#also often when I’m staying with my family it’s for shorter periods of time

[unintentional-sad-wizard]

I’m staying at my parents’ house for the holidays, in my childhood bedroom, but I’ve reached the point where it doesn’t feel like home anymore and I don’t really know what to do with myself when I’m here and I’m having a rough time with that

[pokemon-legends-and-legacies]

6, 12, 18, 24 for Florian?

(As Florian plays the role of SV protagonist in my verse, I've been playing the game as him, and have some burgeoning ideas of further ship ideas involving that game. However, since all of that is still heavily WiP and Sophia is his main partner regardless of any future possible poly shenanigans, she'll be the one in question for the answers referring to his lover here!)

06. Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying?

While his height is more often than not a hindrance, Florian still can be a bit smug about towering over most other people when he has the chance. Sophia despises this since she’s already the shortest member of her family, and sometimes Florian just makes her feel even shorter than she is when he effortlessly reaches tall places she’d need a stool to barely get to, casually (jokingly) rests his elbow on her head, or any other number of little quirks that get on her nerves.

And I’m now realizing this says “hobbies” and not “habits”, so to actually answer the question, Sophia is not necessarily the hugest fan of how much Florian loves the outdoors. She certainly doesn’t mind getting a bit of sun and maybe having a nice, relaxing picnic now and again, but things like camping and running around helter-skelter with your pokémon, tracking mud and who knows what else everywhere, are simply not for her and she doesn’t really see what Florian gets out of it, especially when he’s so conscious of his image and fashion otherwise. She certainly doesn’t fault him for his interests being different from her own, but this is one pastime she’ll never fully understand for him or anyone else. He can camp all he wants, she’ll be staying in the cozy hotel.

12. Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up?

Florian places great pride in his strong connection to the past and keeping those traditions alive. While his memories of his first life can be a burden to him, he also would not trade them for anything. To him, his life has been a continuous unspooling thread and he simply cannot imagine what he would be like had he simply ceased to be when his first life came to a close. He and his brother are now, as far as they know, the only people from the ancient Kalos of three millennia ago still walking the earth, and Florian takes that very seriously. He wants to ensure that everything he can recall about his homeland, language, culture, and the people he knew is able to be recorded for posterity, as most of it had originally been long lost to history and myth. He’s been in touch with other reincarnations, and as far as any of them know, he was from the earliest time period among the whole current group of them. He is often fiercely homesick for his past, but has found that sharing those stories with his new friends and family and bringing them into his world can ease that ache, so he’s made it one of his life’s missions to aid in researchers, linguists, and historians as best he can to make the most of his second chance.

18. What kind of home would they want to live in? Where would they place this abode?

Ideally, Florian would love to live in a small cottage in a secluded, quiet village, surrounded by nature and far from the overwhelming hustle and bustle of cities and modern life, but in practice that home will be at most a vacation house for him. Having grown up in a big city and knowing full-well that marrying a princess means a life of lavish palaces and formal events simply means Florian cherishes the time he has to get away all the more. He knows that you can’t always get exactly what you want in life, so strives to find compromises wherever he can (something he learned through his own hardship as a prince and later king in his earlier life). He is doing his best to convert Sophia to the joys of country living (real country living not “The Summer Palace” country living) and he’s pretty sure he’s winning her over yet!

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like?

“In Sophia, I find a resourceful, kind woman with strength in her convictions and the ability to use her position to uplift the voices of others. I have met few others as caring and driven as her, who put so much tireless effort into their work and ask for nothing in return but the continued success and happiness of the people she represents and strives to aid. However, the woman I fell in love with is the Sophia not seen in public appearances or written about in magazines, but the woman who almost burned the kitchen down trying to make me eggs, who threatens to lop me off at the kneecaps every time I need to fetch something from a height for her, who wrinkles her nose and swears quite colorfully under her breath when things don’t go her way, and enjoys daytime soap operas and has cried while watching that holiday romance movie that came out last… and oh dear she’s giving me a look, I suppose I can’t divulge all her secrets now can I? Needless to say, she’s wonderful and I adore her and she has not a single flaw, of course.”

[whumperooni]

Mr.Natsuo being your teacher and you purposely flirt with other boys as wear really short skirts in his class to make him ✨jealous ✨and horny , he asks to see you after class and you get fucked on his table 🥺🥺 Sorry I’m on my period and I’m going feral 😃

No, no- never apologize for this! It makes me feral too ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Natsuo Sensei, please come get this pussy ♡

tags/warnings: teacher/student relationship, teacher kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, manipulation, improvised gags

A/N: I wrote Natsuo a bit more rough than I normally do, but I think it turned out okay;;; I also abused the words professor, doctor, sensei, and teacher;;;;

But. Ya know.

Enjoy! ♡

You were fucked the moment you walked into his classroom. Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2:30 pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Led by Doctor Natsuo Todoroki. An insert into your schedule that seemed harmless enough. Interesting, surely. Something you were a little worried about- what if you turned out squeamish despite your love for all things horror and gore?- and something that would just fill your first semester of college. Harmless. Routine for your major. Nothing to give you any sort of fuss or throw you into a flustered little mess. Or, so you thought. Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to what your professor might be like. You were more worried over having to share a dorm room with a stranger, if you could handle your class load, how hard it might be to adjust being away from home and all you’ve ever known. You suppose your mind’s eye might have conjured a vague image of a wrinkled and wizened old man with a stern gaze and whitened hair. You suppose you might have faintly imagined Doctor Todoroki to be a tired geezer in a lab coat and faded sweater vest. You suppose you might have had the predetermined, unconscious notion that your professor would be intelligent, elderly, stern and, well, someone who you would only think about in terms of being someone to give you tests and homework and lectures. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to find a smiling, young man with a handsome face and thick thighs, big arms. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to lock eyes with your professor and immediately go weak in the knees under a stormy gaze and a sunshine smile. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to only have your breath snatched away, your cheeks flared with a flush, your heart forced into a thundering staccato.  You didn’t think that Doctor Todoroki would be hot. But, oh god- oh god- he’s gorgeous. Doctor Todoroki- well, Doctor Natsuo or even professor; he seems to prefer those much more than his family name- is, honestly, a living, breathing wet dream. He’s hot. He’s kind. He’s friendly. He’s funny. He’s perfect. The class that you thought would be only mildly interesting turns out to be your favorite. How could it not be when you’re blessed with a full hour of delicious eye candy, a teacher that’s so generous with his praise and has your spine tingling whenever he says your name? He’s so friendly and he’s so polite, too. The way he calls you Miss is a little old fashioned, sure, but it sends your mind reeling and your cheeks flushing- quick fantasies zipping through your thoughts as your thighs involuntarily push together. Your crush springs up from the moment you see him and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Little accidental brushes against you, the smiles he sends your way, the scent of his cologne whenever he leans over your table to correct an answer, the way his praise rings in your ears late at night- it all sends you spiraling. You’ve never had a crush quite like this before. Certainly not on a teacher. You want him, though. Oh, god, do you want him. Your roommate is the unfortunate one that has to hear you whine and moan over him- you’re much too embarrassed to admit your crush to your friends back home or any of your family; they’d be sure to scold you, to call you foolish and chide that you’re a silly little girl. She understands it, at least. That helps, keeps you from being too ashamed. “I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got a thing for him,” she muses. “He’s young. He’s hot. Anyone would get a little crush.” You don’t like that thought, really. You don’t want to think about others lusting after your sensei. “Why not try shooting your shot?” At your scandalized look, she huffs and shrugs, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “No need to be such a good girl. Professors hook up with their students all the time. You just gotta be discreet.” “I can’t,” you protest- shaking your head and pulling your knees up to your chest. “And it’s not like he- he doesn’t see me in that kind of way.” “You don’t know that,” she counters with a click of her tongue. Another huff leaves her and it’s easy to see that her patience with the situation is waning. “Either feel it out or get over it or find someone else to moon over. There’s no point in moping and stewing.” You’re not moping. You’re just- you’re just- Okay, you’re mooning over him like she said. But you’re not moping. It’s just- it’s such a new situation for you. You’ve always had crushes on your peers- never anyone older than you by more than a year or two, never anyone in a position of authority over you. A taboo situation like this has never been your cup of tea- you’ve always been a good, sensible girl. Crushes on teachers have never been something you thought to entertain. But now? Well, now... You bite your lip and eye your reflection, nervously touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. It’s light and simple but pretty and sweet. Stalking Professor Natsuo’s social medias helped you gain the insight that he seems to prefer his women more natural and cute, innocent looking- all glossy lips and doe eyed, fluttering lashes with just the barest hint of mascara and blush. The false lashes might be a bit too much, but they make you look even more doll like and, that too, is something he seems to like. Pretty. Simple. Doll like. Sweet. Young. You think you’ve managed to put that look together rather nicely. The pleated skirt- just shy of rising above your knees- and the soft cardigan help, too, and, really, you don’t think you’ve ever looked quite so innocent before- even when you were a wide eyed, straight A, pure and untouched student back in high school. ...god, what are you doing? A groan leaves you and you nearly scrub the makeup from your face, nearly rip off the skirt and switch it out for the leggings you have stuffed inside your backpack. Nearly. You don’t think that this is really going to work. You don’t think that this is really going to draw any sort of reaction from him. And, well, maybe that’s what you need? Maybe you need to truly see that it’s a fruitless desire- maybe then it’ll shrivel up and away and you’ll be free from your sinful fantasies, free from the desire that has your head spinning. And, well, it’s been a while since you’ve dressed up a little, too- the rigors of college have had you leaning more toward comfort than style, have kept you too tired and busy to give time to makeup and skirts and a polished appearance. It feels kind of nice being all cute and attractive instead of frumpy and disheveled. ...you’re not going to change. You deserve to feel nice and you’re dying- desperate- to see how your professor will react to you looking nicer than the tired lump you usually display. Just act normal, you tell yourself as you head toward the class- clutching your textbooks tight to your chest. Don’t be too hopeful. Don’t be too excited. Don’t get disappointed. Just- just think of it as an experiment. That’s all it is, right? Just an experiment! You’re just putting a hypothesis to a test! (What a load of crap. It does help to calm your fluttering, nervous heart, though) You swallow as you approach the room and take a deep breath to steady yourself, bite your lip as you eye the open door. You can hear him rustling around and you know that the others will be around soon- you can’t just keep standing there like a dumbstruck, coltish fool. Another swallow, another deep breath. You walk into the room and fix a nervous smile on your face, chirp out a nearly stuttered “Good afternoon, Professor.” He’s faced away from you- broad back greeting your vision as he scrawls something across the blackboard. His head turns, though, and you get to hear an absent “good afternoon” replied back, you get to watch his gaze fall on you. His hand pauses. His snowy lashes blink once, twice, three times. Surprise flickers over his face- evident enough that you can catch it without doubt. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly that you almost miss it, dart away whenever your smile shrugs off its nervousness and grows ever so sweetly. You sit yourself down front and center- right in front of your sensei’s desk. He doesn’t look back at you as you organize your books and gear. He doesn’t look back at you as you primly cross your ankles and rest them to the side, drag a curious, studious gaze along his back. You had hoped for a response, but you hadn’t really expected it- Professor Natsuo has been kinder and more friendly and open than your other teachers, yes, but he’s still been professional. He’s never crossed any boundaries and you’ve never see him give another student the once over. This is...promising. Your cheeks stay flushed as the other students file in, but your anxiousness is gone away. Sure, that little look doesn’t really mean anything but now you’re...well. Now you’re curious. Desperate and needy for some validation of your silly little fantasies, but curious too. Could you...would he...? You wet your lips, unthinking, and keep your eyes on Doctor Natsuo throughout the class- analyzing his behavior, absorbing his words, taking in how his gaze finds you a bit more often than it usually does. Interesting. Encouraging. The next day you wear a skirt that’s a little bit shorter, don sweet mary janes and ankle socks decorated in lacy frills. Steel grey eyes dart to your legs more than once during the class and you even catch your professor tracing his eyes over your hips when he thinks you’re not looking- his reflection in the shining convex mirror hanging above your dissection table showing guilt, an almost nervous tilt to his lips. Oh, you’ve got him. But how do you proceed...? Your worries and frets and protests over taboo desires are long gone- they got dashed away with the first blink of his long lashes, with the first glance over he had given you. Really, you should feel ashamed over discarding your morals so easily, but it’s an exciting situation, isn’t it? It’s nothing you would ever think to find yourself in. But college is all about new, exciting situations, right? It’s about taking chances. God, you hope this is really a chance for you- you’ve never had the opportunity to play a coy game like this before. It’s...fun. High school would have been a lot more interesting if you had known this kind of thrill. You come home smiling ear to ear after a successful attempt at making Doctor Natsuo blush. (A sway of your hips, a flit of your slowly shortening skirts, a coo of his name as you thanked him for such an interesting lesson, a sweet smile and your fingers daring to skim ever so lightly and quickly over his wrist as you walked out of the classroom) The smile on your face has your roommate’s brow quirking, but one look at your outfit has her lips pulling into a smirk- something near gloating on her face. “You shooting your shot?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “Something like that.” You plop down on your bed, smile waning but still present- content as you let yourself get comfortable. She doesn’t offer any more conversation and you’re okay with that- mind fixating instead on how you could possibly further things with your sought after teacher. Things are good, for now- much better than you had ever thought they would be. The little forays into flirtation have been fun, exciting and they’ve even helped boost your confidence- something you hadn’t realized was sorely needed. It’s been fun. And it stays fun- the short skirts, the girly lilt you find yourself injecting into your voice, the soft makeup and sweet perfume, the way you always leave the class with wet panties and a vibrating exciting buzzing through you, the way your teacher’s eyes can’t help but dart over you, the way he breathes in just a bit deep when you get a little too close, the way he swallows whenever you so lightly purr his name- it all stays fun. Fun, but...frustrating. After a while it gets frustrating. Because he doesn’t do anything, not really. He stays a proper, good teacher- something you give props to him for- and he never returns your gentle flirtations, the subtle and silent invitations you push his way. He’s so...professional. It’s kind of a turn on- kind of. It’s mostly just...frustrating. You find your lips dipping into a pout more and more, find yourself sulky and downtrodden. Sure, this has been fun and interesting but you...you want more. You want him. You need him. You’ve needed him for so long it seems. You find your muffled ministrations in the shower getting more and more frantic- your fingers pumping into your cunt relentlessly but giving you none of the relief you seek. When you are able to cum, it’s always with a whimper of sensei or doctor or professor- sometimes even a daring Natsuo. You get restless and impatient, desperate and a little hopeless. If your teacher senses or sees that, he doesn’t say anything- in fact, his gaze seems to avert from the feverish look in your eyes, he seems to pull away from your bold, reckless attempts to get closer to him.  That hurts. That makes you angry. That makes you feel stupid. But he still wants you- or, at least, he still finds you tempting. You know he does- he can’t hide the way his eyes fall on you whenever you walk into the room, he can’t hide the quick glances he lays over you when he thinks no one else can see. You see his hesitance and want. You see it. ...if he’s not going to act on his desires, if he’s going to resist, then you’re going to kick things up a notch- someone has to; you can’t live with this stalemate any longer. It’s not a punishment, not really- it’s just throwing in his face what he’s missing out on. (My, whenever did you become so reckless and cruel? When did you become so desperate?) The ratio of boys to girls in the class is quite staggering- something one would think the university wouldn’t allow for fear of lawsuits. There are three boys for each girl- ambitious, studious, virginal, frantically horny things with expectations piled high on their shoulders and stress wracking their every thoughts. (It wouldn’t be unfair to say they you’re just like them- just sans the virginal part, double the stressed and horny part to make up for it) They’re good boys, for the most part- friendly and tired, nice but none of them quite to your taste or striking enough to jar your fixation from your sensei. Some of them are even handsome- which makes this a lot easier. “Oh, you brought me coffee? Thank you so much, Dai-chan! You’re so sweet!” The kiss you lay upon your classmate’s cheek makes him blush and fluster. It also makes your dear teacher stare- eyes wide and brow furrowed when you flick your gaze his way, his lips twitching as if he’s not sure if he wants to frown or not. The soft giggle you let out does bring a frown- something that deepens whenever one of the other boys comes over to grab your attention, try his hand. You should have thought of using them earlier on- they’ve been eager enough to try to flirt this whole time. Doctor Natsuo, for his part, doesn’t say or do anything- of course he doesn’t. But his usually happy temperament turns a bit tense, a little sour. He doesn’t lash out, not really, but you can see the way his teeth grit and his brow puckers whenever one of the boys dares to lay their hand on your arm, the small of your back. Good, you think- vicious and bitter, sour yourself. Get jealous. “What the fuck is up with Todoroki lately?” “Dude, did you hear how he snapped at Araka?” “Do you think something happened? He seems...stressed.” Your classmates trade hushed whispers as they flee the room, but you don’t think to join them- you stay quiet and soak in their quiet gossip, smile sharply without a look back to your grimacing, frustrated sensei. Just a little more. At this point, you’re not even sure what you want from him- an admittance of his own desires, him hurting and annoyed? You don’t know. You just want something to happen- you need something to break this little silent game apart. You think and think and think over what could raise the situation to the breaking point and, finally, you settle on something simple. The night before your Thursday class, you invite over one of your classmates- Eita; one of the more attractive ones, one of the less nervous ones. Your roommate is gracious enough to stay away (thanks to your offer of money for booze and weed and help with her homework) and you have the room all to yourself. Three beers and some easy flirtations, just a few small touches- that’s all it takes to get what you’re after. You don’t let him fuck you- he’s not worth it, nowhere near what you want- but you let him fumble his hands over you, are kind enough to wrap your hand around his cock while his lips frantically roam and suck over your neck. You don’t let him come until you’re absolutely sure that you have what you want. It reduces him to a whining mess- which, hey, is honestly kind of cute. You rebuff his sweet offers to “return the favor” and send him off with a kiss to the cheek, spend the rest of your night nursing a glass of wine and silently brooding- mind tired and body exhausted, your desires so restless. The next day you dress in a pleated, short skirt that just barely skims the middle of your thighs and fix your hair into a cute little updo, don your now signature mary janes and pull on a brand new pair of knee high socks. The sly comments you get throughout the day are annoying, but easily ignored. You’re impatient through the morning and it only gets worse as Doctor Natsuo’s class creeps closer. You spend the day jittering your leg and biting your lip, checking your phone every few moments and huffing to yourself, clutching at your arms and trying not to pace up and down the school’s halls. Finally- finally- it’s time for your favorite class. You have to force yourself to walk slowly toward it. You have to breathe in deep to quiet your pounding heart, to still your trembling hands. This has to spur something on. You walk into the classroom- skirt swaying, lips hiding your anticipation behind a smile. You ignore Professor Natsuo and make your way to Eita’s desk, plant your elbows on it and rest your chin in your hand, arch your hips up so your teacher can be teased by the sight of your soft thighs and curves, taunted by how just an inch or two of fabric prevents your panties from being flashed. (Is he looking? He has to be looking. He better be looking.) “Eita-kun,” you coo, sweet and loud enough for others to hear, “I had such a good time last night. We should do it again.” Eita’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. You might enjoy it if you weren’t so distracted by the noise of a coffee cup slamming down and clattering on the desk behind you, if your breathing didn’t hitch so sharply at the fault in your sensei’s composure. Slowly, you straighten yourself to standing and turn around. Professor Natsuo’s face is red and flustered- jealous- when you look and his eyes are narrowed at you, his coffee spilled on the desk. You offer him a sweet blink and a sweeter smile, tilt your head so he can see the blossomed bruise tinting your throat pewter and mauve, a stormy and swirling blue. His eyes widen, his gaze darts behind you. Your smile grows. How do you like that, sensei? Your hands tremble just a little- from nerves, from excitement, from aching anticipation- and you clasp them behind your back to hide them from his gaze, lean forward and peer over his desk. “Are you okay, sir?” you ask him- chirping and so very sweet. “Do you need help cleaning that up?” He stares at you- disbelieving and still so evident in his shock, his envy. Some strangled noise chokes its way up and out of his throat whenever you flutter your lashes his way and smug amusement gathers in you as you watch his jaw tighten, his teeth grit as he tries to gather his composure once more. “No. Sit.” Oh. You’ve never heard him sound like that before. So authoritative, so stern. So hot. It’s your turn to let out a noise- something soft and almost curious, accompanied by flushed cheeks. You obey your teacher and sit down without a fuss- thighs pressing together and already growing damp, lip bitten and eyes half-shut as you watch him silently clean up the coffee. He doesn’t look at you throughout the whole lesson. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t call on you. He doesn’t smile or laugh or joke around. He’s...cold throughout the class- words iced over and posture rigid, his face holding no warmth at all. You gulp as you listen to him lecture and squirm in your seat- nerves starting to gather and grow despite the way you’re still so very wet between your thighs. You had wanted something to happen. You were determined to force anything to happen. But maybe- maybe you miscalculated. Maybe you fucked up. It’s something of a relief when the class ends. Usually, you like to linger for a few moments, like to stay just a bit longer than necessary so you can grab your teacher’s attention with a question or some sort of compliment over the lesson. Today, though? Today you shoot up from your seat without delay, begin to gather all your supplies as quickly as you can. At least...at least until he says your name. It’s firm, just a little icy. You stiffen at the sound and gulp, look back at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. Before hearing your name part from your teacher’s lips would send you flying high, but right now...right now your skin is tingling with a giddy apprehension, your fingertips are trembling as you search his face for any hint of what’s to come. “I need to have a word with you,” Doctor Natsuo tells you- eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen where you stand. “I, um,” you try to weakly protest, “I have to get to my next class...” “It won’t take long.” If he catches your wince, he doesn’t react to it. Professor Natsuo simply leans against his desk as the rest of the students file out- arms folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to display thick forearms. And you? You stay rooted to the spot- heart pounding and eyes still wide, cheeks flushed and thighs damp. When the last student leaves, Professor Natsuo walks over to the door and closes it shut. Click. W-Wait- did he just- “D-Doctor Natsuo?” you squeak out. “What are you- what are you doing?” “I think I should be asking that question.” Oh, shit. Your teacher turns around slowly and the look he gives you takes your breath away. He looks angry and frustrated. He looks pissed. Pissed, but there’s- there’s something more- there’s- “What-” He takes a step toward you, you take a step back. “- do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The whimper that leaves you is equal parts anxious and needy- soft and unwanted. You probably shouldn’t find the growl in his words so hot. Your knees probably shouldn’t knock together and your pussy shouldn’t throb at the snap of young lady. But it’s- you didn’t expect him to be like this. But you- it’s- A tremble wracks through you and Professor Natsuo takes another step toward you. You bump against his desk whenever you stumble back and flinch at the wood that slams into your lower back, gasp and whimper once more when big hands fall to the table on both your sides, when your teacher brackets your trembling form and keeps you enclosed and captive. His eyes are narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. His cologne smells so nice up close, his height has your lashes fluttering and your breathing shuddering as you’re forced to tilt your head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “S- Sir?” “Don’t sir me,” he snaps, crowding closer to you. “I’ve lost my patience with you playing coy.” He’s lost his patience? Your mouth opens to shoot off something probably very stupid, but the words die as a big, cool hand finds your throat and forces your head to a tilt. The touch is beyond expected, has you crying out softly and gripping onto his shirt, almost hyperventilating. The pin prick retraction of your pupils is dramatic and so is your whimpering exhales but, god, this is not what you had expected. “You’ve been toying with me for weeks now,” Doctor Natsuo growls out, his fingers digging into the hickey on your neck. “All your short skirts and little touches, your shameless flirtations- you’ve been trying to drive me mad, haven’t you?” “Pr- Professor,” you whimper out, thighs rubbing together and a moan threatening to sound. “I just- I just wanted-” “You just wanted some attention,” he huffs out- his other hand gripping at your waist and his knee knocking your legs apart. “You wanted to see what would break me, right? That’s why you came in flaunting this today.” Your teacher’s thigh slots between yours and his fingers push deeper into your bruised flesh, his stormy eyes narrow and take in the way you shudder, how your cheeks flush even darker and your eyes start to turn just a bit glossy. A mewl leaves you- embarrassing and so needy, so helpless- and you whine softly after, try to turn your head away so he can’t see the way all your bravado and confidence is melting away into your selfish, needy, hopeless desires. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he demands- forcing your face back to him. He doesn’t look angry now- just frustrated- and your stuttered little gasp only makes his teeth grit, the way your thighs squeeze his makes his breath in sharp and deep. “Go on- tell me.” You- you can’t. You can’t deny him, can’t lie. Not now that things have finally boiled over, not now that he’s finally confronting you. Not now that you’re about to come just from the feeling of his thigh pressing against your soaked cunt. Not now that you’re so close to moaning and falling into a pleading, begging thing. “I- I had to,” you whine. “You weren’t- you wouldn’t-” “Tch.” The grip on your neck tightens and leaves you whimpering, leaves your fingers curling even tighter into your teacher’s shirt. “I was trying to be a good teacher,” Professor Natsuo grits out. “I was trying to keep from taking advantage of you.” Take advantage of you? You would laugh if it weren’t for your wettening lashes, the way your hips are aching and tightening from trying not to grind over your sensei’s thigh. “Sensei-” “Did you fuck him?” he interrupts- fingers dragging over your hickey and hand gripping your hip tighter, pulling you closer and making you whimper, tremble as your cunt is made to glide over his leg. “Don’t tell me after all this time you settled for a boy like that?” You shake your head the best you can- almost frantic with it, flushed and vaguely angry he would even insinuate that you would hook up with someone after you’ve put in so much effort toward him. “N- No! I wanted- I didn’t want- didn’t want him,” you whine, hips jerking despite yourself, a mewl leaving you whenever your teacher’s breath catches. “Sensei, please-” “Fuck.” The groan that leaves him has your lashes fluttering, your lips parting with a soft whine. The hand on your neck moves to your scalp and buries thick fingers in your hair, messes up your updo and sends your hairtie flying. He ignores the protesting noise that leaves you and looks down at you instead- eyes dark with a need that mirrors your own, nostrils flaring as his breathing turns heavy. “You are so naughty,” Doctor Natsuo growls- one hand curling his fingers into your hair, the other smoothing down your waist and to your spread legs. “Filthy little thing.” Filthy? You’re not- you’re not- The hand at your waist moves to loosen his tie and you whimper when he pops open his top button, when he shifts his hips forward and you feel his cock hard on your thigh. “Pl- please, sensei,” you breathe out in a beg- unplanned and so thoughtless, even overwhelmed. “I- I’ll be good! I won’t tell! I just want- I need-” You cut yourself off with a whine and rock against his thigh, look up at him with your wet lashes and flushed cheeks. He groans whenever you whimper and you clutch at him tighter, try to press against him. “I need you, sensei,” you plead- so soft and so desperate. “I need you. I- I promise I’ll be good. I just- I just-” You whimper once more and he groans, grips your waist and sits you on the table rough enough to make all his pens rattle and shake. He slots himself between your spread legs and buries his fingers back into your hair, presses his mouth against yours so fast and hard that it makes your whole world screech to a screaming halt. Your eyes widen and then slam shut, your body goes limp as you whimper and tremble from the way his tongue traces over your bottom lip. You allow your mouth to open and your teacher groans over it, slips his tongue inside and forces you to bend back as he presses closer toward you. Whenever he pulls his head back from yours, there’s a glistening of spit on his lips, a flush to his cheeks. You squirm under his gaze- suddenly so shy, suddenly so flustered- and whine as he stares down at you, arch your back and gasp whenever he forces your head to the side once more and presses his lips to your throat. It hurts when his teeth dig into the already tender, bruised flesh but it sends your mind reeling, has you mewling and reaching to scratch at his back. “Y- Yes! Please! Cover it! Make that mark yours!” The words fly out fast and without any thought, the begging comes from a place you didn’t realize existed within you. You don’t even realize that you mewled such a thing out until your teacher is groaning against your neck, until he’s muttering a, “Fuck- that’s a good girl” right against your throat. If you weren’t so swept up in the situation, you might feel embarrassed. But, you’re not- you’re just gasping and flushed and made even more needy from the praise, from the way your sensei’s hands drag down your sides to grip your waist. Tears blur your vision and a stuttered breath has you shaking, your nails digging deep into soft fabric and clawing over a broad back. “Doctor Natsuo please!” Another groan from your teacher and his hand slips under your skirt, his fingers push your soaked panties to the side and dip into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growls, curling two thick digits and making you cry out. “Hey- shh, shh. Be good. You promised you were going to be good.” Be good? Oh, fuck, you wanna be good. You bite your lip as your teacher fucks his fingers deep inside you and try so, so, so hard to stay nice and quiet and good. He watches you as you try to muffle your whimper behind your hand and you shake from the way he licks his lips, from the way his lashes lower and his gaze turns approving. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Good girl. Fuck- turn over.” Professor Natsuo backs away and you can’t quite bite back your whine whenever his fingers leave, can’t quite inject any gracefulness in the way you scramble to comply. He yanks you back whenever you’re on your stomach- has your knees knocking against his desk and your hips arching up. There’s no warning when he grabs the plush flesh of your ass and spreads your cheeks wide. Your face flushes and a soft noise leaves you, your thighs press together as you squirm and whimper. “Cute,” he murmurs, squeezing your butt roughly.  “Even better than I imagined.” Imagined? Oh- oh. He- he thought of you. He fantasized about you. Sensei- sensei got off to you. Your cunny clenches and your teacher groans- low and deep and accompanied by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. When you look back over your shoulder at him, his fingers are undoing his tie and you’re left blinking in confusion as he wraps each end around his palms. “Professor...?” “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation- lips falling open and fingers curling against the wood of the desk. Professor Natsuo slips his tie between your lips and you whine as it digs into your cheeks, shudder whenever he gives it a tight tug. “Now be a good student for your sensei,” he instructs, gathering the tie in one hand and pulling out his cock with the other. “Quiet and good.” You nod the best you can, but it’s a promise you can’t quite keep whenever his cock nestles between your cunt’s lips, whenever the tip eases into your hole and then slams fully in. You cry out- spit wetting your teacher’s silk tie and his hand laying heavy across your ass, your head getting yanked back whenever he jerks on the tie. “What did I say?” He said- he said to be quiet and good. You have to be quiet and good. A muffled whimper leaves you and you rock your hips back, squeeze around your sensei’s cock with the softest little whine. He groans and his hips pap against you, his dick drives in deep enough to have your toes curling and your lashes fluttering. He’s- he’s big. Bigger than you thought he’d be. Bigger than you dared to imagine. The stretch is- it’s so much. But you’re so wet. You’re so needy. Tiny, strangled whimpers leave you as your professor falls into a rhythm and you shudder, do your best to fuck your hips back against him. That stops whenever he grips your waist with a grunt and you whine softly, still and let your teacher fuck you how he pleases. You take it and you love it, get pushed close to orgasm faster than ever before. You almost collapse when you come on his cock and you hiccup out a whine of pleasure, a muffled mewl of his name. Doctor Natsuo groans as your gummy insides spasm around him and his grip becomes bruising, his rocks get faster- harder. Feels so good! Feels so good! Sensei’s dick feels so good! “Shen- shensay!” “Oh, fuck- god- you’re so tight, baby. Good girl- you like sensei’s cock deep inside you? Is this what you wanted?” You whimper and nod- cheek scrubbing against the desk, cunt gripping his cock like a vice. He grunts and grabs onto your hips, forces your head up and back as the tie drags you and forces your back to arch in a tight, painful angle. Still feels good, though. Still feels like everything you wanted. You want- need- so much more. “Shoulda done this sooner,” your teacher groans out. “Shoulda- fuck!” He slams in you deep enough to have your eyes rolling back, hard enough to have your whole body shaking and your nails clawing across his desk. “C’mon, c’mon- take it- take it! Sensei is- Sensei is gonna fill you up- gonna give that needy cunt what it needs!” He’s gonna- he’s gonna- oh, god! Doctor Natsuo fucks into you faster and faster- the movements jarring you against the desk and making it rock, the jab of his cock rushing you to the height of pleasure again. You cry out as he slams into you- the tie falling from your lips as he drops it and forces you back onto the desk, slides his arms under you and grips your shoulders, fucks into you rough and deep and so, so perfectly. Warmth floods inside your pussy and you whimper as you’re filled with your sensei’s seed, twitch and come on his cock again- lashes fluttering and teeth digging into your lip to muffle your whine, honeyed insides milking his dick as if you need more. You do need more- you do. How could you have ever imagined one time would be enough to satisfy your fantasies? Your teacher pants and grinds into you- hot breath fanning over your cheek and his cock sliding out with a wet pop whenever he draws his hips back. You whimper at the loss but mewl when his fingers draw up your slit, slide back and down onto your knees as exhaustion slips over you. Fuck...fuck, did that just happen? A touch to your cheek has you looking up and you blink hazily at your sensei’s flushed cheeks, the shining and wet cock that he stuffs inside his trousers. “Satisfied?” he asks, slightly breathless and a groan hiding in his voice. “Going to be a good girl now? No more teasing sensei?” You nod, not quite thinking over the action or processing the words, only close your eyes when the slightest smile flits across his lips, when his fingers brush over your cheek and his gaze goes heavy lidded. “Sensei...” His fingers glance over your jawline and down low, stroke over your new hickey and bring a mewl. With your eyes closed, you can’t see the way his expression ripples with something hesitant and something curious, something...greedy. Strong hands help you up from the floor and you shudder as your legs tremble, press against his chest and look up at him with heavy eyes, a yearning that you can’t quite hide. He strokes your hair and it’s...nice. Unexpected from the way he reacted before, so very welcome. “...I was harsh with you.” The apologetic tone is also unexpected. Your professor seems to almost fluster, hesitates as he strokes your hair again and allows his grey gaze to look over your flushed cheeks and parted lips, the desire that you can’t quite hide. “...you were a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you flush even more. “...you gonna keep being good? Not tell?” Of course you’re not going to tell. Of course you’re not going to risk this. You nod without any hesitation and you’re graced with a smile, another kiss that has you wanting to melt against him. “Then in that case...” You blink and watch as he breathes in deep, tilt your head as your heart begins to flutter in your chest. “Come over tonight. I can give you what you want properly.” He wants...he wants you to come over? He wants to fuck you again? You could swear it’s almost a smirk that forms on his face whenever your eyes widen and your breath catches. “I- I...yes, please.” He hums and he steps away- leaving you to stumble slightly and look at him in wonder, an unending adoration that you had pretended wasn’t underneath all your lust for him. “Good. But for now...” Sensei takes a deep breath and then he smiles at you- this time a bit wry, a little amused. “You’re going to be late for your next class.” Next class? Oh- oh shit! A squeak escapes you and you hurry to gather up all your stuff, shove your books in your arms and race toward the door. “Hey.” You freeze as you grab onto the doorknob and nearly tumble into it, look back toward your sensei. “I want you to call me Natsuo when we’re alone.” He- he what? Oh. Oh. You open your mouth, but the trilling of the bell cuts you off and you’re left only with the time to nod and flush, mumble out a soft, “Yes, sir” before you have to rush out the room. You head toward your next class with weak legs and cheeks red from where your sensei’s tie pulled deep into your skin, hair a mess and your teacher’s- Natsuo’s- cum dripping down your thighs. You smile as you rush off to your next class- happy and fucked, eager to see what Natsuo has in store for you later that night.

[soulmate-game]

Maribat March 2021 @maribatmarch-2k21

Day 1: Found Family

“Ah! Bonjour!” A cheery voice called, as a short Eurasian girl bound over to the unfairly intimidating mob of tall people with sharp eyes. Chloe had called in a favor. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chloe told me that your tour guide cancelled at the last minute, so she blackmail—sorry, begged me to fill in for them. You are the Wayne’s, non?”

The one at the front of the group, clearly Bruce Wayne since Marinette didn’t live under a rock and had seen the man on several American news broadcasts before, nodded and cleared his throat. Man, was he intimidating. Even when he shot her a dazzling smile that was sure to blind Paparazzi with fake cheer. It was a nice smile, Marinette wasn’t about to deny. But it was empty. Distant. And Marinette wasn’t going to buy it for a second.

“Yes, that’s us. Mademoiselle Bourgeois mentioned she had asked a close friend of hers to take care of our tour.”

Marinette nodded again, clasping her hands behind her back. “I guarantee, you won’t miss anything the tour guide would have shown you. In fact, Chloe mentioned that you all were very curious about the now retired Parisian heroes, right? My former best friend ran the Ladyblog back when they were active. I am more than confident that I can answer any questions you have while we go through the city.”

A boy with a white streak in his hair rose his hand, as if he was in a class and needed to wait to be called on. Which, considering the sheer size of their family, Marinette was actually grateful for. But damn, this was another imposing figure. Slightly taller than even the six-foot-three-inches that Bruce Wayne owned, he was solidly built and rocked a brown leather jacket and ripped black jeans. Marinette smiled and nodded for him to speak.

“How old are you? Because I don’t know if twelve year olds are allowed to do guided tours,” there was an obvious tease in his voice, but there was also legitimate concern in his blue-green eyes. Marinette almost missed that concern amid her quickly building annoyance. She even felt her eyes twitch.

“I’m turning eighteen in a few months if you need to know, Monsieur,” she evened out the bite in her voice with an overly sweet smile. “And if you want to get lost and possibly pickpocketed in the busy streets of Paris, then please continue to make comments on my height. If not, we can begin our tour and you might even enjoy it.”

Several Wayne’s snickered at her comeback, one man in particular elbowing the white haired gentleman with a little too much glee. Even the stoic Bruce laughed softly, and a boy with enough bags under his eyes to make the airport jealous nearly fell over himself with his suppressed laughter.

The man himself just snorted, sending her a lopsided smirk that oddly radiated approval. It was almost as if she had passed some sort of test.

“My name’s Jason, Pixie. You already know B. The guy trying to break my ribs,” he pointedly shoved off the one who had elbowed him, “is Dick. He’s Bruce’s first adoptive casualty. The one that looks like a zombie is Tim, we might need to take a break to get him more coffee before he passes out halfway through. The one who hasn’t stopped glaring at you is Damian, the badass redhead is Barbara but we all call her Babs. The annoying blonde is Stephany, the other cool badass over there is Cass. She doesn’t talk much. And the one trying to pretend he doesn’t know us is Duke.”

Each member he introduced gave her a little wave or nod. Even Damian managed a short nod of acknowledgement before resuming his glare. He looked to be a couple years younger than her, so she just brushed it off as teenage drama.

“Alright then! It is very nice to meet you all. Now, Chloe did inform me that you guys are very multilingual, which is another reason she asked me instead of one of our other friends. If you ever need it, I obviously am fluent in both French and English. But added to that, I am fluent in Cantonese, Mandarin, Italian, and I know basic survival Japanese. I also know French Sign Language, though I’m not sure if that’s very useful for you unfortunately. If you ever need to communicate non-verbally, I will do my best to accommodate that. Now, I believe you guys were scheduled to start the tour with a visit to the Louvre, non? Right this way.”

As Marinette led the large group out of the Grand Paris, they didn’t bother taking time to admire the sights before asking questions.

“Have you ever met one of the heroes?” Dick, who might have been shorter than Jason and Bruce but was muscular enough to still inspire caution (and admiration), asked. His blue eyes seemingly stared right through Marinette as he continued; “If you’re almost eighteen, then they must have been active through a lot of your school career.”

Marinette smiled. “They did only retire last year,” she agreed with a nod. “Yes, I have met all of the Parisian heroes at least once,” she snorted at a stray thought. “In fact, I met Chat Noir quite a lot. You see, my old College was basically ground zero for a lot of akuma attacks. And by a lot, I mean a majority of them,” she shook her head before pausing to get everyone to cross a street. “After a while, Chat Noir started calling me ‘princess’ to make fun of how often he had to save me. He’s an annoying ass.”

Despite her words, everyone behind her could easily hear the fondness there. They all traded glances. What if this was a Lois and SuperMan situation? Regardless, they all had a suspicion that Marinette knew more about the heroes than she let on. Or, at least more about Chat Noir.

“When you say that your school was a hotspot for Akuma attacks,” Bruce spoke up cautiously, his Dad Senses going haywire. He didn’t like how nonchalantly she had said it— she was far too casual. Sure enough, he watched as the muscles between her shoulders stiffened slightly at the conversation change. “What do you mean? Surely it couldn’t have been that bad if the school is still around.”

Marinette sucked her teeth, grimacing. “The school is still there, yeah, but only because of Ladybug’s ability. You’ve heard about the Cure, right?” It was Tim who answered her;

“Yeah. It fixed the damage done during a fight, right?” He asked, tilting his head a little. Marinette ignored her brief thought that the gesture made him look like a curious puppy. She sighed.

“Yeah. But when they say damage, they mean everything. Injuries, collateral. Death,” she said the last example darkly, far too much weight behind the word for it to be meaningless. She heard Jason hiss in sympathy. “But there are good things. The Cure also erased anyone’s memories of dying besides the vague knowledge that it did happen, so there isn’t much trauma there to unpack. Not as much as there could have been anyway,” she assured them. “And I’m one of the lucky ones. I never died, and I was never Akumatized.”

“Hmph,” Damian’s voice cut through the brief silence that followed her admission. She looked back at him to see his sharp green eyes staring right into her. “You don’t honestly believe that’s lucky.” It wasn’t a question. Marinette clenched her jaw, turning around and ignoring him.

Because, no. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t lucky that she was the only one that remembered everything— all of the deaths, all of the Akumatizations, everything that others mercifully forgot. Since she lived through all of it, she remembered all of it. And survivor’s guilt is nothing to scoff at.

But she wasn’t about to reveal her trauma, or at the very least the full scope of it, to people she had just met and was leading on a tour.

“If you look to the left, you’ll see a statue that was made depicting Ladybug and Chat Noir back during the first years of their activity,” she suddenly told them, gesturing to the still-standing statue. Nobody missed the obvious topic change, but nobody commented on it either. Turns out the statue was something they had been looking forward to seeing in person, Tim even went up to take a few photos with his camera. Barbara took a few circles around the statue, easily pivoting her wheelchair around it as if she was trying to see every angle and imperfection possible. Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight.

“Your family are pretty big fans, huh?” She asked Cass and Duke, the only ones that had stayed back with her. Duke snorted, and Cass gave her a small grin.

“They like to keep up to date with all the heroes,” Duke answered with a shrug. “Since we’re so high profile, it isn’t weird for us to be saved by one here or there even when we’re away from Gotham.”

Marinette just gave him an odd look, furrowing her brows. “But the Miraculous team has been disbanded since HawkMoth was defeated,” she reminded them. “There’s no need for them to save anybody anymore.”

“Old habits,” Cass spoke up softly, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes locked with Marinette’s. “Not easy to break.”

The smaller woman had a feeling that Cass wasn’t talking about her family’s habit of keeping up to date on heroes.

“Alright! We need to head to the next stop or we might not have time to see everything!”

The tour went pretty similarly. The walks between stops were pleasant, and filled with questions about the period of time where HawkMoth was active. Marinette wasn’t even the least bit surprised nor put off; everyone was curious about those years now that the tourism restriction was lifted and people could ask freely about it. Besides the many questions about the Heroes, Marinette found the group to be very pleasant company. They were polite, but also rowdy in a very endearing way. She caught a lot of inside jokes they had with each other, and a lot of good natured teasing and fighting. They even managed to rope her into it somehow, and she found herself snidely teasing Damian or casually threatening Tim with not allowing them a coffee break. She even got to ride on Jason’s shoulders for a bit after he made another comment on her height that she Did Not Appreciate. But the ride she got made it worth it.

But soon the sun was high in the sky, and it was about time for them to take a lunch break. They had all been walking for hours with only a few chances to rest, and honestly Marinette was impressed that none of them seemed too tired out by it.

“Alright,” she put her hands on her hips proudly. “Since some of you won’t stop whining about needing coffee or being hungry— Dick, don’t you dare buy anything from that vendor! I’m gonna lead you all to my parent’s bakery so we can have lunch and caffeinate all of you. And conveniently enough,” she smiled widely. “The bakery is right across the street from my old College! So you’ll be able to get a look at where the majority of Akuma attacks happened, and maybe I can tell you a few specific stories if you want,” she offered. There were a couple cheers (Tim and Dick) from the crowd and everyone seemed pretty pleased with the next step in their tour. Smiling, Marinette turned and began to lead them in the direction of her home.

Sirens blared, a fire truck zooming down the street next to them.

Headed in the same direction.

Marinette frowned, watching it go. “That’s weird. I hope everyone’s okay, whatever happened,” she mused idly. But as they kept going forward, the sirens didn’t get any softer. If anything, they started getting louder again after a while. Marinette was visibly concerned by then, her pace picking up. “This is my neighborhood,” she told the solemn group behind her. “I know everyone on this street—“ they rounded the corner, and Marinette stopped in her tracks. Her world ground to a halt.

There was the fire truck, stopped right in front of her bakery.

Which was completely ablaze.

A string of curses flew out of her mouth, the little Eurasian wasting no more time before sprinting towards the building. She could hear people yelling at her to wait, slow down, stop! But she ignored them. The only thing on her mind was that her home was on fire.

“Marinette! Wait!” Dick reached out to grab her arm, but like a snake Marinette easily slipped out of his grip and continued forward. Steph was next, deciding to just tackle Marinette— to no avail. The Parisian just shouldered the bigger woman off of her with pure adrenaline fueling her muscles, and everyone else knew by then that they could not stop her. The Wayne’s decided all they could do was jog behind Marinette, keeping her in sight as they tried to gauge the damage.

“The top floors don’t look like they have even been touched by the fire yet,” Tim whispered, though his eyes flew between the building and their tour guide. Marinette was speaking rapidly with a firefighter that wasn’t immediately busy, trying to get information. But before anyone could decipher what was said, Marinette tore a large strip off the bottom of her shirt and tied it in a hasty mask around her mouth.

“Wait!” Bruce was the first to realize what was happening, with his years of experience with self sacrificing children and their stupid stunts. But Marinette managed to kick him away before he could grab her, dashing into the inferno without paying any heed to the many protests that followed her.

The group of Gothamites could do nothing but watch the flaming building, then. If they went inside, it would only overcrowd a hazardous area. Minutes passed, and there was movement in the fire. Out of the doorway came Marinette and a firefighter, both having to work together to carry the body of a large man outside. The sight of the man made the Gotham family blink— he was as big as Bane! And that was nothing to scoff at. But despite his unusual size and muscle mass, the man had all the signs of being a normal civilian.

Marinette didn’t stop there. She ran back in. Coming out a lot more quickly this time with a barely conscious Asian woman— everyone saw the resemblance between her and this new woman immediately.

It had to be her mother.

“Shit,” Duke hissed. Nobody else could say a word. It wasn’t looking good, and this wasn’t a situation where random vigilantes showing up out of nowhere could actually help. Not this late into the fire. Bruce’s hands curled into fists.

The woman that everyone guessed was Marinette’s mother was suddenly struck by lucidity; she gasped and grabbed at Marinette’s hand without seeming to see who she was even talking to. A single word that none of the Waynes could hear left her throat, and judging by Marinette’s returning panic it hadn’t been good.

She rushed right back into the building, and came back out with the last firefighter who had been searching inside.

Marinette carried a child. She screamed out in panicked French;

“She’s not breathing! I need first aid now!”

That was their cue. The firefighters started their hoses, focusing on getting rid of the flames now that nobody was left inside the building. Bruce and Damian got to Marinette first, and this time she listened as they instructed her to set the child down. Damian, being smaller and having more hands-on medical knowledge, took charge of the resuscitation. Marinette sat there silently, eyes riveted to the small child— a girl.

But Marinette wasn’t reacting like a normal civilian to tragedy. She was eerily calm, eyes focused and barely concealing a terrible rage. She took over chest compressions when Damian started to lose momentum, not giving up.

But then the EMTs arrived, and it was only five minutes with the child hooked onto oxygen that the news arrived—

Marinette heard the monitors on the ambulance flatline before she even registered what people were trying to tell her. Manon. Manon was—

Marinette didn’t register Nadya Chammack at first. She was just another body in the quickly growing sea of them. That is, until she heard Nadya’s pained shriek. A mother who had just lost her baby girl.

“Perhaps we should head back,” Bruce offered softly, giving Marinette space but keeping a keen eye on her. He saw her begin to tremble, then shake. He was pretty sure he could hear the grinding of her teeth for a second before she went still. Just… all movement stopped, the tears that had been building just falling silently for a second before they ended.

And he recognized that carefully practiced emptiness in her bluebell eyes. The same emptiness he had seen in Damian’s eyes when he had first arrived at the Manor. The same emptiness he saw in Dick’s eyes in the days following his parent’s deaths.

The same emptiness he saw in the mirror, every time he had another nightmare about the day Jason had been taken from him, years ago.

Suddenly he could imagine all too well exactly what kind of strength she had to have, to avoid her negative emotions ever being used against her during Hawkmoth’s reign. Especially if she had constantly been dealing with her friends and family being Akumatized and/or dying on multiple occasions.

She didn’t even seem to have heard him. Bruce sighed.

“I called Chloe,” Barbara informed everyone solemnly, holding up her phone for emphasis. “She’ll be here in five.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Chloe hadn’t come alone. With her had been Adrien Agreste, former model when his father hadn’t been… well, in prison. Nowadays he was just a normal student who occasionally gave lectures on neglect and child abuse, and how to help children in those situations.

And, apparently, he was also Marinette’s closest friend. Even more so than Chloe. As soon as they arrived back at the Grand Paris, Chloe herded everyone up into her suite and she and Adrien surrounded Marinette with pillows and blankets. Adrien curled around Marinette like an affectionate cat, and Damien even swore he heard the guy purr at some point

“We should probably leave,” Bruce whispered to their hostess, who looked inbetween him and her friends for a moment before jerking her head towards the door.

“I wanna talk to you first,” Chloe whispered back. Once they all filed out into the hallway and the door was safely closed, Chloe took a breath. “First, I want to tell you that I got a call from the hospital. Marinette’s father is stable, but in a coma right now.”

“Is that the man who looked like he could bench press a car for fun?” Dick asked, earning a weak grin from the Bourgeois heiress.

“Yeah, that’s him. But…” Chloe’s face fell, and she looked around as if to double check nobody was eavesdropping. She still lowered her voice anyway. “Her mother, Sabine. She…” Chloe swallowed a lump in her throat, images of the extremely kind Chinese woman flashing through her mind without permission. “She didn’t make it.”

Several people took a sharp breath, acknowledging everything that had gone so wrong for Marinette on a day that had started so perfectly.

“The smoke?” Cass asked gently, but Chloe winced and shifted on her feet.

“No. They… there were rope marks on Sabine’s neck,” Chloe clenched her eyes shut at the admission. “Marinette’s dad might be big, but he’s not a fighter. Sabine, though… Sabine was. She was raised in a martial arts family back in China. I’ve seen Sabine take down five men at once, all twice her size,” Chloe kicked her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “Somebody knew… somebody knew that the little Chinese woman was a threat but the big baker with tons of muscle was harmless.”

Nobody took that well. Not only had Marinette just lost her home and half of her family, but her father was in a coma and it had all been foul play.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded once the news had time to sink in. They could help with this; this was their specialty. They might have only known Marinette for six hours, but she had made a big impression. It wasn’t just anybody that could mesh with his family so seamlessly in that short span of time. “Is there anything else?”

“I want you to get temporary custody of her,” Chloe said it the way only Chloe Bourgeois could. With her back straight, chin high, and the tone of a woman who expected to be listened to or else she’d make life Hell for the person that didn’t take her seriously. Bruce could only blink.

“Can I ask for your reasoning?”

“Marinette has been closing herself off more and more over the years,” Chloe admitted. “Hawkmoth’s reign was hard on her. Only Adrien really knows everything she went through during those years. But even after the disbanding of the team, she hasn’t… she hasn’t allowed herself to get close to anybody new. That’s why I tricked her into doing your tour. She needed to socialize with new people, and if she wouldn’t do it herself then I had to pull some strings.”

A few eyebrows raised at the admission that Chloe had fully planned for Marinette to be their tour guide the whole time. It honestly seemed like the kind of well meaning manipulation that one of them would try to pull off.

“She likes you,” Chloe’s voice went soft again, showing how uncharacteristically serious she was about that fact. “She was comfortable enough to let you guys carry her back here. To let you try to help Manon. That might not seem like a big deal to you, but it says a lot to me and Adrien. And… getting her away from Paris for a while is probably a good idea. She was planning to go to Gotham for university anyway.”

The Waynes traded glances before Bruce crosses his arms and asked some more questions first. Doesn’t Marinette have other family? Answer; only her grandmother, who travels all the time and nobody ever knows where she is until she shows up. Bruce agreed that Gina Dupain didn’t exactly seem like a good candidate for Marinette’s new guardian with that description. But finally, to none of his children's surprise, he did end up agreeing.

“But,” he held up a single finger. “We’ll Wait here in Paris for a week, so that she can try to salvage everything she can from her house and so we can get an idea on how her father is doing. There’s still a chance he’ll come out of his coma fairly quickly. And of course, we will only go through with this if Marinette agrees when we ask her tomorrow.”

Chloe agreed to those terms, looking like a weight had been lifted off of her.

Chloe never cut corners when taking care of her hive. And if that meant making sure that her brave soldier bee could move on to start a new hive, one that was better equipped to take care of her, then Chloe would do everything she could to help that move. And really; Chloe was far more resourceful and observant than people gave her credit for. The butts definitely matched, and Bruce Wayne was her last hope to get Marinette the support she needed. Outside of Adrien, anyway.

Chloe took a breath, watching the Waynes trickle off into their own rooms. Marinette was like the little sister she never wanted, but grew to love more than anything. Though, Chloe knew she really chose Marinette as her sister the same way they both chose Adrien as their brother. She just didn’t want to admit she was sentimental like that. But Chloe knew that someone like Marinette needed a bigger family. More support.

She could only hope that Marinette and the Waynes grew to become family for her like she and Adrien had. Kwami knew that Marinette needed all the help she could get for the foreseeable future.

“You did good, my Queen.”

“I know, Pollen. Now we just have to find out who dared hurt my hive.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dude this took so long to write, but I’m actually really proud of it. Probably gonna take this Maribat March a little differently than last year, and make a few longer stories by connecting some of the prompts together. Maybe each week will be a full story? Idk I’ll figure it out. I know I’m behind but I’m working on it.

I tried to keep the angst out, but it found it’s way in here anyway. Oh well!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details, Part Two

CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

2 weeks ago

I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!

In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket. 

The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train. 

Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?

Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?

And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?

Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.

Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.

Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force. 

His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.

Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.

After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.

He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.

“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.

Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear. 

They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.

The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.

But Brute Hanlon had a secret.

Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.

Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.

Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.

While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.

Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged. 

What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.

After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him. 

Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.

One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy. 

During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent. 

He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.

Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good. 

The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”. 

Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.

Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point. 

Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.

Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests. 

Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.

Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.

We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.

On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.

None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life. 

At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.

Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.

When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”

He was right.

What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.

The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.  

Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.

Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.

The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.

He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.

Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.

Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason). 

Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom. 

There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there. 

In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.

Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.

Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.

A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.

I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.

Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.

Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.

Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.

Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since. 

Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.

I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.

So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?

In short… no one knows for sure.

After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.

The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.

He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.

Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.

Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.

Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.

Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary 

[qitwrites]

|| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 

Momo is 13 when she gets her first period.

Her parents had talked to her about it of course, told her it was completely natural and normal and healthy, and to come to them when it happens.

What nobody was prepared for was the pain.

She’s in the family garden creating some Lego blocks for herself when a bout of cramps, sharp and intense, roils through her abdomen and up her left leg. It’s so sudden she can barely call for help, and by the time the guards reach her, she’s on the ground sobbing, clutching her stomach and shakily taking in gasps of air.

They tell her it’s a combination of her diet and her genes. The high-fat diet has consequences, no matter how much she uses her quirk to balance it out and her father’s side of the family has a history of debilitating period pains. It’s just really bad luck, or so they tell her.

Of course, this doesn’t deter Momo from her plans of becoming a pro-hero. It’s all she wants. So, it’s what she chases and works for and earns.

The period pains get worse.

Class 1A doesn’t notice for the longest time. Momo is good at hiding it, at hiding how often she uses the loo for the first two days, how much pain she’s biting back in class, how badly she’s performing in training. She practices her smile in the mirror, sits through hours of class and training and socializing with a smile plastered on her face, and screams into her pillow at night. She spends those nights on her bathroom floor, alternating between throwing up and enjoying the cool feeling of the tiles underneath her.

Nobody realizes until Momo doesn’t show up for class one day.

Of course, everyone is immediately concerned- Momo isn’t one to skip. She takes the best notes, has perfect attendance, submits her assignments on time, the works. First period passes like that, and Aizawa even brings it up but nobody knows where she is. She hasn’t messaged a soul or called anyone about anything.

They’re on break after second period when Todoroki finds her on the staircase landing between the first and second floor.

Momo is on the ground, laying on her side. Her hand is in her mouth, blood dripping down her skin as she clenches it tightly between her teeth. Her other hand is wrapped around her abdomen, squeezing tightly. Tears stream down her face continuously, like an endless river. She’s muffling her screams, and it’s almost like she can’t even see Todoroki, her gaze piercing straight through him.

Todoroki is immediately alarmed, getting to his knees in front of her. He looks over her and can’t see any physical injuries, any signs of trauma.

‘Yaoyorozu,’ he says urgently, ‘what’s going on?’

Momo blinks at him, some of the tears dispelling. She finally sees him, recognizes him, and gasps. She pulls her hand away and the tears spill again.

‘I can’t-‘ she starts and sucks in a sharp breath ‘-I can’t breathe. I can’t- there’s too much pain fuck.’ Todoroki raises his brows- Momo never curses. Never. Not even when she stubbed her toe against the dining table and broke it.

‘We have to get you to recovery girl,’ Todoroki says, moving to help her up.

‘Wait,’ she groans. ‘I need- dammit, Todoroki let me borrow your left hand for a moment please.’

Todoroki complies without question, and watches as she takes it and places it on her abdomen above her uniform.

‘As hot as you can go,’ she says, ‘without burning my uniform. Please.’

Todoroki has no idea what’s going on, but he does as she asks. The effect is almost immediate- her breathing evens out, her eyes focus again, her body stops jerking in pain. It’s almost like she’s been sedated.

After nearly 2 minutes of sitting in silence, she gently takes Todoroki’s hand and places it on his own knee. She sits up gingerly and wipes away her tears, smearing some of the blood on her cheeks instead. Todoroki watches her carefully, ready to step in if she asks for help.

‘What happened?’

Momo looks at him with sad eyes. ‘It’s just my period cramps Todoroki. I’m ok, I’ll be alright.’

Todoroki quirks a brow. ‘You’re not ok Yaoyorozu, even I can tell just by looking at you.’

Momo is about to voice another protest when the door to the stairwell bursts open. Bakugou and Kirishima walk through with vending machine drinks in their hands and stop when they spot the pair on the floor.

‘Yaomomo?’ Kirishima shouts, running towards them. Bakugou trails just behind, eyebrows furrowed.

Momo plasters a smile on her face, trying to hide her bloodied hand.

‘What happened?’ Kirishima yells, crouching down with a concerned look in his eyes.

‘I-‘

‘She said it’s period cramps,’ Todoroki interrupts. In all honesty, he never grew up around his mother or his sister, so he has limited knowledge of periods in general. But with that limited knowledge also came the lack of a stigma towards periods in general. He doesn’t think anything of talking about it.

Kirishima’s concerned look melts into one of sad understanding.

‘Oh man,’ he says, ‘that sucks Yaomomo. They’re that bad, huh?’

Momo keeps her smile in place. ‘Really, I’m fine, it’s nothing I cannot handle, I’m ok-‘

A hand, absurdly gentle, pulls her bloodied one away from where she’s hiding it. Momo startles when she sees Bakugou holding her hand, giving her a tight look. He drops it gently and sighs. With a grunt, Bakugou sits down next to her, back leaning into the wall. Kirishima sits cross legged in front of her while Todoroki sits on her other side.

‘My old hag,’ Bakugou grumbles, ‘has period pains. More like period torture, I guess. She threw up every month on the first day. She’d have dark circles from the lack of sleep, and she’d slap hot water bags to her stomach 24/7. She even burned the skin there a few times. Painkillers didn’t do shit, there were no surgical options, not even birth control made much of a dent. She’d just grit her teeth and bare it every month.’

Momo listens silently, her hands slowly unclenching.

‘My moms,’ Kirishima pitches in, ‘are pretty chill with it. Well, Mama’s get really bad sometimes, but mom is usually ok. I’ve seen them bring each other ice-cream or squeeze each other’s shoulders. They sync up a lot too! Mama would always tell me to be nicer to mom, and mom would always tell me to give mama a kiss. They’re both so manly when they battle their periods every month.’ He offers Momo a gentle smile.

Todoroki hums. ‘I admit, I don’t know much beyond the biological part of it. But from what I can see, Yaoyorozu, this isn’t very normal, is it? This level of pain?’

Momo sighs, brushing away the fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I, between my quirk and my genes, I have received the shorter end of the stick. Of course, I have looked into treatments. There’s nothing I can fix with surgery, and painkillers are usually ineffective. I have tried birth control measures, but they interfere with my quirk.’

Momo looks up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think we talk about this enough, about heroes that menstruate. I can’t stop being a hero on the days I have my period, but sometimes, I’m in so much pain I can’t see straight. I-‘ she sucks in a stuttering breath ‘-I don’t know what to do sometimes. I want to stand on equal footing with my peers.’

Bakugou scoffs. ‘You shitting me? You’re top of the class, your quirk can make fucking canons, you tutored our fuckwit classmates into not failing miserably, and you did it all through this shit? What part of that is not equal with your peers?’

Kirishima nods in agreement. ‘I mean, Mina has some cramps too, so I usually bring her hot water bags when she asks. I read somewhere that spinach is great for period health, so I make us both protein shakes with spinach and banana! She says it helps.’

‘The iron in spinach must be beneficial,’ Momo muses, her face breaking into the first genuine smile of the day. ‘I usually up my iron intake as well. It does help.’

‘You’re right though,’ Todoroki adds, eyebrows furrowed, ‘we don’t talk enough about heroes that menstruate. Plus, the fact that you can’t seem to find a way to manage your pain without it affecting your life is proof that they haven’t put much thought into it, isn’t it?’

Bakugou grunts in agreement. ‘My hag volunteers at women’s shelters and tries to raise funds for pain meds and hygiene supplies and shit. It’s ridiculous. All of that shit should be free. No one asks to have a period every month.’

‘We can change that though,’ Kirishima pipes in, always the voice of positivity. ‘Look at the four of us, talking about it! Yaomomo, I’m sorry.’

Momo blinks, ‘What for Kirishima?’

‘For not noticing! You must’ve been in so much pain all this time, huh? I’m sorry for not noticing and doing more.’

Momo feels something cold press against her arm. She looks down to see Bakugou pushing his unopened drink into her elbow.

‘Take it, staying hydrated helps with the cramps.’ He stands up and brushes his pants. ‘Think you can stand?’

Momo takes a sip of the drink, relishing the cold fizzy burn as it slides down her throat. She takes a deep breath and stands, stumbling a little before catching herself. Todoroki steadies her around the elbow.

‘Can we take you to recovery girl?’

Momo smiles warmly. ‘I’ve been already. We’ve been working together on some remedies. It’ll take time, but I hope we can come up with something.’ Momo hums. ‘I should put more work into this. I can’t be the only hero that faces such bad period pains.’

‘That’s so manly Yaomomo!’ Kirishima beams. ‘I’m kinda dumb so I don’t think I can help with the research but let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

Momo giggles into the back of her hand and they start moving towards class together. As they reach the top of the stairs another bout of cramps settles into her gut, and she clenches the railing with a white knuckled grip.

The boys stand around, guarding her, supporting her, giving her small smiles and reassuring nods. Todoroki offers her his hand again, and she quickly makes a heating pad and hands it to him, so she can continue to use it during class. Bakugou urges her to drink more water, and Kirishima keeps telling her how manly she is.

When they get to class, everyone crowds around her and she laughs softly, promising to explain everything later. The rest of the day passes by with little incident, and throughout it all, Todoroki takes the heating pad from her, heats it up and hands it back, hour after hour.

They talk about it in the dorms after class, and recounting her episode opens the floodgates for all the girls.

‘I get really bad migraines,’ Uraraka sighs, rubbing at her temples as if in anticipation. ‘It makes the nausea from my quirk even more unbearable.’

Jirou nods. ‘I get you. I have leg cramps, makes it impossible to use my legs during heartbeat surround. The speakers are too painful to use, and I’m never as stable as I’d like to be.’ She gives Kirishima a pointed look. ‘I’ll join you at the gym next time, teach me some leg moves. I want to get stronger.’ Kirishima gives her a huge thumbs up and a blinding grin.

‘My back gives out sometimes,’ Mina says. ‘I have this pain that burns in my lower back on a few occasions, it’s the worst.’

‘I don’t have a lot of physical symptoms,’ Hagakure pipes in, ‘but I do have PMS and depressive episodes. I’ve been trying to figure out a good med balance to fix it.’ All the girls nod at that, squeezing her arms and shoulders in silent support.

The teachers are brought into the loop too, and Aizawa gently berates Momo for not coming to him sooner.

‘We’re here to help,’ he says, eyes the gentlest she’s ever seen. ‘Learn to rely on your teachers more, will you? Such troublemakers , the lot of you.’

Momo makes hot packs for the girls after that, and the teachers don’t blink when one of them passes it to Todoroki in the middle of class as the boy just heats it the appropriate amount before passing it back without so much as a hiccup in his work.

Bakugou sends Momo articles and tips from his mom about pain management and dealing with cramps. He says it’s because he wants her to be in top condition when he beats her for #1, otherwise it won’t, in his eloquent words, mean jack shit. Momo tries some stuff out, happily surprised when her symptoms are even the slightest bit reduced. Kirishima offers to make them all spinach shakes, and they take him up on that every so often, complimenting his limited cooking abilities.

And on the days Momo is back on the bathroom floor heaving into the toilet, Jirou holds her hair back. Mina cuddles her on the couch when her hands are clenched as she bites back tears, and Ojiro sits by her feet, a reassuring presence to depend on if she ever needs something.

They’ve still got a long way to go as a society, but it’s a start. And a damn good one at that.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

Sky Twizzlers - Chapter 9b

*Warning Adult Content*

Vacation’s Over - Part 2 - Aaron 

"So," Erin piped up, raising an eyebrow. 

"You gonna' introduce me?"

“Oh. Right, uh, Erin, these are my mates."

"Evander Carlin, a pleasure to meet you," Evander cut in before I could say anything else.

The vampire held his hand out for Erin to accept and they shook hands. Erin then looked to Aubrey and the nymph glanced away shyly.

"I'm Aubrey," he offered.

What happened to his usually outgoing personality? He'd been so open around us before. I reached out to take his hand, which he gladly accepted. Erin must've noticed the small action because he suddenly smirked, crossing his arms.

"I can't believe my bestie went and got himself two mates while on a mission. Only Aaron," he teased.

"It wasn't on purpose. About that mission, though," I started, gaining his serious attention. 

"How did it go? How are the freed captives?"

Erin nodded.

"Right to business I see. Well, we've been able to contact a few of the families and give those who have no contacts and wished to leave some supplies and money. Kit said he wanted to stay with Wren and Joshua, so he's still here for now. We're going to have a proper meeting later tonight now that you're here."

"Okay."

"Uh, for now, I guess you'd want to hang around, show your mates to your room, or whatever. Be in the meeting room by seven-thirty." Erin smiled lightly, his brown eyes unable to hide the pain he felt. 

"I'm really glad you're okay and that you found your mates. You deserve it."

He walked away, leaving us in silence. The pain in my best friend's eyes pulled at my heart. Even if he'd never met his intended mate, it was still a burden on his heart. And after Wren found Joshua, Erin was... different. He still goofed around and stayed his positive self around the pack but I knew better. He was hurting. I wanted so badly to tell him that he shouldn't give up hope. He had someone else.

Before he disappeared, I made sure to focus on one of his hands for a moment. A faint red string tied to his pinkie floated in the air, leading outside. The string wasn't nearly as vibrant or thick as ones that signified a primary mate bond but the fact that it was there was enough of a relief. He deserved happiness. 

Often, I checked his hand to make sure it was still there, that he didn't have to feel another string break. I wished I could tell him the truth and guide him straight to his second-chance mate but I couldn't. For one, I'd be tampering with fate... no matter how weak it is given he had a second-chance mate and I wasn't sure about my powers getting out on accident. 

Erin would never snitch on me if I told him but it would be extremely suspicious if we randomly left to find his mate and came back within a short period of time. People would ask questions and I wasn't about to draw that kind of attention to myself.

"Aaron, should we get situated in your room?" Evander asked, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, follow me."

Luckily, I got one of the cabin rooms. It was probably because I'd been very busy helping to lead our group as a substitute for our Beta. Now, I also had the excuse of having mates with me. Wren and Joshua got their own room for that reason.

‘What funny timing.’

As the three of us climbed the steps leading to the second floor, I paused when I saw Wren and Joshua by the top of the stairs. Joshua had his arm around the shorter, a goofy grin on his face. When Wren saw me, he grinned, leaving his mate's side to greet us once we were in front of them.

"Aaron, you're here."

Wren hugged me tightly, squeezing me until I felt like I was about to stop breathing, why was he trying to kill me?

"I was so worried, you have no idea. You're okay, right?"

"I'm fine, Wren," I answered, offering a very small smile. 

"I wasn't even gone that long."

"Still," he insisted. Wren then glanced behind me at my mates, a gentle smile overtaking his previous grin. 

"Hi, I'm Wren."

"It's nice to meet you, Wren," Evander greeted politely, Aubrey nodding along by his side.

“You must be tired from your trip. I'll leave you guys alone," Wren said, stepping back into Joshua's hold.

"Nice to see you, Aaron," Joshua added before they both walked downstairs.

"Okay, I swear you guys can get some rest now. No more introductions," I said with an apologetic smile.

"It's not a problem. They're your people," Evander said.

I silently led them to the room we'd be sharing, opening the door and letting them inside. It was small with a bed that would probably barely fit us if we all slept together, a nightstand on either side, a dresser in the corner next to a window and a single chair next to a set of shelves containing some books.

"It's small but I think we can fit in here well enough," I said, stepping inside after them and shutting the door.

"It's fine, Aaron," Evander assured, sitting down on the bed.

Our bags we'd packed were already by the bed, so I grabbed one of them to begin unpacking. We weren't sure how long we'd stay here, to be honest. Maybe days, maybe months. As I unzipped the bag, Aubrey sat down next to Evander, leaning his head on the vampire's shoulder. I looked up from the clothes I was refolding to hold Aubrey's gaze.

"Are you... okay?" I asked hesitantly.

"I'm fine," he answered, looking away for a moment. "I just got a little shy. They're your friends and I didn't want them to hate me."

My chest warmed at his words. Putting the shirt I held in my hand on the bed, I sat down on the other side of the nymph.

"They could never hate you," I said seriously. 

"You're too likable."

Aubrey blushed at that, looking down shyly.

"Thanks," he whispered.

This time, he initiated the hand-holding as he slid his small hand into mine. I squeezed it gently, a small smile slipping onto my face, the smile widening when I felt the presence of Evander's arm spread out to balance himself from behind me. At least, I could spend a few minutes with my mates before sitting in a boring meeting with yelling werewolves.

‘Oh, joy.’

[tofadeawayagain]

Create for Thra, Day 2: Original Characters (Post 2 of 2)

And now for my “baby gelfs”. I’m very nervous about introducing these to the wider world, so hopefully you all like them :). Once again, these babies are from my Maudra series. I can’t draw, and as such I don’t have any art to share - I hope you enjoy these little word sketches and the short excerpt from a piece I’m working on at the end.

Elidi – Drenchen

Elidi is the eldest daughter of Maudra Naia and Amri. She is the perfect combination of her parents. Her skin is like her mother’s, deep green with a hint of gold. Her eyes are bright blue with gold flecks – in the dark, her pupils get just as large as her father’s, rendering her iris nearly unnoticeable. During the day, her pupils are only slightly larger than a daylighter’s – it’s enough to make her sensitive to light, though, and she often wears clothing with hoods to drape over her head when the three suns are at their highest point. Her hair reaches to the middle of her thighs and is done in the traditional style of the Drenchen maudren with decorated locks and beaded braids. It is silvery-white just like her father’s, except for the streaks of deep Drenchen blue and a lighter Grottan teal. She is petite. She inherits her wings from her father’s side of the family, though they are black, purple, and indigo just like her mother’s. Elidi is cautious – though she is fierce just like her mother, she also has her father’s tendency to investigate her circumstances before charging into them. She doesn’t trust immediately, and she has a knack for reading people’s emotions and seeing through any artifice. Elidi studies vliyaya and healing with her mother and Aunt Eliona in addition to preparing to be the next Drenchen maudra. She is an extroverted introvert and prefers to spend time with family and close friends wherever possible. Although she is good in front of a crowd, being in the spotlight fills her with a nervous energy. Luckily for her, she looks less like she’s nervous and more like she’s on the prowl when she fidgets. The clan knows her to be a competent healer and leader and trusts her in her position as second-in-command to Maudra Naia.

Oria – Drenchen

Oria is Naia and Amri’s second child and is two trine younger than Elidi. She’s only a few inches shorter than her father. She inherited her intensity and her Drenchen wings from her mother, but the rest of her is all Grottan. Oria’s hair is the same silvery-white as her father’s. The humidity in Sog makes her hair slightly wavy, but by mid-day, it is almost always straight and heavy. She keeps it long, though not as long as Elidi’s, and she only keeps a few braids in her hair as a marker of her status. As her father’s star apothecary and alchemy apprentice, Oria can usually be found in the workshop, her hair messy and tied back away from her face, and goggles strapped over her eyes. Her eyes are bright gold, and her gaze is so sharp that she can intimidate people easily. Like her sister, her pupils can expand and contract depending on the ambient light. She doesn’t look much like either one of her parents, but she is a spitting image for Amri’s mother. Though she inherited her wings from Naia’s side of the family, they are a bright teal blue and glistening silver. With high cheekbones and skin that is closer to gray than green, Oria’s unique looks in the swamp of Sog make her stand out – and she loves it. While her older sister is uncomfortable in the spotlight, Oria lives for it. She’s the life of every room, and she wears her emotions on her sleeve. People know where they stand with Oria – she doesn’t wait for the invocation of hard-talk to express her feelings. She loves the water, and if she’s not in the workshop, she’s likely exploring the lakes and waterways of Sog. Oria is likely to get herself into trouble at any opportunity, and she treats rules more like guidelines. She is fiercely competitive with her younger brother, and though she is happy in her chosen career, she longs to see the world – but she can’t leave the swamp. No one can.

Zain – Drenchen

Zain is Naia and Amri’s third child and is only one trine younger than Oria. Zain is mostly deaf (except for low tones like thunder), and he uses the Dousan sign language to communicate. He is a carbon copy of his father, and during his younger years, he even wore the same hairstyle. As a young adult, he changes his style, shaving both sides of his head and keeping the rest secured back in a braided tail or bun. Zain’s skills with healing vliyaya rival those of his oldest sister, and he trains alongside her to become an advanced healer. Like Oria, he is extroverted; however, he keeps his emotions on lockdown. He values his family above all else, and though he is fiercely competitive with Oria, they have an intensely close bond. He also has a close bond with his baby sister, Zenna, and is the one Elidi goes to for advice due to his level head and calm demeanor.

Shiri – Grottan

Shiri is Deet and Rian’s second child. She was born only months before Oria, and they grew up as the best of friends. Shiri is very shy and doesn’t make new friends easily – as such, her circle is very small. Shiri’s childhood is marked by periods during which her mother is overwhelmed by grief at the loss of Shiri’s older brother, Jen. Shiri never gets the chance to know him, but she feels like she is always in his shadow. Though she is raised to follow in her mother’s footsteps as the next Grottan maudra, Shiri isn’t sure she wants to be a maudra at all. She’s got an ear for music, and she’d much rather become a song teller. She learns to play her father’s old lute in her spare time. Shiri’s got Rian’s tan skin and blue coloring, but she has Deet’s messy hair and long ears. Her eyes can adjust to the ambient light, and they are a deep blue color like her father’s. Her hair is a dirty brown with streaks of Stonewood blue, and her wings have the characteristic bright blue and orange coloring common among the Stonewood. She is the same height as her mother, and she’s quiet most of the time – unless she’s singing, that is.

Koa – Sifa

Koa’s parents are both Drenchen; however, they left Sog long ago to join the Sifa. Koa grew up on white sand beaches and on the decks of ships, but he’s always wanted to see the mainland and explore the swamps where his parents grew up. Koa is tall for a Gelfling, and he’s also bulky from his days manning the sails and loading/unloading cargo. He’s got Drenchen locks, but they are covered with Sifan bells and golden trinkets. As a young adult, Koa gets a job working on Elder Onica’s ship, which docks in Sog’s port city of Seaside, only a day’s kayaking distance from the Great Smerth.

Zenna – Drenchen

Zenna is Naia and Amri’s youngest child. Born ten trine after Zain, she is the baby of the family. She looks like her mother, though her eyes are Amri’s dark honey brown. Like her Uncle Gurjin, she is usually unruffled and steady of temperament. Though she isn’t yet sure what she wants to become, she knows she loves the ocean.

 And now, an excerpt from mah girl Elidi’s POV:

“She watches the ripples on the surface above as she drifts in the current. The water is cool along her neck, crisp in a way she isn’t yet used to. She knows the concept of cold, though she’s never felt it herself before. The water isn’t cold, yet, but it has certainly changed.

The rains have not stopped for three days. The waters surrounding Great Smerth have long-since spilled over the edges of the Glenfoot, and the islands Elidi grew up knowing have vanished beneath the surface of the swollen lake. It is almost as if they never existed at all. Like her people, they are hidden away, waiting for the storm to pass.

Has it passed? She looks at the line of crystal embedded in the bluestone on the lakebed. Though the vein went clear three days ago when the suns burned as one, Elidi still hasn’t touched it. She doesn’t think she ever will. She tried once when she was a childling. Her mother had been nearby and tugged her away. Naia had clung to her when they’d surfaced, and she’d shouted at Elidi as she never had before or since. She hadn’t been angry – she’d been terrified. It’s a sound that’s never left her. 

There is a great splash at the edge of the Glenfoot, and Elidi rights herself in the water column as her sister plunges to the very bottom of the lake. Oria’s at her side with two pumps of her wings, and she raises her hand immediately. Elidi presses her palm to Ori’s, and her sister’s anxious voice fills her mind.

They’re waiting for you in Mum’s chamber. They’ve been telling everyone that we need to leave Great Smerth.

Elidi’s brow wrinkles, and she looks past the ripples at the towering heights of her home. Her mother’s balcony is only three levels up. She’s accustomed to seeing her mother standing there, proud and wild. But the balcony is empty, save for the wind and the rain and stray apeknot leaves knocked loose in the deluge.

We’re not leaving Great Smerth. It’s just a bit of rain. Elidi kicks for the surface, and Ori stays with her, hand in hand.

Aunt Pemma is with them. She’s trying to keep them from starting a panic. She thinks we’re fine here in Smerth, but she wants to evacuate New Domrak.

Have they found Deet, yet?

Oria pulls her hand away. Her expression is all the answer Elidi needs, and the two girls continue to the surface surrounded only by the muffled silence of the water.

They glide over the submerged Glenfoot and toward the stairs that lead into the Great Smerth. Elidi plants her feet on the lowest stair and as soon as her head clears the water, her sense of peace is shattered. The glade is louder than she’s ever heard it. People are calling out to one another on the rope and wood pathways strung through the canopy above, and as Gelfling move their belongings out of the residences on the ground floor, the Stone’s Way echoes in a cacophony of anxiety.

She takes a deep, steadying breath, and then she climbs the staircase, exiting the lake and entering the great tree. She keeps her head high, attempting to project a sense of confidence that she doesn’t feel. When will Mother come back? she asks herself. Perhaps they’ll stop panicking when Mother comes back…

Oria remains at her side, only one step behind, all the way to the third floor landing. Elidi can hear the council members bickering all the way in the hall, and she exchanges a frustrated glance with her sister before entering the room.

She stands tall and says nothing until they all look at her and come to a silence. It’s something her mother taught her long ago, and with her short stature, it’s a technique she depends on to gain attention. Her Aunt Pemma gives her a firm nod of approval, and she can feel Oria standing behind her, tall and firm. She’ll hug her sister and her aunt later. For now, she has a job to do.

She catches every eye in the room, then raises a single eyebrow. “Which of you are responsible for all this huff-puff, then?”

[goldenheartstudios]

Turning Red was fun, I wanna talk about it

  Disclaimer 1: This rant will not be fully positive, and it will especially not be fully negative. I will just talk about what I want to talk about respectfully

  Disclaimer 2: I’m not Chinese, I’m Romanian. So this post will definitely not be about the movie’s culture portrayal, and you have to keep this in mind when I’ll talk in my perspective (I also recommend watching reviews and analyses from people who are related to the movie’s culture if you’re curious, they can be very informative and fun!)

  With that aside, let’s start

  I watched the movie not long after it was released, and I quite enjoyed it! And, after I posted here a very long rant (about an other series, not related with this post) and watched a video about someone analyzing the movie Turning Red, I thought I can take this opportunity and do a shorter rant

  The first thing I want to talk about is the visual. Like, my God, the colors are so pretty and everything looks so soft and lighthearted! The sparkly eyes were definitely something that I really enjoyed, because it made me think of classic cartoons, fitting very well with the vibes the movie wanted to give!

  The characters were also lively and fun. One thing that I especially enjoyed was the bond between them, since it felt true and natural, like how friends are. They help each other, play together and just vibe

  I also like how Mei and her mother have an honest bond of caring, even if they’re not on the same page. I can feel that the creator of the movie wanted to portray a complicated relationship between family and friends, and I can say that this aspect of the film was handled well

  I related to Mei being a very competent child with an overprotective mother. I don’t see this aspect often, so seeing her struggles with getting a new perspective outside of her comfort place and having the choice of accepting the change or staying the same, while being true to herself, was really nice 

  Also, I will not go into the discussion about the portrayal of period, because I was luckily informed about it at an early time when it happened to me, and I’ve never seen it as a big deal (I’m honestly more confused on why others make a big deal about it. Guys, it’s just biology)

  Overall, I enjoyed how colorful, cute, funny and over the top it was, and I’m definitely considering rewatching it in the future! But, no series is perfect, and now I get to talk about the things I was ehh about

  Honestly, the things I will talk about did not affect me that much as ruining my experience of the movie, so kudos for that!

  The first thing I want to mention is Mei’s voice. Don’t get me wrong, the timbre of the voice fits very well! I just noticed the voice was a little monotone with emotion

  It did fit when Mei was acting composed and calm, but most of the movie she’s showing a lot of complicated emotions, and that’s when I noticed a lack of strength in feelings, more notable when she cried or was angry. But I don’t think this means the voice actor was inexperienced honestly, because this can easily be caused by the direction they were given

  Another thing that I want to talk about is the moment of betrayal, aka the moment when Mei went to her mother instead of her friends. This would be the most notable issue for me, because I’m not really a fan of “betraying your friend” trope in general

  My main issue was that they were Mei’s besties, and they were left aside and forgave her very fast after (which depending on how you were at that age, you may find this realistic or unrealistic). This didn’t really go anywhere, and I felt it was put there for the purpose of having a reason for the girls to go to the concert without Mei, and having a dramatic moment in the movie overall

  I would have personally liked if Mei tried to talk to her mother, but she wouldn’t have listened, because it would also make sense considering how she acted at the notebook event. And if when she was taken back, Mei would have told her friends to go to the concert without her for her sake, for the effort they made together, this could have made that her friends did go to the concert, but you would see that they’re bummed out because Mei’s not there

  And about the fact if the bully was too easily forgiven or not, well this is a little complicated. Yes, he did make fun of them many times. Yes, he did act like an asshole many times. But, you have to consider the part when Mei, as a big red panda, jumped on him in the scary/angry phase and actually wounded him. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t act scared of them (or of Mei) after that whole event, because it might have been terrifying for a kid to go through that

  Does this excuse his behavior? Nah. But you have to keep in mind that they’re very young, they still don’t know fully about what’s morally right and wrong at that age. Him going to them and saying that he’s sorry for making fun of them would have been enough to be completely honest

  The last thing I want to talk about is the exaggeration of events, which is the thing that I saw many people complain about

  I have to tell you: I think the characters’ actions were pretty realistic. That’s just how kids act, searching for interest, entertainment, fun, and being imprevisible with how they hold grudges. I think the impression that makes these thing exaggerated is the fact that we see things in Mei’s perspective, and as a kid, many things hit or feel bigger than they truly are

  And about her mother being that overprotective, I don’t have a problem with that. I can understand it, especially since I’ve seen people’s opinion that are from that culture

  The only thing that I can talk about tho, is the time her mother entered the school to give her pads, but probably not in the way you think I will

  You see, I do understand her being that stubborn to bring her the pads, especially since periods can be very messy. But what I’m sketchy about is..

  How did she enter the school?

  The guard didn’t look like he knew she was in, and schools usually have guards around the entrance for protection (because the school has a lot of kids after all), so the option is… that she jumped over the fence? That high fence?

  Don’t get me wrong, it’s believable for a child to jump the fence because they will jump over anything if they’re stubborn enough, but I’m unsure about… her jumping over the fence? In that outfit? And looking perfectly fine after?

  You guys saw the fence, right?

  It comes to the point of questioning how practical it is, not how exaggerated it is. And I personally would have seen more believable for her to convince the guard for letting her in, or going pass through him. Honestly, it would have been funny if she was chased around by the guard while calling for Mei, and very believable for Mei to react devastated because of it

  Going back to the exaggeration topic. Even if I don’t mind it, I think it’s fair for other people to do so. If many things are exaggerated constantly, it can be overwhelming or harder to get attached. And that can be a problem when you have to get to the serious part of the story, because it may not hit properly

  Do I think the movie should have done things differently? Not really. Yeah, they could have made the atmosphere less exaggerated, but that’s just how the movie was meant to be. There’s no perfect method of storytelling, that’s why there are that many. This method has its downsides, but it has its benefits as well, and that’s alright

  And it’s alright if there are people who don't like it as well. We’re all different, and we have to be aware when there’s something that’s made for us or not

  So yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk about

.

.

.

  I wanna pet the red panda-

[petri808]

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Inukag AU

As Inuyasha and Kagome cut through a park on their way back to the Higurashi home, they chatted casually, just winding down after a hearty lunch at a nearby cafe. The couple stayed to the pathways traversing the manicured park. It would be shorter to cut through the grass, but why the rush? It was a beautiful location, with a several different kinds of trees dotting the landscape to provide shade and lots of open space for all kinds of activities. Some picnicked, flew kites or played frisbee, they’d even passed a group doing Tai Chi. There were young families to older citizens enjoying the scenery. The couples conjoined hands and twined fingers swayed lazily back and forth between them. Despite the summer heat starting to rise in Tokyo, with blue skies and a gentle breeze brought in from the Pacific Ocean, it was a perfect day for a stroll.

While this journey towards normalcy hasn’t always been an easy one, the past couple of months have been the happiest so far. Ever since leaving the hospital Kagome’s felt better and better. There were even moments she’d made peace with the idea she may not regain her memories. Was it saddening yes, because she wouldn’t remember her job, friends, and other precious moments. But at the same time, she could always make new ones. Sango’s twins were still young. She could relearn her job, and best of all she had Inuyasha who’d she’d become attached to. Their steadily growing relationship was a budding romance regardless of their past history. Think about? Kagome had a chance to re-experience everything in a new way, through a new lens. Well… that’s what she told herself to justify the idea, and so far, it was working.

But there were strange moments starting to occur. Sometimes they were dreams of scenes Kagome didn’t recognize. That in of itself weren’t unusual because how often do dreams ever make complete sense? No, it was in the emotions that came with them. On several occasions Kagome would wake up with the distinct feeling these were not merely dreams but memories trying to break through. At other times, she couldn’t remember the dream, only the emotions she’d felt during them. Sometimes they were so intense, she’d wake up in tears or completely happy for no other reason. According to her neurologist, this was normal during the healing process, but unfortunately there was no true way to tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

“Did I tell you I reached out to Ms. Tanaka the other day?” Kagome asked Inuyasha.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

“I called the office and spoke to her briefly about maybe getting lunch one day so she could tell me how things have been there. I may not know exactly what she’s talking about, but maybe it’ll jog my memories.”

Inuyasha lifted their conjoined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I think that’s a really good idea. You guys will have fun talking.”

“I think so too, she seemed very nic—…” Kagome’s voice trailed away as stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes shifted towards one of the parks trees. “Um, c-could we check out that tree?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” Inuyasha smiled knowingly.

It was like her feet gained a mind of their own as they carried her towards a large Sakura tree in the middle of a field. Just from looking at, there wasn’t anything special about the tree. Spring had long since passed and the blooms were no more. But Kagome felt a pull towards this one in particular as if she remembered something about it. What that was she had no idea. She let go of Inuyasha’s hand and reached out, touching the bark of the tree, and staring up at its massive girth. It looked old. Maybe there long before the park existed… maybe older than even the Edo period, who knew? It was just another green leafed tree, yet why was it stirring up a rush of emotions? Happy ones with butterflies dancing in her soul.

Slowly, she moved around the base of the tree like a surveyor mapping it out or searching for secrets only it could provide. And that’s when she saw it. Kagome’s breathing hitched as her eyes fell upon a carving in the wood, approximately five feet above the ground. There, a bit worn nonetheless was a heart encircling two names. “Kagome…” She read aloud, “& Inuyasha—

Oh, my Kami!” She gasped, both hands flying up to cover her mouth in shock. “H-How? When?”

At that moment, Inuyasha walked over, gazing at the words and running his hand over the carving while he spoke. “We carved this about two years ago.” He smiled, eyes crinkling, and growing moist as if reminiscing. “It was a late Saturday afternoon and after eating an early dinner at Genki Sukiyaki, we cut through this park to get to your house. But it started to rain, not very heavy, so we took shelter under this tree.” Inuyasha chuckled lightly. “I remember you being upset about your hair getting wet.” He finally looked to Kagome, placing a hand on her cheek. “You looked so beautiful and even though the weather was miserable, there was just something magical about it all. That’s when you asked me to carve this into the tree.”

“But how did I know to look for it?” Kagome was so confused. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I have no idea how. But part of you must. Maybe, it’s a sign your memories are fighting to come through.”

The tears gathering in Kagome’s eyes, trickle down her cheeks as a blend of happiness and sadness. She wanted to be happy for such a beautiful memory but devastated that she couldn’t remember it. She wanted to be excited that maybe, just maybe it could be true that her memories were returning, yet she didn’t want to take the chance of a let-down. Inuyasha pulled her into a tight hug as she let go of the angsty emotions. “It’s not fair that I can’t remember! I want to remember!”

“Shhh,” Inuyasha who’s own tears begun to spill, did his best to soothe her with softened tones. “I want that too. It’s gonna get better baby. I think this really is your memories returning, we just have to believe.”

“It’s hard to do that sometimes…”

Inuyasha lifted her chin and swept his thumbs over her cheeks to dry them. “And if you don’t, we’re creating a whole new memory of this tree right now, an even more special one.”

Kagome sniffled. “You think so?”

He nodded his head and placed a gentle kiss on her whetted lips. “What do you think?” Inuyasha questioned with a soft smile. “How can we add to this memory?”

Kagome paused for a moment in thought. “We could add something beneath our names… like… mmm, forever in time?”

“Is that what you want?” She nodded yes. “Okay,” Inuyasha obliged.

He kissed her again then used his claw to slowly, meticulously carve the new words into the bark. It took a few minutes because he wanted to make sure it was easy to read and would last a long time. “I think this is definitely will better than the original memory.”

“Mmhmm, it’s a good one,” Kagome agreed. She felt a lot better now. “Thank you, Inuyasha for being so patient with me. It must be so frustrating.”

Inuyasha shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m not glad about the accident, but I’m cherishing all this time I’m spending with you. Kagome, I truly mean it when I say, this moment right here,” he took her hand. “It’s now one of the happiest moments you’ve ever given me. No matter what,” he smiled, “I’ll always love you, forever in time.”

She giggled. “Forever… I like the sound of that…”

After the incident at the park, Kagome brought it up with the neuropsychologist assigned to her case. The woman patiently sat in her chair as Kagome told her every little detail. What she felt, the emotions, her thoughts, and reactions. She also brought up the dreams she’d been having as well as small incidents that caused her to feel like it might be memories trying to come through.

“Like, just the other day,” Kagome explained. “Sango accompanied me to the hospital for my last physical check-up, but as we passed by the nursery, we decided to stop to look at the cute babies. Then out of nowhere I started to feel emotional, nothing bad, just happy as she talked about the birth of her twins. I mean, yeah it makes sense to feel happy at the time because we were having a good time, but it just felt different. I almost felt like crying. Why is that??”

The woman finished jotting down her notes before speaking. “It’s been about 5 months, correct, since you lost your memories?” Kagome nodded yes. “And according to your latest evaluations, your brain has healed quite nicely. It’s not uncommon at this point for triggers to manifest themselves.”

“I don’t understand…”

“The way long term memory retention works, our brains must process information and create new neurocircuitry, storage if you will once the information has been deemed necessary to keep in the long term. If not, our short term memories are discarded quickly. Of course, this is just a basic explanation and there’s more to it, but what studies have found is memories attached to an emotional event have a higher likelihood of being retained and will evoke a stronger response from us. Think of it like, these emotional memories are much more deeply attached to our psyches.”

“Oh— I think I understand.”

“Mmm,” the doctor hummed. “The park incident was attached to a very emotional moment in your life. So even though you couldn’t remember the event itself, the part of you that remembered the emotions surrounding it did and pushed you towards the tree. Also, the hospital, you mentioned being with your friend Sango and looking at babies. This is just a guess, but perhaps you were feeling the emotions you felt from the time she gave birth.”

As the doctors words were processed, moisture began to pool in Kagome’s eyes. Could it really be true?! Should she really allow herself to hope?! When Kagome finally responded, her voice cracked as it held back the tears. “D-Does this mean… I’m starting to get my memories back?”

“I would say, yes. Again, I cannot say one hundred percent certain, but what you are experiencing is a common one. Those that suffered from acute memory loss, don’t just wake up one day and suddenly they’ve all returned. It’s a gradual process, but once it begins it typically continues at a steady pace.”

“I-I don’t know what to say!” A few happy tears joined the smile on Kagome’s face.

“I suggest that you start writing down the times you feel something or think you’re remembering something and check them with your family and friends. If they confirm it, talk about it. That could help as well to bring more information and memories to the forefront— give your brain a little help to jog itself.”

“Thank you so much, doctor! I’ll definitely do that!”

The woman smiled, reaching over to pat Kagome’s hand before giving it a small squeeze. “You’re very welcome. I wish you all the luck in the world!”

[glitterytidalwavedragon]

Expanding into my other Fandoms (I’m gonna have to take a stance) Read the whole thing please.

One of my oldest and most beloved anime is Inuyasha. As of late I have been binged watching the hell out of it as I am getting my BFF into different anime shows. We are really close to entering the Yashahime part of the series, and she asked if I planned to write fanfiction involving the one character which made me even watch the show as a 10-year-old.

Sesshomaru

The first episode I ever watched involved this aloof, entitled dog fighting his brother over the sword in their father’s grave. Specifically, it was part 3 of that whole episode series were Kagome pulled out the sword. I at the time had 3 dogs of German Sheppard/wolf hybrid, they were MASSIVE dogs, fell in love with the big white fluff that was Sesshomaru’s demon form. I use to sneak staying up and watch the show faithfully to see the goodest boy as it was only on at 11pm EST on adult swim. Which meant it was bad and I was breaking the rules, I felt like a rebel.

Now I hesitated answering that question. She has no idea of what is in Yashahime, she is being careful not to spoil it so I told her I didn’t know. Recently, to find out what the feel is for Sesshomaru content, I looked into the tag on tumblr…

OH MY GOD.

Sesshomaru’s tag is FLOODED with hate. Like every four post, there is hate, distain, and attacking happening. As someone who watches Yashahime, I quickly knew why.

Sessrin.

Even now I sigh. And I sigh HARD. I am not for, nor am I against the Sessrin train. Same for the Sesskagu train. I think both sides need to look at things on a logical prospective. I plan to do just that. I know I will get hate from the either side and maybe some support as well. But if I am going to do anything in this fandom (as I like doing ships and reader inserts) it will come up.

So, like my Kaiba post, and my Sebastian Heel post, I will use my research skills as well as my COLLEGE DEGREE WHICH HAS BOTH ART AND MEDIEVAL HISTORY labelled on it to explain why this progression in the story is normal to anti-Sessrin fans and why this isn’t a crime by story standards nor should we look at it as a crime.

AS WELL

Explain to Sessrin fans why it is so weird for non-shippers to see it play out and why so much hate formed.

As I let out another sigh, we shall begin. Let’s start at an historical prospective. (Links at the bottom).

PLEASE READ THE WHOLE THING! I’LL BE ABLE TO TELL!

~~

I will start with the information I can access right away.

While finding charts on the life-span of common folk in 1590’s Feudal Japan is rather difficult, Ancient.edu states that the average lifespan was about 50. To put this in perspective, the average lifespan of Europeans at the time was somewhere between 40-45 with the latter being rare. Since most of us reading are not from Japanese descent, I will through Europe in this first.

If we look at the same time frame of 1590, we are looking at most of Western Europe had now entered the age of Renaissance. According to sources from Learning Resources in association with the National Gallery of Art, marriage was not what TV drama’s from HBO or Hulu depicted. By today standards they would be a crime, as the average age for marriage of an adult female was age 14…

The reasoning behind the young marriage age had multiple factors. First being, females were considered an adult once they were menstruating. Birthing also proved to be fatal, and since the lifespan was at best 40 and 45 if they were lucky, there was really no room to wait. Also Europe at the time had became hugely focused on making sure blood lines were legitimate, meaning to ensure the girl was a virgin, the moment she was able to reproduced she was married off. Those they married were not young teenagers either. Most marriages, a man would be in their thirties, and had probably multiple wives as women died more than men when not counting the battle field.

To make matters worse for the Renaissance Lady, these marriages would leave many young males unable to marry and if their husband died in battle, well, unfortunately they were not seen as desirable. This was due to the idea of a ‘free woman’. Should the girl not have a father, brother or uncle to return to as they too died, a widow had her freedom. But that freedom came at a cost. She would be assumed to have slept around, and in many writings, such as the Canterbury Tales, where Geoffrey Chaucer writes about a Window on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land survived her five husbands and the men in her family. In short, she was made to be a slut and to be looked down upon as no man controlled her.

The point of talking about Europe is because that is something most of us Non-Asian or Japanese people consume and like to paint in large romantic brush strokes of knights and magic. Honestly, reading G.R.R.Martin Song of Ice and Fire, he uses this model as we see the Queen of Dragons, Danny start off at age thirteen shortly after she had her first menstruation.  

Now let’s look at Feudal Japan.

As stated before, the lifespan was around 50 years. In some populations, this was even shorter. Nagaoka, Hirata, Yokota and Matsu’ura’s on demographic data at the Yuigahama-minami area in Kamakura, Japan and found both male and female remains that suggested life expectancy to have ended around age 24-25. This was largely due to living conditions and public health. In areas like these, it would make the most sense to marry and repopulate quickly as the expectancy of life was half the national average at the time.

To my frustration, I could not find a clear marriage age for Japanese women at the time of the edo period. HOWEVER, where there is a will there is a way. I took a look at famous Lords or Daimyo’s of the time. The average age of marriage of their wives was between 12-14. Much younger than I expected, but it made sense considering this is a time where war ran the show and marriage was strictly about political gain. One of these Daimyo’s was Masamune Date, who was also 13, but then as he got older took concubines who became considerably younger than him as he became older. The goal was to have as many children as possible for hires and for political marriages to gain power.

Now lets look at Inuyasha the MANGA

Lets get the manga timeline proper here. The whole adventure took place in 11 months, a month shy of Kagome’s 16th birthday. Doing a few estimations, Rin would have travelled with Sesshomaru about 8-9 of those months. But before we get into the relationship, lets look at something the ANIME made a huge mistake with in the beginning and tried to fix as the story went on.

For some reason I could only fine gifs for the Early appearances of Sesshomaru so bear with me.

Early appearances in the manga

 ^ He was so fickle and a trickster then...

Now early apperances in the anime.

Later appearance in the manga

Laster appearance in the anime

Notice the issue here? 

Sesshomaru was CONSIDERABLY younger looking in the start of the manga. In the anime, he started off looking like an fully adult male. But as the anime went on, they tried to make Sesshomaru look younger with subtle changes to his jaw line, eye size, and his height. Yeah, his height had changed. They made him shorter.

While in the manga, we see this young-teen looking demon, slowly mature over 11 months to look like he is in his later teens and by series end, closer to being in his late teens or twenty. Yes, art changes over time, but the anime went a reverse route. I can only guess they spoke to the author of Inuyasha about her ships, as they did Drama CDs, and realized the mistake that was made in making him more mature than he was.

You can’t tell me he doesn’t look closer to his manga self in the final act, because he does.

Since we are on the topic of the anime, lets be clear. The anime timeline and manga timeline are very different. The story in the anime (in the English) suggests that OVER a year has past since Kagome started her journey. They try to fix this in the final act, but it was still so muddled as previous seasons are to be taken as cannon. This could have been due to an translation error in the early production when the anime no longer had anymore manga material to reference. But whatever the case, for English viewers the time the group spent together felt much longer.

So now we come to the heart of the issue.

Because of the mistakes of the anime, a lot of anti-sessrin see the relationship as father daughter. I’ll be honest, watching the anime and solely the anime as a teenager and as an adult (as the manga was on hold for a very long time due to author’s health. I was in college when it finished.), I too thought it was just a father-daughter relationship and Jaken the nanny who got punched all the time. In fact, the English took hard liberties with Kagura, as the English dubs often do with characters, and made it very clear her feelings for the demon lord and Sesshomaru very much recognized them (though he never responded). Even in her death scene, it felt as if he was saying good bye to a friend more than love interest. But who really knows, as there are things that point otherwise.  When another demon mock’s Kagura���s death, Sesshomaru gets super pissy.

The manga did also play with this fact when it came out in English, idk if the wording or message is different in the Japanese. Translation errors happen a lot even in todays releases, look at Kuroshitsuji.  So of course most anti-sessrin’s did not see this coming in Yashahime when Rin was named mother. In fact it felt like a betrayal as we were sure Sesshomaru had no romantic feelings.

Then there was the Kohaku/Rin mashup that was hinted left and right. The English anime, with its overly dramatic and blunt emotions made it appear one way. That in the end the two kids would probably be married. Then the anime as a whole made Sesshomaru older than intended. I can see why and understand how this became a problem.

On the other side of that coin.

If you followed the dub, seen ‘Swords of an Honorable Ruler’ and read the manga… Sesshomaru was not fatherly to Rin at all. In fact, Jaken picked up all of that leg work. Rin worried for Kohaku, but clearly loved Lord Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru cared about Kagura but he almost CRIED when he lost Rin.

We have to remember that Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship must have been very hard for the demon. While we never see his mental process expect for a few rare times, we have to remember he hated humans. In the movie, he blamed a human for the early death of his father, Sesshomaru killed without mercy. It made sense that he wouldn’t be fatherly to Rin as her just being there should have caused countless inner conflicts. Hell, he even says his father’s weakness was humans, and look who picked up that trait.

Sesshomaru was designed to, someday, walk in his father’s footsteps. So sess/rin, not a surprise. Also when you see it in a historical perspective, Rin having kids around age 15-16, makes sense. In fact you could argue he waited too long for the time period.

We also need to look more at the manga when concerned with Yashahime. 8-9 months is all Rin travelled with him and he was like hold up, and left her at the village because he KNEW she needed to come to her own conclusion. That no matter what she picked he would live with and protect her. Unconditional love on his end. She cannon wise spent YEARS living with humans and MONTHS with Sesshomaru. Again, by manga standards of cannon.

Now I can already hear the screaming about age and what not. Some sources say Sesshomaru is over 900, by the rule of thumb, if we look at anime and movie releases, we have Sesshomaru being over 500 with no define age and Inuyasha around 270 years old being more pinpointed due to the movie. Just by going by ANIME CANNON. Kagome and Inuyasha, you have a 15 year old with a 270 year old man. If you say being pinned to the tree doesn’t count, then you have 220.

Also, here is something very interesting. In the episode where Inuyasha meets the unmother, he tells her, thinking it was his mom, she died when he was very small and we have flash backs later in the series of him being small running from demons. Demons clearly age much slower than humans, even half-demons. Inuyasha can be 270 but mentally and physically be 15, the same logic works for Sesshomaru, who in the manga is not much older than Inuyasha.

In the manga, there wasn’t any grooming, in the anime, there was a ton of mess-ups but no grooming.

Would this fly in todays world? HELL NO! NO, its gross, she’s a kid. Stop.

I know any fanfic I write will lean heavily on the side of father/daughter because that is what I grew up seeing on the screen. I can’t think of Rin as an adult because years of seeing her as a cheerful little girl. It’s like seeing G.O.T Arya about to have sex for the first time in season 8… I remember when she was a kid on the show. It was way to weird and I had to look away until it ended. But that’s my 2021 mentality.

But Inuyasha is not taking place in 2021. Feudal Japan is a whole other era with its own beliefs, morals and way of life. Those who understand this have nothing wrong with them. They just understand history.

Also, just to bang some nails in…

Anyone remember Bleach? Remember the MOST accepted couple was Ichigo and Rukia…. Rukia who was hundreds of years old and Ichigo who was 15… or Ichigo’s mom who was a teenager and his dad also hundreds of years old.

Most of this also boils down to Sesshomaru being a dude. As in reverse roles in animes its accepted and they don’t have the same historical context. Inuyasha is based off of historical context of Feudal Japan.

We need to stop spreading hate. We can’t accept some forms of literature because its European fantasy but bash other fantasy based literature for doing the same thing.

Sure, its weird for those who were use to seeing the father/daughter dynamic. Yes, there are extreme sessrin fans who post really questionable illegal content when they decide to leave Rin as an 8-year-old…

But this wasn’t ever meant to be perverted. The story was meant to make sense on a logical and historical base.

I hope everyone takes the time to read this. I love Inuyasha, I love Sesshomaru. I am just sick of seeing so many people fighting over what should be the revival of a beloved series. While yes, there is still room for sess/rin not being a thing, until it is stated otherwise, why hate each other? This fandom will only lose people by doing this. Calling people names or accusing them of illegal endorsement can hurt someone these days over social media.

Tumblr allows you to block tags. You don’t have to read anything or watch anything you don’t like. We gain nothing from attacking each other but can lose so much by doing so. Fanart, really good fan fiction, friends, ideas, sharing fond memories. Both sides have the right to feel as they feel, but no right in hurting each other.

A fandom is meant to bring people together. Not start a war…

Thank you.

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/ajpa.20402

http://www.italianrenaissanceresources.com/units/unit-2/essays/husbands-and-wives/#:~:text=Marriage%20not%20only%20reflected%20order,to%20ensure%20the%20bride's%20virginity.

https://www.ancient.eu/Canterbury_Tales/

https://www.ancient.eu/article/1424/daily-life-in-medieval-japan/#:~:text=Just%20as%20Japanese%20people%20today,in%20Western%20Europe%2C%20for%20example.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_Masamune

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Megohime

[szivtalan]

hello hi 🌸 💗 i love ur headcanons so i hope im not bothering u by asking this!

what are ur headcanons for older kagami from knb? what do u think his personality would be like, relationship with family, friends? would he stay friends with any of the GoM or his highschool friends? who would he be closest with? is he in a relationship, and with who? does he get married? want kids? does he go through any changes or crises?

u don't have to answer any of these if they make u uncomfortable but if u do thank u for it! i hope u have a good day!

Hi there!! I hope you have a good day too, I definitely had a pleasant one, esp after seeing this ask! This got a lil long so I’m gonna put it under a cut asdgja

I love to think about the boys’ future, and since Kagami’s my favorite when it comes to picking a basketball brain I love thinking about older Kagami!! I think from the outside, he’s even more intimidating and menacing-looking than he is as a teenager: he probably grows a few inches in height and also in width, bulking up mainly to his shoulders and his arms. He wears his course hair shorter, and he grows a small beard or a goatee, accentuating his chin - altho he really doesn’t always remember to shave, so there’s usually some stubble all over his face, too. Even his eyes seem darker, with his overall stark complexion, but it just means his face lights up all the more when he smiles!

My favorite depiction of older Kagami is still very much rough around the edges, now more than ever, because I like to think that he never gets drafted into the NBA - everyone can’t always achieve their dreams, after all. It’s definitely a huge slap in the face for him, and for a while, he doesn’t even really play basketball. For that period of time, he works for his dad, and he’s estranged from everyone who’s ever been very close to him, including Kuroko and the Seirin team.

He basically snaps out of it when he reunites with Himuro and Alex and they tell him that, “hey.... you can literally still play basketball not getting drafted is not the end of the world, dumbass”, and so he starts to hang out at streetball courts again, play with local kids, teach them a few moves that were apparently too weak sauce for the NBA but they’re plenty fun when it comes to impressing teenagers and curious children.

After that, he quickly finds himself again, quits his job at his dad’s company and comes back to Japan because he realizes that he needs to live his own life and it starts by living where he truly felt at “home”. He finds a western-style diner in Tokyo to work at as a chef, and finally calls Kuroko back, apologizing profusely for the months/years of silence. He reassures Kuroko that he won’t ever disappear like that again, and they always keep in touch after that, because their friendship is for a lifetime.

Kuroko re-introduces him into their group of friends, because of course he would be talking to everyone: the GoM, the guys from Seirin, even some people from the other teams. They play basketball every Friday afternoon/evening with the guys from GoM and whoever is willing and ready to join them, and then they go out to have a few drinks at the local pub.

During the most turbulent years of Kagami’s life, he doesn’t exactly go out looking for his special someone. His love life simply wasn’t a priority to him, and he’s fine on his own - he’s not lonely, he has Kuroko to talk to, Himuro to call, and now, his friends to stand by him. His last relationship was with Aomine, and it. didn’t, exactly, end well, as Kagami recalls. They had a few fights, as how dumb teenagers in love, trying to figure themselves out would do, and when it became too overwhelming, they ended it. Maybe when they meet again, become friendly again, Aomine already has a partner who has inspired him to do better and get better with his depression, or maybe he did that to himself, and there’s just so much tension between the two of them now - so many stolen glances, so many words stuck in their throat, so many what-ifs hanging in the air.

I like to think that they end up together, after all. Maybe they stay too late at the pub one Friday evening, beer after beer until their inhibitions loosen and they start speaking freely about how they feel now and what had hurt them in the past. The conversation goes on when they’re sober, too, and maybe Kuroko helps them sort it out as the mediator he so often is, and Kagami and Aomine get to start over, as better, more balanced, more attentive and self-aware people. And this time, they stay together for good.

I don’t believe either of them would be very passionate about having kids - sure, it would be nice, they’d say, but it’s not a commitment they would be willing to take on until at least they’re forty. By the time they are, most of their friends (Kise, Kuroko, Momoi, even Murasakibara) have kids of their own that they occasionally babysit/co-parent, and they also have a group of children at the nearby streetball court that they’re coaching slash raising. They have a lot of love for those kids, all of them, and they don’t miss having a child on their own when they have so many they care about already. Kagami even cooks for the kids from the court sometimes, and they spend most of their summers in California, and when he has Aomine and his friends by his side, Kagami doesn’t even regret it that he never went pro.

[hops-hunny]

Felix Felicis

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Request: “Can you do Draco x Hufflepuff reader fluff where they’re cuddling together and all he wants to do is make her laugh because she failed an exam earlier that day so he’s trying to do everything he can to cheer her up and overall it’s just super fluffy? Thank you have a great day❤️❤️”

Summary: After (Y/N) has a rather unfortunate week, Draco does everything in his power to change that. In a way, he was (Y/n)’s own little Felix Felicis.

A/N: This was my first request so I was a bit nervous writing it! I enjoyed every bit though, this was a very cute request. I hope it was everything you wanted and more anon <3

If (Y/n) didn't know any better, she would've claimed that the world had it out for her. And after the week she had, who would have blamed her? On Monday in potions, she had stirred the wrong way causing a reaction that made her eyebrows disappear(thank god for makeup). On Tuesday, she had slipped and fallen in the great hall which caused a chorus of laughter from every house, including her fellow Hufflepuffs. Wednesday, well, nothing happened. She felt relieved. She had answered a question correctly in DADA, had a free period that overlapped with her friends, and had taken an exam in potions which in her opinion was very easy! Her stroke of bad luck was no more! She was ecstatic...until Thursday came around. If she had thought the rest of the week was bad, then Thursday was absolutely fucking dreadful. Her day started off fine, she woke up, got dressed, and put on her favorite perfume. She didn’t use it often, only when she expected the day to be amazing 

That hopeful feeling of luck was short lived and ended by the time she got to the great hall. The Weasley twins had rigged a prank on the wrong person which resulted in her face being stained blue, when she got to her first class her seat was taken by someone else which she didn’t have a problem with. That was until she noticed the only seat left was near Fletcher Digby, who was known for his noticeable...odor that was...to put it nicely, absolutely putrid. By the end of her day, she had gathered up a broken shoe, a run in her stockings, a rip in her blouse, and the blue tint to her face had somehow gotten worse - which she later found out was sweat activated. (Y/n) was usually very optimistic. Even during the cloudiest of days or saddest of times she was always there to offer encouraging words and a smile. If a fellow Hufflepuff was sick, she’d often bake them something with the house elves or give them the last of her sweets from Honeydukes. She even did this for people in other houses as well, a ‘Get Well Soon!’ card attached along with it. That’s what her boyfriend, Draco, loved about her.

She was his light in all the darkness, the candle to his flame. When she came into his life, she taught him many things. His love for her was deep and pure and anyone would be a fool not to notice. That’s why Draco was concerned when he started to see her throughout the week less and less. During the school day, they didn’t have any classes together but even then he’d always wave or smile to her during hallpassing. He’d leave a kiss on her forehead in the great hall before heading to his own table and waited for her after her last class of the day on Friday. So when Draco found himself waiting a lot longer than usual outside of the potion’s room he grew concerned. He pushed past a few students entering the room. His smile dropped when there was no one left in the room but Fletcher Digby. Come to think of it, had he seen her at all today? He assumed she came to the great hall late but now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her leave with her friends. There were no quick pecks during hallpassing, winks when they saw each other. He quickly strode the halls, looking for her. He was worried, it wasn’t like (y/n) to just miss a day of class with no warning or explanation prior. 

“Hannah, have you seen (Y/n)? I haven’t seen her all day and I'm growing quite worried.” He said pulling the Hufflepuff off to the side. If anyone were to know where she was, surely her roommate would. The girl took a moment to think. 

“Hm, no. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Before I left the dorm, she was still sleeping. She was really distraught last night so I’m not surprised she decided to stay in. However, I do admit that is completely unlike her.” She offered him a sympathetic smile as he thanked her before heading in the direction of the girls dormitory.

He knocked on the door, finding it to not be locked as it popped open. He walked in only to find that her bed was empty. The only person to be found was Luna, who was holding (Y/n)’s favorite stuffed giraffe (one he had given to her as a present once). She hadn’t noticed him yet but wasn’t phased when he let out a sharp, “What are you doing with that?” she simply turned around and offered him a soft grin.

“Hello Draco, (Y/n) asked me to bring this to her. She was having a terribly bad case of wrackspurts today. One of the worst cases I’ve seen really. So she went where she usually does when she has a bad day although, I think you should bring it to her now that you’re here. Also give her this, it’s a good luck charm I made for her. It should get rid of the wrackspurts and bring luck along with it.” She spoke, handing him the stuffed giraffe and a necklace with a peculiar charm made of tiger’s eye. He looked at it for a sec before taking it, offering her a nod before heading off where he knew you’d be.

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

You sat cross legged on the old, comfy couch, drinking the cup of chamomile and lavender tea Hagrid had brought to you. You had grown quite close to the gentle giant throughout your years at Hogwarts. During your first year, you were having an awful day, not as bad as the week you were currently going through but still quite a bad one. You were homesick and missed your family dearly. Your housemates tried to cheer you up with treats and kind words and although you appreciated them dearly, nothing could stop the tears from flowing. That’s when Luna came in, she brought you straight to Hagrid’s hut and explained your dilemma. He welcomed you both in, brewing you tea and offering whatever treats he had. Soon enough, your tears stopped. Hagrid’s hut slowly started to become your home away from home as he offered it to you whenever you liked without asking any questions if you weren’t willing to talk.

Usually, you’d slowly start to tell him what was wrong but today was one of those silent days. Many would expect Hagrid to be absolutely horrid with emotions but, he had like a 6th sense when it came to them. He decided to leave you alone for a few hours, tending to his duties. When he came back, he had gotten you your favorite dessert from the house elves. They were always more than willing to send and make you things because of how kind and helpful you were to them. You sipped at your tea as you softly pet Fang’s head which was resting in your lap. You and Fang’s heads both perked up as you heard a knock at the door. Hagrid walked to the door to see who it was.

“Ah, I figured I would see ya sometime soon.” he said, stepping to the side to let whoever it was in. Draco stepped into the small hut, closing the door as he came to sit near you on the couch. You instantly threw yourself into his arms which in turn, caused him to wrap his arms around you tightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he stroked your back. Hagrid took that as his sign to leave, taking the large dog with him. Draco let you cry a bit, his heart breaking at the noises.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, love. Are you alright? Luna told me to give you these.” He said as he handed the girl her giraffe. She hugged it tightly as he put the charm around her neck. She sat between her lover’s legs sighing. He held her close as she described her day, his heart aching from all that she had to deal with and his mind cursing him for not realizing sooner.

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

“And on top of all of that, I failed my potions exam! That wouldn’t have been bad if I hadn’t gone on blabbing to all my friends how well I thought I did on the bloody thing. I just feel like the world has it out for me.” She said looking up at him. He nodded in understanding. He had stayed quiet as she had vent to him, just providing the listening ear she needed. That’s when he got a few ideas. He smiled before standing up, stretching his hand out for the girl to grab.

“Come with me. I’ve got an idea! Quickly, we mustn’t be caught.” He said eagerly as he stared at her. She hesitantly grabbed his hand, setting Georgie, her giraffe, on the couch before she was swiftly dragged out of the hut. Draco pulled his girlfriend along, running as she tried to keep up due to the fact her legs were much shorter.

“Where are we going, Dray?” She asked which prompted a quick “shhh!!” from Draco. They both ran across the grounds of the school, hand in hand as to not be caught. (Y/n) had no idea where he was taking her but she thought anything would be better than moping around the rest of the day. They both tried to contain the wild giggles coming from their mouths as they headed in the direction of Hogsmeade.

------------------------------- 

As they finally made it, they both still had smiles on their faces at the rush they had gotten from sneaking off. Draco had tied his tie around the girl’s eyes leading her in the way of whatever wild idea it was that he had. “What if we get caught? Someone is bound to see us.” she said, her face forming a frown at the thought of being caught.

“Oh hush darling, we’ll be fine. Besides if we do happen to get caught in some trouble, I’m sure my father won’t mind bailing us out.” He said, finally removing her blindfold. She opened her eyes to see...Madam Puddifoots? She gave him a strange look. “We’re here to get a laugh out of the things that happen in here, sweets. Trust me, you’ll see. Act natural.” He took her hand, leading her to a small booth. 

Soon enough, she saw and heard what he meant. The sight of all the couples with their peculiar behaviors was quite a laugh. They saw one couple come in with matching crochet sweaters with each others faces on it, another referred to each other as each others “snuggle-boop-kitty-fuzy-wuzzykins”and only that each time they spoke to each other. But along with the odd, mushy, and gushy couples came a few odd breakups too. One man tried to propose by reciting an “original poem” which turned out to be stolen, causing his boyfriend to dump scalding hot tea on his head. Another guy forgot he scheduled dates with 4 different girls at the same spot, on the same day..didn’t end well for him. A few employees had to carry him out on a stretcher as the girls all exchanged numbers.

By the time they were back on their way to the castle, (Y/n) was already in a better mood. She held an ice cream cone in one hand, and Draco’s hand in her other. They both paused coming to the same realization. Although it was easy to sneak out, how would they sneak back in? The couple locked eyes at the same time before Draco picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder. (Y/n) made sure her ice cream didn’t fall as her boyfriend sprinted in the shadows, using a passageway she had never seen before to get back into the castle. Once inside, they both held in their giggles, quieting their breathing from the run back to the castle as they made their way to his dorm. By then she had long finished her ice cream as he tossed her on his bed, throwing himself down next to her shortly after. (Y/n) rolled over towards Draco to find him already facing her. The pair sat in silence for a moment before both losing composure. They began to laugh hysterically, to the point where a tear or two was shed. After their little laughing fit, Draco sat up, pulling his girlfriend on top of him. She turned, straddling him as she placed a soft kiss on his lips before resting her head on his shoulder.

“I just wanted to say thank you Draco. Not even just for today but for being there whenever I need you. This was honestly one of the worst weeks of my life but if I’m honest, I’d go through it all again to have another evening like the one we just had.” She said as she nuzzled in deeper, taking in the scent of expensive cologne and cinnamon. Her lover was taken back by her words. She was the only one who made him feel like that. Her words meant more to him than anything in the world. He tightened his grip on her, holding her close to him.

“I’d do it all again and more just to see you happy. Why don’t we make this a regular thing of ours, hm? Every friday, we’ll sneak outside the castle and do whatever we want, indulging to our hearts can’t handle it anymore? Even if not, everyday with you is an adventure, sneaky trips or not.” He said. Draco meant what he said full heartedly, everyday she managed to make his life an adventure, learning new things about himself that he didn’t know were there. It was like he was a canvas and she was the painter, each day, each moment, a different stroke of color on his heart.

Perhaps it was Luna’s good luck charm or perhaps it was them, but from then on out each day seemed luckier than the last when he had his girl on his arm.

[border-spam]

What do you do when you find yourself in a creative slump? I need to make an art piece for my art course but I've no motivation or energy :<

OK so the scientific answer to this (lolno), is stop punishing your fucking brain all the time by insisting it create instead of doing what it actually wants to do.

Basically - 

Everyone deals with burnout and creative slumps, its part of having a brain and BOY do we have a big juicy pal up there. It can be avoided by not being your brain's own worst enemy though, and the fact so many creators do that consistently isn't talked about enough. Imagine you've actually got 2 brains, ok? One is logical and intelligent, it's the part you make decisions with, set goals, state the dreaded "I'm gonna sit down and start working on this content in 30 minutes" with, etc. The other isn't capable of communicating the same way to you, but it's the part that actually creates. It's also the part that is horrifically burdened with the stresses you might be surrounded by in life and dealing with subconsciously. Work, school, family, a global plague, you know, little things like that. This creative brain can't create non stop, it gets exhausted, it gets bored, it gets tired. It's dealing with stresses and worries you might not even be consciously aware of, and when you start to overwork it and not let it recharge by enjoying other things it wants instead of forcing it to create, it desperately tries to warn you to leave it the hell alone for a while. Frustration out of nowhere while working? Blank-outs for creativity? Negative feelings of dread when you want to start working on something? Bruh. It. Does. Not. Want. To. Create. It wants to do something else, and as creators, a habit we have is to enforce these nonsense rules we make up to punish it instead. Any of these sound familiar?

"I can't play xxx game I should be working on this instead."

"I took enough breaks this week I'm behind on what I wanted to get done, I'm not watching that movie."

"I've only been doing this for 2 hours and want to stop, that's not enough, I'm failing."

No. This is bullshit we are making up. These are not real rules, it's us feeling our brain desperately beg us to do something else, then denying it because we've decided we are going to create even when it's waving a giant red flag at us and warning that we are running it into the damn ground. Keep ignoring it and what happens? It tells us to go fuck ourselves, turns off, and boom - CREATIVE SLUMP.

Content creators have this trope of the "suffering artist" rotting in the back of our heads somewhere, this implication that creating is a form of self-flagellation, that you have to go through pain and struggle or you aren't "really" a creator. This warps into really unhealthy practices for work output when it comes to creation, and we very often drive ourselves STRAIGHT into art and writing block that could have completely been prevented by not being such idiots and actually taking time away from our creations and really listening to what our brains actually wanted to do. There is nothing wrong with a week off playing your fave game. If you sit down to create and can't? What is it you actually want to do instead? Don't listen to the logical brain, listen to the part you keep ignoring with a "No that's lazy, that's a waste of time, that's not productive.", and go fuckin do it instead. Let the creative part of your brain rest, and burnout will happen far less often, for far shorter periods. This ain't even some kind of life hack, this is just basic shite that genuinely works - and we force ourselves to ignore it cause we are unhealthy idiots. Now obviously, in a professional and school based situation, you can't just take a week off. You've got deadlines - that makes things harder, but still possible to deal with by remembering to be kind to your brain. Schedule your "creative" hours for less time than your "enjoyment hours" whenever possible. If you have 5 hours for study or a project and it's viable, work for 2, then actually do what you're craving for the other 3, regardless of how "lazy" it feels. It's not lazy, it's recharging. If you've pushed very hard to reach a deadline/goal? Take an actual break. Take a week if you can, rest, play shit. Read shit. Watch shit. Chat shit. Anything, anything else that's not creation born of guilt or worry. Our brains are just gooey blobs in our skulls, they are idiots and still smarter than we can comprehend - but - they do play by specific rules. Listen to them, learn to react to warnings without punishing yourself for resting, and staying creative and avoiding slumps will be far easier.

[tintinwrites]

dollface | Mob Boss!Poe Dameron x Reader | Part Four

A/N: These two are fun to write!

Rating: M

Warning: Smut, over 18. Naughty words. This is pretty soft which means there aren’t really any warnings other than penetration?

Word count: 3,294, apparently!!

Summary: You're staying in Poe’s manor when you make love enjoy each other for the first time.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

GIF credit: I have no idea, but it’s not mine. If anyone knows whose it is, please let me know!

Tags: @twomoonstwosuns​ @writefightandflightclub​ @fanfic-addict-98​ @bisexual-space-slut​ @starlightstories​ @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @dogsandrocketsocks​ @himbopoes​ @agentpike​ @greengrassandcyansea​ @arkofblake​ @bunkybarnesbxtch​ Let me know if I forgot to tag you or if you want to be tagged!

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

You’d been staying at Poe’s for a few nights now, sometimes leaving the speakeasy with him and sometimes skipping the speakeasy altogether.

Not much transpired between the two of you aside from some similar heavy petting and perhaps a glance of each other’s silhouettes, but you knew he was waiting for you to tell him you were ready to go all the way with him.

He seemed to be okay with only touching you and being touched, and he also enjoyed someone laying in bed next to him as much as you enjoyed the way his hips nestled into you.

It was nice to lay next to someone even if you didn’t plan on falling in love with anyone.

His home was large, practically a manor, and decorated in a way you were sure he hired someone for since he seemed much too relaxed for this much grandness.

There was a large grand entrance with a set of stairs on either side of the room, and the ground floor had far too many rooms with chairs and couches; there was a sitting room to your right when you entered, then if you went between the staircases where Poe’s office was nestled, there was a living room and a parlor in one direction and a family room in the other. These two hallways also held some powder rooms, and the room in the entrance across from the sitting room was a grandiose dining room that led to a lavish kitchen.

The second floor was similar to the ground floor in that you could go one direction or the other and there would be many rooms to choose from, but the only things other than bedrooms and powder rooms were a music room and a study.

You peeked into most of the rooms, but you spent most of your time in the music room, the study, and Poe’s bedroom.

His room was as richly decorated as the rest of the house with a large bed and expressionist paintings on the walls, but you could see that he would often lazily leave his suit jacket on the back of an ornately carved chair or drop some money on his expensive looking chest of drawers.

You loved that he lived in such beauty but still made it comfortable for himself and you.

You wanted him to make himself comfortable in your beauty, too, if he thought you were beautiful, which you were pretty sure he did.

The expertly styled curls in your hair were loosened a bit and you put on a tiny, little negligee he’d purchased for you that he told you would be worn when you wanted it.

It was quite scandalous even by your standards, with the lace trim on the bottom a few inches right there at your knee and the thick trim at the top revealing about half your breasts.

You wanted him to see it, to want you, to show him that you wanted him in that special sort of way that you’d waited for because it meant more to you with him than it did with all those other fellas.

Were you nervous because this was with Poe or because you were usually buzzed when you slept with men normally?

You weren’t sure, but you were picking at the hem of your nightgown as you knelt in bed, waiting for Poe.

He would usually join you quite early to enjoy touching you or squeezing you, and the hands on the clock were pointing that it was now ten at night.

When the clock moved to half past ten, you wondered if he decided he was bored of you now, if he wanted you to please him and you were taking too long, and now he was going to pay you no mind until you left.

It was slightly foolish to think that a man who had been happily touching you and kissing you was bored of you, and you decided to go down to his office to see what he was up to.

You padded down the carpeted hallway and down a set of stairs, turning to his office and knocking lightly.

“Come in.”

You opened the door and peeked in to see he was at his desk, writing. “Ain’t you coming to bed, baby?”

“In a minute.” He turned one paper over once the ink was dry enough and began writing on another.

“But I’m all dressed up for you.”

He glanced quickly, scribbling for a moment when his pen slid across the page and he lifted his eyes to stare at you with his mouth open; sure, he purchased that little negligee for you, wanting to see it on you, but he didn’t know it would look that good on you.

It was a little bit shorter than your shortest dresses, though his eyes were on the bit of lace at the top where he could see a glimpse of your nipples peeking out of the satin fabric.

Writing quickly, he pushed that paper aside without caring whether it was dry or not. “Let me do these few pages and then I’m all yours, dollface.”

You strolled over to the desk lazily, running your fingers over the edge of the wood then the back of his chair as you moved to stand behind him, pressing your nearly bare tits into his back.

“Sap,” you hummed, now moving your fingers down his arm until they came to rest on top of his hand.

“What are you doing?” He watched you move his hand and the pen in it to his well of ink, where you dipped the point of the pen.’

“Can you put down a fresh piece of paper for me?” You kissed the side of his head noisily, your lips moving down his cheek and to the line of his jaw.

“Of course.” He pulled open a drawer without looking and took out a blank piece of paper, laying it on top of the ones he’d been working on as he watched you fill the pen.

You carefully gripped both his hand and the pen and began writing letters in a lovely cursive that was only a little bit scribbled since you weren’t using your own hand, his gaze following each little loop you made.

You dotted a period at the end of what you’d written then pulled his hand back to let him see.

Fuck me.

There it was on the page, written all pretty like one might write a cordial letter or an invitation, and Poe was pretty sure he’d never read anything that turned him on more.

“Look at the time,” you said when he turned his head to kiss you, and he looked down to see you moving your hand up and sensually tracing around the face of his watch.

“I know, I know—” He tried again to kiss you and you pulled away.

“I really should be getting to bed.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He dropped the pen, grasping at your hand then your arm, letting you move away from him where you stood at the door and faked a yawn. “I’m simply worn to a frazzle.”

He put his hands on his desk and slowly stood, staring at you.

Then he raced around the desk and you ran out of the room, laughing loudly as you sped up the stairs.

You could hear his footsteps behind you as he chased you up the stairs and a few little laughs from him, but when you ran into the bedroom, he didn’t come barreling in behind you moments later.

Peeling yourself away from the wall where you’d hidden to jump out at him, you put your head out the door and looked down the hallway for him.

You didn’t see him walking up the stairs or anywhere down the other end of the hallway.

There was only one other room down the other side of the hallway and you decided to glance down anyway, your eyes landing on the buttons of a waistcoat, trailing up and looking into Poe’s eyes.

“Boo.” He grinned as you let out a little scream, stepping forward and backing you into the room until you were standing at the foot of the bed.

“My mother is very strict.” Your words didn’t mean very much when you were giggling, falling onto the bed.

“And yet you’re in a mobster’s bed in this sinful little outfit.” He started to crawl onto the bed which made you willingly lay back, letting him on top of you.

“I’m not as strict.” You gazed at him.

He kissed the tip of your nose, moving down and beginning to suck one of your nipples that was partly covered in lace and partly covered in satin, soaking the fabric quickly as you arched against his mouth and gripped tightly onto his slicked curls.

His lips kissed along the seam between the two materials and he wrapped his lips around your other nipple, sucking lightly.

Your eyes fluttered closed, simply enjoying the sensation of his wet tongue pressing into you, but you opened them and gripped tighter to his hair when he began running his nose down the length of your body. “Not that.”

Though you smiled slightly adoringly when he nuzzled into your thigh, pushing the lingerie up a little further. “You don’t like it when I eat you?”

“I love it when you eat me, but I was thinking maybe you could...put it to me.” You were not shy, but there was something much more intimate about sex with Poe than with any other man.

“You mean...you meant what you wrote, dollface?” He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh slowly.

You nodded, smiling softly and reaching down to run your fingers along his jawline. He leaned into your gentle touch.

He moved to kiss you then moved away to stand at the foot of the bed, loosening his tie.

“Let me?” You moved onto your hands and knees, crawling to him.

His suit jacket was somewhere downstairs wherever he decided to put it down, now in only his dress shirt, waistcoat, and pants.

You tugged his tie out from under the vest carefully, untying the knot sliding it from his neck to drop it on the floor. Next you unbuttoned his waistcoat and he shrugged it off, moaning softly as you kissed his skin with each opened button of his shirt.

Pulling his suspenders off his shoulders, you untucked his shirt as you opened the rest of the buttons and pushed it off him.

Your hand was purposeful when you reached down to his pants, knuckles brushing over and gently pressing into the slight bulge, undoing the fastenings.

He removed his shoes and socks and stepped out of his pants, standing in front of you in those little boxer shorts that showed off very much of men.

You pushed your hand into the tight fabric to grasp his half-hard cock, stroking him as your other hand pushed the striped underwear down to his knees.

He stood there with his hips bucking slightly, enjoying hardening in your talented hand for a moment before he gently grasped your wrist to hold you back as he stepped out of the boxers and climbed onto the bed.

You scooted a little bit back to allow him the room, lifting your arms when he grabbed the hem of your nightgown, which he lifted over your head and you smiled widely at him.

“I’m not sure I’ve told you how beautiful your body is.” He grasped your waist, laying you down.

“I believe you mentioned it across the table today as we drank our coffee.” You reached down to stroke him again.

He grunted, his fingers tickling down your side and your thigh, pushing between your folds where he gently rubbed at your clit to make you wet. “That was about your lips, kitten.”

“Which ones?” You kissed him, moaning into his mouth as the two of you caressed each other with your hands.

His fingers were sliding against you a little easier and he moved his hand to the outside of your thigh, bringing your leg to hook around his waist.

You shifted a bit as his tip pushed against your entrance, helping him to line up right with your hand around him.

He laughed slightly at the sensation of your walls pressing around his tip when he pushed forward a little bit. “Can’t even tell you how many times I’ve thought about this. Are you okay being underneath me?”

You put your hand on his shoulder now that he was pushing inside you, nodding.

“This is perfect. You...you’re perfect.” You gasped and moaned as he thrust forward, filling you.

“I thi—think you’re confusing me with yourself, sweetheart.” He was trying to think beyond how nice it felt to be inside of you, dropping his head to your shoulder for a moment.

“Oh, Poe, I’m pretty sure you’re the biggest man I’ve ever been with.”

“Oh, shit.”

His cock twitched inside you at that, head nuzzling into your shoulder more, and he gripped onto your thigh tightly.

You kissed his head, pressing your nose into his mussed up hair that made his beautiful curls more obvious. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“It’s, um...I need to take a moment or this is going to be very disappointing for you.” He chuckled.

“Oh, sweet man, you could do that right now and I wouldn’t be disappointed.” You gently pulled at his hair to free the rest of it from its product.

“How is that possible?”

“I’m with you.”

He pulled away, eyes full of lust and his smile soft. “Sap.”

You gaped at him. “Who are you calling a sap, you...dollface.”

“Oh, thank you, you really think that?”

“You’re maddening.”

Poe kissed you deeply, holding onto you as he pulled back and rocked forward slowly.

It only took a few thrusts into you as he moaned and you gasped for him to find a steady rhythm, moving his hand off your thigh to hold himself over you.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, pulling his lips away from yours and pressing kisses to his chin, his jaw, his nose, then leaning your head against his.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, grunting at how tightly your cunt squeezed him with a particularly sharp thrust.

“You make me believe it too.”

He began peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone as his hips sped up a little bit, one of his hands snaking between you to rub circles on your clit, smiling against your skin at the little moan and roll of your hips.

When he gazed up at you from where he was kissing you, the adoring look in his eyes made various parts of you flutter pleasantly.

No man ever looked at you like Poe did.

Your mouth opened slightly at a thrust that made his cock rub up against a part inside of you that made your thighs tingle, and he cocked an eyebrow. “Right there?”

You nodded, letting out the most beautiful little moan he’d ever heard when he angled his thrust that way again.

He saw that you looked like you were about to say something, but you looked away.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t usually worry about telling men that once we’re at this part.”

“Tell me. Tell me. Anything. Whatever you need, I will do it.”

“Could you...could you move a little faster? Your fingers and cock.”

He moaned at the filthy word and snapped his hips a little quicker into yours, his fingers sliding over your tingling, almost pleasantly numb clit.

You didn’t understand why looking at him made your heart hurt somewhere deep down when you liked him so much or why you wanted to kiss him more than anyone you’d ever wanted to kiss before, but you grabbed onto his shoulders anyway and pulled him closer with a softly begged, “Kiss me. Kiss me?”

His brow furrowed in a little confusion, but he smiled sweetly and pressed his lips to yours firmly.

You gripped onto his cheeks as you kissed him back passionately, whimpering and pressing your hips against his.

You pulled away from the kiss with a little gasp, your head thumping back against the pillows.

Poe ran the tip of his nose down the center of your neck, hissing softly.

“You’re close. I can tell by those wiggling hips of yours and you’re starting to squeeze me…”

“Right there, Poe, yes…”

His attention to your clit and that spot inside you he kept stroking against were enough to send you tumbling over the edge, your hands moving to his shoulder and pulling yourself up against him as you clamped down onto him tightly.

You were silent at first with your jaw dropped and your brow furrowed as you came that hard, only letting out a moan and falling against the mattress when your muscles released and you fluttered around Poe again and again.

“Tell me where to come, baby, please. Please.” Poe was whining a little bit, slowing his thrusts down though he wanted to fuck into you until he came, not wanting to release inside you if you didn’t want him to.

“On my thighs,” you mumbled, still riding out your high and only slightly knowing what question you were answering.

He nodded, thrusting sloppily a few times before quickly pulling himself out of you, coming all over your thighs with a soft cry of pleasure.

He pumped himself to extend his orgasm as much as he could, then let himself fall on top of you.

You didn’t mind his weight on you, humming happily and leaning your head into his.

You lifted your hand to gently run the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down the back of his arm, moving to slide over his ribs and smiling at his muscles twitching slightly under the light tickling.

“Was that good?” He moved to lay beside you, resting his head on your breasts and gazing up at you like a man much softer than a mob boss usually was.

“I’ve never come on a man like that before that I recall.” You pushed your fingers into his hair.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever come with any other man, though it was fun.”

He stared at you, sitting up on his elbow and grasping your chin gently. “Your pleasure is my priority, okay?”

You gazed at him with gratitude in your eyes for thinking of you, grabbing onto his wrist and pulling his hand away as you nestled into his chest.

“You want me to clean you up, sweetheart?”

“I want you to hold me for a little bit.”

Poe lifted your head and stroked over your hair, pressing a couple chaste, tender kisses to your sweet lips.

You nuzzled your nose into his, then hid your face against his neck.

It was strange to enjoy someone as much as you enjoyed him, but you would never allow him the power of being in love with him.

No matter how kind, and handsome, and charming, and humorous he was, you were not going to fall for it like some little fool who let men run around breaking her heart.

He squeezed you tighter, pulling your hips snug against his, and you smiled softly.

He sure was wonderful, perhaps the one man you might fall in love with if you allowed it.

You would not allow such a thing, though, when you liked him too much.

“I’d be happy to snuggle up as one with you again in a few minutes if you want to.”

“You’re perfect, dollface.”