#and the way society has shaped them and they shape society in turn

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

The Taste of the World: Writing Food as Storytelling

Food is never just food. It’s culture, history, survival, and, perhaps most importantly, a language that characters and worlds use to speak when words fail. The way food is grown, prepared, and consumed reveals the structure of a society—its priorities, its fears, and its memory. And in storytelling, the smallest detail about what’s eaten or how it’s shared can carry a world’s worth of meaning.

When used well, food becomes a subtle but powerful tool. It can reflect emotional tension without anyone saying a word, or quietly thread deeper themes through the narrative. It doesn’t have to overwhelm your story with excess description; it works best when it’s an organic part of the world, shaped by the same forces that drive everything else.

Let’s break down how to think about food as more than a detail, crafting it as an integral part of the characters, the setting, and the stakes.

Why Food is Fundamental to Worldbuilding

Culture and Identity

Food defines a culture as much as its language or traditions. The ingredients people rely on are determined by the land they inhabit, the technology they have access to, and the values they hold. It’s not just about what is eaten, but how—and why.

Think About:

What ingredients are unique to this region, and how did they come to rely on them?

How is food served—shared communally or divided by status?

Are there specific rituals tied to preparing or consuming meals?

These questions help frame food not as a decorative detail, but as a way to demonstrate how a culture lives and interacts with its environment.

Food as Survival

Food exists on a spectrum from abundance to scarcity, and its availability often tells the story of who holds power and who doesn’t. This doesn’t need to be stated outright—simple contrasts in what’s on the table (or missing from it) can highlight social divides or tensions.

Consider:

What foods are considered everyday staples, and what are reserved for moments of celebration or mourning?

How do people preserve food in harsh climates or through difficult seasons?

What compromises are made when survival is at stake?

Survival shapes cuisine, and cuisine, in turn, shapes the people. Food that may seem unremarkable to outsiders can carry in-depth meaning for those who rely on it to live.

Food as Memory

Meals are tied to memory in ways that few other experiences can match. They evoke places, people, and moments that might otherwise be forgotten. For characters, food can serve as a reminder of what was lost or what still needs to be protected.

Ask Yourself:

What does this food remind your characters of?

How does this memory shape their present choices?

What foods do they miss, and why can’t they have them anymore?

The emotional weight of food often lies in its connection to something larger—home, family, or an ideal that has slipped unreachable.

Integrating Food Into Your Narrative

The Subtle Art of Symbolism

Food works best as a storytelling element when it doesn’t announce itself. It’s not about drawing attention to the dish for its own sake but letting it naturally reinforce the scene or the character’s state of mind.

Example in Practice: A meal served quickly, with little conversation, could underscore a sense of unease or urgency. Meanwhile, the deliberate preparation of a dish might reflect care, control, or tradition.

It’s less about describing what’s on the plate and more about how the act of eating—or not eating—interacts with the story.

Building Tension Through Meals

Sharing food is inherently social, and like any social act, it can carry undercurrents of conflict or connection. Meals can be settings for negotiation, subtle power plays, or suppressed resentments. What’s not said during a meal can matter more than what’s served.

Think About:

Who prepares the food, and what does that say about their role or status?

What’s the mood at the table? Is the act of eating itself a kind of performance?

Are there unspoken rules about who eats first, how much they take, or what they avoid?

Food as tension is about the surrounding interaction, not the food itself.

Grounding the World in Small Details

Food is a powerful tool for grounding your world in a sense of place. By focusing on how ingredients are sourced, prepared, or consumed, you create an ecosystem that feels real without needing an info dump. A brief reference to a seasonal delicacy or the preparation of a daily staple can communicate volumes about the setting.

Use Sparingly: The best world building happens in glimpses. A short mention of pickling methods during a harsh winter or the fragrance of a common herb can paint a vivid picture without dragging the narrative down.

Applying Food to Character Development

What Food Says About Relationships

Meals are a social construct as much as they are a necessity. Who characters eat with, what they share, and how they interact during a meal reveal their connections—or lack thereof.

Consider:

Do your characters share food equally, or does one person dominate the meal?

Is a meal an act of kindness, a manipulation, or an obligation?

How does the way they eat reflect their personality?

Preferences, Habits, and Rituals

The foods a character gravitates toward can say as much about them as how they speak or dress. Perhaps a soldier instinctively chooses ration-style meals even in peacetime, or a merchant avoids exotic imports as a quiet protest against their origins.

Ask Yourself:

Does your character have a ritual or habit when it comes to food?

How do they react to unfamiliar dishes?

What’s their relationship with food—joy, necessity, or something else?

The Absence of Food

Every so often, what’s missing can be more telling than what’s present. A lack of food could signify poverty, oppression, or desperation. Even in abundance, what isn’t served can carry weight—certain foods might be taboo, seasonal, or too painful to prepare because of their associations.

The absence of food doesn’t need to be highlighted directly. Instead, its weight can be felt through the absence of conversation, the careful rationing of resources, or the visible strain it places on characters.

Final Thoughts: Food as a Storytelling Tool

Food is one of the most powerful yet understated tools in your storytelling arsenal. It connects your world to its people and its people to each other, revealing layers of culture, memory, and emotion without needing to over-explain.

When used thoughtfully, food doesn’t just flavor your story—it deepens it, grounding your world in something tangible and human. Instead of asking, What do my characters eat? ask, Why does it matter? Because when food becomes more than sustenance, it transforms into something far greater—a story in itself.

TAGLIST - dm or reply to be added 🫶🏾

@slenders1ckn3ss @lucistarsfire @fond-illusion @p00lverinecentral

[hiddensideoflife]

Retrograde Planets in Your Birth Chart: A Blessing or a Curse

One thing that many Astrologers agree on is that when a retrograde planet is in the sky it is closer to the earth and is a time to reflect inwards. When we look at Rahu (The North Node) and Ketu (The South Node), many will exclude these shadow nodes of the moon from this explanation. There are some similarities here. What is felt and experienced with Rahu and Ketu is often on a psychological or emotional level. The subtle energies have a way of triggering the subconscious mind, bringing past life issues, deep desires or wounds to the surface. Retrograde planets have a way of encouraging the same level of introspection. But when a soul actually turns inward, how does the person end up behaving outwardly?

One way Astrology has been able to advance in terms of prediction is that some Astrologers look at the stars and the events scientifically. Many infamous Astrologers like K.N. Rao have studied various charts to try to understand how planets will influence events. This type of study can only be validated by understanding what has already happened after the fact. This benefits students of Astrology greatly, but even K.N. Rao has said himself that in order for the science of Astrology to grow and evolve, we must continue to research and perform such tests and case studies. He highlights the evolution of man and how certain perceptions of planets and how they would perform, as well as views about karma, careers and events are often shaped by certain worldviews of the Astrologers within a certain period of time.

As an example, in 1987, when K. N Rao started his Astrology school, very traditional thinkers of the time thought that Astrology should only be taught to certain people within one belief or caste and women were certainly not a part of this group. However, Rao believed that anyone should be taught no matter who wanted to learn. He has Retrograde Uranus in Pisces (sidereal) in his natal chart. He revived Astrology to an immense level, but he also elevated the manner in which predictions were given, and he generated a higher amount of devotion amongst the people to spirituality and the ashrams.

People who have direct planets may follow the normal order of things within the house that the planet resides, but where there is a retrograde planet as we asked earlier, what happens when a soul turns inward to gain insight and to express their ideas and nature to the outside world? In some cases, they may appear delusional or crooked. The soul may not be accepted or understood by society. K.N. Rao’s suggestion to understand Astrology is based on research and staying up with the times. His ideas and thoughts were literally “out of this world.” A retrograde planet will give the native ideas and ways of doing things that are completely different or opposite from present tradition within a society.

In the end, someone has to go inward to elevate the level of consciousness of humanity. We cannot all follow tradition. Otherwise, how will we challenge areas that need to change and evolve? Not everyone can follow the right teachers and gurus, have the best upbringing and education according to current accepted norms. Someone has to go through hardship. Someone needs to have a path that deviates from what is accepted so that this soul can have no other choice but to turn to the Source within to gain new intel that will help us grow as a collective. Where do we think the insight came from that the teachers and gurus that we follow possess? Many souls followed what these gurus have said, but the gurus themselves in some cases did not have a teacher to follow or the teacher was only able to take them but so far. The Self was able to give them something powerful that we did not have prior and this new way of thinking and being created a new movement or tradition. People with retrograde planets are called, arguably even more so than others, to turn inward to realize something new that society needs. Until the soul goes within, they will not know what. And the path must be crooked. If the path was a straight line and it was easy, the soul would likely not turn within themselves for answers.

Wherever you have a retrograde planet in your birth chart, know that this area of life will likely not be a straight road. There will appear to be setbacks and struggles. Some might say this is due to bad karma or that you are cursed. If this is so, let us help you realize that you are then cursed to turn to the highest of divinity which lies within. If you can weather the storms and extract the knowledge through the obstacles, you will in turn see that this placement is more than the outward curse perceived by people who lack understanding. It is in fact one of the highest blessings a soul could ask for as your purpose is definitely to make a mark on the world in some manner if you are able to harness the immense potential that resides in the house placement of the retrograde position. Our advice to you is to TURN INWARD. The answers you seek will begin to unravel your journey to help you decode the inner workings of the Universe and the potential that is within you.

Namaste…

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

literally the easiest way to make someone care about a character and make them feel well-rounded beyond basic traits like personality, sexuality, ethnicity, etc, is to give them an actual character arc, and it’s shocking how many people do not seem to fully realize this

you cannot just cram a bunch of tropes. tropes are not the main event, they are tools to tell the story you wish to tell. emotional impact comes from the lead up, so you can’t just jump ahead and expect the payoff to work. “I want this character to just ___ already!” but they’re not there yet. that’s where the arc comes in - how do they get there?

and! most importantly, and this is something I really want people to think about when writing - the most important relationship your character should have, always, is with the world and society around them. defining your character purely through their interactions with other characters are, I find, how a lot of female characters end up feeling flat or not engaging with the themes as much as the male characters, and also how queer and non-white characters wind up as devices for other characters’ development instead of being more fleshed out

[choslut]

# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock. 

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.” 

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty. 

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest. 

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.” 

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.” 

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress. 

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.” 

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?” 

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?” 

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.” 

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.” 

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.” 

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.” 

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely. 

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.” 

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need. 

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.” 

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else. 

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?” 

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?” 

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance. 

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard. 

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole. 

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

© this work belongs to choslut. do not copy, translate, repost or feed my work into any regenerative ai system.

main masterlist

[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[shiny-jr]

➸ damnation [ the raven retainer ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.

– Note: Hopefully everything transferred over okay from the quiz. Been holding off on this one because I know with the amount of Pomefiore and Vil admirers, posting this is like lighting up a firework by hand and having to run before it goes off.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Vizier's Vassal   |   The Raven Retainer   |   ?????

A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall! 

Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment? 

Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.” 

But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! A page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven? 

How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending. 

Knowing this brought you some much needed relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be. 

Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard. 

Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace. 

When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing. 

“Thank you…! You saved me!” 

Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––

“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you may already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?” 

“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his worn and tattered attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.” 

“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, ���Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…” 

So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure. 

“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you. 

“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story. 

In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense. 

“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!” 

Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason. 

“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.” 

The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass. 

You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming. 

“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small. 

Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!” 

Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathers fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow. 

The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger. 

Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke it caused you to freeze. 

“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.” 

You slowly stepped forward, closer to him. 

“Closer.” 

Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne. 

“Closer.” 

Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.” 

The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”

It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.” 

After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.” 

Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear. 

“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile. 

The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes. 

His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!” 

You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him. 

Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.” 

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two. 

Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago. 

The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival. 

“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.” 

Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it. 

The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!” 

“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.” 

The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king. 

Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”

“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?” 

Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess. 

Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You replied hastily with a slow bow. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Just from your few moments here, you can already tell that the king was frightening when vexed, and you did not want to stick around to see if that got worse when he spoke privately with his huntsman. And yet, as you turned tail to retreat back into the hallway past the closed doors, you knew the heir he mentioned could have only been the only other person in the room: Epel. 

Epel, much like you, didn’t seem to have any desire to stick around longer than necessary. Once you and the heir were out and the doors were closed shut, simultaneously you both heaved a sigh of relief, although short and brief as the heavy weight of the king's command was still prominent. There must’ve been even more on the young heir’s mind, because his gaze flittered over to you and he began to eye you suspiciously. With a surprising amount of strength for someone of his short stature and delicate appearance, he grabbed your arm and began to drag you down the halls away from the throne room, soldiers standing guards, and anyone else. Until you were in a different setting, by one of the castle’s exits to a dark backside corner of the garden where there was just one big oak tree that provided shade underneath its huge branches. What was this about? Why did he bring you here? 

Those questions were answered when he finally stopped underneath the tree and let go of your limb, only to whip his head back at you with such an angered expression that caught you off guard. The location now seemed like some place he could yell in frustration without being caught, because it was so quiet and isolated here. “That entire time, when that crazy old goon with that stupid metal crown basically kidnapped me from my home and brought me here for his little contest I wanted no part of, you knew he’d want the losers dead, didn’t you?! Hell, you helped him get rid of the bodies! I trustedyou, you big fat lying s––!” 

Quickly clamping your right hand over his mouth to shut him up, you stared at him as he gazed at you wide-eyed, as if shocked you’d even try to stop him. It dawned on you then. “You don’t want to be here, do you?” Just then, you felt a sharp pain in your palm. Hissing, you immediately retracted your hand, shocked to see some broken skin and feel it sting. He just bit you––! 

Epel spat onto the ground, infuriated as he yelled, “Are you daft? All that time in the undercroft made your brain rot or something?” An idea came to him. Still angry, but brightening up substantially, he lifted his head and glared at you. “Rook’s busy with Vil, and if I beat you there’d be no one to take me back to that stuffy prison of a room.” From his hip, he unsheathed a dagger and pointed it at you. “Out of my way, or I’ll make sure you join the rest of those duds you buried!” 

Removing your own weapon, the short sword from your back, that you thankfully were still carrying and was larger than his own blade, you pointed it at him. “You were saying, Epel, was it?” Seeing his confident expression falter, you decided to add quickly just in case he tried to act recklessly and try attacking you with his dagger anyways. “I’ll tell you this because it seems we both want to live and I believe we might be able to help each other get what we want. So let’s get something straight, I am not the retainer you know.” 

You gave him a moment to process what you said as you both lowered your weapons. In the quiet of the brief moment, you listened for any sign of prying ears but there was none. Upon seeing Epel’s confusion and suspicion with his guard still raised, you continued, 

“It’s unbelievable, I know, but I’m not the same person. Where I come from, this place is a lot like a fairytale story but different. I was arrested back home and sent here as punishment. This means my punishment was to take the role of the pet or servant of the royal and face some unknown demise. Now, from what I’ve picked up, it sounds like you’re here against your will too. Both of us might end up dead if we’re not careful.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of Epel watching you closely and deciding on what to do, he lowered his dagger completely after he saw you lower yours. “That sounds like a load of crap but… the real retainer would know better than to talk to Neige of all people. You didn’t, which explains that.” Maybe he wasn’t entirely convinced by your narrative, because he proceeded to ask, “You said this was like some kid’s story you read once or somethin’? Tell me what happens to me.” 

“That’s the issue. It’s an old story that doesn’t go into detail, you weren’t even a character and my role is just a raven.” Placing away your sword that you handled a bit awkwardly, since you really had no idea how to use it, but the heir didn’t seem to notice that as he placed away his own weapon. “From what I got, you were brought here against your will and there were others that are no longer here. Now, you’re the royal heir. Care to explain?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Epel demanded, “If I tell you, you have to promise to tell me something. You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you?” 

“I do.” Nodding at his words in confirmation, you then answered, “Of course I’ll tell you since we’re helping each other out.” 

After a second, he sighed, “Fine. I’ll trust you, but only because you’re not really the retainer. Ya see, I’m from a small farming town near the borderlands. A few months ago, Vil gave a secret proclamation. He wanted the seven of the most beautiful candidates gathered at his castle, status or talent didn’t matter, as long as they were younger than him and had looks up to his high standards. Rook, you met him already, was in charge of finding these candidates and bringing them in whether they liked it or not, and you, or well… the old retainer, were in charge of taking the loser home whenever someone failed one of Vil’s challenges. At least, that’s what they told us. My guess is that the king doesn’t want his little brother to inherit the throne since he’s so jealous and all. All the candidates had a chance to become the next in line for the throne if they won all the challenges, and if they lost they got to go home. But no matter how hard I tried to lose, you kept me from losing so I guess I owe the old retainer for that because without them I’d be… probably lying face-down in a ditch somewhere.” 

Slowly he shrugged, those words he uttered now being processed in his mind. It seemed to have struck him, because he became quiet. 

“... I was the last one standing, even though I didn’t wanna be. Ever since then, I’ve been stuck here, forced to spend my days with strict lessons being taught by Vil. All my escape attempts were stopped by Rook, of course, that crazy loon…” Gazing up at you, he slowly regained his confidence and nodded, “But now, I’m gonna escape for sure this time and go back home! Screw the crown and these dumb silk clothes!” 

“Easy, Epel, for now we just do as we’re told. I don’t want things to get too out of hand if it isn’t necessary. In the original story, the queen, king in this situation, causes his own death. As long as we avoid angering him AND avoid Neige, we should be fine. But…” You considered your next words carefully. What if something goes wrong? What if things had to change drastically in order to survive? Would you have a better chance at surviving if the protagonist, Neige, were to actually die and the antagonist, Vil, receive a good ending instead? You didn’t truly want to kill the prince, even if he was naive, he seemed like a truly good person. But if it was you or him… “I still need to see how things play out. If it comes down to it and things take a wrong turn, how far will you go to survive?” 

Epel gave you a look before scoffing and taking out his dagger as a reminder, “I was about ready to stab ya just to escape and get back home. I’ll do anything to make it outta here alive, to make sure both of us live. But now since you’re helping me out, and I’m helping you out, we gotta stick together. Got it?”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

For your own safety, you deemed it better to do nothing in the meanwhile as you waited to see if the plot would progress as it did in the story. What you hadn’t taken into account was how long the wait would be. Apparently when Vil instructed Rook to escort Neige out to be discreetly killed, he didn’t mean right at that second. It was something he had planned to happen soon, but not quite yet. This gave you enough time to assess the situation.

One thing you were grateful for was the former retainer’s work ethic. The beautiful king had deemed you had done enough by assisting in his endeavors that included potion-brewing and murder, something you hadn’t actually done, at least not for him. So, your responsibilities included keeping Epel in check as a prince-in-training and staying out to receive enough sunlight as per Vil’s strict orders. 

For the remainder of the first day and the following second day, you and Epel reviewed the lessons he loathed and quietly retreated to garden grooves to discuss possible plans of action including what to do afterwards when you had both gained your freedom. Additionally, you learned from the heir that you were not so different from the character you replaced. Even Epel admitted he was fooled until that one mistake you made of acknowledging Neige. So, all you would have to do was keep calm and be yourself, but also not yourself. You were technically playing the role of someone else that just happened to act like you. 

Your superior had summoned you on the second night. When you arrived, you saw servants around the ballroom decorating the area with fine silk curtains and candelabras. Round tables set up in another section of the extensive room, tables set with sheets and porcelain. Vil stood at the edge of the room, noticing you out of the corner of his eyes as another attendant brought to his attention something about outfits. 

As Vil began to strut towards another room, you could do nothing but follow as he commanded, “Hurry now, my retainer.” 

You did as you were told, following and noting down the little details from the dark colors used in most of the decorations as well as the mention of flowers being prepared. Once in a private room with you and his entourage, he delicately removed his crown from his blonde tresses. “Epel is much more tame with you. I swear, that boy is giving me white hair.” 

No, but you’re going to do that to yourself, you think as you recall the scene from the story where the beautiful queen turns herself into a ragged old hag. “He can be… a little troublesome, yes.” You stand closer to the door as the beautiful young man disappears behind an elegantly patterned dressing screen. 

Judging by the servants there carefully handling various types of clothes, you could only assume he was trying on different outfits for whatever event he was preparing to host. During a review of Epel’s lessons, you were able to learn as well. Despite Vil being a person of great envy and cruelty, he was actually a fair leader that was beloved by most, so long as they didn’t incur his wrath. Reportedly, multiple nobles, knights, and other royals have vied for the beautiful king’s affection, but to no avail. All were turned down. 

“Troublesome, hah, you’re being much too kind. That wouldn’t be my choice of word.” Vil scoffed as he changed behind the screen. Once he was seemingly satisfied with an outfit after throwing multiple aside, he emerged in a slightly long, dark, and exquisite dress-like garb with large sleeves. Snapping his fingers, he stood straight as his eyes lingered on you as he said simply, “Jewels.” 

Picking up his meaning, you gingerly plucked the intricate golden necklace a nearby servant was carrying on a pillow and assisted him in placing it on. You steadied your breathing as you noticed that he was watching you carefully. Moving in front of him, you placed the detailed and sharp claw rings on his index finger and ring finger as he raised his hand. 

“How is this?” 

You took a step back and looked him over when you realized he was speaking to you, not anyone else in the room. You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn’t help but think that the evil king was indeed…. “Gorgeous.” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he extended out his arm, the tip of the silver claw he wore on his finger at your neck as you instinctively lifted your chin at his gesture to avoid being poked. You weren’t really sure what he was thinking, and it was making you anxious. Had he seen through you as Epel had? Or perhaps he was cross? There were a million different ways to die in this story. There was a reason you were sent here and that was to meet a cruel end. 

“You flatter me, my retainer. I know you don’t sugarcoat words.” Vil tilted his head, analyzing you from another angle as he smiled. Unexpectedly, his soft and pale hand was placed on your cheek. You felt your heart stop, whether from fear or something else, you couldn’t be sure. “You see, proper sunlight and sleep does work miracles. You no longer have those horrid eyebags.” Lowering his hand, his smile was gone as he seemed to recall something. “You’re the only competent and trustworthy person in this entire castle, my pet, besides myself, of course. What would I do without you? Always there for me, even before I ascended to the throne. Even when my father married that awful woman that brought the perfect lovely boy that became my brother and a stain in my life…” 

After a moment of considering your response, you replied quietly, “You have always loathed Neige, haven’t you…?” The prince’s sweet words and shy smile instantly came to mind. 

Upon detecting your words, you watched his expression sour as he instantly commanded everyone, who were too far and busy to hear anyways, to leave at once. All except you. Now, you remain alone with the king. It seems like you hit a nerve with your words, and you feared what he would do to you now that the two of you were alone.

Vil took a sharp breath before raising his head to meet your eyes. Under his intense gaze, you felt small but you merely swallowed your growing restlessness and kept your lips shut as he began, “I’ve always told you that I do not want you to ever utter his name. I lost the kingdom’s people to him, my friends left me for him, even my own father was beginning to favor him! I refuse to lose you too! If that boy takes one more thing away from me––” 

“I’ve stayed this long.” You attempted, interjecting with words that you thought would fit this character you were playing. 

“Because I demanded it.” His response caught you by surprise, but what was more unnerving was what came out of his lips next. “Father accepted my request for you to become my retainer, but the woman he married did not. And so, I concocted my very own poison, more lethal than cyanide, and slipped it into her wine. You are here because I wanted you here. Of course, I never revealed that to you until now.” You were given almost no time to process his words as he changed the subject, lifting his hand to admire his silver claw rings and painted nails. “I must admit, I was beginning to become a little concerned with you hardly leaving the undercroft in recent months. I was afraid you had become dull as I kept you to myself, and you know I don’t exactly like dull people by my side. I didn’t want to toss you aside after all we’ve been through together.”

Pursing your lips, reeling from this wave of new information, you murmured, albeit unsurely, “I don’t believe I’m dull… I like to think of myself as interesting.” 

Amethyst eyes landed on you, the blonde man scrutinizing you as he gibed with a frown, “Was I asking your opinion or stating mine?” 

Staring right at him, your snarky reply is already pouring out before you can even stop it. “Well, are you asking me my opinion…?” It’s silent as his cold gaze instantly lands on you. Shit. You instantly avert your eyes downward and bow your head in apology, knowing you fucked up. This was why you kept everything to yourself. This king poisoned his own step-mother for not giving him what he wanted, he ordered the former retainer to kill six innocent candidates for his competition to become heir, and he was willing to murder his very own brother who admired and loved him. What would he do to a raven with a sharp tongue? Just as possible scenarios begin flashing in your mind and you remain bowing, you clenched your fist, prepared to unsheath your hidden sword under your cloak and fight back if necessary–– when he laughed. Vil laughed. 

It wasn’t a mocking one of ridicule, but rather an amused one. Lifting the back of his hand to his lips to partially cover his mouth, his laughing ceased. There was amusement, a wicked and eager look in his eyes as he hummed, “There’s that plucky side of you I missed so dearly!” Smiling, he reached forward, carefully tugging your hood down as he scolded lightly, “What have I said about wearing your hood around me? Especially indoors. Honestly, you never learn. I should strip you of that cloak you always stubbornly refuse to remove, that way you always show your face as you’re told.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again…” Unsurely you kept quiet, only offering to change the subject once the king had reached over to trail his fingers along the side of your face. “If I may ask, what’s the occasion? I wasn’t notified of these ongoing preparations.” 

“A funeral.” Vil noticed how you went quiet and how your eyes widened. At your reaction, he chuckled, lowering his hand away from your face to tap his sharp finger against his chin. “Why so quiet? Don’t worry, it’s not for you. It’s merely… a preparation in advance.” Oh. You realized who it was for now. The thought of his rival dying seemed to bring the king joy as he smiled so cruelly. How morbid. Then, his attention returned back to you. It seemed he was thinking of something else now once his sights landed on some trashed envelopes in the bin, because his expression had turned to one of mild annoyance. “These suitors from afar are so bothersome. No matter how I refuse their advances, they continue with their gifts and letters filled with flattery, thinking that’ll be enough to win me over. How wrong they are. Love affairs are of no use or any interest to me…” 

You gazed at the bin chock full of paper and shattered gifts. Your voice was quiet, but it carried in the silence of the room. “It must be difficult to be so admired…” 

“Indeed it is.” Vil nodded, continuing to tap his chin thoughtfully. Those eyes on the trashed envelopes slowly made their way over to you, his slight frown morphing to an amused smile. “Although, perhaps I’ve changed my mind…” Extending his hand, you slowly and unsurely slid your left hand into his palm. Vil stepped closer, so close you could smell his sweet perfume and all you could see was him. You felt like a caged bird, cornered, as he leaned just a tad bit closer and continued to smile. However, now his smile was more teasing, but it felt wicked and dubious, “Once Neige is gone, all that time I spent being tormented and pestered by him, can now be dedicated to you. Lately, I’ve been watching you, and there’s something intriguing about you now. It’s as if you’re no longer so absorbed in your work, like you’re finally seeing me as something more than just your superior. You haven’t been brewing potions of passion in the undercroft, have you?” 

By now your face was hot, burning at his implications, by his close proximity, by the look in his eyes that made you think he may genuinely be interested but the tiny voice of reason in the back of your head waving red flags at his notions. When he suspected you were even considering looking away from his intense gaze to avoid eye contact, he squeezed your hands in warning, his nail rings pricking your skin ever so slightly. So you were forced to meet his gaze and reply awkwardly, “Of course not… I’m not you.” 

The king cackled, raising the back of his other hand to his lips again. With a tone of confidence, he did not even hesitate to respond, “Oh, you’re funny. My poor pet… I would say you’re bird-brained, but you’re not that.” He leaned his head right beside yours, until his painted lips lingered by your ear. The proximity was making you dizzy. His voice was like honey as he whispered, “I don’t need a potion to win you over––” 

“Your Majesty, our wondrous Vil!” 

Saved by the huntsman. You resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief while Vil continued to grip your hands and slowly pull away, his head turned to glare at the one who dared to interrupt the moment he was so engrossed in. It seemed he wanted to say something, but he managed to control himself as he merely hissed, “Speak.” 

During the pause, you were able to shift your gaze over to him. The huntsman was at the open window, one foot inside already and hands gripping the sides to heave himself up. Why didn’t he come through the door like a normal person? Wasn’t this room on the second floor? 

“I have to remind you of your meeting with your precious heir apparent.” Rook smiled as he fully entered through the window, seemingly paying no heed to the scene he just stumbled upon or the vexation in the king’s tone. 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Releasing his hold on your hand, he sent you one last chilling glance. When he leaned closer once again to whisper in your ear, your breath hitched as he purred, “Later.” Once he stepped away, he gave you one last mesmerizing look before exiting the room. Yes, you were thankful you didn’t have to deal with the king until next time, but now you pitied Epel for having to stand his presence for hours of lecturing and scolding.  

Once the king was gone, you felt vulnerable. While he was pushing you on the edge with his advances and you knew any sign of rejection might tick him off, it was a different kind of unease now that you were alone with the huntsman who you eyed warily. By the time your eyes drifted back to him, you felt your heart rate spike as you noticed he was staring. Upon your gaze meeting his own, he merely smiled a little wider as he hummed. 

There was no way you would willingly stick around to be alone with him. 

As you slid your hood back on, prepared to take your leave as well, the huntsman’s sharp green eyes landed on the palm of your right hand that was lifted up to move your hood. For a moment, his narrowed gaze vanished and instead was replaced with a quizzical look and a curious smile. Stepping forward, he took your hand in his gloved grip, but he was careful as the tip of his finger traced the now fading injury caused by Epel’s bite. He gasped lightly.

“My, my, what kind of beast could have caused this damage that tarnished your skin? How dare they, for a creature as lovely as you to be wounded like this, why, it should be criminal!” 

You hesitate, looking down at the mark that had partially healed on its own. It wasn’t that deep anyways. “Dog.” 

Those watchful green eyes flickered up to your expression for a moment, before he chuckled and shook his head. His blonde hair swished back and forth a bit with his head movement, as he removed some gauze from his satchel. There was a hint of amusement that appeared in his smile, and while he wrapped the gauze around your hand, he spoke, “A dog? Ah, I see… But, dogs have much sharper canines that would have cut deeper into the flesh. I’ve hunted an untold amount of wildlife in my time, and encountered nearly every species in the animal kingdom. And this bite mark doesn’t match any creature that comes to mind. It’s truly odd, isn’t it? The shape of the wounds nearly looks like it was formed by something… human.” 

He knows. He knows you were lying. You go completely still, allowing him to complete what he was doing. It felt like he was purposefully taking his time in wrapping the gauze securely, as if he were going slowly just to get some sort of reaction. What was his goal? Seeing his eyes on you as he finished the task was unnerving. Could he hear your rapidly increasing heart rate? Was he able to detect the growing alarm you felt? 

At your silence, he merely shrugs and finally lowers your hand. That cursed gaze travels away as he says in a near-whisper, “Marks such as those aren’t meant for the hand, they’d do nicely elsewhere though.” 

“What?” 

“Ah, forgive me, I haven’t apologized for my sudden earlier intrusion between yourself and His Majesty.” Was he seriously going to gloss over what he said as if it were nothing? Now he was back to his positive demeanor. Although his smile was different now, it seemed more harmless, that didn’t do much to place you at ease in the slightest. “It wasn’t my intention to barge in! But I will admit, while the sight was exquisite and it was the very picture of romance, I did feel a twinge of jealousy.” 

Did the huntsman like the king like that…? For a moment, your heartbeat steadied as you got a hold of your composure. Honestly, that moment with Vil is probably the first and last you’ll ever get to a romantic moment with a gorgeous person. “Oh, was it because of me?” 

You were about to put out a quick and simple apology, but you didn’t get a verbal response. No. Rook only smiled with mirth, his eyes glimmering with amusement appeared to narrow again as he crossed his arms. At his lack of a reply, you feel right on the edge once again, your heart rate picking up immediately again. 

“... You were jealous of the situation I was in with His Majesty, right…?” 

There was no response yet again. However, the bridge of his nose crinkled slightly as his shoulders shook with the quiet laughter that came out of him. Much like before, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues to speak as if this were nothing but mere pleasant conversation. “I must admit, it is always a joy to see you. I must have done something favorable by lady luck, because our paths continue to cross much more frequently. Ah, I’d like to share with you something I experienced. Just a few hours ago, I happened across writing and I could not help but be reminded of your being which remains shrouded in mystery. I believe it went something like…” Rook cleared his throat as he recited somewhat dramatically, “This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing. To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core. Ah, those fiery eyes of yours are exactly what I envisioned in my mind as I read those poem’s lines…! To finally be the one who those focused eyes lay upon––” “Are you done? I’m busy.” You interject, managing to keep an even tone and stoic expression, but it was difficult considering that you just could not relax around the huntsman. You did not forget how he didn’t answer the question about jealousy, which made you nervous as you imagined the possibility that maybe he wasn’t jealous of you with Vil. 

Not offended by the curt response, Rook only continued positively. Not only was his reaction, or rather lack of one, very slightly annoying, it was worrying. Most people would have been surprised and maybe even upset by the interruption, but he didn’t appear negatively affected in the slightest. You couldn’t predict his behavior, and that alone was cause for concern. “Forgive me, I’m simply thrilled to finally be holding a proper conversation with you! Normally by now you would have turned heel and walked away, which is why I currently think you are particularly bewitching these past few days. It’s as if the fog around you that you used to cloak your most private secrets and puzzling nature has passed but been replaced by a thicker cloud of fog. You’re an enigma. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

In that moment you held your breath and you felt your blood run cold. Automatically your mind drifted to the weight of the sword on your back. It was heavy, heavier than his dagger and more useful at this proximity than his bow. However, pulling out a sword against him was counterproductive when he was a vital part of the catalyst that sparked the sequence of events that would eventually lead to the story’s ending. 

Considering your options, allowing the villains to live and perhaps even assisting them in the end would weigh in your favor. Afterall, you had yet to see any prince or princess for Neige, which meant things were already changing whether you liked it or not. Say a good ending was achieved where the pretty protagonist prince lived happily ever after. What would this get for you? It wouldn’t be the happy ending you knew in the fairytale if there was no royal on horseback to save Neige after he bites the poisoned apple. Should you somehow help him achieve a good ending, then what? Would he live with the seven dwarves in a cottage for the rest of his life or marry and inherit a crown? What could he offer you? On the other hand, Vil already had the crown, wealth, and power. These living conditions were quite nice when you didn’t have much to do, and if you ever felt threatened, running away with a bag stuffed with gold from the treasury would be easy. 

Perhaps being the beautiful king’s raven wasn’t so bad, all things considered. This was a hell you may be able to adjust to and accept as your punishment. 

“I like when people speak frankly, not in riddles.” You respond calmly, despite the racing of your heart. Responding was a risk, but ignoring his words wasn’t any safer. It made sense as to why he was a hunter, because at the moment you were cornered and he hadn’t so much as removed a single arrow from his quiver. 

Rook, again, only smiled ominously. It didn’t feel like he had malicious intent, but you still felt like you were in danger, you still felt threatened. He could, metaphorically speaking, pull the trigger at any second and you would be dead. As if he saw through you and knew all your secrets. All he was doing now was baiting you for another word, another sentence, another phrase, any slightest sound or action that was a slip-up leading to more information falling into the palm of his hands. Maybe that’s why he didn’t respond. Either that, or you were thinking way too deeply and the paranoia was starting to consume your mind. You wanted to believe it was the former and you weren’t quite insane yet. 

Finally, he chuckled, amused as he crossed his arms over his chest and peered at you with his forest green eyes. You could only imagine how terrifying he was when he was truly in his element, when he shed formalities and used the weapons strapped to him. “Your eyes speak a million words, and your actions paint a most curious story! Tell me, little raven, what words do you have for me?” 

Were you seriously participating unwillingly in this dangerous dance with the very man that served Vil? Rook was his huntsman, he was to hide no secrets from His Majesty and carry out his will. And it felt like Rook knew everything he wasn’t supposed to know.

It could have been the adrenaline and fear you felt in this current moment underneath the composed facade that formed the words in your head. Clutching your wrapped hand to your chest, you took a breath. You really were just like a wounded animal he was seconds from ensnaring. Although you wouldn’t hesitate to lash out. Ravens were known for plucking out eyes. The answer came too fast, “You won’t be able to do it. You can’t kill the prince.” 

Upon hearing your words, Rook appeared surprised, but it was only momentarily. Only a second or two of shock, before his bewilderment morphed into satisfaction. Like he had just won and caught the quarry. “Ah, how wonderful! So, you have decided to impart your knowledge upon me just as you have to Epel! I feel truly privileged!” 

You froze in place. You never once mentioned anything to Rook about what you knew from the story, and you trusted that Epel would keep his mouth shut. So how did he know? 

It’s like that piercing gaze of his could see directly into your mind, as if he could hear your very inner thoughts. As you remained stagnant in shock, waiting to see who would be the brave soul to make the first move, he spoke amicably, answering the question you never voiced. “Even the walls have ears. It is my duty to serve His Majesty in any way I can, so of course no whispers or rumors escape me.” Then, his smile turned sad and disappeared, that jovial tone diminished to a quiet whisper, “But, you are correct. I cannot do it.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his words, processing his confession. Seeing the huntsman with his head lowered toward you, was exactly like in storybook book pages that depicted a humble huntsman bowing before a princess to beg for forgiveness. It's possible that maybe the huntsman wasn’t evil, afterall, he would be the one to spare the innocent royal. Maybe he had a heart, a good one. But you didn’t. 

“Why? You can hunt animals and drag seven innocent people here to involuntarily compete for the crown. And you knew six of those seven were to die, didn’t you?” You crossed your own arms after making sure the black hood was securely over your head. 

Catching a glimpse of his somber frown, you knew his answer would remain unchanging. He did not have the guts to go forth and stain his hands red with the blood of an innocent prince. “I… I did not know they would perish. I truly thought they would be set free.” 

You sigh, contemplating your next actions. You truly didn’t want to harm Neige either, even if Vil despised him with all his heart, mind, and soul. However, the highest chances of you avoiding a terrible fate and achieving some sort of wonderful life, could only be accomplished if the Evil King received a good ending. That could only happen if the prince was dead, as Vil would only be deemed the fairest one of all once his rivals were vanquished. “Fine then, if you cannot do it, I’ll do it myself.” 

Rook, apparently temporarily shocked, was stunned by the resolve in your own words. He searched for any wavering determination before he tried to smile once more. For now he lowered his feathered hat to his chest as he spoke and stretched out an inviting hand, “Let’s not talk such dreary things. Please, there’s a lovely view at the top of the palace where you might perhaps tell me more about this story. I’m awfully curious, and it just might help me finally understand you better.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

It became clear after that fateful evening that Rook knew every happening that occurred in the palace and in the nearby town. There was no possible way to keep it secret, so you told him the basics such as that this was a story and he was a character within the tale, but you decided it best to tell him no more than that. It would be optimal to give him no upper hand at all. It was then promised that he wouldn’t share this information, and you made doubly sure to emphasize the fact that you would make certain that he received a bad ending if he were to betray your trust. However, the eccentric huntsman only laughed in amusement at your threat. What a weirdo. 

Well, at the very least, Rook was not the only one keeping tabs on happenings within the palace. That was what you had Epel for, he was useful in giving up information when it was needed. Even if he was formerly a peasant boy, he was no idiot. He never gave anything for free, it was a trade of knowledge which you didn’t entirely mind. There were lots of useless story details and scenes you could give up, such as the existence of the dwarves and the cottage in the woods. Besides, at the rate this story was shifting, those characters nor settings would no longer be necessary. 

But one day, Epel brought a very interesting account that could potentially change everything. 

Within the private training room where the king’s valued heir took fencing lessons, the door was abruptly slammed open, and there stood the said heir looking particularly ruffled. Manners tossed aside by how harshly he opened the door and flung it shut behind him, he ripped his cloak off his shoulders and chucked it aside as if it weren’t a carefully tailored cloth and instead a wash rag. Etiquette forgotten from his countless hours of learning it, he spoke naturally in his odd and difficult to understand dialect. “Vil’s pitchin’ a hissy fit with a tail on it! I was nearabout ready to come back, figured you’re way better than listening to all them uppity folk––” 

You stopped, lowering the new lighter and sharper sword you exchanged for the old one you carried on your back. He spoke so quickly and said so many words that went completely over your head, you had to give him a look as you interrupted his talking, “English, Felmier.” 

Freezing in his tracks, he groaned and repeated in a clearer, simpler manner, “Vil is mad. There. You happy?” 

“Then say so.” 

“I did!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. Epel continued, but thankfully not in his natural dialect. Although it was evident that he was still peeved about something. “There was some girl that showed up, a princess or something, and she asked for an audience with Vil! I happened to overhear, everyone was raving thinkin’ that it was just another princess asking for the king’s hand, but when she was talkin’ to Vil, she asked for Neige’s hand!” 

The prince. It was the prince, now princess, that was originally supposed to be the one that Prince Neige fell in love with. The arrival of the princess would certainly throw a wrench in the plan. Why had it taken her so long to show up when you had already believed that they would no longer be involved within the tale? 

The lavender-haired former farmer boy, paced back and forth in this wide training space. Usually he’d take an interest in the fencing equipment, it was one of the few lessons he actually enjoyed and took part in without so much stubborn complaints or begrudging behavior. But right now, he was far too troubled to even think about fencing. “When Vil summoned Neige to meet the princess, he turned her down! Said somethin’ about having feelings already for someone within the palace. Well, whoever it was, Vil must’ve known, because he nearly went haywire right then and there!” Stopping his steps, he turned to you and went on accusingly, “You know who it is, don’t you? Spit it out!” 

“It’s me…” This could not be happening–– You never were supposed to gain the affection of that pure-hearted prince! Now, Vil likely figured out who his step-brother had eyes for, and this would not bide well with his envious nature. 

Those big blue eyes of his widened in shock. “What?!” 

Neige had to be gone and fast. But how could one make a prince disappear? It wasn’t as if he could be done with and escape the consequences. The royal was beloved by the citizens far too much, should they learn that he was murdered, things would quickly become problematic. There could be no raising a blade against him. Unless… an accident of sorts was staged. 

Suddenly, you’re reminded of the image of a delicious red apple, a tool to the original plot that becomes the princess’ demise. Perhaps you didn’t have to stray too far from the plot after all. However, someone would have to take the blame once the deed was done. “Is the princess still here?” 

Confused by the inquiry but nodding in response, Epel looked even more baffled than before. “Yeah, but why do you care? What’s she got to do with this? Don’t tell me she’s somebody important.” 

If staying with Vil was the quickest and easiest route where a good ending for yourself was more certain, then you’d take it. No princess or prince would get in the way, and you would use Epel to help secure the ending. Even if some persuasion was needed, since you knew he didn’t have much of an appreciation for the current king. Lowering your blade on the table, you left it behind as you approached him, close enough to place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye. Close enough so he could hear the whisper that came from your lips, so quiet that not even a mouse in the walls could detect what was said, only he could hear these words. “We are going to assassinate Prince Neige.” 

Epel gazed at you with pure disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth open a gape in bewilderment. “But that’s Rook’s––” 

“Rook can’t be counted on.” You counter. At the moment, you were unsure if Rook could really go through and murder the prince with his own two hands. You’ve trusted him enough with your own secrets, but you certainly didn’t trust him with your fate.

The heir appeared to contemplate it. The atmosphere had turned somber, like he was seriously considering it. Not just anyone could stomach the knowledge, but he appeared to be processing it just fine. That is, until he suggested something that surprised even you. “Why not just, change the target to someone of higher power and just… you know.” He made a swift slicing motion over his neck. You knew exactly what he meant, and who he meant. “That way, we’d both be free.” 

“It’s not guaranteed to work. Killing a king would be more difficult than killing a prince that the king wants dead anyways.” You point out that simple fact. There were constantly guards around the king like worker bees following their queen. However, here on palace grounds, most avoided the prince as they knew interacting with him was a quick and easy way to make the king bitter. This made Neige vulnerable. 

A frown appeared on his lovely face, etched on like a pout. While his look may be an endearing one, his voice did not say the same. By his tone, he sounded unsure, maybe even a tad bit annoyed as he accused, “You forgot, I don’t give a damn about the crown! If that happened, it would mean that I’ll definitely end up taking Vil’s place one day.” 

“I didn’t forget.” You reply instantly, using logic to convince him that this was the best option available. “You forget how vain his majesty is. Vil will never give up the crown willingly. The only time he’ll give it up, is when he’s old and gray and on his deathbed. By then, you’d either be long gone on to freedom, or have figured out some other way to handle the matter in whatever way you want. As for me, I don’t care who’s king, as long as I get to live and be happy.” You could visibly see the gears turning in his head as he heard your words. You add more to pressure him further and make him see reason. “Like it or not, you’re involved. In whatever way this ends, just remember, the citizens of this kingdom will likely not be so kind to you if word ever reached them that you were the chosen heir of the king, a king that abused the precious prince. Even if you didn’t participate directly, the fact still stands that you’re connected to Vil. If Neige receives his happily ever after, everything may end alright, or it may not, but I can’t guarantee your safety in that case. That’s why I suggest getting rid of him now, and placing the blame on someone else.” 

“Someone else… They’ll never suspect us. This is insane, I mean, I don’t care for that guy but… me, you, us––” He slapped his hand over his mouth, moving it up towards his hair. The young man looked so stressed that he was about ready to pull out his lavender curls. And yet, there wasn’t really anger. Mild irritation maybe, but not anger, and something else was there. Something foreign to you. “I’d kill for you, you’d kill for me.” 

Ah, maybe. Maybe not. It depended on the situation, but he didn’t need to know that. Although it was reassuring to hear that he was most definitely an ally that would help to achieve your goal. 

His small hands remained on his scalp, tangled in his hair, gripping his own head as he raved, “Don’t tell me you’ve been learnin’ all that potions stuff from the king! It feels like I’m going crazy, havin’ these unnatural thoughts I never had before–– I’ve been imagining things. I want to get out of this dump, but I imagined runnin’ away with you, showing you my village, introducing you to my ma and everyone else back home! Then forgetting everyone else in this stupid place!” 

Those big blue eyes gazed right at you, scanning your face that he’s come to actually grow fond of. Out of everyone in this hell, he actually liked your company, craved it even. There’s no one else here on palace grounds that he would willingly talk to without grumbling about it. Even if it began with the original retainer, his trust grew with you, the imposter. 

“It’s all your damn fault…! But I’m not mad, I can’t be, even though I want to spit and punch you for this but at the same time I don’t wanna hurt you. Just, tell me right now, to my face. Tell me it’s stupid and I’m actin’ dumb so I quit it!” 

You nod, a bit stunned by the outburst. However, you had other plans in mind. “Keep it up.” 

By now maybe it was giving him false hope at an ending he dreamed of, but he was still useful to you. So for now, you ignored his look of shock and pink on his cheeks as you pried his hand off his head and he lowered his other hand to his side. 

The plan was simple really, it would be far too easy if you could actually manage to pull it off. “I’m telling you this, because you will have to help me guide the princess in the right direction. Talk to her, steer the conversation to romance. If she’s smart, she’ll ask you for advice assuming you know Neige. Suggest giving a gift. Once everything is over, then we can think about your hometown.” 

There was still shock on his face, as if he was still struggling a bit to process everything that was coming out of your mouth. It seemed like it was a lot, as one of his dainty hands held your hand tightly while his other hand gripped part of the cloth of his shirt, his knuckles turning white from the strength behind his grip. “I thought you were kinda cool. Not as annoying as Rook or Vil or anyone else, and I wanted to escape with you…! But this murder plan just makes it seem like you’re exactly like that old raven that you replaced, but for some stupid reason I still can’t not like you.”

“It will technically not be murder. In a way… It’s complicated.” 

There were apple trees at the very corner of the royal grounds. A basket of fruit would be a sweet and kind gesture with unsuspecting maliciousness intertwined. All that was needed was to take the apple that would be picked, poison it as the beautiful queen did in the original tale, and place it back in the basket that the princess would offer to the prince. Poisoning it as it was done in the fairytale, wouldn’t truly kill Niege. It would merely place him under a death like sleep, with the chance that he may one day wake up several years in the future long after we are gone. Because really, Neige didn’t truly deserve death. However, even if he was to never wake up, at least he would be in a dream and avoid a brutal end by his jealous step-brother. 

“But there’s only one person who can make the poison we need for this to succeed…” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The plan had to be enacted before Rook could take Neige to pick flowers. Luckily, or unluckily for you, a request for an audience with the king was not even needed. Before you could even search for him as you were rereading pages of the heavy tome in the undercroft, there was the creaking of the wooden door that signaled someone entering the dungeon beneath the palace. 

Hardly anyone else ventured down here, and by the clicking of heels against the stone floors, it became obvious of who it was. Your theories were only confirmed true when you felt a presence behind you, peering over your shoulder as the delightfully familiar voice that filled you with unease greeted kindly, “My dear retainer.” 

Instantly you felt your body stiff and rigid, feeling uncertain under his gaze. You were many things, but often fearful wasn’t one of them. This story was just filled with characters that made you tense, the king being the one that troubled you the most. Despite all this, you managed to remain polite, only turning your head to nod at him with respect. “Your Majesty. It’s a surprise to see you down here.” 

“I could say the same. Didn’t I specifically instruct you to stay aboveground for the time being?” It sounded like a scolding, but it was nowhere near as harsh as one. In fact, it sounded more like gentle chastising. Not at all like the harsh criticism and stern reprimanding he gave to anyone else. Not another word came about that before his amethyst eyes landed on the pages you were reading. “Poison apple. You weren’t by chance planning to assassinate me with that, were you? That’s not nearly enough poison to eliminate me. Haven’t you heard of mithridatism?” 

Mithridatism? Did he practice that? It’s a good thing that you ultimately did not choose the path of killing him, as he likely would have proven much more difficult than any other target. If you had attempted to take his life and it failed, you could only imagine how frightful the king would become in his rage at your betrayal. The mere thought made you shudder.

It wasn’t easy to focus when he was directly behind you, his chest practically against your back as he continued reading over your shoulder. “Not you… I was considering this for the prince. I believe that I’m the only one that can stomach handling this, not the huntsman.” 

“Interesting… and why did you choose the poison apple?” To think that the beautiful man that currently had his chin on your shoulder, would probably be an wretched old peddler with wrinkled skin and hair white as snow, if the story had stayed on course. It was plausible that the beautiful queen turning herself ugly just to kill her rival was an analogy of sorts for the hideousness of her personality. And yet, when the king who was based on that very character was in your presence, yes he was vile and cruel but he was rather fair to you. Especially when he expressed a sort of tenderness in his smile and looked down at you through his long lashes. 

“It’s a special sort of death.” Upon reading through most of the pages of the thick leather tome, you discovered that a huge majority of the deadly spells had antidotes and ways to be reversed. Many were easy to reverse, some were harder, but the most difficult antidote to receive was for those that ate the poisoned apple. It was no wonder the evil queen originally chose it, as it was only by chance that the prince awoke the princess with true love’s first kiss. “Not easy to find an antidote for.” 

“Hm…” His head continued to linger on your shoulder, his lips and part of his nose buried by the cloth on your shoulder as his watchful gaze remained stuck on you through his half-lidded eyes. At such a close proximity with his face literally inches from yours, you didn’t dare turn your head, but in your peripheral vision you could make out the black mascara and smokey light eyeshadow that accentuated his fine features. Even without the use of makeup, he was sure to be stunning. “As expected, you dally away precious time. However, there’s a princess…” 

“So I’ve heard.” Your response was careful, as this conversation was quickly approaching dangerous territory. From what was told to you by Epel, after the princess arrived, Vil summoned Neige to speak about it when the young oblivious prince admitted he loved someone within the palace. Vil knew who, you knew. As this conversation progressed, you would have to choose your words carefully. It would be like walking in a minefield. 

It started, you realized, as his fond gaze slowly shifted to something a little more cold. While you couldn’t see his mouth due to the position he was in, you guessed he wasn’t smiling lightly in content and intrigue like before. “Then I assume you know of the prince’s… let’s call it, an insignificant crush.” 

“Yes…” A crush may not be the term Neige would have preferred. The prince would have likely used flowery language akin to the type seen in romantic novels read in the middle ages. But you weren’t going to fret over the small details. Stoically you replied, “If you desire it done, I can be rid of both the prince and princess. An apple for the prince, and a jail cell for the princess.” 

Vil raised a carefully plucked blonde eyebrow, his careful vigilance turning to astonished curiousness as he connected the dots with the clues given by your words. He seemed to understand, and take delight in your response as he nodded against your shoulder. “This is why you’re my favorite.” 

Averting your gaze down to the parchment paper in the tome, you placed your palm against the surface and read off ingredients that were needed. None of which you understood. Not that you would even attempt making something so potent. In the middle of your reading, you felt arms snake around your waist, rendering you motionless as if being paralyzed by some other poison he could’ve used. 

By your ear you felt his warm breath, and his arms were surprisingly strong as he held you tightly, preventing you from going anywhere. The words he spoke in his feathery voice felt like they tickled the side of your neck and caused a shiver to go down your spine. Was it fear or was it pleasure? “… You could finally use those funeral preparations you made in advance.”

“True… This type of poison could be made with ease by me, it merely requires patience as the brew seeps through the simmering apple. It will take some hours. There are many different poisons, but one of this caliber that requires magic is most lethal. And yet, it looks so delicious. Entrancing and deadly, my favorite combination.” One of his hands roamed up to your neck, his well-manicured nails and soft fingers casually resting on your throat. There was this creeping feeling that he wasn’t talking about the poisoned apple anymore. Externally you remained cool and level-headed, but internally you felt your breath still in that moment as your heart picked up speed. And it was like he saw all these signs on you, reading you like an open book. “The breath will still, the heart will beat rapidly in those final moments…” 

You know he didn’t poison you, but it felt as if you were sick with something that was worse than poison. You shifted in place, keeping your breathing even. Never once have you prepared for a situation like this. Removing your hands from the tome, you lowered them over his knuckle, one of his own hands still around your waist like a belt. The intention was to attempt to pry off his hands, at least, that’s what you think you were trying to accomplish, but Vil took it as an invitation to continue. 

A hum like a purr came from him as he moved his head closer, so his lips were practically at the exposed flesh of your neck. And yet, he didn’t move. You remained as still as a statue, while he murmured in a quiet and confident tone that slowly morphed into something pleading and desperate. “Nevermore will you, my previous retainer, have to stray from me again. Once he is gone, everything will be made right. There will be none left worthy of your companionship, except for me. I will be your sole companion. So do not leave…” 

You felt a tremor throughout your body as he placed a lingering kiss against your neck, his soft lips by your jaw before he pulled away. Not even far enough so you could see his face, he only moved his head away an inch, as if even the thought of being physically apart right now was too much to bear. 

His arms around your torso tightened, and your back was pressed flush against his chest. His voice was low and intoxicating, this was dangerous. “For now, you’ll assist me in making the poisoned apple. While we wait a few hours for it to simmer and absorb the toxic qualities in the cauldron, we’ll be spending some… quality time together, my pet.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The next morning, you awoke slowly, feeling groggy and tired, until everything came rushing back and you sat upright in alarm. You were in the familiar bedroom that once belonged to the retainer you replaced. However, there was a slight warmth on the other half of the mattress, as if someone had just been laying beside you and left not too long ago. 

On the wall as you sat up, you could see your reflection in the mirror, the messy bedhead and tired looking eyes, but also the slightest traces of red lipstick stains on your neck and across parts of your face. 

You had zero time to process what had happened before you spotted the shiny red apple on the counter with a small note beside it. The note simply read, For your mission. Wash your face once you wake up.

It took almost no time at all to get dressed and prepared, and wash your face. By now, Epel should already be speaking to the princess, advising her to attempt to appeal to the prince by picking fruit from the garden and gifting it to the royal she loved. Your task now was to simply add the poisoned apple when no one was looking. 

As you opened the door, you noticed a shadow and quickly hid the apple in a pocket of your long black cloak, just as familiar blonde locks and forest green eyes came into view. You closed the door behind you, as you were greeted by a welcoming smiling and that accented voice that bid good morning. 

“Ah, petit corbeau! What a fine day, isn’t it?” Immediately your gaze went to his expression and his hands, your ears keenly listening to his tone of voice. It didn’t appear as if he were hiding anything. There was no somberness to his voice, no frown on his face, and no red staining his hands. Although, the good killers always washed their hands clean of the evidence. 

For now, you don’t bother asking why he was outside of your room. Knowing Rook, he’d probably say some flattering words with an unsettling meaning hidden within his ornate speech. Right now, you would much rather not have to dwell on that for too long when a royal was to die soon. For now, all you do is remind him of your previous words towards him, “You couldn’t do it. So, knowing you somehow overheard what’s to happen today, is this your attempt to stop me?” You were quiet, making sure not to be overheard, only so he could hear your warning and see your cold gaze. “Know that if you try to stop me, that will be a form of treason against His Majesty.” 

That smile turned into a more bleak one, as he struggled to keep up the corners of his lips. He knew what was to happen, of course he did. It was as he said, he knew everything that transpired within the palace grounds. “Ah, I would love to see the raven ruffled up.” He joked lightly before adding in a more serious tone, “Ravens are most commonly associated with bringing the unfortunate news of a passing. As much as I dream of seeing you in your element, I just wish it wasn’t… him. I’d much rather it be me than him, even if being the victim was the only way to catch a glimpse into your true nature and to have your attention solely focused on me.” 

You leered at him, deciding not to take out your blade. Rook was a weirdo, but he most certainly wasn’t a killer. You couldn’t imagine him outright attacking you, even now as he knew that the beloved prince would die either way. “I’ll cut you down too if you get in my way.” 

Unexpectedly, Rook removed his hat and held it to his chest. He gazed at you like how an artist would admire the treasured painting of the beautiful Mona Lisa, as he bowed his head to you, exposing the back of his neck as his blonde hair shifted with his movement. “From you? I would consider it the greatest honor bestowed on me.” 

You merely moved around him, your cloak brushing past him. Even after Neige was dead, Rook would be cause for concern. But you would worry about him then, right now you had an apple in your cloak, a princess to frame, and a prince to assassinate. 

As it turned out, planting the ripe red apple at the top of the basket was the easiest part. It was simple, when the princess had left the basket of freshly picked fruits unattended. Perhaps the worst part was waiting. Waiting to hear when it would happen, when the prince would take that bite that would seal his fate. Part of you wondered if he might dream of you. Afterall, he seemed to have this idealized version of you in his head. So it was possible, but it’s not like you would ever know. 

For now, you appeared as you were told when you were later summoned by the king to the gardens where you emerged after exiting the undercroft on your first day here. Now, you were currently strolling through the private gardens of the palace grounds together, as if you hadn’t both planned murder. Any moment now, you expected a servant to come rushing, the palace would be overrun with commotion once the poisoned apple was consumed. If there were any remnants of the fruit left, you had instructed Epel to dispose of it in the midst of the chaos when no one would notice. 

But right now, it was quiet. A peaceful tranquil quiet, where you could look up at the sky and sun and feel its warmth. One where you were free. Even if you could never return home, perhaps living in this world was better. Should you ever need to, you could always escape the beautiful king. But this was a plan you would keep to yourself. 

Vil remained beside you, looking as elegant as ever with his robes and crown perched atop his skull. Like a peacock promenading in the yards of a private estate. There was one thing that confused you in this story. As angelic as Neige was, and as rotten as the king’s personality might have been, the mirror must’ve been blind if it insisted that Vil was not the fairest of them all. 

The King looked over at you, a pretty smile adorning his face when he saw your eyes on him, just as he liked it. Keeping his hands folded in front of him, the pair stopped beside the well. Since he had dismissed his guards to be alone with you, there was no one else to hear or see what went on between you and him. Those amethyst eyes were no longer so chilling but still more than enough to put you on the edge. “Tell me, my dear, how long were you planning to keep me in the dark?” 

You remained still, confused at his words. What was this about? He seemed content, but what did he mean by this? There was a sneaking suspicion and fear in the back of your mind, but you played it cool as you leaned on the well with your arms on the smooth rocky edge. “I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.” 

A brief chuckle came from him as he reached over, his thumb rubbing against your cheek and his fingers grazing along your jaw. “You’re amusing.” Abruptly, faster than you can anticipate it, you felt a sharp edge against your throat, not piercing flesh but close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to avoid being cut. It was a knife. 

Your breath hitched. You made no sudden movements, no reaching for your own blade or trying to grab his wrist, because in a single instance he could end you now and that would be the end to your story. Everything you did to get here and set up a decent life, would be utterly useless if you were dead. Taking a deep breath, you purse your lips before holding up your hands to show you had nothing to strike back. “What are you doing, Your Majesty? After everything I did to assist you?” 

The knife was small, compact, decorated with small jewels as shiny as it was sharp. It was small enough to easily be hidden in his robes, but honed enough to easily end you here just as the judges intended for you to go out. “You were useful, but… when it’s just me and my retainer, my trusted retainer refers to me as Vil not Your Majesty.” 

You felt your blood run cold. He knew, this entire time? From the moment you encountered him, did he realize by your use of formalities, or did he figure it out sometime afterward? You’d been played. 

A knowing smile graced his lips once he took in your shock, one of the first clear expressions on your face in so long. Normally you were so composed, it felt like an accomplishment to break that poised demeanor, to see the horror dawn on your face as you were reminded of the judgment that had been cast, of the hell you were in that was veiled by gorgeous folk and the chance at a free life.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and winced, anticipating the feeling of the blade running through your throat, there was a shriek. A shrill shriek from a woman, the sound sent a chill running down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin. You anticipated the red spilling from your own neck, but there wasn’t a drop.

The knife was removed from your skin as Vil hummed, not really paying attention to the distant sound of servants scrambling to check on the source of the sound that must’ve come up from one of the upper floors of the palace. “It appears like it’s finally happened.” 

There was no need for further explanation to understand what he meant. The scream must’ve come from the princess who witnessed Prince Neige collapse after taking a bite of the apple. In seconds, guards of the palace will arrive at the crime scene, they’ll see the beloved prince trapped in a sleeping death on the ground and the princess beside him will be the only culprit. It’s done… And yet now, you now had to grapple with Vil knowing you were not who you pretended to be this entire time. 

“I didn’t know you were close.” The raven should’ve been apprehensive of the evil queen that tormented them. Were you wrong? Was their shared history different from the tale? 

“I lied. Please, I’m no imbecile. I think it’s a bit rude that you never properly introduced yourself, but I forgive you considering the unique circumstances.” Expertly he twirled the dagger between his long fingers, while he didn’t even have to focus on his hand to do so. The entire time he stared at you, a smile on his curved lips. “Did you think me a fool that I could be so easily tricked? I had known them for several years, but I must admit, I like you better.” His left arm was crossed over his torso, propping up the right arm that held the knife and casually pointed it at you. “All they did in recent years was hole themself up in the undercroft, but you, you’re plucky, brave, funny too.”

You felt partially numb. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–– Everything was going so perfect! Why did he have to know? Was it too late to escape? Could you try and run now that things were turning south, or was it worth staying? Judging by the look in the king’s eyes, staying was likely not the best idea. A caged raven was not a happy one. 

“If you’re honest to me, I’m honest to you. I only tricked you, because you foolishly believed yourself to be playing me this entire time, hm? Don’t mistake my intentions though, because I am fond of you. All those sweet words, whispered promises, and love I gave you was all real.” The tip of the dagger was against your chin, and the beautiful blonde king peered down at you through his lashes. Raising the fingers of his freehand, he lightly traced his sharp nails over the side of your face. The next words came in a quiet voice, stern and serious, vaguely threatening but also with the promise of sweetness. 

“However, I don’t appreciate the idea of you flying away. Fret not. You’ll be well taken care of, and loved more than any little prince with a crush could love you… You wanted him dead, isn’t that so? Well, we killed him. There is nothing more for you to be afraid of. So now, I want you to tell me about where you come from, why you wanted him dead, and what you wish for. No matter what you desire, I will see to it that you have it so long as you remain by my side permanently. Reintroduce yourself, from the top, my Darling Retainer.”

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

HOUSE CALLS.

Professor!Terrence x Aaliyah

Summary: Aaliyh has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student.

Part One.

The combined elements of dark wood and a silver-painted metallic finish gave his desk an exquisite appearance within the lecture hall. The theater–like room was cloaked in silence and a gloomy ambiance from the constant downpour of rain. The occasional clearing of throats or shuffling of papers could be heard, but everyone clung on to his words as he leaned casually against his desk.

He was situated in front of the class, one hand reclined back to brace himself, while the other held a book within his grasp by its withering spine. He crossed his feet at the ankles, rounded, gold–rimmed specs hanging onto the bridge of his nose. His full lips moved in tandem with his educated words, blue–grey eyes flicking from the passage he was reading to the class of over thirty students before him.

“…Brain size in mammals is generally proportional to body size. Relative to body mass, humans have the largest brain. The chimpanzee brain has an approximate volume of 300 cm3; a gorilla’s is slightly larger. The human adult brain is more than three times larger, typically between 1,300 cm3 and 1,400 cm3. The brain is not only larger in humans than in apes but also much more complex. The cerebral cortex, where the higher cognitive functions are processed, is in humans proportionally much greater than the rest of the brain when compared with apes…”

He articulated his words fluently, deep baritone drawing you in like a breath of fresh air.

Aaliyah scribbled across her notepad with her iPad propped up in front of her, occasionally highlighting passages from the same book she’d downloaded. She had one too many books creating an almost mountainous pile within her bedroom. Thank goodness this was her last semester. She’d put off taking this combined Ethics and Psychology course, realizing she needed it to graduate.

The magnetic allure of her gaze blinked away from the Professor, the end of her red, ink pen situated between her heart–shaped lips. Her upturned eyes followed the movement of the Professor licking his thumb to turn a page. She crossed one shapely thigh over the other, the thick material of the navy blue sweats she wore cozy. Her small foot covered in old Vans bounced slightly, a habit she couldn’t control.

“…Humans live in groups that are socially organized, and so do other primates. But primate societies do not approach the complexity of human social organization. A distinctive human social trait is culture, which may be understood here as the set of non-strictly biological human activities and creations. Culture in this sense includes social and political institutions, ways of doing things, religious and ethical traditions, language, common sense and scientific knowledge, art and literature, technology, and in general all of the creations of the human mind. Culture “is a pool of technological and social innovations that people accumulate to help them live their lives…”

His patience, communication, and passion helped her pay attention, even though she couldn’t help but to fantasize and escape to a place where she could dream. It was the intuitive feeling within her. Beyond her squared, black frames, she found herself memorizing the shape of his elongated fingers cupping the book. The way he talked with his hands. So expressive. Voice so even toned and soft at times. She couldn’t be the only one captivated by her handsome Professor.

“I know it’s nearing time for us to leave,” He strolled lazily towards one of the large windows, “It’s really coming down out there. Well…why don’t we pick back up on Friday? Make sure you all submit your midterm papers. I’ve extended the due date…”

The class began to gather their things. Aaliyah didn’t make a fuss to leave just yet. From the Professor’s view, he peeked up at her from behind his desk, still sitting in her seat, chewing on her pouty, bottom lip with so much focus on her IPad. He didn’t bother her, taking that time to check his curriculum. Aaliyah’s silent presence didn’t bother him. So why bother her?

After thirty minutes, she stood, stretching her arms that were drowning in an oversized, graphic hoodie. Her silk pressed hair was styled in a low bun and medium–sized silver hoops decorated her ears. She threw her school bag over her shoulder and slipped from behind her desk, leaving the room. Before she reached the door, she turned back and caught the hypnotic eyes of her Professor. She gave him a silent wave and he returned the gesture with a small smile, watching her disappear from his eyes.

He couldn’t shake the twinge of sadness in her leaving.

——

As Friday rolled around, Aaliyah found herself running late for class. It was her own fault. She’d started a side hustle that earned her more money than what she’d gotten paid working remote for Verizon. It required a lot of her time, and she’d become so obsessed with it that her sleep schedule changed. Dressed in a pair of heather–gray leggings with a matching oversized, slouchy sweatshirt, Aaliyah opened the door to the lecture hall, quickly finding herself scurrying to her usual seat in the middle of the Professor’s speech.

“Excuse me…sorry…”

Aaliyah squeezed into her seat and hastily worked to fall in line, cursing herself internally. Her sleek hair framed her face as she buried herself into her work.

“Aaliyah?”

Her eyes held slight bags beneath them. They connected through her lenses at the Professor. She could feel eyes on her in other parts of the room as well.

“Is everything okay?” He questioned with concern.

“Yes, Professor Richmond. I had a late start today…”

“Okay…do you know where we are or do you need me to fill you in?”

A faint smile graced her shimmering lips.

“I know where we are. Thank you.”

Professor Richmond nodded his head slightly before turning his attention back to the whiteboard. Aaliyah swooped some of her long hair back from her face and behind her ear, reaching for her Stanley cup to quench her thirst.

In the middle of lecture, Aaliyah’s phone vibrated within the front pocket of her school bag. She groaned slightly, distracted by the noise while jotting down notes. After a while she couldn’t ignore it. Professor Terry caught sight of her reaching for her phone, and he took note of the stress lining her pretty face.

Meanwhile, Aaliyah’s eyes scanned two texts from a friend and former coworker of hers, asking if she was free to meet up after class. Aaliyah had an inclination of what it was about, but ultimately she agreed to meet up for lunch. After settling that distraction, she pulled herself back into her work, not aware of Professor Richmond’s eyes on her.

“Class dismissed. See you all on Wednesday…”

And as expected, Aaliyah held her spot. Professor Richmond had his back facing her while using an Expo eraser to clear the board. He wore a black sweater that molded into his sinewy upper body in all the right places. The black slacks he wore to match accentuated his ass and strapping thighs.

After recapping the marker, he gave Aaliyah a once–over. He studied her for another minute before placing his hands within the pockets of his slacks, making his way towards her. Aaliyah looked up at him, her posture straightening. He settled next to her, a soft smile on his face. Aaliyah waited for him to say something, an arched brow raised in question.

It just dawned on her that she’d never been this close to him.

Professor Richmond was thinking the same thing.

“How are your studies coming along?”

The deep vibrato of his voice was so smooth she found herself smirking. Aaliyah blinked away from his overwhelmingly handsome face, trying her best to focus on the text before her instead of the man that occupied her space with a fragrance so utterly charismatic with a blend of basil notes, bewitching lavender, and sandalwood accords.

“As well as it can to pass this class, Professor.” She responded.

The sound of her melodic voice, the way it lulled him into a trance. He couldn’t shake it. His long fingers drummed against the desk, the ability to control the urge to catch a more…invading whiff of her sweet perfume paining him. And was that…a tongue ring?

He had the biggest crush on Aaliyah.

“You sound put out. I hope that paper is coming along.”

Aaliyah cut her tantalizing eyes at him and those sinful lips parted to speak, “I’m finished. Mostly. Just need to do a bit of editing.”

“Good…good. Hey,” Professor Richmond leaned in closer, removing his glasses, “Can I ask you a question?”

Aaliyah focused on him with a steady gaze. Never wavering. She turned her curvy body in her chair to face him fully. Professor Richmond’s blue–gray eyes did a quick sweep of her frame.

“Depends on the question…then I’ll determine if it warrants a response…”

Sassy.

“Ha, okay,” Professor Richmond exhaled, “I would like to take you to lunch sometime. Away from campus…my treat.”

He pressed his large hand against his solid chest and tilted his head at her. Aaliyah blinked at him slowly.

“Today if you’re free…how does that sound?”

Aaliyah twisted her lips to fight a smile. It didn’t work however. That smile of hers broke through and it was beautiful. It was one of those smiles that captivated you. So sexy. Oh so sexy.

She was just…sexy.

“I can’t,” Aaliyah turned away, her hair sweeping her back, “I’m meeting a friend for lunch already…”

Professor Richmond’s thick brows flicked up and he groaned softly. He was hoping for a yes.

“Then…we can plan a lunch next week?” He persisted.

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled softly. It was a sight to behold. He wasn’t going to back down.

“Next week…hmm…maybe. I have a lot going on.”

Her dismissive tone didn’t stop him. Maybe it was because he was her Professor. She probably didn’t want to get caught up in that. Probably didn’t have time for that mess. A beautiful woman such as herself probably gets approached every damn day by men. What makes him any different?

“Whenever you’re free then,” Professor Richmond widened his thighs to appear more relaxed, “I hope I’m not being too forward…”

Aaliyah trailed her eyes from his thighs to his face. He caught that. He knew she found him attractive. He knew his potential. Felt her eyes on him plenty of times.

“I’m not looking for anything right now. I appreciate the gesture though,” Aaliyah turned those beautiful eyes away, “I’m sorry.”

Professor Richmond looked away from her, trying his best to hide his disappointment. He clenched his sculpted jaw, accepting defeat. A slight smile graced his lips as he stood, fixing the hem of his sweater.

Better luck next time. And there will be a next time.

“I’ll leave you to it then, Aaliyah…enjoy the rest of your day, beautiful.”

The way he called her beautiful…the bounce of her foot stilled.

“You do the same, Professor,” She replied, eyes never leaving her iPad, although a smirk graced her succulent lips.

He paused in his descend, turning to look at her over his shoulder. Her eyes connected with his again, dark brown meeting bluish–grey. The way her hip sat, jutted out from her thigh crossed over the other. She was doing things to his psyche. Her feet in flat, black sandals. Those pretty toes. That beautiful hair. It was all too consuming.

“I’m Terry by the way.”

He felt he needed her to know him on a first named basis. Aaliyah blinked at him with those curled lashes. She smiled again, smaller this time, but it still held a seductive quality.

“I know.” She responded impertinently.

He shook his head and released a soft chuckle. Sassy indeed.

Terry returned to his desk, gathering his things. He shut his laptop and the sound of Aaliyah walking down the steps towards the exit brought his attention back. Although she always wore loosely fitting tops and occasionally bottoms, the sway of her hips didn’t go unnoticed. No matter how hard she tried to cover it all up. He knew she was shielding a body beneath those layers.

Her dainty hand grasped the handle to the door. Aaliyah glanced over her shoulder at him one final time. Terry waited, hands finding its way into his pockets.

“I’ll see you Wednesday, Professor.”

A slow, half smirk crept up his face.

“Same as well, Miss Aaliyah. Enjoy your weekend.”

She waved goodbye with a flutter of her fingers in a flirty manner before leaving him alone to his thoughts.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was taunting him.

——

Aaliyah climbed the short, concrete steps leading her inside Elsie’s Plate and Pie. Home to legendary pies and authentic taste in Baton Rouge. It wasn’t far from her Shotgun House. She removed her shades, spotting her friend, Keisha, sitting near a window. Keisha is a tall, thick woman. Her hazel eyes ignited when she spotted Aaliyah, one hand with long, red acrylic nails waving her over. Aaliyah scooted past a crowded table, holding her arms out to accept a hug from her longtime friend.

They did the squeeze and sway motion, big smiles on their faces.

“Y’at?! Girl it’s been forever. Baby, you look fucking good. How’s school and shit?” Keisha questioned boisterously.

“It’s going, girl. Almost done. You?”

“Still doing my thing at Crazy Horse. We miss you there,” Keisha gave Aaliyah sad eyes and a pout.

“You know I miss ya’ll too,” Aaliyah grabbed her glass of water, opening a straw, “What you finna get?”

“I don’t know…”

They scanned the menu, both settling on crawfish queso as a starter when their waiter sauntered over.

“Brittany still sleeping with Mack?” Aaliyah asked while sipping from her straw.

“Girl…” Keisha rolled her eyes, “He still breaking that down. She ain’t hopping off that dick…”

“Ugh,” Aaliyah scrunched her face up in disgust, “Mack though? That’s why I had to go. How do you do it? That nigga irks me.”

Keisha laughed, “I have my ways. I do what I gotta do to survive.”

Their appetizer arrived. Aaliyah didn’t hesitate to dig in. She was starving. The turkey bacon, fried eggs, and croissant breakfast she had earlier didn’t stick to her stomach.

“Li–Li, I wanna know if you’d be down for this new thang I got goin’ on.”

And here it comes…

“Keisha…” Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

“You’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I want to, but then I’m like…Keisha a wild girl. Whatever it is, I know it ain’t simple.”

They both laughed.

“Let me fill you in, bitch!”

“Go ‘head,” Aaliyah cackled, “I’m waiting.”

“Awrite, so…We both know working at Crazy Horse ain’t shit. Half the money we earned went to Mack ass…”

“True…”

“So, I do this side gig. House calls.”

Aaliyah have a half shrug before crossing one leg over the other beneath the table, “Okay?”

“Andddd…I want you to join me.”

Before Aaliyah could respond, they placed their orders. Seafood pot pies.

“Keisha, I got this online content thing lined up and it’s hittin’ off. I made 350 dollars in one night,” Aaliyah scooped up the last bit of dip.

“What’s 350 to two grand?”

Aaliyah snorted, “Two grand? Serious?”

She sat up straighter in her seat. Aaliyah inclined her head towards Keisha for her to continue. That two grand sounded promising…

“Tell me what you do for these house calls.”

“It depends. It could be an all woman thang…a little toy party situation…most of the time it’s bachelor parties and believe it or not, men in uniform…”

“Men in uniform?” Aaliyah gawked at Keisha, “Like, military men?”

“Military men, policemen…tomorrow it’s firefighters. They pay good money for you to show up and perform. You don’t gotta go further than that unless you want to. That’s where the real bandz come from.”

Aaliyah let Keisha’s words sink in while she swirled the ice in her glass around with her straw. Aaliyah couldn’t deny that she missed dancing on the pole. It was exciting. Made her feel sexy. The best full body workout. She often craved the neon colors against her skin beneath the black lights. Her gravity-defying moves around the dance pole, sky-high heels and perfect hair, it was nothing short of magical.

Part acrobat, part athlete, part artist.

“I can see the wheels in your head turning…sounds good, huh?” Keisha asked with a knowing grin.

Aaliyah hummed, her eyes scanning Keisha’s face, “Almost too good…”

“Like I said, tomorrow night I have a gig at the fire house. I was bringing this other girl, she go by Diamond. She was cool…but I feel like me and you are a dynamic duo. Miss Dark Angel…”

Excitement tickled her nerves.

“So? You wanna go?”

“…I don’t know, Keisha…”

Aaliyah hung her head, deep in thought. She crossed her arms over her chest, breasts sitting up invitingly.

“Just…think it over tonight. Hit me up and let me know.”

Aaliyah dragged her tongue over her upper teeth. Keisha giggled at her, causing Aaliyah to snap out of her deep thoughts. She only had tonight to decide. Stripping was such a hard hustle for her. She had just found her niche. But, if what Keisha was saying is true, she could make the most money she’d ever made as an exotic dancer. Tempting…

Their food arrived and they fell into gossip, laughing about wild shit, falling into their usual routine. Aaliyah finished her entire pot pie while Keisha packed hers to go.

“We gotta do this more often, Li–Li,” Keisha slapped some money down, paying the tab, “You got your nose in ‘dem books! You’ve always been so smart…I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Keisha. We definitely have to link more. This last semester is kicking my ass. It’ll all pay off.”

“Seeing anybody?”

“Fuck no,” Aaliyah’s shoulders bounced with her laughter, “My professor did ask me on a lunch date today…”

“Oh?” Keisha’s eyes widened with interest, “Do tell.”

“Nothing to tell,” Aaliyah replied, “He’s very handsome. Sweet…I’m not tryna get tangled in that. I know how that can go…”

“I hear ya. Best to keep focused. Men come and go, girl. I ain’t got time either.”

They both stood, walking out together. Aaliyah had parked her Jeep behind Keisha’s all black Hellcat. They hugged again, giving each other a kiss on the cheek.

“Let me know!” Keisha shouted at Aaliyah’s retreating frame.

“I will!”

She waved goodbye, climbing into her Jeep and revving it up.

——

Aaliyah moved across her cramped kitchen with a swiftness, standing in her naked glory, body mimicking a glazed delight with how shiny and glistening her honey skin looked beneath the lights. She’d just finished filming some content, nothing too wild, just twerking and nasty talk.

“Don’t forget to tip, baby…”

“You gonna pay my tuition just to kiss me on this wet ass pussy, daddy?”

“I need some company, can’t stand looking edible alone…”

She used her same stage name. Liyah Allure. The Dark Angel. She used a video shot from a long angle, the white wall as her back drop. Lil Wayne–She Will instrumental playing in the background. Her sleek hair fell down her back and she would turn her head ever so slightly, giving teasing glances up and down while making that ass bounce and clap. She could move it with little no effort. Her hands glided over her sultry body, showing her viewers just how edible she is. And they wanted to take a bite.

Aaliyah racked up five hundred dollars. Friday’s were Freaky Friday. She showed more skin. You had to pay extra for a pussy shot. Aaliyah took pictures and videos for that as well. She spent a pretty penny on equipment. An elongated tripod held her camera in many angles. Her favorite shot was always from behind with her juicy thighs spread and shaking that big ass. Her wet, hairless pussy popped in the camera white those siren eyes looked back at it.

It was time for a bath. She wanted to spend the rest of her evening finishing up editing for her paper before submitting to Professor Richmond. Her Ethics and Psychology Professor. Aaliyah blew steam that wafted from her ceramic coffee mug as her slipper–clad feet shuffled towards her room. Placing the mug on her side table, she made her way towards her dresser and began wrapping her hair. She hated doing it, but she wanted a straighter look this time around so pin curling it wouldn’t work.

After securing her hair with three silk scarves to ensure she didn’t sweat it out, Aaliyah grabbed her mug and headed to her bathroom. She’d already prepared the bath with her bubble bath and essential oils. She loved using lavender and vanilla. There is a rack across her tub that she could place a book or even a drink on while enjoying her bath. The glow of the candles created a beautiful and relaxing environment.

Aaliyah listened to her Neo Soul playlist while reclining her head back and resting her eyes. She had her timer set for thirty minutes, making sure she didn’t fall asleep in her tub for longer than that like she’d done many times before. Her head went limp on its side, the tiredness of her body finally succumbing to sleep. As she slept, the eyes of her Professor appeared.

Intense. His gaze is intense.

It’s also attentive. By now, she was sure he’d memorized every subtle detail of her face. Images from earlier appeared. She took note of the way he leaned in towards her, like he wanted to smell her perfume. Juicy Rose, Black Cherry Liquor, Moss Accord. He wanted to be swept up in it. The tops of her breasts peeking through the soapy surface moved up and down with her sleeping breath.

For a while, Aaliyah caught on to the Professor checking her out. It wasn’t obvious to her at first, but she caught on to how he would position himself directly in front of his desk, exactly within her line of vision. If he focused forward, she would meet his gaze straight away. He made it a point to allow those striking eyes to linger on her for a beat longer. She’d walk out of that classroom on Wednesdays and Fridays knowing he was watching her. She’d caught him staring at her ass through the reflective glass of the lecture hall door.

She honestly hadn’t expected him to approach her. For a while, he’d just admired from afar. Most men do. The boldest a man ever got with Aaliyah was when she’d worked at Crazy Horse. Plenty of men there would ask her out. She’d even received flowers and gifts. At one point she had a stalker. Professor Richmond; Terry was different. She’d read many smutty stories about forbidden flings with a Professor. She’d save her fantasies for that.

Ding Ding Ding

Aaliyah’s eyes snapped open and with a long yawn she stopped the timer on her phone. She reached out for her mug and gulped down the warm tea. It should help put her to sleep. After bathing, she did all her necessary nightly routines before slipping on an oversized T-shirt that dangled from one shoulder. Aaliyah put on YouTube for background noise while opening her laptop to finish editing. Her eyes took note of the time.

11:30 pm.

She pushed her laptop forward and positioned herself onto her stomach, moving her hips from side to side and absentmindedly swinging her legs. Why couldn’t she shake the Professor from her mind?

Sent!

One assignment down, more to go.

Curiosity got the best of her. She started doing some digging. Aaliyah took to social media to find him. It wasn’t hard. She studied his LinkedIn.

PhD in Psychology. Fluent in French. Ex Marine.

From her place in class, he appeared shorter. Today however, when he walked up to her, he was massive. The same smirk he held in the picture she was currently staring at is the same he gave her before taking a seat.

Her body hummed with desire. This man is FIONE.

It wasn’t just the eyes. His entire face was just…

Aaliyah went down a rabbit hole of stalking. She found his Facebook and his Instagram both accounts were private, and she wasn’t about to follow him. That was a big no–no. This man could be hiding a wife. He could have kids. He could be crazy. All three of which she experienced with previous men. Aaliyah stopped herself before she could even go further.

But those lips…his voice…that body…

She wanted to see it…

Buzz Buzz

“Keisha…shit.”

Keisha: 👀👀

Fuck it. She already had her mind made up earlier. If she could leave that gig tomorrow night with two grand or more…she wasn’t going to pass up on that.

Aaliyah: I’m in 😈

Now, it was just a matter of figuring out what she was going to wear.

——

“Why is it so cold out here…”

Aaliyah followed closely behind Keisha inside of the Fire Station. She could hear the distant voices of the riled up men below. They entered a locker room, the lingering smell of smoke wafting from uniforms that hung from compartments burning her nose. Aaliyah cast wary eyes around her, making sure it was safe to take off her black, body con dress.

Keisha didn’t waste time stripping down to her very revealing monokini. The thin straps failed to hide her wide, brown areolas. That ass was rotund and sitting up like a shelf. You could sit a cup on that ass. Keisha wore her hair in two space buns with bangs. Her deep brown skin shimmered with gold–tinted body glow. The eight–inch heels on her feet made her six feet tall.

“They’re already in rare form and we ain’t even get started yet.” Keisha spoke with excitement.

“How many we expecting?” Aaliyah asked.

“About twenty. Why? You nervous?”

“No. I just want to know what I’m walking into.”

Aaliyah slipped out of her dress, the Wonder Woman two–piece she wore making her look edible. She wore gold six–inch pleasure heels to match. The low ambience of the locker room made the glitter on her skin stand out. She did a slow turn, Keisha nodding her head in approval.

“Looking real good. They’re gonna love you. Tip you off real good, bitch.”

“They better,” Aaliyah flashed Keisha a lustrous smile, “When do we go?”

Petey Pablo Freek–A–Leek started playing. The deep base of the southern banger from the early 00s vibrated the floors. Aaliyah locked eyes with Keisha.

“That’s our queue. You ready?”

Aaliyah flipped her hair over her shoulders and exhaled a shaky breath.

“Let’s do this shit.”

“Well already then…”

Keisha slipped past Aaliyah to lead the way, popping her on the ass for good measure. Something they did often back at Crazy Horse before working the floor and the pole. It was a way of saying, ‘break a leg’.

Aaliyah strutted towards a set of red spiral stairs. She allowed the music to flood her mind, putting her in the proper head space. She could do this. She’d done this many times before. A wolf whistle from a firefighter below gave her stomach a little flutter.

“Wooooweeeee!”

“Dayum! This what we got tonight, boys?!”

“Keisha!”

Keisha worked her way down the spiral staircase. She held a big smile on her face, teasing the men with a wink and a bounce of her big titties. They cheered and didn’t waste time throwing cash.

“Take your time wit’ it motherfucka’s we got all night!”

She looked up at Aaliyah and elevated a brow, her way of saying, Bitch! Let’s get to it!

Aaliyah shook off her nerves and descended the staircase, another massive uproar filling the room.

“Holy shit…”

“Fuck! She’s a baddie!”

“Look at that ass…”

“Hey, baby!”

Aaliyah scanned the room full of rowdy men pumped with testosterone and arousal. They each wore Baton Rouge Fire Emblems across their navy blue t-shirts. Black and white men. She could smell beer and liquor in the air with a hint of cigarette smoke. She noticed parked fire trucks and two gold poles. The poles they used to swing down during an emergency.

She worked her charm, flicking her jeweled tongue and biting her lip.

“Hi, boys…”

The seductive power she possessed put them all in a trance. The sound of heels against the concrete floor added to the desire. She moved around the men with confidence, eyeing them up and down while touching her body, focusing on her assets that earned her cash.

“Big fine woman…”

She looked up into the eyes of a carob–skinned man with a burly body. He looked like those men from the Jabari Tribe in Black Panther.

Aaliyah took advantage of that, arching her back and bouncing her ass on his crotch. Shouts and grunts filled the room.

“Damn…look at that pussy from the back…look at the way it’s sitting…”

“You like the way this pussy look, huh, baby?”

Aaliyah folded herself forward, trailing a finger over her covered pussy through her bikini bottom. A hefty chunk of cash smacked against her cheeks before raining down on her from above. She took it up a notch, grabbing her ankles and making that ass move from left to right.

Keisha was already on the pole, the straps to her monokini down and her titties bared for them all to see. Aaliyah felt a few bills being slipped into her blinki, and she looked back at the man that did it with low, wanton eyes.

“Gorgeous baby…what they call you?”

“Liyah Allure…”

“I want you.”

“You know to pay for what you want, right?”

Aaliyah flashed her titties before covering herself back up. That had them losing their damn minds. She slithered her way towards the second pole. It wasn’t exactly the pole she remembered, but it would do for this occasion. She did a back hook spin into a fireman spin. Some Three Six Mafia song started playing and Aaliyah went harder.

Green cascaded over her body while she popped ass and showed out. She locked eyes with Keisha, the exhilaration flowing between them like electricity.

Aerial Invert

Fan Kick

Drop Into A Split.

Aaliyah pulled out all her tricks and worked up a sweat. After doing her thing on the pole, she gave personal lap dances and even entertained face sitting on a timid firefighter while he was on his back. She crouched down over his face and started bouncing over him like she was riding a dick. She laughed and her eyes noticed a large wet spot in the front of his pants.

This man came on himself.

“I can smell her pussy! So good!” He shouted weakly.

Aaliyah missed the thrill.

They wouldn’t stop giving her money.

“Can I smell your perfume?”

*Tip*

“Show me those perfect, brown titties.”

*Tip*

“Put my face in it!”

*Tip*

They worked that room for two hours and then called it a night. After getting dressed, Aaliyah pinned up her sweated–out tresses and secured her bag. She’d just finished rubber banning the last of her money she’d split with Keisha. Keisha dropped her off, both of them cracking up and doubling over with laughter in her Hellcat.

“Bitch! That was so much damn fun!” Aaliyah said.

“I told you! This is where it’s at, girl. They loved you. I knew they would love you.”

“It felt so good being on the pole again.” Aaliyah smiled.

“Make sure you count that cash and let me know how much you made tonight. Until next time?”

Keisha wagged her brows at Aaliyah playfully. She giggled at her friend, opening her door to leave.

“When is next time?”

Keisha grinned.

“Next week. I got a bachelor party lined up. A fine ass groom. I got Diamond and Precious coming too. That’s gonna be wild…all black men…so you know…”

Keisha twirled a bottle of water in her lap to mimick a well–hung dick. Aaliyah threw her head back and laughed hard.

“Bitch! I’m not playing with you.” Aaliyah spoke between giggles.

“You down? We both know you want to…might as well say yes.”

“FUCK. YES. I’m in there. You picking me up?”

“Yeah I gotchu, Li–Li. Listen, we can’t be late for this, okay? You gotta be ready by eight. No later.”

“Okay. I’ll be in my best and ready to shake ass. I promise.”

Keisha pulled Aaliyah into a tight embrace and watched her enter her home before pulling off.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[just-jordie-things]

I know he's not your favorite but consider... #73 with Itadori... short reader has a crush on him but is too afraid to confess bc she knows he likes tall girls lol I think this could be super cute

kiss prompt 73: height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

a/n: first time writing for itadori !!! ___

if you had to think about it, you'd had a crush on itadori yuuji since the day you met him.

after getting a call from megumi where he'd begrudgingly asked for your help tracking down a cursed tool that some spooky-loving school club had snatched before he could, you hadn't expected things to take the turn they did.

as soon as you'd run into the pink haired boy, it was like a daze took hold of you. megumi honestly could have believe you'd been poisoned with how you stammered over your words and moved awkwardly. he'd never seen you so out of it when exorcizing curses. you were sloppy, defensive maneuvers delayed, offensive maneuvers... megumi would have gotten the job done better when he was ten, so, let's just leave it at that.

but nothing would have stopped itadori from eating that finger, and, well, we all know what happens from there.

you were surprised with how quickly he adapted to an entire world he'd never known the existence of. he was an avid learner, eager to train, eager to educate himself. he was always asking you questions that megumi found silly having grown up in jujutsu society, but you'd been happy to talk to him for hours about the ins and outs of it all. that was how your friendship began to blossom, you supposed.

it was easy to crush on yuuji. he was kind, handsome, silly, and had a warm energy about him that just drew you to him like a moth to a flame. even with your harbored feelings for him, being around him was easy, and comfortable. you'd only known him a few months, but the way he treated you made you feel like you'd been close friends for years.

however, due to how close you'd gotten, you were well aware that you were not his type. he'd joked a few times about how he liked tall girls like jennifer lawrence, and you didn't exactly meet that standard.

after he'd casually let that information slip, you found yourself comparing the height difference between you two more often. it was no shock that he was taller than you, you could remember the first time you'd met him you'd tilted your head back to stare up at him- your eyes had been blown wide like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. he'd just leapt through a window like it was nothing and fought alongside you like his entire reality hadn't just flipped upside down- but now that he'd made his ideal type clear, you'd frown when it would dawn on you that you were barely even an average height.

you'd stand up a little straighter when you were standing before him, but even still you'd tilt your chin so you could look at him properly. he'd noticed the sour expression on you a few times, but you always brushed it off as something else. it felt sort of childish to tell him that you were upset for not being taller.

it's one afternoon that you're out shopping with the other first years that you finally tell him the truth. not that you'd planned to, of course, you were ready to take this secret to the grave.

but you're wandering around with yuuji, half avoiding nobara who was on a rampage and throwing armfuls of clothes at megumi, and half looking at the display of silly hats. some of them were cute, but most of them were pokemon themed, or beanies with funny saying.

yuuji had excitedly picked up a fluffy pikachu hat, complete with the tall ears, and fluffy yellow flaps that hung down your face, ending in paw shaped pockets that you could stick your hands into. he was grinning as he turned to you to tug the hat over your head. you had half a mind to scold him for ruining what was a good hair day, but you keep it to yourself. he looked too happy to have you model the accessory for him.

and you'd thought it was cute, at first. then you take note of how he has to stoop over to reach your level in order to properly adjust the dorky hat, and you're made aware again of how short you are in comparison to him. of how small in general you are compared to him. his tall stature complete with broad shoulders and biceps that were starting to display how hard he'd been training himself- as appealing as he was to look at, you're frowning due to your own self pity.

and when he's done playing with the droopy ears on top of your head and sees the look on your face, he's frowning, too.

"what's wrong?" he asks, quietly, worriedly, like a good friend. "you don't hate pikachu, do you?"

it makes you laugh, even just a little bit, and yuuji gives you a small smile in relief that his joke worked to ease your sad expression, even just a little bit.

"no, it's not pikachu," you huff, pulling the hat off your head and placing it carefully back on the mannequin. "i'm just short"

his brow furrows, assuming at first that he'd heard you wrong, but when you don't say anything else and give him an awkward shrug, he realizes you're serious.

"so?" he asks, chuckling to himself. "what's so bad about that?"

you avoid his gaze while you pretend to take interest in the other hats on the wall, despite you not being a hat person, which he knows.

"it's pretty dumb" you say, running your fingers over a fluffy sylveon cap that was similar to the pikachu one.

"try me" yuuji smiles at you, leaning into the display to catch your attention again. his smile reaches his eyes, and he seems to genuinely hopeful to ease your foolish concern, that you find yourself giving in.

"promise not to laugh at me?" you mutter.

he raises a hand to his chest, drawing an x over his heart before raising his palms towards you in silent promise. you crack a smile at how serious he's taking this.

you take a deep breath before confessing the thought that's been plaguing your mind for the last few weeks.

"i know you like tall girls," you say, staring straight ahead at the sylveon hat like it had been the object of your desire for our entire life. "and i know i'm not even close to being called tall,"

yuuji blinks a few times, his brows raising as he processes this information.

you were upset because you didn't consider yourself his type? did he understand that right? so this was because... you wanted to be his type?

"well, maybe a fifth grader would think i'm tall," you began to mumble to yourself. "but that doesn't really make me feel better-"

"you think you wouldn't be my type because you're so short?" he cuts off your rambling, and she turns to him with a bewildered expression.

"well you don't have to put it like that," you mumble with a furrowed brow. "kinda makes me feel worse-"

"(y/n), i promised i wouldn't laugh," he cuts you off again, stepping forward to wrap his hands around your shoulders. "but that's the dumbest thing i've ever heard!"

you frown up at him, not comforted at all at his attempts to make you feel better.

"you're really bad at this" you tell him, and he begins to break his promise as a few giggles escape through his toothy grin.

"are you kidding?" he teases. "you're the cutest person i've ever met!" he reaches his hands up to your face, squeezing your cheeks together playfully. "i don't want you to be any taller, i like you just the way you are!"

your face begins to heat up under his touch, and with his hold on you, you have no choice but to stare back at him, only making your blush burn hotter.

"you are my type, even as a tiny lil' tater tot," he says, and despite his laughter, you can tell he's being completely genuine. you can see it in the shine in his eyes as he stares at you. "that doesn't matter. what matters if you're a really awesome fucking person, and a badass"

the knot between your brows begins to relax and your lips curl into a smile at his sweet words.

"you're not just saying that?" you ask quietly, just to be sure he wasn't spewing out bullshit just to make you feel better.

yuuji laughs at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling from pure joy. he doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to say anything else.

instead he leans over you, bending almost dramatically to reach your short stature in order to press his lips against yours. it's a short kiss, but it's sweet, gentle, warm- all things yuuji.

when he pulls away, before he can stand back up properly, you're shooting up to the tips of your toes, your hands flying towards his shoulders for balance as you return his kiss. it's fast, eager, curious- all things you. he can't help but smile against your lips as he drops a hand from your face so he can wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you close.

you both distantly hear a harumph! from a passerby in the shop, having forgotten you were still in public. you pull away with sheepish smiles and pink cheeks.

"you are short though" he tells you point blank.

"i know, yuuji" you huff.

"but i like it" he says proudly, and you turn away so he won't see how your blush is spreading down your neck.

you still notice the significant difference in your height often, but it's mostly due to yuuji pointing it out every time he bends over to kiss you from there on out.

___

a/n: i love him sm it's criminal that i haven't written for him :'( xoxo ~ jordie

[stormsthatrage]

Have a Bleach extended-winter-war time-travel-fix-it idea. In this AU Kaien's death happened before the whole turn-back-the-pendulum arc. (Yes, another Bleach time-travel AU, I know, shut up.)

As Ichigo and Kisuke are planning to go back to the past, Kisuke makes sure to emphasize to Ichigo that they have to protect Shiba Kaien. Apparently, it's of the utmost importance.

Ichigo doesn't know exactly how Kaien's continued well-being plays into saving the future. Kisuke never really explains it, or gives him a straight answer when he asks. But Ichigo knows that the Shiba Clan-Head carried a great deal of political power, and Ichigo also knows that Kaien -- according to Kukaku and Rukia -- was highly competent, incredibly noble, and fundamentally kind. It's not exactly unintuitive that a person like that could be important to bringing down Aizen.

So Ichigo listens, when Kisuke tells him to protect Shiba Kaien. He memorizes how Kaien died in the original timeline. He's attentive as Kisuke reiterates for the thousandth time that Aizen will keep trying to assassinate Kaien until he succeeds. He takes notes when Kisuke hypothesizes about what Aizen's various assassination attempts might look like -- poison during a meal, hired assassins at night, an ambush during a mission.

Ichigo ingrains the assignment into his core: protect Shiba Kaien, because if Kaien falls, the mission fails.

So when Kisuke slips a paralytic into Ichigo's tea and places Ichigo in the middle of the time-travel kido array and drains the entirety of his own spiritual energy to activate the array, a sacrifice that Ichigo never would have agreed to--

Well. The first thing Ichigo does when he arrives back in the past, numb and alone and only able to function by focusing on the duty that is his purpose -- is track down Shiba Kaien.

After all, if Ichigo is going to kill Aizen -- and he is, no matter what it takes -- he needs to keep Kaien alive.

Ichigo goes straight to the Shiba family grounds. In true Shiba fashion, they accept him immediately as family. They tend to his wounds and give him a meal and welcome him home. They let him get away with his weak excuses and explanations, and they defend his presence to the rest of Soul Society.

Kaien, in accordance with everything Ichigo has heard about the man, personally takes the newest addition to the family under his wing.

Ichigo's plans to deal with Aizen take shape around his need to keep an eye on Kaien.

Ichigo, instead of running as far and fast as he can from the Shiba clan, accepts the offer to live in the Shiba compound. He gets to know every clan member and retainer, subtly vetting for traitors. He sleeps in a room near Kaien's, allowing him to both guard against assassins at night and place warding runes around Kaien's door without having to worry about being caught somewhere he has no business being.

He joins the Court Guard in the 13th division instead of the 5th, because the only real way to protect Kaien on a mission is to be there with him. Ichigo knows that if there's an ambush, or if the mission details have been tampered with, he'll be more than enough fire power to get Kaien out of it. And it's easy to always get paired with Kaien; Kaien -- reliably taking every opportunity to hover around Ichigo that he's offered -- does most of the work, leveraging his status as lieutenant and Ichigo's combat ability to keep them together.

Ichigo finds himself frequently taking meals with Kaien and Kaien's friends. Kaien always invites Ichigo, and Ichigo accepts so he can subtly check the food for poison.

(Ichigo does not tell Kaien about Aizen. Ichigo is still unsure what Kaien's role is in the whole fight, and in the meantime, telling him about Aizen is a sure way to get him killed.)

Things heat up. Ichigo prevents both Miyako and Kaien's death, killing Metastacia before it can hurt anyone. Ichigo's shadow war against Aizen gets more intense. Ichigo sneaks out regularly to dismantle Aizen's illusions, destroy his labs, and attack his network of power, slowly weakening him.

Ichigo waits for the assassination attempts against Kaien, but they don't come, even several weeks after Metastacia fails. Ichigo takes it as a sign that he's got Aizen distracted.

Things continue for a while. Ichigo falls into a strange routine.

(And Ichigo tries not to break, seeing so many of his loved ones alive and unknowing of him. It is agony, to be around Shunsui, who is not his mentor, and the Visored, who are neither visored nor pack.

But the worst is when Captains Urahara and Shihouin catch on to his war against Aizen. He finds himself working with them as allies.

Allies. Mere allies, instead of --

Well. Not that it matters anymore.

All that matters is his duty.)

Time passes. Aizen weakens. There are no attempts on Kaien's life yet.

And then Aizen's web has unraveled enough for Ichigo to attack.

It's a long battle. It's a bloody battle. It's a very public battle.

Ichigo wins.

And it's only after it's all over -- after Aizen's crimes are revealed and Soul Society is at peace and the future is saved; after Ichigo finds himself still alive and adrift, with nothing left obligating him to keep going and everything telling him to give up; as Kaien refuses to leave Ichigo alone and escorts him to regular appointments with Unohana and forces him to talk about the truth of his past --

It's only then that it clicks.

Ichigo is whispering secrets about the future into Kaien's chest, Kaien's arms wrapped tight around him, when Ichigo confesses that he messed up, that he put the Shiba clan in unnecessary danger. Ichigo tells Kaien about his death in the original timeline. He talks about how Kisuke told him that in this timeline, Aizen would try and kill Kaien again if the first attempt failed. Ichigo promises desperately that he never would have sought out the family -- would have kept the danger far, far away from them -- if he hadn't thought he had to watch Kaien's movements so closely.

And Ichigo admits that Aizen never actually tried again. Ichigo admits that he and Kisuke miscalculated, that Ichigo brought danger to the Shiba's doorstep for nothing.

It happens like this:

First, the words leave his lips, "Kisuke" and "miscalculated" in the same sentence. Hearing himself say it lays bare the absurdity of its premise.

Then, Kaien draws away slightly, to look Ichigo in the eyes. Ichigo sees, plain on Kaien's face, a terrible, damning gratefulness.

Then, Kaien says -- fierce and defiant in the face of what could have been -- "I am so glad you came home."

And it clicks. At last, Kisuke's final manipulation reveals itself to Ichigo's eyes.

The emotions flash through him: the sting of betrayal; a flavor of love that bursts across his tastebuds as hurt; a familiar brand of exasperation that, a split second later, has his knees giving out under the weight of old pain made fresh.

Kaien catches Ichigo before he hits the ground and holds him as he shatters. And Ichigo can barely breathe through the knowledge that Kisuke would have been so smug to see them.

A sob rips itself from Ichigo's chest, and it's followed by another, and another.

Ichigo's older cousin holds him, in the home of their family, through it all.

_________

THE END except not really.

This must immediately be followed by a whole arc where Kaien, much to his own dismay, finds himself trying to hook Urahara up with his little cousin.

After all, Future-Urahara sent Ichigo to the Shiba clan. Future-Urahara tricked his little cousin into bypassing his own self-destructive tendencies to seek out family and love and support. Clearly, Urahara would actually be good for Ichigo.

And, you know, Ichigo clearly loves Younger-Urahara, judging by Ichigo's whole... well, everything, whenever the two interact.

(This whole matchmaking endeavor is made easier by the fact that 1) Kisuke is already infatuated, fascinated, and not a tiny-bit madly in love, and 2) Yoruichi is also, from the other end, trying to set Kisuke up with Ichigo.

This whole endeavor is made more difficult by the fact that 1) Ichigo is in denial that he loves this younger Kisuke since he never thought this younger Kisuke could also fall in love with him, 2) Kisuke is in denial that he loves Ichigo because that is a Shiba and he himself is a creepy low-born ex-assassin mad-scientist, and 3) neither Ichigo nor Kisuke know what it looks like when someone is interested in them.)

Poor Kaien. He succeeds eventually, but not before witnessing truly legendary social ineptitude.

[lou-struck]

They Said No... Part 1

Obey Me! x MC!

Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan

Part 2 HERE

Part 3 HERE

~Regular projects are being put on pause because I am a bit stressed. And I feel like this will help me out.

~We all get asked to do things sometimes that we do not want to do. And it's okay to say no, but sometimes you need a little extra help to get the point across.

Warnings: Pushy Demons, talk of pact control,

Lucifer

The eldest Avatar of Pride tries to hide the spring in his step as he approaches your meeting place. He had managed to work through all of the day's paperwork, and to celebrate, he was planning on taking you out to a nice meal on the town. 

But as he gets closer, he sees a few familiar noble demons practically standing over you. The polite smile that rests on your lips is betrayed by your overly tense body language and the grip you have on your DDD. Clearly, you would like to be anywhere else.

His brow furrows in concern as he focuses his attention on your conversion to see what exactly it is they want with you. Knowing that he can't just step in on your conversation without a good reason. Especially in High society.

"I will not do that; it is not right." your voice says, sounding quite annoyed at the situation you are in. It makes Lucifer chuckle to himself; you are just as headstrong as ever. But he does wonder what deed these men are asking you to do that frustrates you so.

The Demon clears his throat haughtily and steps closer to you, his companion mirroring the action, not giving you a chance to walk away. "It's for the good of the Devildom MC if you were to just use that silly little pact mark of yours and order Lucifer to drag his feet on signing off on that royal proclamation the Demon Lord has put out. We will happily be on our way and out of your hair."

Lucifer's jaw clenches furiously at the Demon's words. Ever since word of your pact with the eldest avatar of sin has spread through the Devildom, he has been waiting for insignificant worms to try and abuse the pacts. The Larger of the two demons is a known instigator of political conflict, thriving on the chaos of delayed legislation and discord. His beady eyes stare down at you condescendingly as he flares his dragonfly-shaped wings in the hope of intimidating you into doing his bidding. 

"I don't use my pacts," you spit, a nervous tremor to your voice. Your strength may be great, but you haven't the energy to deal with these Demons right now. "Please leave me alone."

"You will do what I want," the Winged Demon snarls, reaching out toward your arm. 

"That's enough," Lucifer cuts in, stepping down the corner as if he has only just stumbled upon this little scene. The three of you turn towards him instantly, and the two demons take a large step away from you cowardly. "Now, my human has clearly said no to whatever it was you were trying to get them to do, so be on your way."

Too afraid to say anything else, the two demons rush away, leaving you alone with the Avatar of Pride. You throw yourself into his chest, your body shaking a bit as you relax. 

"I did say no, Lucifer," you say into his collar. "Did you hear me? I would never want to do that to you, I promise."

"I heard everything; you did nothing wrong." he soothes; dealing with those demons can wait for later, but for now, he needs to take care of you.

Mammon

Mammon loves to spoil you more than anything in the three realms. The days after he plays well at the casino are spent in luxury; he takes you to the best shops and restaurants in the Devildom, more than ready to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. 

The café you were at is no exception with its luxuriously decadent sweets and, as Mammon had just found out, the fully stocked bathroom of complimentary samples. After sticking a handful of the mini cologne samples into his pocket, he comes back to the table to where you are sitting. But as he approaches your sweet little table in the corner, he notices you are no longer alone. The previously unoccupied seats at your table are now in use by some demons he knows.

Mammon may not be the best judge of character, but even he knows these guys are bad news. In the past, they have tried to start numerous sham businesses and fraudulent get-rich-quick schemes. 

Why in Diavolo would they be talking to his human? This is supposed to be his time with you?.

He feels his protective greed towards you start to flare up as he approaches a table, his superior hearing picking up a bit of their conversation.

"Come on, doll face," the blond one coo's leaning back on the seat next to yours, "We got a great opportunity for Mammon; he just needs a bit of convincing to agree."

You shake your head now and, with a politeness that would put even Barbados to shame, and say that Mammon is perfectly capable of making these decisions for himself. 

The trust that you have for your first Demon causes a heavy flush to appear on his cheeks. 

"Don't be like that, Mc," the other one pushes, swinging a lazy arm over your shoulder. Not seem to care that you tense up under the weight of his unwelcome touch. "if you do this for us, two pretty influential demons will owe you a favor."

The touch is the straw that broke the camel's back. No one gets to act so freely with his human. "Oi, get yer own human," he shouts, rushing forward and pulling you from the Demon's grip. "Come on, Mc, they don't got anythin worth lookin' at." 

Not caring about the uneaten treats that have just arrived at the table, he leads you away from those creeps and out of the cafe. 

Once alone and safe, he shoots you a wink. "Next time, just don't say anything to those losers. The Great Mammon will keep em away."

Leviathan

Levi's merch collection is one of the most coveted of the entire Devildom. His Figurines, Manga, DVDs, and memorabilia are worth a small fortune thanks to his fascination and skill as a top Otaku.

He has a sixth sense for picking out the most sought-after merch.

His fans on his online servers love his collection almost as much as he does. Blowing up his chat whenever he unboxes a new figurine.

He loves it, but he prefers to keep his online life online. Especially when he has to leave the house to go to RAD.

Today is one of those days; although most of his classes are online, he still has to show up to campus to take exams. With his exam done, he leaves the testing center and goes to find the classroom where you are studying.

As he approaches the open door, he sees you having a conversation with a demon he thinks he recognizes.

Not one for unwanted social interaction; he waits outside only to hear the conversation that the two of you are having.

"Please, Mc, you gotta give me that figurine. Levi-chan will never love Zaramela as I do. It will be the perfect addition to my collection." they plead, sinking to their knees and staring up at you with watery avian esque eyes. Zaramela is one of Levi's favorite Idols; he won a contest the other day for one of her limited-edition singing figurines. 

Levi has already turned down many people's requests to buy it, wanting to keep it for himself. But now they're going through you to try and get him to hand it over. It's so gross it makes him want to shut himself away in his room and never come out. Curiously he waits for you to respond to the crying Demon.

"He already told you that he wasn't going to give it away. "You stay calm, taking a step back to create some distance between you and the Demon. "You're just gonna have to find something else for your collection."

"No," they shout, springing to their feet, "I need her; I need her. Why don't you do this one thing for me?"

Levi knows his Henry can handle this guy, but the pushiness the Demon is showing towards you is something that makes his blood boil.

"Like MC would ever listen to a normie like you, you are a disgrace to the fandom." Levi spits with a confidence he didn't know he possessed as he takes your hand and walks you back to the house of lamination.

[sunshine-dies]

repost of earlier svsss AU minus the art because i was rudely flagged down smh

art is now available on twitter!

my train stop for the arbour discord event! a lovely little monster!Shen Yuan AU with some classic obsessive affection from both Shen Yuan and Binghe, classic! i gave it the title "PIDW Playthrough: Easy Mode"

in this au Shen Yuan actually transmigrates well before Binghe is born. he's supposed to transmigrate into Shen Qingqiu's body (hence some silmilarities in facial shapes, as much as Shen Yuan currently has discernible facial shapes) but Shen Qingqiu is still very much alive and kicking (and still a street urchin), so the System hits a wall with where to put him. this causes Shen Yuan's soul to "fester" in a way, and grow into a virus that then turns on the System.

yes, he eats the System. as a treat for all the system haters out there. this means that he successfully consumes everything the System contained, including the mandatory story structure and information on nearly every parameter of the PIDW world, among other things. the only issue is that this information takes a lot of time and effort to actually digest, and it puts him in a kind of coma, which means he wakes up approximately a year into Binghe's tutelage and abuse on Qing Jing Peak.

Shen Yuan wakes up as a creature that exists in the blank spaces of PIDW, in the shadows and beneath rocks and in the dark night sky. he also wakes up incredibly weak, with barely any power and in a body that is formless and so undefined that he has trouble interacting with the world around him. he has knowledge though, a lot of it, and he uses it to find his way to Qing Jing Peak and to the woodshed where Luo Binghe sleeps. their first encounter begins with Shen Yuan sneaking in through the gap beneath the door, tugging a small jar of medicine with him. Luo Binghe's body recognises his presence as something ancient and eldritch, even as his mind struggles to see what's so scary about a puddle of shadows with two bright blue, rectangular eyes. and so the saga of Shen Yuan living in Luo Binghe's shadows begins. Shen Yuan gathers his strength while following Luo Binghe around, giving him advice after advice, teaching him, helping him practise. for every punishment Shen Qingqiu doles out, Shen Yuan commits a petty crime or two, although Binghe insists that it's fine. he's loyal to Shen Yuan now, who seems happiest when he manages to help Luo Binghe, and who teaches him more and better than any other hallmaster.

Shen Yuan goes on all available side-quests, saving Liu Qingge in the Lingshi-caves and assisting Luo Binghe and Cang Qiong as a whole during the demonic invasion. he's pulled into the dreamscape Meng Mo builds for Luo Binghe, where Luo Binghe once again refuses to take Meng Mo as his Shizun. when the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around, Shen Yuan helps Luo Binghe in his battle with the Black Moon Rhynoceros Python when his cradle seal breaks, but hesitates when Shen Qingqiu is about to push Luo Binghe into the Abyss. he ultimately lets him, if only so that Binghe will finally be free from Shen Qingqiu's abuse. they fall together, Shen Yuan cushioning Luo Binghe's landing, and then they search for Xin Mo together. with Shen Yuan's knowledge it's laughably easy, and they resurface in the Demon Realm a few months later, where Shen Yuan insists that they spend some time in seclusion so that Binghe can grow into his new body and his new sword (which Shen Yuan somehow bullies into being relatively docile. he's an omnipotent eldritch monster, he can totally do that. i don't make the rules). neither of them says anything about how nice this seclusion is, or how they kind of don't want to go back to society ever again.

demonic heritage and Xin Mo mastered, they go on a roadtrip to absolutely demolish Mobei Jun and every other Demon King/Demon Noble/etc. and gain power in the Demon Realm. Shen Yuan insists that they do so for the sake of reaching Luo Binghe's "bright, glorious fate" (minus the wives, which he bristles at the mere thought of. his sweet Binghe is too good for those shallow women!). Luo Binghe is not sure he cares enough so long as he gets to curl up among Shen Yuan's silky-soft, gentle tendrils every night and gets to hear him ramble on about this or that random monster they came across. one day, as he's cleaning Xin Mo at the edge of a bloodied battlefield with Shen Yuan at his back telling him what a good job he did, he says so. Shen Yuan is confused - doesn't Binghe want power and riches and revenge? but Luo Binghe tells him he doesn't really care at all, so long as Shen Yuan stays with him.

that's as far as i thought, so cue the obligatory Shen Yuan freak-out (can a mass of non-binary but male-identifying shadows be gay? maybe it's better not to put a label on it) aaaand yeah they totally get married. they probably get a small cottage in the middle of nowhere relatively close to a village and live a quiet, happy existence for the rest of their lives, occasionally interrupted by this or that demon or cultivator appearing to kill Luo Binghe the demon emperor and bring his head back as retribution for his or her ancestors (Binghe totally ditched his half-assembled empire for that monster D. he does not give a fuck). maybe they go on adventures together. Shen Yuan gets infinite chances to infodump, and Luo Binghe stares at him with heart eyes as he listens. win-win.

cut to Shang Qinghua frantically panicking about where the protaginst is. nothing gets resolved, but at least bingyuan are happy, i guess. maybe Shang Qinghua gathers his energy and helps Mobei Jun usurp the throne instead. or not. what do i know.

[sunderwight]

thinking about reverse SVSSS AU where the demon characters are human and the human characters are demons (LBH is still both), but cultivation society operates more like MDZS so that the demon characters can preserve their ruthless clan politics and inheritance systems, and but demon society (which the formerly human characters are now part of) operates more like the ghosts in TGCF, where it's mostly a free-for-all of powerful demons establishing whatever kind of system they please in whatever space they can carve out. I think that'd preserve the meritocracy elements and "twelve different sects in a trench coat" qualities that cang qiong has as an organization.

so the peaks are instead these sort of liminal space cities which are ruled by the most powerful/influential demons, who choose their successors (at least ostensibly) based purely on talent and ability. instead of the sprawling alternate dimension demonic realms of PIDW, they're more like pocket dimensions which can only be accessed if you know the secret ways, existing in the shadows of otherwise seemingly normal towns, mountains, cities, forests, etc. humans sometimes wander into them by mistake, although whether they can get back out again or not depends a lot on which demon lord's domain they were unlucky enough to stumble upon.

Mobei Jun and Sha Hualing are still the heirs of their respective sects/clans, which are among the most powerful sects around. The CQMS peak lords are the rulers of twelve allied demon settlements. Tianlang Jun was the heir of the strongest sect, sort of like Wen Ruohan if Wen Ruohan's biggest motivation was to have his Hot Girl Summer rather than conquering everything, but after his and Zhuzhi Lang's disappearances their sect lost a lot of clout. Su Xiyan hailed from a wealthy demon phantom palace, known for its exceptional hostility towards humans (this version of HHP definitely literally eats people).

The demons-turned-humans are still exactly as cutthroat and dubious as in PIDW. Sha Hualing still wants to kill her father to take his position, Mobei Jun's uncle still tries to assassinate him, the cultivation world has an underground business in trafficking demon body parts (officially decried, but unofficially often consumed to help boost cultivation or create certain tools), the sects often go to war with one another and tend to wreak havoc on the secular human governments and societies whenever they do. All that sort of stuff.

On the humans-turned-demons end, demons in this setting are sometimes born the same way as humans -- two parents of compatible genital orientation get it on and some months later etc etc, which is how siblings like Liu Qingge and Liu Mingyan happen. But sometimes demons also just sort of manifest out of concentrated pockets of demonic energy. Some demons come from humans (SJ and YQY were both born from the unquiet ghosts of slave children), some come from animals (SQH was a pet hamster who was tormented enough to become a demon hamster, and then cultivated enough to take on a human shape), some come from collisions of powerful elemental forces such as volcanoes or floods (Su Xiyan).

So demons have a lot of apprenticeship and teacher-and-student style familial relationships, and demons looking to build families often will risk venturing out into the human realms and trying to find other isolated demons to bring into their fold. Demons alone in the human world are highly vulnerable to being hunted, killed, or enslaved. This is also why there's such a high percentage of "orphans", and contributes even more to a demon like SJ (no parents) resenting a demon like Luo Binghe (found and adopted by a kindly older demon almost right away).

So in the original PIDW, Luo Binghe is a kid who thinks he's a demon and grows up under the cruel and resentful talons of the Lord of Qing Jing, Shen Qingqiu. Every twenty or so years the demon settlements manifest much more strongly in the human realms, during which time they are a lot more vulnerable to attacks from humans. To help deal with this this, the demon rulers traditionally host big, dramatic, scary events that bring everyone within a certain geographic range together, the better to put any righteous sects off the idea of trying to single them out and attack. Most of the smaller settlements clear out entirely in preparation, leaving "ghost towns" where the buildings appear but the demons and anything too valuable to risk leaving behind are all gone.

This Demonic Alliance Conference is a time for contests, trials, matchmaking, partying, festive hunts, trading, and big displays of power. What could be a massive weakness instead becomes a big celebration, and a time for mingling and making new connections.

In PIDW, after suffering years of abuse at the hands of his cruel master, Luo Binghe attends the DAC in hopes of securing some better place for himself in demonic society. But when the righteous sects launch an unprecedented attack on the event, his human heritage is revealed, and Shen Qingqiu tosses him into the twilight space between realms in disgust. Binghe is forced to navigate the hollow and desolate place, locked into his newly-revealed and very weak human form, until he bonds with the legendary Xin Mo blade and effects his escape. Then he sets about bringing the righteous sects to heel (his bloodline means he's heir to one of the biggest sects around, even if they've fallen on hard times the past 20 or so years) and of course conquering the demon realms, and taking revenge on Shen Qingqiu, all while accumulating a record number of wives.

Shen Yuan transmigrates into Demon Lord Shen Qingqiu, ruler of Qing Jin settlement, a haunted bamboo forest in the most cursed mountain range ever.

Downsides -- he's of course destined to be dismembered and/or shoved into a pickle pot by the protagonist.

Upsides -- he's a demon with amazingly awesome demon traits! He has talons! Fangs! WINGS! Also, Binghe is a little demon bun and he is so cute, like a puppy with his fluffy wolf ears and baby claws and darling bright red eyes. Who could ever persecute such an adorable monster boy?! His tail literally wags when he's excited!

Plus Shen Yuan gets to spend as much time investigating cool beasts and other demons as he likes. He's in heaven. Well, not literally of course, but for his standards. Pretty close. Almost worth the price of admission!

[dinarosie]

I Was Bullied Too, So Why Didn’t I Turn Out Like Severus Snape?

I came across an anti-Snape post where someone shared their experience of being bullied in school. They said that even though they were bullied, they were able to overcome it, which is why they admired James Potter—because he changed and stopped being a bully. However, they hate Snape for not being able to move on from his past.

Everyone has the right to hate or love the characters based on their taste but What bothers me is how people often compare their own trauma to others' and disregard the genetic and environmental differences that shape us as individuals. I’ve decided to write a long post comparing my own life with Snape’s—two people who were both bullied as children. it was difficult for me to write this post, but I hope this comparison shows that not everyone who experiences bullying ends up the same. The variances in our upbringing and support systems play a crucial role in shaping who we become.

When I was seven years old, I was mocked and humiliated by a group of older girls on the school bus (they were eleven at the time). They made it clear that they bullied me because I was smaller and weaker than them. They treated me in a way that made me believe I deserved their bullying. I thought a weak and ugly girl like me was deserving of all their humiliation. They would mess up my hair, pull it, and ridicule me for having messy and ugly hair. Whenever I cried, they laughed. They didn't even let me be friends with other girls. To torment me further, they would point at me, whisper to each other, and giggle, making me feel even more isolated. I had allergies and a runny nose, and they wouldn’t let me wipe it, which they used as another reason to belittle me, saying I was disgusting. Even if there was an empty seat, they wouldn’t let me sit with them because I was "gross." I was terrified of them, hated school because of them, and cried every morning, begging not to go to school.

But why didn’t I turn out like Severus Snape?

1- I grew up like a normal child in every other aspect of my life. I was cared for and valued. I always had birthday parties with cake and gifts. I was praised when I got good grades. I had friends outside of school to play with, went on family vacations, and had fun times. From childhood to adulthood, I’ve had a safe home, enough sleep, good food, and a loving family.

2- I had parents who loved and cared about me. When my mother found out about the bullying, she went to the school and demanded they stop it. My parents also enrolled me in a private school to protect me from further bullying. When I started having nightmares and trouble sleeping, they took me to a child therapist.

3- My grandparents adored me. I would stay at their house when my parents were at work, and they made my childhood even more joyful. I always had safe arms to run to. Plus, my aunts and uncles cared for me and regularly took me to parks and other fun places, showering me with gifts and making sure I enjoyed my time.

4- My family had a respectable place in society, and I was never shamed or humiliated because of my family's circumstances. My father cared for me, my sister, and my mother, and he worked hard to provide for our needs. He respected my mother, and I never witnessed any abuse from him toward her.

5- My family had a stable income, and I always had new, appropriate clothes to wear. I never had to worry about poverty, hunger, or wearing hand-me-downs that would make me feel inferior to my peers.

6- My bullies mocked me, but they never caused me serious physical harm. I never feared for my life or sexual assault at school. The bullying was short-lived, lasting less than two years, and by the time I was a teenager, it had completely stopped. As I grew older, I made plenty of good friends and was popular among them. I have many fond memories from high school with my friends.

7- As a teenager, I didn’t worry about my future. My concerns were not about surviving a war, avoiding humiliation, or escaping poverty. I was free to plan my life, knowing I would go to university and study what I loved. Whenever I needed help, I knew I could count on my family—they were always there to support me.

8- I’m a psychology student, and studying this field has completely shifted my perspective on myself and others. It has allowed me to see the world with greater depth and empathy. I’ve become better at recognizing not only my own psychological wounds but also those of others, which has helped me connect with people on a deeper level. I've also sought therapy, both in-person and online, and have seen positive results. While I still struggle with some issues from my past—like feeling insecure about my appearance, doubting people’s motives, and having a hard time trusting—I’ve learned how to manage these feelings fairly well.

All of these factors combined have shaped me into someone different from Severus Snape. Yes, I was bullied, but I didn’t turn out like him because, unlike Snape, I was given numerous opportunities to grow, to experience love and joy, to heal, and to find pleasure in life.

Now, It’s much easier for someone like me to be kind and nice to others, to love people, to forgive myself and others, and to move on from those who don’t like me. It’s easier for me to see the world and people not as threats but with a more mature and balanced perspective. but I’m under no illusion that I am a better and more worthy person than Severus Snape or anyone like him who didn’t have the chance to heal. I simply know that I’ve been luckier, and for that, I’m grateful. But I never want to dismiss or belittle the suffering of others or blame them for their psychological struggles.

I can’t say for certain what I would’ve done in Snape’s exact situation or how bitter I might’ve become. But I’m certain of one thing: I could never be as brave or as selfless as Snape was, sacrificing his own life so readily for others. I know that I could never be a hero like him.

[whereserpentswalk]

Choose a transformation to permanently alter your body and remove your humanity.

1: get infected with lycanthrope (being bitten is the easiest way, but the curse can also be passed on through blood transfusions, or other bodily fluids). You'll be able to turn into a wolf any night when the moon shines, and you'll be compelled to when the moon is full. The other werewolves are likely to accept you into their community under most circumstances.

2: enter a local ufo to be turned into a cyborg. The visitors are dying to find a human who'll let you do this to them, and you might just be the one. Parts of your body will be replaced with strange and unknowable technology, thousands of years more advanced than what your backwater planet has. Who knows what you'll become, but it certainly won't be human.

3: allow a demon to possess you. While this sounds bad at first, most demons aren't actually sentient beings, but just semi sentient balls emotions. When they possess you it'll still be your mind and personality, just enhanced with the demon's emotions and desires, given its abilities. You'll also probably start looking more like what people consider a demon to look like after awhile, weather that be a body with horns and scales like the classic devil look, or something more animalistic, or even something more eldrich.

4: let the faeries play with you. This is a risky one but they're looking to be entertained by a cute little human to do things to. Who knows what they'll do to you, but we can be quite certain it'll be something very very interesting.

5: permanently psychically bond to a wyvern through the dreaming. For generations humans have done this to become wyvern riders, though rider is an odd term as your minds will be linked, you'll be able to know what it's feeling as well as it's sensations, and possibly even be able to control it directly with enough time, as easily as you'd control your own body. Though the wyvern and dreaming may effect you to, you'll likely become more creative and have more vivid dreams, at the cost of your ability to fit in with much of human society. Your body will also likely become more youthful, slender and androgynous, and may even take on wyvern like traits like slit pupils or sharp teeth.

6: permanently hybridize yourself with an animal of your choice. It's useally done with mammals for compatibility reasons, but it might work with anything. This is a slow process, involving weekly injections of Phlebotinum, and you'll get more and more like the animal you choose over the course of many months. There's no actual end limit to how long you can inject the Phlebotinum for, only a few weeks for some animal features, about a year for a 50/50 split, and if you never stop taking it ever you'll end up just becoming an animal of your choice. Be warned, it's a one way trip, so while you can always become less human, you can never reverse the changes.

7: be melted into a slime. Not much more to say about it. It'll probably be the most alien your physical form can become, as you'll have no solid body parts anymore, just an amorphous mass to move around. Natrual born slimes may be suspicious of you.

8: get bitten by a vampire and become a vampire yourself. You'll get most of the powers, from strength, to healing, to not needing sleep or food, along with the requirements to drink blood, and the weakness to silver and sunlight (you still can go out in the sun, but it won't be a pleasant experience). Your body will also change a lot, losing any sex characteristics, gaining red eyes and completely desaturated skin, and becoming extremely emaciated looking. Your mouth will also be able to shift at will between a humanoid shape, and a massive horrifying maw with huge fangs and strange mouth parts for drinking blood. There's likely a vampiric community around who'll accept you.

9: become a digital only being. You won't just be transforming your body, you'll be getting rid of it. Your entire vision will display what you'd usually see on a computer monitor, and you'll be able to type and move the mouse as easily as you can move your body now. You'll be entirely online without anything human to worry about.

10: become a spiritual being. Like a less online version of the last option. You'll become a spirit, without a body to worry about. You can't touch things, but you can move them psychically. You can also choose who can or can't see you, and how you appear to people.

11: have your entire body replaced by the cloth witches. They're always looking for humans to do this to. Every part of you will be replaced with artificial materials, usually you'll get a metal skeleton, stuffing for filling, and either cloth or plastic for your skin, like a doll of some sort but big and alive. You won't have to worry about a lot of the body things like dying or being tired or in pain, but be warned, you'll have to repair yourself with new material if damaged.

(Hey, I had to delete the first version of this poll and reupload it because of something on the old post setting off my silly little trauma. I feel like such an awful person for this, I'm sorry. But yeah, please reblog and interact with this version instead.)

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

How about jealous Ginny for a prompt? I mean there are plenty of jealous Harry stories but for once I want to need to see a jealous Ginny! Loved the overprotective Harry btw❤️🩷

They - quite literally - run into her at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Ginny was walking backward, grinning wickedly at Harry as she tried to surmise just how many photographers would swarm Diagon Alley once word had spread that he was there, while Harry continued to argue he should at least be allowed to don the Invisibility Cloak. 

“No, no, I’ll look insane talking to myself all day. You’ve got to face society, sometime, Potter,” Ginny was saying. “Some would say it’s your responsibility, no your duty to–”

“--my duty?”

“--to spend the day dodging photographers for your girlfriend. Isn’t that your whole deal? Self-sacrificing, hero–”

“Rita Skeeter is worse than Voldemort.”

It was precisely the moment when Ginny let out a loud, unattractive Ha! that her back came into contact with a person turning away from the bar. It’s all a bit of a flurry for a few moments - a folder of papers flutters to the floor, Ginny stumbles and corrects herself with an “Oh Merlin I’m so sorry,” Harry jolts forward helplessly as though to catch… something. 

Ginny turns to apologize more earnestly, when she realizes that she knows the person she’s just crashed into. 

“--I’m such an idiot, are you– Oh! Cho!”

“Er, hi,” Cho Chang says, a bit ruefully. “It’s good to – oh, no, don’t worry, I can–”

Cho flaps her hands uselessly, for Harry has bent over to pick up the papers Ginny had knocked to the floor. 

“Here,” Harry says, stuffing the papers haphazardly back into the folder and thrusting it out toward Cho. 

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then a horribly awkward silence swallows them all. 

Ginny struggles for anything to say. The only idiotic thing she can think to say is - You look pretty - because Cho does. Her silky black hair is swept up into some elegant looking chignon, and it’s clear she’s done up her makeup a bit more than usual. She’s wearing smart robes that are fitted elegantly, and her soft-pink nails are perfectly shaped. 

“Are you two off to Diagon Alley?” Cho says, with an air of desperation to fill the silence. 

“Yes,” Ginny says, latching on to the subject like a life raft. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Picking up school things for Ginny.”

“Oh!” Cho says, turning to Ginny in surprise. “Do you have another year of school left, then?”

The question, in conjunction with Cho’s very grown-up elegance, leaves Ginny feeling particularly infantile and irritable; their two-year age-gap seems suddenly to span decades. “Yep,” Ginny says, a note of petulance creeping into her tone. “Finishing up my NEWTs.”

“Good for you!” Cho says, in a way that manages not to sound patronizing, even though Ginny's certain it is. “I don’t know if I could go back to school, after every–”

Harry, shooting an alarmed glance at Ginny’s expression, interjects. “Did you do some shopping today, as well?”

“Oh! Er, no. No I… I just finished up a job interview, actually, in one of the back rooms here.”

“Did you?” Harry says, raising his eyebrows. “Nice. Hope it went well.”

“Me too,” Cho says, looking at Harry a bit shyly, now. Ginny narrows her eyes. “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. The job - it’s in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Really?” Harry says, and he sounds genuinely interested now. “What role?”

“Oh, something administrative. I’m not very interested in field work, I’d much rather be working on the policy side of things, but – well, I’d actually wanted to thank you. Everything was so in flux after—well, in May, and I never got a chance to–”

“Thank me?” Harry says, sounding baffled. “You don’t–”

“I do,” Cho insists prettily, wringing her hands prettily, sounding pretty. “You were so brave, what you did. Facing him. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you– And honestly, I wouldn’t even have had a chance at this job if it weren’t for the DA. I think they only interviewed me because I mentioned I’d been a part of it–”

“Really,” Harry says awkwardly, “it’s nothing, you don’t need to–”

“It’s isn’t nothing, at all!” Cho says emphatically, tucking a silky strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’ve made such a difference for everyone and I’ve been wanting to tell you but I–”

“Don’t be modest, Harry,” Ginny interjects hotly. Cho’s gushing so much they all might drown in it. In fact, Ginny wouldn’t mind all that much if Cho did. 

Harry shoots her a wary look, and then turns back to Cho. “That’s, er, really nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” Cho says. “I heard you’ve joined the Aurors, is that true?”

“Er, yeah–” Harry says, ruffling his hair anxiously. It strikes Ginny then, as it so often does, that Harry is quite good-looking, now. Not that he hadn’t been, before, but months of regular eating and living out from under the thumb of the threat of constant death has been good to him - go figure. He’s filled out and bought clothes that fit and Ginny’s very much enjoyed it all until this moment, when it strikes her that he could stand to be a bit less handsome, all piercing eyes and messy hair and wry smirks directed at Cho bloody Chang. “I have.”

“I knew you would,” Cho says, like she’s some insider expert on Harry’s tendencies. “We’ll be in the same office, then, if I get this job!”

“Oh!” Harry says, coming up short. “That’s—” he shoots a glance at Ginny. “That’s great.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ginny says in a passable impression of earnestness that she’s positive does not fool Harry. “Really, really, wonderful.”

Cho looks at Ginny as though she’s only just remembered that she’s there. “Yes, well. Are you still interested in doing the Quidditch thing, Ginny?” Cho asks. 

“Oh, who knows?” Ginny says brightly. “Maybe I’ll do the Quidditch thing, or maybe I’ll go be an Auror too. It’ll be a regular party, the three of us.”

Cho’s smile falters a bit. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees. “Just lovely.”

Harry coughs, and then they’re plunged into a miserable silence once more. 

“Well,” Ginny says heartily. “We’ve got to get a move on. Those photographers won’t dodge themselves, you know.”

“Oh, of course,” Cho says. “Well, it was lovely to see you both.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees. 

“Yeah,” Harry says. 

“Best of luck at school, Ginny,” Cho says, and Ginny hates that she sounds like she means it. “And maybe I’ll be seeing you in the office, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry chuckles, “Maybe! Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then she gives them an awkward wave and departs. 

Once the door has closed with a jingle of the bell above it, Ginny turns to Harry, her eyebrows raised.

“Ginny…” Harry says with trepidation. 

“Looks like you’ve got a new office best mate!” Ginny says with supreme sarcasm. “I’ll tell Ron he’s been usurped, he’ll cry for a bit but I’m sure he’ll manage–”

“She might not even get the job–”

“Oh, no. She will. I mean, she name-dropped you and the DA, that’s sure to give her a leg up, never mind that she wasn’t even at school last year with the worst of it, never mind the whole thing disbanded because of her stupid friend–”

“I don’t think that’s what she–”

“I’m just so glad that while I go months without seeing you, you’ll get to pal around with Cho Chang, I was so worried that you’d get lonely without me, but now–”

“Ginny,” Harry says with an awkward laugh. “Come on, you know that’s not how it is.”

“She can go on thanking you for what a bloody hero you are,” Ginny continues. “I don’t think anyone’s told you that in about five minutes, so it’ll be good to get a nice top up from her when you’re feeling down.”

“Well, sure,” Harry joins in. “You know I can’t go more than six without being reminded.”

Ginny pats his chest. “So brave. There. Do you think that’ll last you until we get to the book shop?”

“I might need a quick round of applause in the apothecary.”

Ginny snorts. “Oh, come on, then,” Ginny says. “Maybe we’ll run into Fleur’s little sister, too, if we’re really lucky.”

They make their way through the brick entrance to Diagon Alley - a far cry from the days of the war, the street is bustling and busy once more. They take a circuitous route to Flourish and Blotts, taking care to walk quickly so that not too many people take notice that Harry Potter is in their midst, and because Ginny cannot bear the sight of her brothers’ joke shop, once alive and bustling and colorful and loud, boarded up and quiet. It’s a bit too on the nose. 

They make it nearly to the front door of the book shop before Ginny can’t take it anymore. “Did you hear the way she asked if I was doing ‘the Quidditch thing’?” she snarls, halting them just outside the door. “Like it was some cute little hobby, never mind that she was a Seeker too. Not a very good one, mind, but still!”

Harry has the gall to look faintly amused as he pulls her off to the small alleyway next to the shop. “I’m sure that’s not what she meant. Professional Quidditch is really difficult, she knows–”

“Oh you’re sure, are you?” Ginny spits, rolling her eyes. “Just like she just knew you’d become an Auror? Someone alert Professor Trelawney, we’ve got another Seer on our hands. No one without a powerful Inner Eye could’ve possibly predicted that–”

Harry grins and shakes his head. “You do know I’m not thrilled about this either, don’t you?”

“I can’t imagine why,” Ginny rants. “It’s perfect, your girlfriend will pop off to Scotland and you can hang round with your ex instead!”

“My ex?” Harry says, an eyebrow raised. “We went on one date when I was fifteen and it was terrible.”

“Oh that’s only because you were both traumatized,” Ginny says airily. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled at the chance to reconnect now that you’re both older–”

“Ginny,” Harry says, the amusement replaced with something firm. “You’re not really worried about this, are you?”

Ginny can’t look him in the eye. She’s so irritated, so bothered, that it takes her a moment - she wants to say yes of course I’m worried, did you see how annoyingly pretty she was and the way she looked at you - but she doesn’t. Because it’s not true, not really. As she’s tried to rebuild in the rubble after the war, Harry’s been the one thing she’s sure of through all of it, and she reckons he feels the same. No, she knows he does. She knows he’s not interested in doing anything with Cho Chang.

Ginny takes a deep, calming breath, and meets his eyes. “I just really fucking hate that she might get to see you every day and I–” her voice catches. 

Harry pulls her in and gives her one of those hugs that seems to calm every cell in her body, like he might be able to shield her from everything bad in the world. She can’t believe that in two weeks, this is a comfort she won’t have, anymore, reduced instead to stolen moments at Hogsmeade weekends and words scribbled in letters.

“I really fucking hate it, too.”

Ginny burrows her head deeper into his chest, and breathes in the woody smell of him. Finally, she says. “You were right, you know. I can admit it.”

“What?”

She pulls back and looks at him. “I really should’ve let you wear that damn Invisibility Cloak.”

[teaboot]

What are "transmasc" and "genderqueer"?

I just woke up so bear with me, but like

Western society has invented this idea of "man" and "woman", right? And we SAY it's actually real, and based on tangible things like sex characteristics- primary, like dicks n' hoo-has- and secondary, like tiddies an facial hair an cellulite.

Well, it turns out that those things ain't divided "correctly" into the man and woman categories all the time.

People with dicks sometimes get tiddies, people without dicks sometimes grow beards and chest hair, beauty standards like "woman thin and hairless and short with small nose and tiny feet" and "man tall and muscular with a beard and broad shoulders" aren't appearing in nature the way we say they should.

(These gendered standards also change over time, but that's a different post.)

What's more, some people have multiple primary characteristics, and it's not even super rare! (Again, worth a different post, and not one I'm really in a position to make.)

So, we say that we didn't just "invent" two exclusive boxes to sort a wide variety and spectrum of characteristics into by pure brute force, but evidence says otherwise. So do we change the rules of our society to fit that evidence?

No, we pick something else to support our beliefs.

Learning about genes and DNA and chromosomes came much later in the game, so most people's grasp of it is this: Men have XY chromosomes, women have XX chromosomes, and no matter what your body is shaped like, that determines which box you go in. Whatever you look like should be padded or amputated or shaved away until you fit in your box.

Except.... we now know that people who outwardly appear to be the perfect ideal poster children of "man" and "woman" are living full, natural, healthy and unbothered lives totally unaware that they have the "wrong" chromosomes. No visibly "mixed" characteristics at all. So there goes that idea out the window.

Unless we say that no, our invention which is fact still holds up- there's just a few mutants and freaks and dysfunctional anomalies that just sort of happen sometimes, like factory flaws that wouldn't exist if things were running as they should.

So what do we do with factory flaws? We "fix" them. Or pressure them to fix themselves. Or, if they can "pass" one way or another, shove them into that box and tell them to shut up about it. Don't fit into either? Then pick one, and make yourself fit.

But... then, if we can pick... if hairy women with flat chests and small hips can shave themselves down and throw on some padding and powder her face to be accepted.... why can't anyone else?

Or, if that same "woman" went, fuck it, cut his hair short and embraced all the "man" characteristics, went by different pronouns and stepped into the "man" box... wouldn't that be okay, too?

And, he'll, what if they changed nothing about themselves and decided to opt out? We've proven that these "universal facts" don't *actually* exist and exceptions are everywhere, so fuck it, right? "Man" and "woman" don't really mean anything tangible anyways, so why not do what makes you happy?

And since, again, evidence shows that "man" and "women" aren't perfect binary boxes with perfect binary traits- why bother living up to those traits at all? Why can't someone assigned to the "woman" box live in the "man" box with long hair and heels on? If I makes him happy, what's the harm?

We don't like this, though, because when you build two boxes that contain the whole world, and people start escaping, or slipping out to live in the one they like more, or switching, or building their own, people begin to wonder why they're living in boxes at all. If we even need boxes.

And the people who maintain the boxes tell us, it's because the boxes are safe, and the boxes are natural, and the boxes have been here exactly as they are since the beginning of time anyways, and NO, they aren't just terrified of life outside the shelter of the box, you're the weird one.

Meanwhile, if we really looked into it, I imagine we'd find more people who don't fit their box criteria, or don't even like their box, at least as often as we find people who do.

Transgender means "someone who isn't in their assigned box".

Genderqueer means, "someone who isn't in their assigned box", but in a the same broad way that "transgender" is- Maybe a him, maybe a her, maybe both, maybe a they, perhaps a xey, and sometimes some of us move around.

I say I'm genderqueer, 'cause that fits me, but "Transmasc" to me personally means, "I know I'm not a woman, and I'm closer to the "man" box, but I'm happier wandering outside the "man" box than I am stepping fully inside. (Dysphoria is part of that, but again, in my opinion it's not vital to the experience.)

And I'm not one for destroying those two boxes entirely- they bring joy to a lot of people.

Just, you know. Maybe making more, different boxes. And maybe little camps out between them. And not treating people who roam the wilderness instead like rabid animals. Is the thing.

Long answer