire interact in the extras, as far as I know.

[sin-sidejob]

Hello,how are you doing?

May I request some pillow Princess reagan x reader smut?

National Girlfriend Day

Pairing: Reagan Ridley x GN / AFAB Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI - smut, doggystyle fucking, reader wears a strap, mentions of assplay, spitting, fingering, cumplay, reader calls Reagan "Good Girl, Pretty, Princess, Baby" and literally talks to her pussy. Gender unspecified for reader with no body description beyond wearing a strap-on.

Contents: smut, aftercare, use of sex toys/strap-on, Pillow Princess Reagan + my requests were closed when this was submitted but today's National Girlfriend Day, and who better to celebrate it than baby girl Reagan Ridley? length: 3k dividers by: @/saradika-graphics & @/cafekitsune

She's got no clue about today.

It was easy to plan around Reagan’s schedule and know she’d have no idea about what day it was or what you had even planned by the time her worn sneakers treaded over the unwelcome mat and into your shared home. 

And just like you expected, she’s too busy marveling over how clean everything is and how you actually managed to get the stains out of her diploma that she doesn't catch you lingering in the kitchen doorway and how your gaze is heady enough to know any meal tonight won’t be comprised of food. 

You’d already heard of her bad day at work, dealing with the tedious items on her itinerary as always and managed to order her dinner delivery to work so she wouldn’t starve and overwork herself until she came home later. It allowed you more time to make sure you could take care of her as she deserved, and it makes it all worth it the second her eyes land on you and she give you that crooked smile you’ve fallen in love with. 

“You cleaned all this?” 

Her arms coil around your waist as she looks over your face, the tiredness still there around her eyes but it eases as you brush a few stray hairs off her forehead and back to the side of her bangs, blending into her ponytail. She’s beautiful, stained labcoat and all, and you’re thrumming with excitement already to show your adoration through forcibly erasing her bad day with a good ending. 

“Mhm, wanted to give you something nice to come home to. Kept me busy from missin’ you too much,” you murmur, leaning to kiss at her jaw and cheek, lowering to her neck as you feel her breath hitch and the nervous laugh let out as she splays a palm over your back. 

“My you’re eager.” 

She marvels as you pull back and grin, eyes already half-lidded as you smooth your hands over her waist and beneath the hem to glide over the smooth skin of her stomach. “Just wanna’ show you how much I love ya’, been needin’ you all damn day princess.” 

Shuddering, she knows she’s in for it with that term of endearment passing your lips, the dynamic already set now as she processes that she’s about to be fucked out real quick and real soon. You take her hand in yours as you smooth the other up her spine and she knocks her nose into yours before kissing you messily. 

“Nngh, take me to bed already,” Reagan murmurs, having pulled back enough to catch your kiss-bitten lips and the utter lust in your eyes. You oblige, leading her upstairs to the bedroom before you work on undressing her, letting her undo her shoes as you shred yourself of your top and pants, clad in a pair of undershorts and a harness she recognizes immediately. 

Swallowing, she eyes you up and down before you crowd her against the bed and mouth at her neck while you help her shimmy out of her pants, pulling off her socks with reverence as you kiss her ankle while she quickly strips off her shirt and bra, panting already. 

You tilt your head in the direction towards the further end of the bed, at the headboard where the pillows lie, and Reagan immediately backs herself against them as you lay on your belly between her parted thighs and make yourself comfortable as you kiss between the ticklish skin of her legs. 

She jerks with a particular nip at the inner thigh and you catch her leg in your grip, easing it over your shoulder as you sidle up and kiss at her panties, the center already soaked through visibly with her wetness and you whistle as you pull them to the side, exposing her glistening cunt and how she clenches around nothing the second you blow a little air over her hooded clit, relishing in watching her squirm. 

“Don’t be a tease. Please go ‘head and move.” 

Tutting, you send her a look while you lift her other thigh over your shoulder, hands dragging her waist closer to your face as you inhale her cunt, grossly sniffing at her clit in a manner that has Reagan’s hands covering her face before you kiss tenderly at her labia, tracing your tongue down to her weeping slit and delving in, wriggling the muscle of your tongue against her walls as she begins to whine her hips against your face. Her hand clutches at your scalp as you let her use your mouth to get off, humming as you curl your tongue upwards and inhale through your nose, surrounded by the musk of her and sweat and the bergamot of her perfume. 

You’d happily choke on it, and on her, but its a day about pleasing her so your death can wait. 

Breaching up, slick strands cling to your chin as you press your cheek to her thigh, your hand quelling her brief protests as you ease your two middle digits into the molten heat of her cunt and curl upwards, hitting that g-spot with precision that sends her arching, clutching at your head still and reaching back to white-knuckle the headrest. 

“Feelin’ good princess? Want more?” 

She’s nodding, eyes clamped shut as she wriggles her hips forward in stuttered bucking motions to fuck herself against your hand, wanting and needing more to get that orgasm curling in her abdomen to release. “Need your mouth, want your teeth please.” 

Obliging, you nose at her clit and lick beneath the hood to openly suckle at the bundle of nerves, laughing against her as she lifts her hips off the bed against your mouth once you begin curling your fingers and sucking softly between grazes of your teeth to the sensitive skin around her clit. 

Reagan’s desperate now, the sweat creating a sheen on her skin, and she catches your eyes when she looks down only to have hers roll back once you scissor your fingers and lap at her clit with a sloppy tongue, sending her creaming. 

Your mouth lowers to where your fingers retract, lapping up all the wetness she leaks and cleaning her up idly until shes patting at your shoulders, whining from overstimulation and dragging you back up into her arms so she can kiss you, moaning at the taste of herself on your tongue. 

Her hands clutch at your head and neck, wetly making out until she can’t breathe and you take the opportunity to rise, leaving her only for a moment to grab the toy she and you both have been waiting for, slipping the dildo through the harness before crawling back onto bed as Reagan makes you pause. 

“Can we try what you showed me last week?” 

Thinking back, you nearly moan at the thought and nod, already guiding Reagan onto her belly with her ass arched high as you settle behind her, fingers slicking back between her drenched folds to fuck her cunt, making her whine as she lowers her face to the bed below. 

“That’s it baby, keep that arch f’me. Gonna’ make you feel real good.”

You make good on that shortly, getting her close to cumming again as you stretch her out enough to take your strap well if not with ease. You might like to see her cry, but you don’t want to see her in pain. By the time you pull your fingers out from her tight pussy, she's whining and already wiggling her ass back for something to replace the stimulation, missing the feeling. 

Reagan’s nearly dumb and drooling already, uncaring of how she looks now by the time you press down at the bottom of her spine, forcing her back into a sinful arch as her cheek smudges against the silky pillows to watch as you brace her thighs outside yours and fondle her ass cheeks. 

You let out an audible tch in amusement at reading her tattoo again, the scrawl of the text reading Mommy Likey Drinky making you audibly chuckle, thinking about how she really does like to drink from you when she's especially frustrated and in need of a good meal. She eats pussy like a menace, you’re a bit kinder but you’ll give the credit where it's due. 

Leaning forward, you crowd her against the bed and press her further into the sheets, your strap wedging between her thighs as you feel her rock her ass back, lifting her head to look back at you. “Gonna’ be a good girl f’me? Let me fuck you stupid and drive all those thoughts out as you lay back and let me do the work?”

Reagan is nodding before you even finish but finds herself groaning as she rocks her hips back and finds friction at the hood of her clit, just enough to send her trembling and begging with need as your hands smooth over her ribs and over the globe of her ass. 

“Please, need it bad — I’ll be so good, gonna’ be so good for youohhh fuuck.” 

You’ve gripped the base in hand and slid the silicone between her lips, watching the pooling sheen of her slick soak the strap to the point that when you pull back, webs of dewy precum cling between her pussy and your strap. 

Christ you should’ve celebrated this sooner. 

Reagan’s hands fist into the sheets and pillows as she firthers the arch in her back, feeling it burn almost in those divots near her backside until you plant your hands over her lower waist, thumbs pressing deliciously into the knots and nerves of her lower spine as she whines. 

“So worked up baby and ‘m not even in’ya yet,” you’re half mocking and half marveling at how her thighs stand taut as you pry her asscheeks apart, hearing her hiss as the cold air hits her puckered hole. Just to be a bit mean, you gather spit in your mouth, spitting it with an audible hawk-tuah! As you aim it on her asshole, grinning as she writhes against you while it drips down, soaking the back of her while you bring your strap back into your hand. 

“Quit fussin’, I’m just hitting it from the back princess, we’re not trying that today. 

“Fuckin’ better,” she growls before sending back a half-hearted glower at you over her shoulder that has you cooing and pressing your front to her back, feeling the sheen of sweat over her skin already as you nose at her neck, pressing a few adoring kisses there as you linger. 

“S’okay baby, we can save that for our anniversary.”

Before she can mouth off another smart comment, you’re parting her labia back with a hand sprawling across her cunny and back half of her asscheek while the other wraps around the silicone base, maneuvering the cockhead to smear wetly against her clit. 

You chuckle as you circle the attention there, watching as her back muscles tremor before you pat her tramp stamp affectionately as you hold onto her ass to keep her planted as you ease the mushroom-tip of the pretty pink dildo into her cunt, letting out lines of sugary-sweet praise as you ease in inch by inch. 

“Hah-fuck, r-right there.”

You grind your hips in a sideways infinity, shifting left and right to grind against her g-spot slow and steady to send her warbling your name into the pillow now tugged to her face, hiding majority of her expression besides the blissed out curl of her lip and the furrow of her dark brows. 

Reaching back, you snag your phone from the back pocket of your jeans and snap a picture of her as she is now, already blissed out and arching as if trying to get closer to a god while stretched-halfway around your cock. You toss it aside the second she stutters her hips backwards and reaches a hand back, immediately receiving your hand in hers as she clutches it, squeezing the palm while she writhes and feels her bared tits brush and drag against the sheets to a point that the taut points of her nipples only add to the pleasure coursing, thrumming through her veins like a drug. 

She barely has to do a thing but let you hold onto her as she holds your hand, your grip strong at her hip bone while you ease the strap in further, noting the heady sigh of relief when you knock at her cervix Reagan lets out as she squeezes your hand. You slow, smoothing your hand over her back, tracing the lettering on her tattoo as you wait for her to let you know when to move. 

For now, you rub over her sweat-damp skin and check in with her, getting a thumbs up and a verbal green light after a minute passes, allowing you to pull back your hips and ease the strap out, hearing her cunt squelch as if missing you already, and take you back in as you shift forward. 

You snake your arm around her belly as you crowd her a bit, hand now at her lower pelvis and going past the curls of her bush to her clit and thumbing it slowly, matching the pulses of her nerves as you gradually increase the pace in your thrusts, her thighs now propped up over your own that keep her steady. 

“How’s this feelin’? Good?” 

She can barely tilt her head to meet your gaze but manages to catch your eye as she moans low once you match the pace of your hand, pressing upward against the bulge of your strap now plunging her guts, her lips parted wetly. “M’fuckin’ great — k-keep going.”

Grinning, you lean over and nip at her shoulder and then down her back while you pick up the pace, pressing her belly upward to hold her upright as you bring her hips back into yours as you thrust them forward, the sheen of her arousal now forming a creamy ring at the base of your strap and soaking the harness fabric close to the fake balls that smack at her puffy lips, nearly meeting your fingers as you roll and press at her clit, easing between faster and slower paces. 

Her pussy is lewdly squelching, the drench of her cunt sounding loud every time you shift back and forth and you can’t help but chuckle darkly as you rock Reagan’s waist back towards your pistoning hips with abandon. “Hear that baby? Even your pretty pussy’s cryin’ for me. Needed me real bad, huh?” 

Nodding, she feels like she’s about to cry but also bust apart at the seams any second with the pressure careening through her lower abdomen. Its a heavy pressure than sends her gushing around you and anticipating an orgasm that’ll make her near blackout, and her legs are close to giving out as they recline against yours at the thought of how close she is to release. “Think m’gonna c-cum.” 

“Y’close baby? I gotcha’ just ease into it f’me.” 

Gritting your teeth, you grind your hips in a circling motion every time you bottom out after lifting your hips back, making Reagan tremble beneath you as you wrench out an orgasm that you drag out, kissing at her skin as you ease off her clit and fuck her on your strap until she deflates fully onto the bed with a sated mewl, allowing you to pull out and see the small gush of wetness pool forth onto the sheets 

Undoing the clasps on the strap, you toss it to the side as you crawl up the bed to lie beside Reagan who sleepily opens her eyes to stare at you once you brush a few strands of her hair back, lifting her cheek to press into your palm as she sighs happily. 

“How’s that head?”

“No complaints yet,” 

She giggles softly, more of a snicker but she’s too out of breath, and you raise a brow. “Head’s empty. Water and a washcloth?” 

A brief kiss to her dewy forehead is left before you go and slip into the ensuite bathroom, wetting a washcloth with warm water after filling a glass kept beneath the sink with cold water, returning quickly to find she’s nearly asleep with her ass still somewhat perched in the air. 

You glance at your phone but decide against another photo as you near, easing reagan onto her back so she can sit up and sip at the water while you part her thighs and dutifully clean up, being extra tender and leaving kisses behind as you wipe between her folds and pull back her hooded clit. 

“There, all done, you just gotta’ hit the bathroom then you can sleep.” 

You shrug on an oversized muscle tee and some baggy sleep shorts before easing Reagan into a soft bralette and a pair of boxers before taking the strap up to the bathroom to clean it in the morning. “You’ll have to carry me there.”

Reagan can’t help but laugh at your grin from the offer, always enjoying taking care of her, especially as you smile against her mouth once you crawl back onto the bedsheets you both can’t be bothered to change until the morning. 

“C’mon pretty girl, bathroom then bed.” 

Reagan fails to hide the smile that forms as she raises her arms for you to help carry her to the bathroom, her legs aching and unsteady from being bent over like that with her arched spine a workout all of its own. 

She settles over the toilet as you move to brush your teeth as she goes, long having passed the personal bubbles and sharing intimacy in all matters. Cleaning up, Reagan is bumping her hip into yours by the time she’s washing her hands when you spit out the minty foam of your toothpaste. 

It isn’t until minutes later, when she’s curled up in your arms as your legs entangle, that she kisses at your shoulder while you card your hand through the hair that splays over her shoulder. 

“Feelin’ loved?” 

She’s blinking in the dark, close enough to see you and how you’re genuinely asking, and she hums, her hand tapping at your waist as she nudges closer. “Very.” 

“Good,” You finally let rest seep into your bones with that, lifting the dirtied sheets over yourself and the blanket beneath over your entwined bodies before you let your breaths even, 

"Happy Girlfriend’s Day, baby.” 

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[whateverwhyamievenhere]

little lestappen drabble

Hii, so I usually don't post on here, but you know it, it's winter break and the brain rot is brain rotting, so I've started to write a drabble. It's inspired by some of my favorite moments of Charles and Max that can't seem to leave my mind. This is nowhere near anything but a draft, though I thought some of you might enjoy this. Please be so kind and let me know if you like it or what could be improved. Also if anyone has any ideas where this could go plot-wise hmu, because I suck at drawing up plots beforehand. Have a great day/night wherever you are. L <3

The sun peaks right through the tips of his hair. Strands flying, highlights glistening in the golden light. One last lap they said, one more push, till he got to feel the light of the setting sun blind his eyes. He's in Texas, finished his quail lap, scrambled out of the car, and all he searched for was the blue of his eyes.

Like ocean, like storm. Crashing on a shore, there will always be a twist in Charles gut when Max meets his eyes. Inevitably drawn to each other, dancing around each other, desire mistaken for distaste. Green clashing into blue, in a haze of moments Charles is being ripped right out of the calming sun. Media Duty, take pictures, smile, be nice and orderly. Most importantly, get along. Get along with Max. These are direct orders because everyone seems to think they hate each other. Charles thinks they may did once upon a time. Now he’s not quite sure what to make of it all. ____________________________________________________ “Charlie I’ve got some space for you” the words echo in Charles' head, did Max just call him Charlie, normally only Alex or maybe Lando does so rarely. Why in the world of why's does it make feel Charlie all giddy? What does Max think that he's allowed to call him Charlie? Isn’t that reserved for his closer friends? Does Max think they are friends? Sure, he's been acting as such ever since Austin, but what exactly changed? Why aren’t the forcibly nice, why does it seem like Max enjoys his company more than he used to?  And why does he immediately comply and squeeze through to Max, standing at the other side of the room? Brush of shoulders, hands clasping each other, slight shove where his back dips in. Broad smile, teeth on full display, eyes crinkling. Max is flashing him his most Maxie smile there is. Sue him if Max can call him Charlie, at least he can call him Maxie in his mind. Maybe one day he will be allowed to say it out loud, just like Daniel is.  “I thought you’d suffocate over there.” “Yeah, well I’m glad, I didn’t. Any news from Daniel, his party still standing for tonight?” “Do you really think we’d be in Vegas and Daniel would let it slip though his fingers to start the weekend of sober? He’s going to be the death of us!” “Ah no, I think we will manage quite well, you think?” At that, Max slings an arm around Charlies shoulder, slightly shakes his head in dismissal, smirks to himself and moves them after the rest of their friends that were just mingling mere seconds before. Max is leading them towards the press conference that Charles entirely forgot about once he heard Max claim “Charlie” his. ____________________________________________________

[borninwinter81]

Collage box collection

After discovering that I had a reasonably big stash of interesting flyers, greetings cards, guidebooks and other bits of ephemera, and seeing this tutorial, I was really inspired to use it all for something.

This was helped by the fact that recently I've found a lot of really nice wooden boxes in charity shops for very cheap - all the ones pictured here were £2. Either I've been extremely lucky, or these things turn up very often and I just haven't been looking for them.

I've posted about some of these previously (here and here), but they were only half done and these pictures are better! Plus there is one new one.

First was this wooden chocolate box. Before...

And after!

You can tell this is my first one as I oversatured the paper with Mod Podge, leading to it bubbling and creasing, but for a first attempt I don't think it's bad at all.

All the pictures I used were taken from an exhibition guide for an event I went to called "Exploring the Gothic" which contained a lot of beautiful pictures. The floral parts were from a pad of scrapbooking paper, which I also used to make the individual compartments (they are origami boxes, see a tutorial for how to make them here) and I then filled them with pieces from my collection of beads, charms, and broken jewellery.

I also had a guide to a William Blake exhibition I'd been to, and since there was an entire plate from "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell" I had to make it into a miniature wall plaque.

I did this one at the same time as the first, and again you can kind of see that I oversatured the paper which caused it to tear slightly, however thankfully it wasn't in an area where there was any writing.

(BTW, if anyone is interested in the meaning of this section, Blake is describing his creative process, albeit in a fantastical way. This blog post gives a good analysis)

The next one was a beautiful little cabinet with a broken handle.

And here is what I did with it. I kept the collaging to a minimum, only on the inside, though I might add something to the outside in the future. The replacement "handles" are a pair of my earrings!

I used some more of the gothic exhibition guide and scrapbook paper, and also a flyer for a ballet version of Dracula. I need to find some more interesting things to fill it as it currently only contains my resin crow's skull and a miniature book of Tennyson poems. Also my Cthulhu candle gets to sit on top and be worshipped by the skeleton on the right door.

I did much better with the collaging process on this one. I was a lot more patient, used less Mod Podge for each layer and allowed them to dry fully in between, resulting in no tears, bubbles or creasing.

The final and most recent is this plain box. I noticed it originally came from somewhere called "Palmyra Hardware" which instantly made me think of the Palmyra Wolves (I'm a fan of MrBallen and saw him tell the story on his YouTube channel) which gives a pleasantly creepy angle to this one before I even did anything to it!

After collaging

The central image on the outside is another William Blake painting, an illustration to Dante's Inferno, which includes the famous quote "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here". The writing saying "The way, the truth, the life" came from a religious leaflet that a friend of mine was forcibly given, and which he ripped to shreds, but I saved this part because for some reason I liked it.

Inside we've got a very famous Blake painting called "The Ancient of Days", the praying skeleton again as this image was reproduced several times in that guidebook, and a block printed demon from a handmade birthday card that a friend gave me several years ago. I'm very pleased to have finally been able to use him for something!

I've enjoyed making all of these immensely and no doubt I will do more in the future as I collect more papers and find more nice boxes 😊