#at least you're doing it from a basis of what she's actually like

[pepperf]

There are so many things to be annoyed about the TUA s4 debacle, and I am exploring every one of them. This is not a particularly joyful thing for me, I don't run on spite, but I guess I just need to work my way through this.

TODAY'S ANNOYANCE! Read at your own peril! Dead dove, do not enter, I'm venting about both fandom's and Five's attitudes towards Lila.

I remember how much vitriol and pearl-clutching there was about Lila after season 2. Fandom at large HATED her: she was manipulative, she lied, she drugged Diego, she tried to kill them all, blah blah blah, god it was like people had never watched TV before.

This shifted to a somewhat grudging acceptance after season 3, "Well she's going to be a mum so maybe her claws have been clipped - but OH NO SHE'S STILL MANIPULATIVE, SHE PUNCHES FIVE AND FAKE-DRINKS AND EATS SUSHI?!" (If it's bad for babies, apparently someone forgot to inform the entire nation of Japan).

But now - now that Five "loves"* her, now she's been portrayed as a saccharine shadow of her glorious self, a living mannequin for your favourite blorbo to fuck - NOW you like her? Go fuck yourselves.

If you can't handle Lila at her most chaotic and weird and destructive and terrible, you don't deserve her. Let's be real, it's not about Lila at all. It's not about the character we've seen for the past two seasons. You don't want that Lila, you want some kind of Stepford wife to make Five happy. Which, hey, was apparently what he wanted, too!

For the record, and to stave off some of the flames I may be provoking, I think this version of Five is equally bullshit and feels like they twisted the character to fit the plot they wanted, rather than following what he'd been like previously. I mean, I do think he has control issues, he's forever telling people what to do, but he's not, in general, an emotionally-stunted manchild, and he's definitely better than this.

*Tell me, gentle readers, is it true love to lie to someone for six months about something that you know is vitally important to them, and then claim you know what's best for them, and then fucking sulk about it when they turn you down, or is that being an emotionally-stunted manchild with control issues? And some people think that is the height of romance! Are you on crack? Are you in a cult? Knock three times if you need help!

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[ratatoilett]

episode title : the one where she suggests marriage (again)

nylu's note : excited to make this a mundane cutesy series of they're shenanigans omg!

tags : @toniiiiiireads @cuntyji @nakiich @rriwyu @your-mum3000 @lulunx @heiejdhdh @oracle014 @sukubusss @noooo-onee @sanestsanstan

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INT. SUKUNA'S APARTMENT - TUESDAY - 11:00 AM

at this point, sukuna has accepted that you are an unavoidable disaster in his life.

like an earthquake. or a tornado. or a really persistent telemarketer that keeps calling even when he explicitly tells them to stop.

he doesn't know when it happened. one day, you showed up. the next, you never left.

and the worst part? he let's you.

not without protest, of course. plenty of "get out before i throw you out," and "touch my stuff and you lose a hand," and "if you breathe near me while i'm eating, i will make sure you regret it."

none of which work.

because here you are, again, sitting on his couch, eating his chips, watching his TV—wearing his hoodie (at this point he doesn't even care how you got that in the first place).

you're kicked back, feet on the coffee table, and way too damn comfortable for someone who has been explicitly told to leave at least 500 times.

sukuna scowls.

"okay", you announce, popping another chip into your mouth. "new plan."

he doesn't even look up from his phone. "no."

"you didn't even hear it yet!"

"and yet, i already know it's gonna be fucking stupid."

you ignore him, as always. "hypothetically speaking, what if we got married?"

his head snaps up so fast you think he might've given himself whiplash.

"the hell did you just say?"

"i said—"

"i heard what you said," he growls, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. "the question is, why do you insist on making me suffer?"

you tilt your head, lips curling into a grin. "oh, so you admit the thought of being my husband affects you?"

"i admit that the thought makes me want to set myself on fire."

you hum, unbothered. "well, that's not a no."

sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose. "explain. now."

"well," you begin, dramatically tossing a chip into your mouth, "if we got married, i'd finally have a legal excuse to annoy you forever."

"you don't need a legal excuse. you're already doing it."

you ignore that. "plus, think about it! you, me, joint bank accounts—"

"absolutely fucking not."

"—matching outfits—"

"i will end you."

"—and cute little pet names! i'd call you 'suku-bear'."

sukuna glares. "i will throw you off my balcony."

"come on! you'd have cute nicknames for me too."

he smirks, and for a second, you think you might've won.

then—

"yeah. it's 'nuisance.'"

you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. "how dare you? i was going to give you my last name, and this is how you treat me?"

sukuna levels you with a flat look. "you break into my apartment on a daily basis. you eat my food. you talk too much. you leave your crap everywhere. i should be charging you rent."

"that's actually a great idea! hypothetically speaking, what if i just moved in permanently?"

sukuna exhales so hard you think he might combust. "get. out."

"but i brought dinner," you chirps, holding up a takeout bag. "your favorite."

silence.

a long, long, long silence.

"fine. you can stay."

you grin in victory, setting the food down on the table. "that's what i thought."

sukuna rolls his eyes, snatching the takeout bag like you might change your mind and steal it back. "for the record, i still hate you."

"for the record, you love me," you counter plopping down beside him. "and someday, hypothetically speaking, you'll admit it."

sukuna doesn't respond, too busy stuffing food into his mouth.

but later, when he thinks you're not looking, you catch it—

the way his eyes linger on you, soft in a way they never are with anyone else.

the way his finger twitch, like he wants to pull you closer but refuses to give in.

the way his lips curl just slightly at your stupid jokes, even as he scowls at you.

the way, when you eventually fall asleep on his couch (again), he doesn't wake you up.

he just sighs.

long. heavy. defeated.

then he grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over to you.

not gently, of course. that would be admitting things.

but he lingers. just for a second.

and when you mumble something in your sleep—something ridiculous, something about hypothetically marrying him—he just shakes his head.

because someday—someday—he's going to give in.

he already knows it.

and, damn you, so do you.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Girl Errands

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You try to distract your husband from the multiple bags piled up in the back of your car, which was the result of you running "errands"

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

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Glancing down at your dashboard in your car, you saw that it was now around two in the afternoon and figured that Joe would probably be making his way home soon.

So, that left you with one task.

Beat him home so that he doesn't see the multiple bags that are a result of you telling him that you were going to run “errands”. 

You in fact did not run one errand according to Joe if you were to ask him since they consisted of Target, TJ Maxx, Starbucks, JoAnn Fabrics for more things to crochet, and last but certainly not least browsing the Savage Fenty website for new lingerie which you knew would end up getting torn and would make Joe buy you more. 

As you pulled out of the Target parking lot, you were met with a stop sign before turning on the main street and coming to a red stop light. You just so happened to glance to your right to see no one other than your husband drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and waiting for the light to change.

“Shit!” You muttered as you glanced behind you to look at the multiple bags in the backseat.

When you turned back around, Joe just so happened to catch your eye and you smirked before you gestured for him to roll down his window.

You might as well distract him.

“Hey handsome! You got a girl? I'm trying to go on a date with you tonight.” You said as you winked at him while he couldn't help but to laugh at your horrible attempt at a pick up line.

“I have a wife actually and I highly doubt she would like that very much.” 

“Well, I won't tell if you won't.”

“I'm trying to save us both from ending up being six feet under. She's short, but don't let that fool you.” He replied as you turned up your nose and glared at him.

“I'm sure I can take it. So what do you say?”

Before Joe could respond, he glanced in the backseat of your car and made a face before turning his attention back towards you.

“Uh oh.” You said quietly before you heard your husband's voice.

“Baby! What do you have in the backseat!?”

“Nothing! Bye!” You told him as the light turned green and you pulled off without another word.

But your luck ran out when you were once again caught at a stop light literally less than a mile from your house right next to Joe as he gestured for you to roll your window down and you shook your head no.

So as soon as you told him no, your ringtone for him started blasting throughout the car and you hesitantly hit accept.

“Princess….”

“Oh thank goodness. There's this weird dude who keeps following me in his car and pulling up next to me every time I'm at a stop light.”

“I am not doing this with you today. I refuse.” Joe said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Refuse what, babe?”

“Don't act dumb. Now what is in the backseat?”

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“For me to know and for you not to find out because I was supposed to beat you home and hide everything.” You honestly told him.

“Hmm, and how's that working out for you?”

“It'll be fine once I get home before you do.” You replied as you hit the gas once more and sped away from him.

“I am literally right behind you and you better slow down before you get a ticket.”

“I'm pretty and I'll be let off with a warning. Works every time.”

“Why do you love to stress me out on a daily basis?”

“You're the one who asked me to marry you so you did this to yourself.” You replied as you pulled into the garage with Joe right behind you.

Joe got out of his Porsche before coming over to the driver's side door of your car and opening it, seeing you smiling at him, but he did not look amused.

“Hi baby!” You greeted him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist.

Placing a kiss on his lips, he didn’t return it which made you frown. 

“Give me a kiss and fix your face.”

Joe rolled his eyes before kissing you and continued to make a face at you as he pulled away.

“Is this supposed to be serving as a distraction?”

“A little bit, but I can take my clothes off if it isn't working. Now how about that date you promised me?”

“I never even gave you an answer.”

“You're undressing me with your eyes so that's a good enough answer which obviously translates to yes.”

“We can go on a date... right after you show me what's in the backseat.”

“No.”

“Fine. I'll just get my hair cut and run errands in my gray sweatpants.” Joe told you as your eyes then went wide.

“I… Just get the bags please and I'll tell you.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

[bloggerspam]

Not Exactly the Apple of my Eye

I wrote this for the @haunting-heroes-creative-games WWT Myths game last month, and subsequently co-won my first game!

Figured I'd post it here too, now that all the reveals have happened---have a DPxYJ/DPxDC Snow White AU Crack fic!

===

"You gotta be kidding me," Kon says as he looks down at himself, "this can't be real, right?"

"Feels pretty real to me!" Bart chirps happily, fiddling with his overly large green sleeves.

"Rad." Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and popping his hip and yawning like a disgruntled cat. Sarcasm practically drips from every orifice of his body language, even as he looks 2 seconds away from falling asleep.

"Is this what I think it is?" Cassie yells from further into the room, the sound of a small clamor echoing behind her words.

"If by it you mean some kind of inter-dimensional fucky wucky, then yeah!" Kon waves his arms around, gesturing to the room at large even if she can't see; Tim and Bart can, and that's all that matters. "I think so!"

"No, I mean is this Snow White?" Cassie clarifies as she comes huffing into the room. She too is adjusting her clothes as best she can, trying to figure out what to do with the glasses suddenly on her face.

The four of them stand gathered in the middle of the cottage they've been dumped into, freshly shrunken in height, stripped of their powers and gadgets and suits, and dressed in what seems to be simple cotton peasant shirts and work leggings.

They also have comically large and weirdly soft and sturdy leather shoes, of the Snow White Dwarf variety.

"Aren't there supposed to be seven of us?" Tim mumbles thoughtfully, another yawn causing him to slump and looking mad about it.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Kon huffs, picking up Tim with very little resistance for once and dumping the yawning boy onto a bed labelled Sleepy. Kon himself grumbles as he takes a seat on the next bed over labelled Grumpy.

An angry Kryptonian is not a great idea. Who let this be okay?

"I'm not calm about this…" Tim yawns once more, irritated, "I just can't think straight, I'm too tired."

"You don't sleep on a daily basis though?" Bart walks his way to his own bed, labeled Dopey and test bouncing it. "But it seems fitting at least. Plus, You're not straight anyway. Who's Cassie supposed to be?"

"Doc, I think." Cassie goes to her own bed, looking at it dubiously before deciding to ignore it completely. "He's the only one with glasses right?"

"That…" Tim is curled up on his side now, "still…doesn't answer…"

Soft snores start to drift through the room, another anomaly, considering Tim doesn't actually snore.

"What did the genie lady say?" Bart starfishes on his bed, making snow angels with no snow, "This is all because you decided to hit on her anyway."

"How was I supposed to know?!" Kon angrily pulls the covers off his bed to dump over Tim. "All I said was that she was pretty!"

Before anybody else can say anything, there's another clatter outside the cottage.

"Seriously!?" A voice screams, "Seriously?! Three years and you-" A violent sneeze interrupts the voice—"-still make fucking wishes?"

A small murmur answers the voice, barely audible.

Kon, Cassie and Bart look at each other, before scrambling over to the door. Tim stays dead asleep. When they burst out, tumbling over each other, they're met with the other three dwarves: A young gothic looking girl who keeps sneezing, an African American boy hiding behind another boy with a bedsheet of all things tied around his neck like a cape. The caped boy, with his black hair and blue eyes, looks like he's trying to be a knock off superman.

Kon does not like that. At all.

"Hey!" Rao, it's like he has no control over his temper, "Were you guys fucked over by the genie lady too?"

"Language~" Bart singsongs, giggling. The gothic girl whirls towards them, angry like spitfire, and sneezing just as violently.

"Hello, citizens!" Super-knock-off intones, "What brings you into the ill graces of Desiree?"

"If by Desiree you mean the genie lady," Cassie jabs a thumb at him, "then this guy hit on her."

"O-oh," The shy boy still hiding behind Super-knock-off is blushing hard enough that Kon can see it even with his darker skin, "w-wow, you're pretty…"

"Thanks!" Cassie smiles, winking at him. "The ladies love it, anyway."

The boy squeaks, hiding behind super-knock-off again. Goth-girl rolls her eyes before addressing Cassie.

"Desiree hates that-" a sneeze, "-kind of shit." Goth-girl rubs her nose, to which the bashful boy passes her a tissue from his backpack as if dealing with a rabid animal. The girl takes it with a scoff-turned-sneeze.

"Figured." Cassie shrugs, waving to herself. "I'm Cassie, by the way. Grumpy over here is Connor, and Cutie Pie down here is Bart."

Kon huffs, waving begrudgingly as Bart does a happy little wave.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Danny!" Super-knock off puffs out his chest, before gesturing to the once more sneezing Goth. "This is Sam, and behind me is Tucker!"

"We're not—usually like this." Sam sniffles, sneezing between pauses, "Danny's usually more chill, and Tucker's not this—shy. But if my—math is mathing, it's because—of the dwarf traits."

"Why does being Happy make him so…" Kon sneers, "Do-goodey?"

"Long story. We call him Super Danny in this state." Tucker smiles, peeking out a little more, "Fun Danny was better."

"Hey!" Danny wraps an arm around his friend to bring him up to the forefront, causing Tucker to squeak. "Super Danny had his moments!"

"Where's-" Sam sneezes four times in a row, "-Sleepy?"

"Our friend Tim." Bart gestures towards inside the house, "He's napping in one of the beds inside. He's usually an insomniac, so this is actually pretty great!"

"So," Cassie gets them back on track as they all convene around a sleeping Tim. "Do you guys know how to escape?"

"That is difficult," Danny hums, patting at Tucker who seems to be taking deep breaths to overcome his shyness. Kon tries to follow suit, to temper himself. "Did you perhaps make a wish when hitting on Desiree?"

Kon felt his face go blotchy red, rubbing at his cheek with the back of his hand and looking away.

"Connor." Cassie's voice goes threatening, hands on her hips like a mom scolding a child.

"All I said was Move over Snow White, 'cause you're truly the fairest in the land!" Kon grumbles, crossing his arms. "And that she made me all Bashful, or whatever! I didn't wish for anything!"

"All I did was wish Sam would lighten up," Tucker scratches the back of his neck, inching closer to Danny when Sam bears her teeth. "Normally Desiree would just make Sam glow, or something."

"Who is Desiree anyway?" Bart starts to frown down at himself, rubbing his tummy absentmindedly. "We were just having lunch with Tim's brother-"

Suddenly Kon, Cassie and Bart whip their heads towards each other, exclaiming at the same time: "Dick!"

"Language?" Tucker, who had startled at the sudden yelling and is firmly hiding behind Danny again.

"No, Tim's brother, Richard—he goes by Dick." Cassie explains as the three of them separate to look under furniture and through the house for the older man. They collectively ignore the whispered on purpose? from the other trio.

"He was with us when we got snapped here." Tim yawns, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "Who are you?"

The new trio introduces themselves to Tim as the rest of them split. Kon is looking under the beds, Bart is upstairs, and Cassie is opening cabinets in the kitchen, if the sounds are to be believed.

"This doesn't really feel like Desiree's usual fare." Sam taps her foot, for some reason the only dwarf who was able to keep her own black studded combat boots. It looks comical paired with her brown shirt and red pants. At least the black belt matches?

"How would you," Tim yawns, standing up and leaning heavily against Kon when he comes back around. "Usually…get rid of her?"

"Usually Phantom would deal with her." Tucker mumbles as Sam starts to pace. She's no longer sneezing now that they're inside, which seems odd.

"Who's Phantom?" Bart's voice bounces as he descends the stairs back to join them. "He's not upstairs, by the way."

"He's Amity Park's local hero!" Danny flashes a gleaming smile, before frowning. "Truly a mystery why she's hanging out around Bludhaven."

"What were you guys-" Kon is interrupted by Sam, who knocks twice on the window she's stopped in front of.

"Uh, guys?" She's staring at something confusedly, "Is Dick…uh, black haired, wearing eye-searingly ugly patterns?"

"That's…" Tim yawns again, sluggishly making his way over to Sam, "probably…him."

"I think he's in the backyard?" Sam tilts her head, "and I think we've found our Snow White."

The seven of them gather quickly around the window, pushing and shoving and…

"Is that a fucking glass coffin?"

===

Jazz has fucked up.

Oooooh she's definitely fucked up.

How was she supposed to know Ghost Writer and Desiree just wanted to hang out?

How was she supposed to know that Desiree's cousin was Scheherazade?

How was she supposed to know Ghost Writer knew that infamous One Thousand and One Night's protagonist?

She just wanted to finally meet her online friend and talk about Jane Austen books, have dinner with her brother and his friends in Bludhaven after!

She really should have aimed better. Stupid thermos, Danny always made it seem so easy!

Now she's running around in this random forest trying to find her brother and his friends dressed like some kind of Prince.

Why do Princes wear such white tights? It's impractical is what it is, there's already a bunch of dirt on the back of her calves!

She's been in this forest for what feels like hours when she hears it; sweet salvation in the form of other people. Jazz frantically makes her way towards it.

"—Snow White?" A boyish voice asks.

"Well, he's certainly—achoo!—pretty enough for it." Sam is saying—is she with the others? "Even with all…that going on."

"At least Danny isn't in the coffin this time?" Tucker sounds unusually shy and timid—it makes Jazz quicken her steps and almost trip over tree roots at least twice.

"Hey—" An unfamiliar feminine voice cuts in, "Tucker, what does that mean?"

"Worry not, Cassie!" Danny! Oh sweet souls, Danny!! "It's an inside joke!"

"It's not really funny…" Another voice, sounding sleepy beyond compare and yawning like a "…is it?"

"Believe it or not," The mysterious feminine voice, Cassie cuts in. "He's usually the one in charge of the brain-cell. We're smart too, he just has no humor."

"I…" Another yawn, "...resent that."

"Tim just doesn't have that sense of whimsy!" That first boyish voice cuts in, ignoring who Jazz presumes is Tim.

"Does that mean we have to find a Prince?" Another masculine voice, angry and fed up, "In the forest?"

And, well, there's never been a better time for Jazz to stumble ass over kettle into the clearing.

"Jazz!" Her trio yells in greeting, rushing over to her as she rights herself. She blinks.

They're all…a lot smaller than she left them. No matter, hugs first, confusion later. (And crying/yelling much much later after that).

They're small enough for her to hoist all three into her arms, even as she notices the other four dwarves and the…glass coffin housing a fully grown man.

"What the—" Jazz whispers, eyeing the strangers.

"Are you the Prince?" Danny asks, and in this form he reminds her so much of when he was little—she wants to squeal but she won't, she won't.

"I think I am." Jazz answers, putting everyone down as they clamor to introduce the new kids and update her on the situation. Jazz, through years of dealing with her brother's trio, manages to understand and reciprocate the exchange of information.

"So I have to kiss him?" Jazz looks at the man, Dick, in the glass coffin dubiously. "I don't even know him?"

"This might be the first time someone's seen him and not kissed him on sight." Bart jokes, "Or, at least, not wanted to."

"Consent is important." Jazz scrunches up her face in consternation. "I will not subject someone to a kiss when they cannot consent."

"What about a kiss on the…hand?" Tim yawns, desperately trying to stay awake. "Nobody…said you had to kiss him on the…lips."

Jazz makes a face in thought. Hm. "What about you?"

"What…about me?" Jazz gestures at Dick when Tim looks at her in confusion.

"He's your brother, you love him, right?" Jazz picks up the sleeping man's hand. "Nobody said it had to be romantic love. Besides, again, I don't believe in love at first sight. I'm demi."

"Demi like, demigod?" Cassie's brow furrows. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Demi as in demi-sexual or-" Sam sneezes, "-demi-romantic."

Tim seems to think on that a moment, before shrugging. "I do love him. And I used to have a crush on him when I was little, before I got adopted." He picks up the hand and kisses it lightly.

"Oh dude, same." Connor laughs, turning to them. "I think everyone's had a crush on Dick before."

"Not me!" Cassie harrumphs to Bart's laughter and agreement. "Though I do love the guy."

"That doesn't count!" Connor huffs, "Lesbians and Aces are obviously excluded!"

"I'm Ace…" Tucker shyly raises his hand, making a little eep! sound when everyone turns to him. "And I, uhm, have eyes. He's real pretty…"

"Fairest of them all," Sam sniffles, sort of agreeing. "And all that."

"I think," Danny cuts in, "That you have no choice here Jazz. I'm sorry, but it doesn't seem like Tim's kiss is the solution!"

Jazz eyes the sleeping man once more, pursing her lips. No, she really doesn't think she'll do that. Pretty as he is, he's a stranger. And bodily autonomy is important, even if it's just his hand. It sounds like this guy has a lot of admirers, but nobody's actually said anything about how Dick himself feels about it.

Plus, he definitely looks at least a couple years older than her. Though it's hard to tell when you're in your mid twenties.

"Just think of it this way, Jazz." Danny tries to gently say, "You're saving his life, sort of. Like CPR."

Jazz hums, leaning over the man and observing the man's throat. Hm...

"What's she taking so long for?" Cassie whispers, to which Sam only sneezes in response.

Jazz grabs the man by the shoulders, sitting him up and…whack!

"Jazz!" The chorus of children yell at her, some even grabbing at her but she ignores them.

She gives the man's back another smack! And then another, and another until—

Hack! Dick coughs out the piece of poisoned apple lodged in his throat, taking in deep breaths as Jazz rubs his back in support.

"Th-thanks." Dick wipes at his mouth, smiling up gratefully at Jazz. She smiles back, before stepping away to let Tim and his little friends crowd over Dick and give him hugs.

Sam, Tucker and Danny make their way to Jazz, and they watch the reunion fondly.

"How'd you know that would work?" Danny asks her, laughing as Jazz shrugs.

"In the original fairy tale, the Prince discovers Snow White in her glass coffin and decides to keep her because she's so beautiful." Jazz bares her teeth in disgust. "The guards that were with him were kind of clumsy and dropped the casket on its corner, dislodging the apple piece from Snow White's throat. She wakes up, and then they get married."

"That's…" Tucker whispers, shuddering.

"Yeah." Jazz rubs her arms. "Figured I'd give it a shot. Thankfully it worked."

Just as Dick gets out of the coffin, the world around them starts to waver. The dwarven teenagers flicker until they're bigger, almost glitching into their original sizes and proportions. Sam stops sneezing, Tim stops yawning and falling asleep (though he still sports eyebags the size of Guam), and Danny's little blanket sheet disappears.

Jazz, Dick, and seven 17 year olds suddenly find themselves in the middle of the streets of Bludhaven, in the outdoor seating of the local restaurant all of them were eating at before the whole debacle.

Ghost Writer and Desiree are sitting at one of the tables, having tea.

"Well, that was certainly quick." Ghost Writer mumbles, Desiree groaning as she puts down her cup. "I thought we'd have at least a couple more hours."

"I knew I shouldn't have set win conditions." Desiree pouts. "We were just getting to the good part!"

"Every story has to have some kind of conclusion." Ghost Writer argues, jabbing his mug at her. "Besides, I can just-"

"Yeah. Nope." Danny deadpans, grabbing his backpack and jabbing a hand into the bag. "Fuck you."

Before Ghost Writer Desiree can do more than charge an ecto-blast, Danny pulls out a Fenton Thermos and aims it expertly at the two, sucking them up with very little fuss and muss. Jazz is not jealous or mad about it. At all.

As long as she doesn't have to wear those stupid white tights again, everything is A-OK.

"Well." Dick breathes, putting his hands on his hips like some kind of mom. "That was...anti-climactic."

"What the hell was that?" Tim asks Danny, trying to get a closer look at the thermos, "Is that a thermos?"

Jazz looks up at the restaurant, waving over a sever as she takes a seat and beckons for everyone else to do the same. The others start to squish in a couple tables and take seats.

"I'm sure everyone has questions," Jazz smiles up at the waitress in thanks as she passes out menus. "But first, since it's still…" She checks her watch, "just past three, lets have a late lunch, shall we?"

"As long as there's no apple pie for dessert." Dick laughs, opening up his own menu to peruse.

"As you wish!" Jazz rolls her eyes, grinning. Everyone at the table groans.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

No Nut November ~

a/n. A request by my Patron for the month of November! It was quite the fun one. If you'd like me to write a story for you, please consider joining my Patreon! (link in bio)

Contains : Toji X Fem reader. No nut November antics. Toji being horny. Reader being a tease.

"Fuck-" you cursed, panting heavily as you lied back on the bed, finally getting a break. Your partner, Toji, lied down next to you, half as tired but just as satisfied. He hummed as his muscled relaxed, hot and sweaty from the numerous rounds of sex, completely naked as he got comfortable enough to drift into sleep.

You couldn’t help but frown at him, a bit annoyed at his satisfied and content expression while your body was crying from the over-stimulation. He had taken you over and over and over again, his stamina seemingly never ending as he fucked you multiple times in multiple positions. Even when you complained that you couldn’t take it anymore, he claimed that he’d make you take it. And after he pumped you with several loads of cum, he finally called it a night.

"You- you're such a horndog." you said. The man chuckled, manhandling you to get closer to him, placing you on his chest before giving you a sweet kiss on your hair. “You love it.” He teased, giving your butt a greedy squeeze, making you flinch as he touched the bright red mark he had left on your cheek before. 

This was your routine. Toji and you would go to work, you'd come back home, have dinner together before he took you to the bedroom and gave you the most toe curling, back arching, pussy squirting pleasure you'd ever experienced. The man had a huge dick and a ton of stamina, not going soft unless he's cum multiple times.

And it's amazing it truly is.

But after a while...it becomes a lot. There's only so many times your pussy can take a pounding before she gets sore and it starts to hurt even when you sit down. There's only so many times your nipples can get suckled on before any friction, even from your bra, makes them ache. There's only so many times you can wear a turtleneck before people connect the dots. You tried to say so to Toji, letting him know of your trouble but he either laughed it off, took is as a compliment and continued to fuck you silly regardless.

His desire for you and his constant want to have his hands on you was a big ego boost, but you needed a break and you figured out the perfect way to do it.

“Have you heard of something called No Nut November?” Toji snorted, looking down at you amused, “Sounds stupid. I’m guessing it means you don’t cum in all of November?” “Exactly. It’s an internet challenge. Think you can do it?” He chuckled again, not taking it seriously, “I have a beautiful girlfriend who I can fuck on a daily basis- why would I give that up for a dumb internet challenge?” “Hmm, thought so.” You said, acting unimpressed as you poked his nose, “There's no way you can keep your hands off of me for a month. You don't have the self-control. Why am I not surprised?"

Now, Toji knew what you were doing. You were baiting him, plain and simple. And was he going to fall for it? Of course not... but he didn’t like your tone.

"Wanna bet on that?" he asked.

You tried not to grin, the man falling for your trap hook, line and sinker. There was no way a man as proud as him would not rise to the challenge just to prove you wrong.

“Fine. From tomorrow until the end of December, you can’t cum.” You said, “That means no sex and no jerking off. If you fail, I get to decide when we have sex for at least a month.”

“And if I win, you are going to be my little sex doll I can fuck whenever I want with no complaints.” Toji challenged. You scoffed, more than confident that he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Deal!”

~~~~~

One week had gone by and it was already hell. Toji had to will himself to not drag you into the bedroom every night, the condescending smirk on your face actually giving him motivation to keep going. Ever since he started dating you, sex was a common and daily occurrence so to have it taken away was difficult for him to navigate but he could do this. He was an adult with self-control and he wasn’t a horny teenager who needed to get their rocks off all the time.

But during week two, he wondered if he truly had the self-control he thought he did.

You were not making it easy for him, oh no. You were a naughty little minx and once Toji went by one week with no sex, you realised you needed to make him break. Whether it was make-out sessions with a bit more tongue than you normally use, or ‘forgetting’ to lock the door while you showered so he’d walk in on you naked, or going to bed in nothing but his oversized t-shirt, or asking him to give you a massage and letting out sweet, filthy little moans as he worked out the knots. These small things were piling up, riling the man up even more to the point where in a sweet kiss from you would make his dick hard. You were good. But he wasn’t giving up.

But neither were you. And you decided to ramp it up for week 3.

“…And what are you doing?” Toji asked, looking you up and down and undressing you with his eyes. You were standing by the bedroom door, looking absolutely stunning in a lingerie piece he hadn’t seen before. It was a beautiful lace red piece, the underwear framing your body deliciously. Your tits, your stomach, your ass and the heaven between your legs- all the blood instantly went to his cock just by looking at you.

“Tojiiii~” you cooed, walking over towards him, your hips swaying seductively as you reached him. He was sitting against the headboard of the bed, idly scrolling through his phone but the random video he was watching was all but forgotten as you crawled between his legs. Your tits were practically swinging in front of his face as you straddled him, the man unable to deny you as he placed a hand on your waist, running his fingers over the soft lace.

“I’m so horny, Toji~” you cooed, rubbing your hand up and down his covered chest, “I need you.”

“Nice try.” The man responded, snorting as he flicked your forehead with his other hand, making you gasp, “I know your game here, little minx. You’re not getting me to fuck you.”

“How mean.” You said, pouting adorably and showing off the lip gloss you had put on, “If you’re not interested, then this can probably go on past November-“ “Not a chance.” Toji growled, gripping your waist so tightly it made you gasp, “You know I’m owning that pussy once this month is up. So be a good girl and wait.” “Wait?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, “Why do I have to wait? I’m not doing the stupid challenge.” You smiled at the way Toji’s eyes followed you as you got off of him, bending over in front of him as you reached for a familiar drawer in the bedside table.

“Just because you’re not going to fuck me doesn’t mean I can’t have fun~” you said, holding up your favorite wand vibrator as well as a thick, vibrating dildo. “It’s not as big as you, but it’s good enough~”

  What proceeded was the worst yet best night of Toji’s life. He watched as you pleasured yourself, your sweet moans echoing through the room as you fucked yourself with your toys. With the vibrator rubbing your clit and the dildo sliding in and out of your pussy, you practically gave him a private show. Your lingerie was still on your body but pulled aside to expose your breasts and your cunt, making you look so delicious he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He didn’t dare to touch himself as he helped you along with your session, growling dirty things into your ear as he took over and fucked your cunt with the dildo, working it way better than you could yourself, groaning in delight as he suckled on your nipples as he drove you over the edge.

His dick was so hard it felt like it would explode. But he wouldn’t budge. He wanted to- God he wanted to- but he was going to stay strong. The reward he’d get for sticking with this at the end of the month would feel way better than the momentary pleasure he’d get from rubbing one out. So he stayed strong. Days went by, feeling longer and longer and your antics growing more and more bold. Your masturbation sessions were happening often, you were walking around the house in skimpy clothing, he’d wake up and find that you had ‘accidentally somehow fallen asleep with your face close to his cock’ but try as you might, you couldn’t break him.

He increased the ice-cold showers. He took longer working hours to distract himself. He fingered you so he could remind you of how good he was going to take you once the month was up. Hell, he even took up meditation to try and ease the tension in his body. And finally. Finally. After all that hard work- he made it.

He did it. He actually did it.

He was on the last day of November.

A full month of no sex. No pleasure. No jacking off. His cock hurt and his balls ached so badly, dying for some release and he couldn't wait to get it. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, he was going to take you and pound the shit out of you- fucking you so hard you won't be able to walk for days. He made sure you knew it too. Throughout the day, he was whispering filth to you, growling in your ear and palming his cock in front of you, loving the blush on your face as he detailed all the bad and naughty things he was going to do to you tonight. There was no doubt you felt defeated and after this, he was going to break and punish you.

Just an hour. He could do this. He was going to do this!

He was lounging on the couch of the living room, not focusing on what was on the TV as his mind was occupied with lust when he saw you walk out of their bedroom and upto him.

"How do I look?" you asked, twirling around so he could see your outfit. It was a cute short dress with a pair of leggings and he hummed in approval.  

"You going out?" he asked.

"Yup!" you said, suddenly dragging a suitcase from behind you, "I’m going to my parents’ house."

Toji raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening. What?

What?

"Excuse me?" he asked, watching as you dragged your suitcase over to the door.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention it before." you said casually, clearly ignoring the expression on his face, "Last minute plan- you know how it is."

"Bullshit." the man snarled, walking upto you before slamming his hands on the wall behind you, caging you, "You're just trying to fuck with me, aren't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" you asked, a curious tilt in your tone which told Toji all he needed to know, "I just miss home and I know you have a busy workday tomorrow so I didn’t think you’d want to come. That’s not a problem, is it? I’ll only be there for a week.”

“A week-“ Toji growled, nails digging into his fist as he still cornered you against the wall, “You’re not fucking serious.”

You shrugged, faking innocence, “I mean, is there any reason I shouldn’t go? I have a few days off from work and my mom has been begging me to come by someday. The train leaves in…” you checked your watch, ignoring Toji’s scoffs at your audacity, “thirty minutes. So I better get going-“

“You’re not going anywhere you little brat!” Toji snarled, his patience snapping. There was no way in hell he was going to let you leave and have you been gone for a week. He was confident you were just bluffing but he was not taking that change. With a growl, he bent down and threw you over his shoulder, making you yelp as you were suddenly held upside down. He gave you butt a sharp spank, a slap so hard it made you forget how to breathe for a second before he stormed towards the bedroom.

“Wh- what about the bet?” you asked once he threw you onto the bed, Toji immediately getting undressed as he practically ripped his shirt off.

“Fuck the bet.” He said, grabbing you by the ankles before he pulled you towards him, a feral look in his eyes as he fisted the fabric of your tights, “Fuck No Nut November. And fuck you.”

You gasped as he started tearing apart your tights, the fabric ripping away like paper as all he could think about was fucking you. You could see the imprint of his cock straining against his sweatpants, you man already hot and bothered and eager. Your heart was beating fast in your chest, the excitement over-riding the fact that you were going to win the bet. Once the tights were torn enough and before you could even get a second to complain, he flipped you onto your stomach.

He slid your panties to the side, so desperate for you that he couldn’t be bothered to properly undress you before he grabbed two greedy handfuls of your ass. You mewled under him as he squeezed, the man spreading your cheeks apart before he dove in, face first. You yelped as Toji took a long, rough lick of your pussy, the familiar sensation something you truly missed since the start of the bet. You gasped and moaned as he started feasting on your cunt, his thick tongue sliding into you and working you open, your pussy slowly getting wet for him.

Toji growled against you, the vibration making you feel even better as he got you hot and bothered. His cock was so hard it was genuinely hurting him, the sensation of your pussy against his tongue and the taste of your sweet nectar making him go into overdrive. But even your pussy wasn’t going to make him forget how you pissed him off.

“Mmph- this isn’t for you- got it?” he snarled, smacking your ass once to get your attention, “I’m getting this cunt wet enough to fuck my fat cock deep inside you. I don’t care if you feel good and I don’t give a shit if you cum or not- you’ve gotten enough of that this month.”

“Don’t be- ah- mean.” You protested, gasping as he suddenly pulled away from you and flipped you onto your back again. “Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.” Toji said as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it up harshly, also not caring to take it off completely. All he wanted was access to your tits and once he pulled your bra upto your chin, he got what he wanted. “You’ll see just how mean I can be.”

He took a nipple into his mouth before you could say anything, not wanting to hear anything out of your lips unless it was moans, cries or apologies. He slid his fingers into your panties, his thick digits sliding between your damp pussy lips, the slick sound of the contact echoing through the air. Despite the attitude, he knew you missed him too. Dildos just didn’t compare to him.

He slid a finger inside you, the glide easy due to your wetness as he slowly but thoroughly started stretching you out for his cock. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at it harshly as he suckled on your nipple, his tongue twirling the sensitive bud around before he bit down, making you yelp from the pain. You rocked your hips against his fingers, arching your back as he slid a second one inside you before scissoring you open just how you like it.

“Fuck- good enough.” Toji said, separating from your nipple (which he indeed sucked raw) and gently taking his fingers out of you. He knelt between your legs after he gave you a quick peck on the lips, pushing his pants down to reveal his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, your pussy throbbing as you gazed at the member you practically hadn’t seen all month. It was rock hard and twitching, precum leaking out of the tip that was so red, you wondered if it would burn your tongue if you sucked on it. His balls were always big and heavy and you didn’t know if the time apart muddled your memory a bit but you swore, they were somehow bigger.

  “Spread those fucking legs- show me that pussy.” Toji said, gripping his cock before he started tapping it against your cunt, purposefully targeting your clit and making you tremble from each hit, “Look at that. So needy and dripping even though you fucked yourself on that dildo every other night.”

He spat on your pussy, making you gasp at the vile action but it made your cunt gush even more. He truly was using you like he owned you. His cockhead rubbed at the glob of saliva that was trailing down your cunt before he finally, finally pressed it against your entrance.

“I won’t last long, but I don’t care.” Toji said, rocking his hips lightly as he teased your hole, “You’re here to be my cum dump. You’re here for my pleasure, got it?”

You couldn’t help but he bratty even though every fibre of your being wanted to beg the man to just fuck you already: “Enjoy it since I’m winning this bet~” “Oh, are you sure about that?”

You frowned at his words before your eyes widened and you looked over at the clock to see that…it was midnight. November was officially over. And you had lost.

“That- ah!” you screamed loudly as Toji plunged his cock into you, his girth splitting apart your wet, velvet walls as he pushed into your cunt. He laughed as he got inside you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt your pussy wrap around him, that sweet, amazing feeling of your walls squeezing him greedily. He grabbed your legs by the back of your knees before pushing them upto your chest, catching you in a mating press, driving his cock deep, deep inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck- fuck!” you squealed, the whiplash from realizing you lost to the sensation of your cunt being stuffed full for the first time in a month making your head spin, “I thought- you- fuck!” “Nice try baby.” Toji snarled, body trembling as he got to feel your cunt again, his balls already threatening to spill his seed inside you, “But you’re going to have to try harder- fuck yes- if you wanna beat me~”

He lifted his hips up and thrust into you again, both of you moaning as he stuffed his cock deep inside your delicious cunt. He started picking up the pace, the nasty sound of his balls clapping against your ass was music to his ears as he started using you. This was for him.

“You’re my toy now, understand?” he asked, tightening his hold on your legs and keeping you nice and folded for him, “my sweet little fuck toy that I’m going to use to break every. Single. Fucking. Night!” he thrust harshly at each word, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his cock deliciously slide inside you, truly owning you. You hated to admit it, but you were secretly happy he won. As he pounded into you, you couldn’t help but remember how torturous this month was for you as well.

Sore pussy be damned, you were too addicted to Toji to give him up.

And while you swore you had more time before midnight struck, you were too cock drunk to think about it. Which was good for Toji as he thought ahead and might have changed the timing on the clock to make it a touch faster. But what you didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt you and by the time he was done with you, you’d forget how to count anyway.

[vigilante-3073]

Law & Medicine

James Wilson x Female Attorney Reader

Part 2

Summary: House finally meets Wilson's fiancée. He quickly learns that she is not someone to mess around with.

TW: Dating, lying, mentions of money/debts, House being House.

House looked up from his computer screen when he heard a soft knock on the glass door to his office. A young woman stood in the doorway with a briefcase in her hand.

"Hello, you must be Doctor House. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Y/N greeted politely. She made her way over, holding her hand out for him to shake.

House took her hand, giving it a gentle shake before releasing it, "I'm glad that I could get ahold of you. I'm in a pretty bad spot right now and I've heard that you're the best," House said.

Y/N nodded, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk, "Separations can be difficult and they definitely bring out the worst in people," Y/N replied.

House nodded, "I'm having a pretty difficult separation and my ex-wife wants to take everything I have. She's been a stay at home mom for our six kids and I will do anything to keep those sweet little rugrats," House said with a smile.

Y/N nodded, "A family man will definitely appeal to the court. You also have the advantage of making quite a bit of money because of your position. You're definitely going to have to pay some alimony, but I'll do what I can to keep it reasonable," She said, pulling out a leather portfolio and flipping it open. Y/N pulled a pen from the holder before beginning to jot down notes on her notepad.

"I just- I thought we would be together forever. Our marriage started out all hot and heavy before things fell apart. W-we haven't even made love for almost two years. It's just been so hard," House said shakily, sniffling as he struggled to contain his ficticious emotions.

"To me, you seem like a sweet man who's going through a hard time, Doctor. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you keep your kids. Can you tell me their names and ages?" Y/N asked, preparing her pen.

House hesitated, "Of course. There's Ben, he's ten, James, he's twelve, Barbara, she's three, Louis, he's two and our sweet little Fernando. He's three and it's also up for debate if he's actually mine," House said.

"What about the sixth child?" Y/N asked.

"Oh, that's David, he's nine," House replied easily.

"Ben and Barbara are twins, I assume?" Y/N questioned, looking down at her notepad.

"Yeah, it was a hard pregnancy for the wife," House said.

Y/N set her pen down, "You said Ben was ten and Barbara was three," She said, closing her folder.

"Yes, lots of kids and hard to remember," House said.

"Listen, Doctor House, I am not an idiot like you'd clearly like to think," Y/N stated.

House narrowed his eyes, "Wilson told you, didn't he?" House questioned.

"He did... He loves me and didn't want me walking into something that I was unequipped to handle, but he doesn't know the kind of people that I deal with on a daily basis. I can smell bullshit from a mile away and you absolutely reek of it, honey," Y/N said.

She tucked her portfolio into her bag and zipped it up before sitting back in her seat.

"So, do you have any real questions to ask me or would you like to continue spinning bullshit about your fictional family?" Y/N questioned.

House watched her for a second, "I like you," He said.

Y/N smirked, "Glad to hear it," She replied.

...

Y/N was sitting at the table, typing away on her laptop as she replied to various emails from coworkers and clients. Wilson made his way over to the dinner table, setting two plates of pasta down before taking a seat across from his fiancée.

Y/N closed her laptop and pushed it aside, "Thank you for cooking tonight, honey," She said, picking up her fork.

"Of course, it's the least I could do since you had to deal with House," Wilson said.

Y/N smirked, "He's not as clever as he thinks he is. I let him talk for enough time that I can bill him so I doubt he'll try anything like that with me again," She said.

"You sent him a bill?" Wilson smiled, Y/N nodded.

"You're amazing," He said.

"Hopefully he can afford it. Apparently he has six kids and a crazy ex," Y/N smiled.

Wilson laughed, "House seriously made up a whole story to try and mess with you?" He asked.

"Yeah, he's definitely got a screw loose or something. He folded immediately when I called him out on it though," Y/N said, taking a bite of her food.

Wilson watched her with a soft smile, she looked up at him curiously when she realized that he was watching her.

"What?" She questioned.

"He came to talk to me after you left," Wilson said.

"What did he say?" Y/N asked, taking a sip of her water.

"He likes you... He said that he thinks you're good for me," Wilson said.

"Is that a cause for concern?" Y/N questioned, setting her glass down on the table.

"Well, I don't know because he's never liked any of my significant others before you," Wilson said.

"Seriously?" Y/N asked, her tone suddenly becoming serious.

"Yeah," Wilson said.

She sat back in her seat, "I thought he was just a manipulative ass," Y/N stated.

"Well, most of the time he is. Somewhere in all of his craziness, he cares about me and that was his way of showing it," Wilson said.

"You're kind of a package deal then, huh?" Y/N asked.

"I think so... Does that bother you?" He asked.

Y/N shrugged, "I don't mind. As long as he doesn't think he gets free legal consultations because he seems like a guy who gets into some shady stuff," She said, taking another bite of her pasta.

"How did you know that?" Wilson asked.

"It's my job, honey. He also seems like the type to borrow thousands and never pay his debts," Y/N replied.

Wilson stared at her in shock, "It's like you're a wizard," He mumbled.

Y/N set down her fork, "How much does he owe you?" She asked.

"He bought a motorcycle," Wilson admitted softly.

Y/N grabbed her phone and stood up from the table, "Where are you going?" Wilson questioned.

"I just need to make a quick call. I'll be right back," Y/N said.

She made her way out of the room, Wilson watched the clock closely as he waited for her to return. Y/N came back to the table after less than five minutes and sat back down, she picked up her fork and returned to her meal.

"What did you do?" Wilson questioned.

"You'll find out tomorrow," Y/N replied simply.

...

Wilson read through the morning paper as he sipped on a coffee and ate a bagel. The hospital cafeteria was busy, the quiet chatter of staff and visitors filling the room.

Wilson kept his eyes focused on the story he was reading as someone sat down across from him. Wilson set aside his paper when he finished reading, looking up to find House sitting across from him.

"Is everything okay?" Wilson asked, House looked around before pulling an envelope from his blazer.

House set the envelope down and slid it across the table to his friend. Wilson raised an eyebrow before he picked up the envelope and opened it, eyes widening when he saw the stack of hundred dollar bills inside.

"All the money I owe you and your fiancée," House said.

"What? Are you serious?" Wilson questioned, House nodded.

"What did she say to you?" Wilson asked curiously.

House shifted uncomfortably, "Doesn't matter," He muttered, grabbing the other half of Wilson's bagel.

Wilson watched him as he took a bite, avoiding eye contact with his friend as he chewed.

"I know she called you last night... What did she say?" Wilson pressed.

House shook his head, "Don't mess with that woman," He stated.

House tossed the bagel back onto Wilson's plate before standing up from the table. He left without another word and Wilson wasn't even sure what to make of the interaction.

Wilson couldn't help but wonder what Y/N said to make House fork over almost $10,000 without any argument. He went through his day as usual and stepped out during his lunch break to deposit the funds into his bank account.

Wilson stopped to purchase a bottle of champagne on his way home before he began cooking Y/N's favorite meal. Wilson stepped out of the kitchen when he heard her key slide into the lock on the apartment door.

Y/N stepped into the apartment, setting her briefcase down and taking off her coat. Y/N took off her heels with a relieved sigh before looking up at her fiancé.

"Is everything okay?" Y/N questioned nervously.

"He paid me... House paid me for everything and he even paid you back too," Wilson said.

"Oh, good," Y/N said.

"Very very good. You are amazing and I love you so much," Wilson said, taking her hands in his.

"I love you too, baby," She smiled.

Wilson leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss, "Why don't you get changed into something comfy because I may or may not have some bubbly for us to share," Wilson offered, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I didn't even do that much for you," Y/N laughed softly.

"You did more in one five minute phone call than I have managed in five years," Wilson said.

"You're lucky that I don't mind being spoiled," Y/N teased, pressing another quick kiss to his lips.

Wilson watched her walk into the bedroom with a smile. He had no doubt that she was the one for him and he was excited to make it official.

It was also nice to finally have someone who would stand up for him, even if he would never find out how she managed to get House to cough up $10,000.

Maybe he didn't need to know.

[raayllum]

Anyway I did my 2nd watch of the season after sleeping / with the end in mind and it totally worked for me, especially with the understanding that there is 30% of the story left (and thereby Callum and Rayla's arcs aren't Over and room for more growth/plot had to be left open) and watching with the ending in mind.

I'm not upset that this is where Arc 2 ends, in some ways because it's sort of like season 2 of Avatar where Zuko doesn't join the Gaang in their 2nd arc (book two) because from a character basis he really wasn't Ready to do that / they had more story to tell, so I don't think with what they're doing it would've made sense to rush it in TDP. Nor do I think any of the previous set up for other outcomes (i.e. possession fight, salvation, etc) were wasted. Merely that TDP likes to do layer upon layer, and also have foreshadowing come back once (so you think you're safe) and then twice. I also don't think that Arc 2 resolved all the threads (i.e. Rayllum and greater good conflict / Aaravos & Callum) and ended them, and instead nudged them forwards in interesting ways for continued future exploration. I'll probably write more about the specifics later if this post doesn't get unwieldy or condensed with them for now.

In the meantime, these were things that I found really clicked for me on my 2nd watch through for S7 and with Arc 2 in general:

1) Arc 2's overarching focus on the Archdragons / the finale resolution with it.

We had a focus every season on at least one of the archdragons, with Zubeia (S4-S7), Luna Tenebris mentions (S4-S6), Rex Igenous (S4), Domina Profundis (S5), Sol Regem (S5-S6), and Avizandum mentions (S4-S5).

With that in mind, while I'm sure Aaravos' intentions was for no one to know of his plans ahead of time (7x01)... his actions also led to Callum and co. making connections to all the other Archdragons that they could pull on to bring everyone back to Lux Aurea, and Aaravos could destroy them (with no real consequence to himself, as his spirit was now free and his body could reform), taking a massive swing at the Cosmic Council's grand order that'd been enforced by the archdragons. He said the elves and dragons would fall hard... and now the dragons have, with the Cosmic Council being next (and thinking that the real focus on the Cosmic Council would be predominantly in arc 3 was, I believe, the general fandom consensus anyway).

AARAVOS: Now this is familiar, isn't it? Hasn't this all happened before? Arrogant fools. Again and again you make the same mistakes. (7x09)

Suitably, though, the Archdragons sacrifice themselves to protect all of Xadia, making amends for past / previous actions in their own way (narratively). They upheld the Cosmic Order, and then chose to break it.

Now, Aaravos will be returning to a world where there are no archdragons, and the only thing that can destroy his mortal form again would be the Nova Blade or some dark magic spell to take his spirit (but more on that later).

This also caps off S7 being about the destruction caused by one Archdragon (Sol Regem) and then the salvation through sacrifice from the other four as the finale. It comes full circle, but without repeating the cycle.

It also seems like the Nova Blade hasn't actually ever been used, as Aaravos states in 7x07:

She could have used the blade to destroy me, but chose instead to help imprison me. To spare me.

Or if it has, it still has a massive consequence that Zubeia is familiar with (the wielderdies if it's used to kill someone?), given that she is worried when Zym (and Ez wielding the sword) appears, intending to use it:

I'll also talk a bit more about why I think Aaravos designed 7x09 to be a win-win scenario for him no matter what when I get to Callum's section, but in the meantime...

2) Rayla's arc

Listen, y'all know I wanted Rayla to save Callum, like a lot, and thought there was a good chance she would if he was possessed again. However, neither of those things happened (also circumstances were crazy) and it was built up throughout the seasons, as well as in S7:

RAYLA: We can't save everyone, Soren. There's too much at stake. (4x05) RAYLA: But I can't help you yet... because right now, the world needs me. Callum and Ezran need me. There's a great evil returning to Xadia and we have to stop it, at any cost. (5x01) RAYLA: It hurts me to know they're trapped like this. It's agonizing. But our mission comes first. The world is in danger, and you can trust me to stay focused. (5x04) RAYLA: No, Callum. I want to help my parents, but I won't let it bias me. (6x01)

The season 7 setup is most prominently seen in S7 during Rayla's trial, in which she emphasizes that the assassins' deaths were not in vain due to the subsequent impact on the world as a whole, and in how their assassin pledges were upheld in their own way:

Life is precious. life is valuable. We take it, but we do not take it lightly. All of your lives were taken. But your sacrifices, they weren't for nothing. Callisto, you pledged your breath for freedom and we freed ourselves from an awful, pointless war. Andromeda, you pledged your eyes for truth. And we found the truth, a truth that changed the world. Skor, you pledged your strength for honour, and now humans and elves have finally begun to treat each other with honour again. And... Ram. You pledged your blood for justice. But what is justice? The king died that night. A life for a life. Is that justice? How much suffering is enough to paid for the mistakes we've made? I don't have the answers. But I'll carry you with me, all of you, forever.

So it made sense for her assassin oath to come back in some manner ("My heart for Xadia"). She had to honour her team's sacrifices by being willing to make her own (killing Callum and herself by symbolic extension), partially because her and Callum's "ride or die" dynamic had become a "ride and die" dynamic": this was his plan and his choice, and the alternative was to let him succumb to a fate worse than death AND to let Aaravos destroy the world through his hands.

And I get why this feels kind of backwards, because on the one hand, it seems like Rayla made a lot of progress, even questioning the validity of her own suffering for mistakes she / choices others have made, which is Huge!

And yet she's willing to suffer, and sacrifice Callum. The paying the price motif is even brought back in Aaravos' dialogue with the archdragons ("And what will your sacrifices buy?"). So what gives?

Well, I think in a lot of ways Arc 2 was Rayla learning to accept and ask for help (S5-S6), that she wasn't alone (S4, S7), and working to come back every time she leaves (S4) but... still being prepared to leave:

and still with sharing or acknowledging her own burdens not being her instinct.

There's a reason we all went "Rayla refusing to sacrifice Callum would be Character Development" after all. I also think it's quasi-similar to Rayla leaving after S3. She had a lot of opportunities to learn that she didn't have to do everything alone in arc 1, but those lessons didn't stick; in a similar fashion, Rayla had opportunities throughout arc 2 to learn that she doesn't always have to sacrifice something, but with Callum being increasingly sacrificial... Those lessons were there, but didn't stick. The other side of her sacrifice arc is not resolved.

With that in mind, I wanna talk about our favourite dorky mage, and then maybe arc 3.

3) Aaravos' Grand Plan & Callum's Corruption

This is a little hard to parse out just because we don't know what Aaravos' next step / goal was in bringing about Eternal Night (presumably to get the attention of the Cosmic Council, but who knows). That said, a few things I'm chewing on:

Aaravos, as previously discussed, found the most effective way to rid the world of (presumably) every Archdragon other than Zym

Aaravos, for whatever reason, wanted Ezran to have the Nova Blade, which Aanya even sets up for us in 7x09

Aaravos knew all along that Callum would turn to dark magic to take him down.

AARAVOS: Very soon, your brother will embrace dark magic to save those he loves. EZRAN: I suppose you've seen that written in the stars? AARAVOS: I have seen it written in his eyes. (7x07)

Furthermore, he wanted to have Callum be corrupted again, gave him the apple in 7x01 as the first attempt. The apple corruption was lampshaded with "Is there anything I can do to help?" + identity/name motif. Aaravos was actively goading him into dark magic in 7x09, even when he knew there was an assassin ready to kill Callum (Runaan), and smiling even when Callum began the spell (once Rayla had stepped in).

As of S7, Callum has been called (and not disputed being at least partially) a dark mage, used Viren's staff and now has it in his possession (and we still don't know why it was never supposed to be used again), and has a white streak. The willingness to go that far "has always been a part of" him and is now permanently reflected in his character design.

Secondly, we know that Aaravos' game with his pawns is not over, due to the secrets of the cube being ongoing (but confirmation in 7x09 that it indeed points towards Elarion) and due to framing with Claudia.

While I did consider that maybe Callum's pawn intro imagery had come back around in the conversation in 7x06 featuring the cube so heavily (!!) and then Callum choosing to do dark magic to stop Aaravos and save everyone as his destiny ("The one I write myself")... He's still corrupted, Aaravos is still going to come back in 7 years with Callum as a vessel, and the Key to the Book (metaphorically to literally the Book of Destiny) is still unresolved.

TLDR; think about how much it'd Hurt in a Good Way for Callum and Rayla to both know she would've sacrificed him for the greater good (fulfilling her end of foreshadowing from 6x03) only to be smacked in the face that Callum refuses to sacrifice her in Arc 3 with the other side of his ("if you ever have to choose between me and the greater good...").

The fact that the Cube canonically points towards Elarion, which feature stories about "a fair exchange of beloved for beloved" after a season in which Aaravos mandates "Your beloved is an assassin who cannot kill" is just the cherry on top. It also means that both Callum and Rayla have accordingly hit the 50-75% wavelength of their arc(s), with us now having a definitive basis for her being willing to that sets up more clearly her being not willing to in the future, the circumstances we'd need for a possession fight re-established, and the cube beat still on the table because the cube itself is still waiting to be plot relevant.

Rayla always follows Callum's lead ("Say the word and I'll go back into that tower with you") and reflects him ("Who told you that?" "You did") and the lessons he teaches her about love. He'll pave the way, and she'll follow, and then their arcs will come to a close.

We just had to get here first.

Conclusion??

Anyway I hope you enjoyed, I want to do a bigger Arc 3 predictions post (the ruby project, Evrkynd, Claudia, Harrow, etc.) sometime soon, but I hope in the meantime this brought some potentially needed assurance, excitement, or another perspective to consider.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Manners

A/N: So I saw something in a museum when I was on holiday about curtseying and then like the weirdo I am my brain turned that into a fic. Enjoy!

Pairing: 73!Elvis x wife!reader

Word count: 2.4K

TWs: Reader calls Elvis Daddy and Sir, sub/dom themes, Elvis is teacherish, the cane makes an appearance, praise kink, Elvis talks reader through it, smut including a bit of a rough blowjob.

You stand nervously in front of him, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. You know he doesn't like it when you fiddle but you can't help it. He's been sitting on the couch, reading and ignoring you ever since he called you into the room what has to be at least five minutes ago, although it seems like twenty, and it's making you feel kinda awkward. Part of you wants to mumble your excuses and go back to what you were doing, but the rest knows that wouldn't be a good idea. He did call you in after all, so he must want something. You've always struggled to stand still though, no matter how hard you try, shifting your weight from foot to foot as your fingers caress the very edge of your dress. Impatient, that's what he always calls you. An impatient little girl. But you can't help it if waiting in silence for him to finish reading an unknowable amount of book is boring. You hate being bored. It baffles you how often he subjects you to it, actually. Considering you're absolutely certain that you mentioned it at least ten times. 

“Baby, ya've gotta stand still. Yer causin’ a distraction.”

He hasn't even looked up, his eyes still fixed on the page. Or you think they are anyway, the shades make it hard to tell. You're sure this head hasn't moved though. 

You bite your lip, hard, and let go of your dress. “Yes, Daddy,” you reply, trying to use the sharp pang of pain to focus your mind. You can stand there without shuffling. It's got to be possible. Those guards at Buckingham Palace don't move for hours, so a little girl from Kentucky should be able to manage a few minutes. 

After what genuinely seems like forever, he closes his book, sets it to one side and moves his attention to you. You can feel yourself colouring as he looks you up and down, studying every inch of you. It goes on for far too long, and you start to worry about your hair and whether the humidity has made it frizzy, and then whether your dress has creases from where you've bunched it up to get it out of the way when you were scrubbing the floor earlier. Maybe your eyeliner is smudged, the bow in your hair is crooked, your nail polish is chipped. A million worries go through your head as he continues his silent observations. You wipe your slightly sweaty palms on your skirt and toss your head a little in the hopes of rearranging your hair. He chuckles. 

“Can't keep still, can ya? Impatient lil thing.”

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you wet your lips with your tongue as you try to endure the intensity of his gaze without any more shuffling about. 

“Sorry, Daddy.”

Looking down, your eyes alight on his black boots, shining from the polish you'd given them the other day. The memory of the way you'd done it makes your cheeks burn with shame, it's certainly not how your mother had taught you to polish shoes, and you briefly wonder what she'd think if she knew what your life was really like here. Just a nice country girl, thinking her daughter had married well, into fame and fortune and the Presley family. Having no idea the sorts of things he asked you to do on a daily basis. The sorts of things you enjoyed doing. 

“Baby, I've been readin’ somethin’ that might interest ya.”

His smooth baritone interrupts your thoughts and your head whips up, eyes meeting the shadow of his behind the shades. 

“Really?” 

Another low chuckle. “Really. Book ‘bout manners.”

You look at him, wide-eyed, as he continues. 

“Young ladies used ta curtsey fer their masters.”

Your stomach drops at the word master, and you can feel tingling between your legs. 

“They did?” You breathe. 

A grin spreads lazily across his face. “They sure did, honey. Thought ya might like ta learn how.” He's leaning back against the couch in that self-assured way he has, hands resting on his spread thighs. 

“Yessir,” you reply, sensing the slight change in atmosphere. 

His grin gets somehow wider at the use of the honorific, and he opens the book back to the page he’d just been looking at, holding it up for you to see. 

“Alright then. Feet out ta the sides like this, baby.” Tapping the picture in the middle of the page with his index finger. 

You shift your feet out as far as you can, then put your hands behind your back as he tells you. He nods his approval, reaching for his cane, which you somehow hadn’t noticed had been propped up against the couch this whole time. You’d been too busy looking at him. You might’ve been bored, but his attention was all you wanted.

“Bend yer knees,” he continues, tapping one with the end of the cane. “That’s it. Keep bendin’ ‘em honey. Keep goin’. Very nice. Now straighten up again.”

You do as you’re told, springing back to an upright position with your legs straight. His teeth seem to gleam as he grins again. 

“Very good. Again.”

You weren’t really expecting to have to do it again, but you repeat the movement as he gets up from the couch to stand in front of you, watching you bob down and back up. 

“Don’t stop, honey.”

Slightly flustered, you curtsey again, trying not to move your head to follow him as he starts to walk around you, looking at you from all angles. 

“Straighten up, honey.” A tap to your lower back with the head of the cane. “Keep yer chin up.” His fingers under your chin, pushing firmly. “No stickin’ that lil bottom of yours out, now. Keep goin’ straight up an’ down.” He taps your ass with the cane, just hard enough to make you flinch. To make you remember other times he’s tapped you not quite so lightly. 

Your quads are starting to ache from the movement, and you feel the start of sweat beading on your brow too. His warm breath on the back of your neck as he talks you through what he wants you to do, praising you when you’re getting it right, the smell of him… it’s driving you crazy, wanting his lips pressed up against yours, his tongue in your mouth. You feel something hard nudge your hip as he leans closer, whispering that you should be looking straight ahead as you dip down for what seems like the hundredth time. A sharp little exhale gives away your discomfort and he smiles to himself as he asks you for just one more, one more perfect one for Daddy. 

“Yessir.” Your voice is hoarse, lust-filled. 

“Oh that’s my good girl,” he coos. “Ya can stop now.”

Your legs tremble as you stand there, watching him move back to the couch, his legs splayed and his obvious hard-on on display for you. The idea that you’ve got him so excited makes you giddy. 

“Well, I think ya got it down, baby,” he tells you, with a wink as he removes his shades. “Think ya deserve a reward. Whaddya want?”

You can barely tear your eyes away from that big bulge in his pants and you can’t think of anything else but how much you want his dick in your mouth right now. 

“Can I suck you?” 

He blinks, that’s not the answer he was expecting at all, but surprise is soon followed by delight. What a good girl you are. “Such a fuckin’ good girl,” he murmurs, undoing his belt. “So good fer me.” He gestures for you to kneel between his legs. “Don’t deserve ya, baby.” Unzipping his pants and freeing his aching dick. “C’mere.”

You shuffle closer, opening your mouth obediently, feeling it water at the sight of him. He gently eases the tip between your lips, pumping it slowly as you run your tongue around the head, enjoying the sound of him moaning softly. As you start to take more of him, you look up to see him reaching for a cigar and lighting it, taking a long drag. His hand cups your cheek and he softly encourages you until his whole dick has disappeared inside your mouth, puffs of cigar smoke enveloping you both. His fingers continue to caress your cheek, murmurs of praise and encouragement falling from his lips as he grips the cigar between his teeth and adds his other hand to your face, holding you oh-so-gently while his hips start to thrust upwards, the end of his dick nudging the back of your throat and making you gag. 

Your eyes water, and feeling your stomach clench you shift to get a better angle, one that gives him a clearer route to fuck your throat, hands demurely resting behind your back. Groaning at the sight of you and the feeling of tightness all around him, his fingers knit into your hair, hips snapping now, trying to hold back so as to avoid hurting his princess, but failing a little more with every movement. 

“Yer so goddamn perfect, baby,” he mumbles around the cigar, still trapped between his teeth. “Gonna cum right in that perfect little mouth a yours.”

Your watery eyes look up at him, lost in pleasure, you can tell he’s only a few strokes away from completion. You love watching him like this, out of control because of you. The final thrust forces him further down your throat than he’s ever been before, and you cough and your eyes stream, but you swallow it all down anyway. You don’t want to waste a single drop. 

“Lemme see,” he instructs, lazily, putting the cigar into the ashtray as you pull off him, saliva trailing out of your mouth. He grins as you stick your tongue out to show him you’ve swallowed. “Good girl.” Putting himself away with trembling hands, he pats his thighs. “Come sit in Daddy’s lap.”

You wipe your wet lips with the back of your hand and shakily get up off your knees, letting him help you sit sideways in his lap. One arm is around your body, holding you to him, as the other runs up your leg, feeling the bumps on your skin from kneeling on the carpet for so long. 

“So good ta me,” he murmurs, kissing your face, then your lips. 

You moan into the kiss, the place between your legs is so hot and swollen and so needy for him. His big arms make you feel safe and warm and that rich, woody smell that surrounds him makes you melt into his kisses. His hand carries on its journey, sliding under your skirt now, the coldness of his rings and the roughness of his palms just adding to the sensations. 

“Not even askin’ fer anything, after bein’ so good,” he coos, fingers deftly moving your panties to the side. “Can’t leave yer pussy like this though, can we?”

His fingers slide through the slickness he finds between your legs, making it very hard to think, let alone speak. 

“Hm?” He encourages, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, his nose tickling the end of yours. 

“N-no Sir…” you finally manage. 

He smiles. “She’s all wantin’ an’ needy…” he slides his fingers down to your entrance. “Can’t leave her like that… all empty…” he pushes one finger in, and then another quickly follows. You gasp. “Not after all ya’ve done fer me.” His thumb brushes your clit as he starts to pump his fingers in and out, lubricated by your arousal, his eyes flicking over your face to watch your reaction. You whimper at the feeling, pushing your face into his chest. “Pretty, selfless little girl didn’t even ask ta cum… so goddamn patient…” he whispers in your ear, fingers still working you in the way he knows will make you come undone. “Best girl I ever had…” he continues, praise so intense it’s making you blush, pleasure filling your body. It feels like he’s holding you right on the edge of orgasm and it’s starting to make you crazy. 

“Uhhhhh.” Muffled into his shirt.

You hear that tell-tale low chuckle of his at the noise you just made, knowing he’s fucking you stupid only using his fingers, knowing he doesn’t need anything else. Sometimes you think he could make you cum just by talking to you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he coos, back to encouragement again, feather-light kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, pressed into your hair. “Cum all over Daddy’s hand. You can do it. Fer me. Reward fer bein’ so patient…”

You feel it start to build then, his fingers brushing against that place inside of you as he increases the pressure with his thumb. All those years of guitar playing… people said he wasn’t any good, could only do basic rhythm parts, but he’s playing you like a damn virtuoso… your attempts at being demure fly completely out of the window when it finally hits, fingers grasping desperately at his shirt, head tipped back, back arching as you moan low and dirty, looking like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Yes… fuck…” he mutters, holding you as he gently finger-fucks you through it until you’re flopped against him, breathing heavily. 

Watching you as you lean your head on his chest, eyes closed, your make-up a mess from the blowjob earlier and your breasts heaving, he wants to hold you like this and never let you go. He slides his fingers out and presses a kiss to your temple. Gradually you start to come back down to earth, eyelashes fluttering as you open your eyes to see him watching you. His cute, lopsided smile makes you smile too, a hand reaching to touch his cheek. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you tell him. 

“You deserve it, baby.”

Still smiling, you feel warmth spreading through you at his words. And then you remember what you were doing earlier.

“Though I should probably curtsey, shouldn’t I?” You giggle.

Elvis chuckles too. “Ya should. But I won’t make ya.” 

Giggling together, you nestle closer into him, and he picks up his book again, flicking through a few pages ahead and then moving so you can see. The next chapter is called "the Texas dip” and there’s a photo of a girl doing it. Her arms are out to the side and one of her legs is bent behind the other. She’s bent over so far at the waist that her head is almost on the floor. You giggle. It looks kind of ridiculous. 

“Whatchu gigglin’ for?” Elvis teases, elbowing you playfully in the side. “This is tomorrow’s lesson, little girl.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @epletsplayhouse @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy @presleyhearted @lvrdollep @nebulamorada @iloveelvis2 @18lkpeters @elvisbdoll

[barrenclan]

sorry if this is spoilers bc we might learn more later. I'm super confused with Rainhaze's thought process. When he was saying its pointless. like. I get not wanting to go back bc he killed his mom. but what did that have to do with Asphodelpaw? Couldnt he just walk away? Did he see her and decide he wanted to be part of Defiance? And this was the tipping point to prove it? I'm super confused. Was it because if she left she'd tell someone? I assume we'll get a better explanation later?

Absolutely! I've actually been waiting for a chance to really dig into this. Like Rainhaze himself, his issue is written with a lot of confusion and uncertainty, and it's not very straight-forwardly, so I understand why his motivations are easy to miss. So here it is!

Firstly; Rainhaze as he existed in BarrenClan and Rainhaze as he is now are two very, very different beasts. Obviously he's still the same person, but he's gone through a mountain of trauma, violence, and was forced to confront the fact that if pressed, he would kill a family member - even his own mother. Sure, in the moment he was threatened into doing it, but it opens the possibility that he'd even do that. Maybe he would've done anything to protect his family then, but it's been a long time.

Then, over many months, he's subjected to propaganda, murder, and terrible treatment. His mental state from where he was when he killed Dustfeather is massively changed. He's depressed, listless, and much more willing to kill. Not only that, but Defiance propaganda has worked on him.

(Issue 24)

With so much constant killing in his life, and being constantly vulnerable, he begins to see death as a good thing. Something that ends suffering, something that doesn't really matter in the end.

(Issue 28)

So now we're at Issue 31. Rainhaze is in a "doldrum", like Ranger says (a period of inactivity or lethargy). He's so torn between his new life and new beliefs, and his old regrets and old connections to BarrenClan, that he's basically attempting to end his own life through inactivity. Ranger doesn't want this. Here's his plan:

Ranger knows that BarrenClan lives opposite the forest, across the prairie. He specifically orders Rainhaze to "kill something", planting that idea in his mind. He's hoping that Rainhaze will find one of his Clan members, and make the decision to kill one of them. This would push Rainhaze over into whatever full breakdown Ranger wants, and solidify his ties to Defiance. And that is what happens. So why did Rainhaze make that decision?

We already have the basis of an incredibly traumatized Rainhaze. He views himself as he is now, and who he used to be, as different people. And he belives that's completely beyond redemption.

Yes, all those months ago he promised he was suffering in Defiance for his family and Clan, but it's really hard to hold onto those noble morals when you're being put through hell every day. Rainhaze hasn't even seen his family in months. They don't seem real to him anymore.

Then he is finally confronted by Asphodelpaw, the symbol of everything he's put himself through torture to protect, and all he wants to do is go back to Defiance. And here we go, getting to these lines;

Rainhaze is a coward.

He's separated from Deepdark and Ranger, by at least several days. He could absolutely come home with Asphodelpaw and warn all of BarrenClan - they could evacuate in time, be far away by the time Defiance arrives on their territory. But then he'd have to face his family, face his sister whose mother he violently murdered. Have to stand there and have them look at him and know him and see the scars on his body.

When he says, "this is vile, pointless, irredeemable, monstrous", he understands that killing Asphodelpaw is a disgustingly cruel action. He knows that. He understands that he's choosing Defiance over her, and over them. But that's the choice he feels he needs to make to protect himself. He's not thinking about his family any more.

So he does something so completely vicious and irredeemable that he is forced to choose Defiance. Because there's no way that any BarrenClan cat would forgive him for this. There's no way he would forgive himself for this.

And thus, Rainhaze figures himself out, and burns every other bridge entirely. He makes his choice.

[flightfoot]

You know, thinking about it, Marinette and Alya take really different approaches to figuring out who did something, whether they're guilty, etc. And I'm not just talking about with Lila, this was established with Chloe back in Despair Bear.

Denis Damocles: So, some smart aleck had the bright idea of calling the fire department. (the students gasp shocked) Somebody amongst us thought it would be funny to waste the fire captain's valuable time. Fireman: Yes, in fact, if you wouldn't mind I... Denis Damocles Hold on! I want the guilty party to apologize to you. Marinette: (whispers to Alya) I'm sure it was Chloé. I saw her on her phone right before the alarm went off! Alya: You seeing her make a phone call isn't solid proof. Marinette: (sighs)

Alya does not like Chloe. She does not think Chloe is a good person. She believes that this is the sort of thing that Chloe would do. But she still isn't going to make the leap that Chloe's definitely guilty, at least when it would involve an actual public confrontation. As Alya pointed out, seeing Chloe on the phone right before ISN'T solid proof. It's evidence, but it's not enough.

And then with Lila, Alya also wants some actual solid evidence before leaping to the conclusion that she's bad or publicly accusing her. While Alya's willing to take positive statements from others at face value or may leap to conclusions if those conclusions aren't too harmful to the person they're about, for anything that would result in an actual accusation, she really wants solid evidence, the kind of thing that you could actually argue in court and not be laughed out for.

Marinette, meanwhile, relies more on prior experience and vibes to determine whether someone is guilty of something. She knows that Chloe's a troublemaker and bully, so if something's gone wrong, she'll immediately conclude that Chloe did it. She knows that Lila's a liar, so she concludes that she's lying about everything (such as her various disabilities and injuries) whether she has evidence of Lila actually lying about that or not. And she knew that Chloe's was a jerk and that her only "friend" Sabrina was an accomplice, so when Chloe spoke positively about her friend and then that friend showed up and appeared to be doing something with gum on her chair, she didn't believe that he was taking the gum off.

It's the two basic methods of determining whodunnit that I see used generally in everyday life. Do you rely on reputation to determine who probably did something, or do you have to wait and try to gather solid evidence that'll hold up better? What's the consequences if you're wrong? And if you're relying on reputation to determine who the culprit is, then you're screwed if someone else has had different experiences with that person than you have, because that's the basis of your argument for them being the culprit.

[lassify]

Behind Test Subject 007: The Science of Anya’s Telepathy

Okay guys… I’m gonna come clean. I’ve had some scientific hypotheses brewing for a while now (not least to use in my fanfic, lol), but since we might be getting close to getting an Anya arc in the SxF manga, I figured that now was as good a time as any to actually try to arrange those theories in something resembling coherent and share them with you all. 

Disclaimer: I am not trying to position myself as an expert. I have studied Psychology and Cognitive Neuroscience at university level, so just for fun I ended up doing a ton of research on this, and I’ve got a lot to cover, so… wish me luck 😅 References will be embedded in the text!

Heads up that this is on the long side and complex as hell and my head physically hurts, so I’ll tackle it in sections:

Part 1: Psychology

My actual subject, but I’ll only skim over a couple of theories…

Part 2: Cognitive Neuroscience (Structural basis)

In which I will look at the individual brain areas which could be relevant to telepathy

Part 3: Cognitive Neuroscience (Functional basis)

In which I talk about how those brain areas communicate to each other

Part 4: Physics

I’ll admit, not my strongest subject, but I’ll mention a couple of theories which could be relevant

If you're ready for your brain to melt, feel free to keep reading...

Part 1: Psychology

There are 2 main theories in Psychology which could offer some explanation for Anya’s psychic abilities. 

Theory 1: Theory of Mind

In short, this describes a person’s capacity to understand other people. It is similar to sympathy or empathy, but actually it is the ability to understand that another person is different to ourselves, that they have their own desires, motivations, and thoughts, and that this is reflected in their behaviour. Even more importantly, it’s about being able to decode other’s mental states, whilst still being able to differentiate it from our own.

Any parent will know that it is a real effort to teach children about trying to understand other people’s perspectives: this is because children typically have an undeveloped Theory of Mind, and it is something that continues to develop even into adulthood. In adults, having a developed Theory of Mind helps us to understand other people’s perspectives, predict other people’s behaviour, and use both empathy and deception. 

Anya has a really strong Theory of Mind, which is actually so impressive for her young age. She understands the complex web of all the secrets: that Twilight is a spy, Yor is an assassin, Yuri is in the Secret Service, and Bond is precognisant. She also understands who knows what about each other, and how she can use all of this information to her advantage - those are some crazy cognitive skills!!

In terms of how this is related to telepathy, you could argue that someone with a strong Theory of Mind (like Anya) may be more likely to:

Understand that people have hidden feelings that they don’t show 

Demonstrate empathy for emotions 

Collate information about their likes and dislikes and past behaviour to predict future behaviour. 

If she is highly sensitive to these things, then it could look like telepathy (even if it isn’t). 

Theory 2: Hyperesthesia.

Many people will have heard of synesthesia, which is a synthesis of the senses to the extent that the sensory information overlaps, but hyperesthesia is about being highly sensitive to external stimuli of the senses such as sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch. 

I can imagine an overlap with Anya’s hyperesthesia and her Theory of Mind to pick up on the nuances of other people’s behaviour, to the extent that reading behaviour could inform the sensation of “reading minds”. 

In a science-fictional world like SxF we could imagine that hyperesthesia could stretch into the sense of extra-sensory perception, by being sensitive to the electromagnetic signals in other people’s brains (or even geomagnetic - more on that in Part 4). From this, it is possible that Anya could “read” people’s minds through deciphering the electromagnetic waveforms that people’s brains might project (more on deciphering brainwaves in Part 3…). 

Part 2: Cognitive Neuroscience - Structural Basis

I think we can all agree that Anya’s telepathic powers would largely be supported by the specific structures of her brain, especially given that Endo has already dropped hints of neuroscience in the manga, and we know that he’s very much interested in accurately depicting psychology and neuropsychology in his story. 

The best way to encourage certain brain areas to develop is by doing exercises and tasks which would use that part of the brain repeatedly: for example, consistent gymnastics practice would enhance the cerebellum, the centre of balance and motor coordination. But, I can picture the experimenters in SxF trying something a lot less… humane.

Like, experimental neurosurgery. 

For example, theoretically, they could artificially enhance certain brain areas by using a neural growth factor serum (this doesn’t exist in real life, but let’s indulge the science fiction elements for a second), and, theoretically, if the experimenters used glycoproteins as the serum’s main content (like laminins and netrins), they could control the pace and direction of neurons growing in a brain, choosing to focus on cellular growth in certain areas. Then, they would be able to view the activity of the targeted areas using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), and measure it with electroencephalography (EEG, see Part 3 for more on this).

If Anya ever had experimental neurosurgeries during her childhood, they would have likely focused on the following areas: 

Corpus Callosum: The corpus callosum is the thick structure of white matter that connects the two hemispheres of the brain, allowing each hemisphere to send signals to the other. With an enlarged corpus callosum, Anya would be able to process neural signals at a much faster rate, and at an increased volume, helping her to process the additional load required for telepathy.

Wernicke’s Area: Named after German neurologist Carl Wernicke, this part of the superior temporal gyrus (usually of the left hemisphere) is a major part of being able to understand language. With an enhanced Wernicke’s area, Anya would be more sensitive to decoding the neural signals associated with linguistic thoughts, effectively enabling telepathic communication through language. (As an aside, this would also give Anya an advantage in understanding other languages… which could explain her natural talent with Classical Language!)

Superior Temporal Sulcus: This is another area that is important for processing human speech, and is critical for processing social cues, such as understanding others’ intentions (including Theory of Mind!). With experimentation in the STS, Anya would be better able to decode the subtle cues in others’ brains relating to thoughts and emotions.

Inferior parietal lobule: As well as assisting in the interpretation of language and sensory information, the IPL is also involved in tasks like perspective-taking and understanding others' mental states. By increasing connectivity in this area, Anya can "tune into" the thought processes of others. It’s also well-known for its’ role in visuospatial processing, which can help Anya see visual thoughts as well.

Anterior Cingulate Cortex: This system is composed of a number of different parts of the brain, all working together to be able to process things like attention, decision making, inhibition and emotions. Most interestingly, it is associated with detecting conflicts and errors. Increased sensitivity to the ACC would likely help Anya to detect cognitive dissonance and conflicting thoughts in others (the perfect formula to eventually understand tsundere tendencies…).

Amygdala: The amygdala is often known as the centre of fear, but actually it is hugely important in threat detection, emotional processing and emotional memory. If Anya’s amygdala was enhanced, this would aid her ability to detect threats quickly, as well as her empathy skills and help her to intuit others’ emotions and thoughts. (A negative side effect of an enlarged amygdala would be that Anya may be more vulnerable to the effects of toxic stress, possibly making her less resistant to the effects of psychological trauma.)

Mirror neurons: Mirror neurons specialise in helping us to carry out and understand other people’s actions and behaviours, playing a key role in empathy and Theory of Mind. These hold internal representations of thoughts or actions, and could potentially be the key for Anya to be able to translate another person’s thoughts or intentions, assuming that she has a particularly active mirror neuron system.

Precuneus: The precuneus is really difficult to research and is super complex, so I’ll do my best to keep this simple: Located in the medial parietal cortex, this part of the brain is essential for visuospatial imagining and processing, as well as episodic memory, self-reflection, and some aspects of consciousness. I suppose the main thing is that it has a big role in mental imagery, including being able to model other people’s views, therefore helping Anya to process the mental images in other people’s thoughts.

Broca’s area: This is very much non-canon, but I imagine that if Anya ever developed the ability to project her thoughts, the Broca’s area would be key for this. While Wernicke’s area helps with speech understanding, Broca’s area is key for speech production. In my fanfic (SSS), Anya’s Broca’s area probably functioned normally for most of her life, but in the recent experiments imposed on her, the ability to project her thoughts was ‘unlocked’ through the increased activation of the Broca’s area.

Part 3: Cognitive Neuroscience - Functional basis

The thing is, it’s not enough to just know which parts of the brain work for what - there is also the question of how they connect and work together to be able to fulfil their functions. 

Think of it as the wiring which connects the parts of a computer: a motherboard, mouse, keyboard, and graphics card (as examples) are built to fulfil their specific functions, but the real magic is in how they connect and send signals between each other so that everything works smoothly.

That’s where neural oscillations come in - otherwise known as brainwaves. These are generated by the action potentials of nerve cells, and their different speeds can be measured using electroencephalography, or EEG machines, which can measure the patterns of activity across a brain.

Let’s bear in mind that I’m really skimming the surface of this subject, so I won’t go into all the types of brainwaves in too much detail, but I will focus on the ones that I think could be more relevant to Anya’s telepathy:

Gamma waves

This is the pattern of neural oscillations which are correlated with large-scale brain network activity, and are largely predominant in learning, working memory, and processing new information. In other words: gamma waves help Anya to connect all the different parts of her brain which are relevant to her telepathy, so that all the areas can communicate to each other.

(Just as an aside: I found this hilarious study that looked at the effects of different types of nuts on brainwaves, which saw gamma wave responses being improved through pistachios, while peanuts aided in generating more delta waves. I wonder if the lab scientists of SxF caught on…) 

Theta waves

Theta waves are especially prominent in childhood (during sleep). I imagine that the lab may have recruited children partially for this reason (the other reason would be that brains have more plasticity at a younger age, and so can be altered easier than an adult’s brain). In adults, theta waves are also prominent in hypnotic or meditative states, mind wandering, and the early stages of sleep.

I think it is really interesting that theta waves occur during deep relaxation, as well as the early stages of sleep, making it the only brainwave that can activate both during sleep and during wakefulness. (From what I can tell, anyway.) This could make theta waves an important component of Anya’s telepathy - for example, if her telepathy was important to her survival, then it is critical for her to be able to detect thoughts during sleep, and her amygdala could alert her if the thoughts were at all threatening.

During wakefulness, I can imagine that Anya’s theta waves serve as the precursor for the activation of psi waves…

Psi waves

Just to confirm, Psi waves are definitely fictional, but my rationale is that historically, ‘Psi’ (ψ) has been used to denote the unknown factor which is linked with parapsychology and psychic phenomena. 

My theory is that psi waves would be the frequency required for telepathy, which would allow Anya to detect and interpret other people’s thoughts through their pattern of neural activation. In other words: she can probably read brainwaves. 

Modern science is already trying out methods to interpret people’s brainwaves (which is honestly both supremely cool and extremely terrifying), so it’s not too far out of the realm of possibility that Anya would be able to do the same thing just by unconsciously using her psi waves. The psi-waves would essentially mimic a brain-computer interface in being able to process and interpret neural activity (aka thoughts).

If you require a bit more concrete evidence to believe me, I’ve made a list below.

Right now, we can analyse brainwaves using EEG to:

Decode whether someone answers “yes” or “no” to conversational questions 

Control the movement of simple robots, including wheelchairs, which can be locked/unlocked using EEG (and EMG) as a biometric security system

Detect and interpret what emotion someone is feeling, as well as learn how strong that emotion is (at an accuracy rate of 80-94%)

Deconstruct the cognitive processes underlying social interaction in people who struggle to verbally express themselves

And this study analysed brain activation using fMRI to interpret and reconstruct visual images

Neuroscience is really crazy, guys.

Part 4: Physics

So… this is the part I am the least confident about. Please be patient with me and forgive me for any mistakes 🙏.  Also, this is the perfect time to remind you guys that I am really engaging with science fiction here. Emphasis on the fiction 😂. 

Basically, there are 2 main theories from Physics that I think could explain Anya’s telepathy, as well as her weakness(es):

Theory 1: Geomagnetic Field Sensitivity:

All brain waves are generated by electrical activity in the brain, and they also generate electrical activity of their own, which creates an electromagnetic field around the brain.

Anya’s abilities could be tied to the geomagnetic field of the earth, especially during the New Moon: when the moon is positioned between the earth and the sun, this could affect the field’s strength. The subtle alteration in the geomagnetic field could disrupt the electromagnetic field generated by Anya’s brain, thus disrupting the neural processing. 

In other words: the New Moon could interfere with Anya’s own electromagnetic field around her brain, via sensitivity to changes in the geomagnetic field, which could be why she can’t read minds during the New Moon. 

Theory 2: Resonance:

Resonance can be observed in physics, acoustics, musical, electrical, and mechanical systems - but now scientists are even looking at resonance in consciousness, and resonance in brain waves on a quantum level. 

Without going into too much detail (I am not qualified), I think Anya would generate a resonance frequency of her own that helps her to facilitate telepathic communication: through resonance, Anya could synchronise her Psi waves with the brain waves of another person, and it is this synchronicity that helps her to interpret the other person’s brainwaves. 

If Anya ever encountered another telepath (as she does in SSS), I imagine that they wouldn’t be able to read each other’s minds because their resonance frequencies would cancel each other out. 

In SSS, I also introduced the idea of a sub-auditory sound wave which would stop Anya from being able to use her telepathy. The idea behind this was to introduce another weakness for Anya: when this sound wave is emitted or detected, it interferes with the brain's natural telepathic frequency. This is because the sound wave oscillates at a frequency that masks the neural signals required for telepathy, and means that Anya can’t interpret those signals as easily. 

Thanks for reading!

I told you this was long. Sorry 😅

The above is really just a collective mishmash of stuff I’ve been slowly putting together for about the last 6 months, and I fully accept there will be parts that are more plausible than others. 😂 But it was fun, and more than anything I am really excited to see what we get to find out in Anya’s backstory arc (when it gets here…), and if I see any mentions of brains or neuroscience in SxF I will literally die of joy

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Why Writing Is So Lonely | Rin T.

Hello writers, and anyone else who uses Tumblr on a daily basis like me. (Although I’ve been inactive off and on.) It’s me, Rin, and I wanted to talk about something that I think a lot of us struggle with. Or at least anyone, and everyone who considers themselves writers.

The loneliness that can come with the writing life and being a writer. We spend so much of our time alone. It doesn’t matter if you're using your laptop or scribbling in notebooks. Or pacing around in your living room and muttering dialogue to yourself (which I'm completely guilty of.)

Writing is really a solitary passion, and it hasn't just recently been like that. I'm sure Jane Austen and Edgar Allen Poe dealt with similar feelings. And sometimes that isolation can take a real toll that many of us choose to ignore, both on our creativity, our passion, which I assume is writing in this case, and our mental health.

I’ve been writing for about 4 years now, mostly working on my own little passion projects that I plan on publishing and side hustles, not only for my writing project but also my blog (TheWrite AdviceForWriters). I’m currently knee-deep in 4 different novel drafts that I’m absolutely in love with. However, let me tell you. It can get Very lonely a lot of times. There are days when I feel like I’m the only person in the world who cares about these made-up characters and their fictional problems. The characters I create in my mind are so vivid that they seem like the only individuals who actually care about my passion. (They technically are, considering they are basically my passion.)

It’s so easy to start wondering whether anyone will ever want to read the stories I'm pouring my heart into. The self-doubt I get has been a big part of my writing journey, and sometimes it breaks my heart knowing that I may not please everyone who reads my stories. That I possibly could get the worst reviews out there on my book. If it's not perfect for society. For example, I have been reading and receiving news on Alex Aster and the amount of bad reviews she received for her LightLark novel, and she has had a few times where she’s stated she poured her heart into it. And it's not just Aster who deals with these as a published author; there are many others, and it sometimes scares me.

But you know what? I've come to realize that this loneliness is just part of the writer’s journey. And that it truly is going to be the process of every writer’s journey and career. It’s going to be one of the prominent challenges we have to face if we want to do this crazy, wonderful, painful thing we call writing. And I think it's important we talk about it, especially since I'm a blogger who owns a blog specifically for writers. The biggest reason I chose to create this blog was for this reason and the many other challenges of being a writer. 

I definitely will consider this blog post to be a discussion, and if anyone wants to reblog or reply to this blog post and start a conversation, please do so, just so we can support each other and figure out healthy ways to cope.

So, why is writing such a lonely pursit? Well, there are quite a few reasons, especially reasons for each individual writer; however, here are a few key reasons:

The Act Itself is Solitary.

At the end of the day, writing is something we have to do on our own. Sure, we can brainstorm with other writers and friends who write or get feedback from beta readers. Or even develop  and edit your manuscript with a professional book editor. But the actual act of putting words on the page is a solo endeavor. We’re the ones doing the typing, the (physical) writing, and the constant racking of our brains to find the perfect word or phrase to put down on paper or the blank page on a screen.

Even when we’re writing collaboratively, there’s still a certain level of isolation involved. I mean, after all, our individual writing process and creative visions have to align for the collaboration to work.

And let’s be real—aligning those things isn't always easy.

I’ve reached out to book editors, more so of developmental editors, which is an editor who guides the writer/author on the actual plot and outline of the novel itself. And they have mentioned the difficulties of needing to align with the creativity of the topic or novel. It isn't easy at all.

I know that for me, my most productive writing sessions happen when I'm alone. And I know for a fact I'm not alone on that.

Having no distractions when it's just me, my thoughts, and the blinking cursor on the screen with a Spotify playlist playing in the background. And while that can be deeply fulfilling and very productive, I will admit it can be incredibly lonely.

It's an Emotionally Draining Process.

Writing isn't just about stringing words together. It's about pouring our hearts and souls onto the page. Were digging into our deepest emotions, our biggest fear, our wildest dreams, our thoughts, our philosophy, I can go on. And that kind of vulnerability can be utterly exhausting.

When I'm in the process of drafting a new novel or the many current projects I'm working on. I often find myself emotionally drained at the end of the day. I've been living and breathing these characters, feeling their joys and pains as my own. describing the actions, words, and emotions these characters do and feel. And then after that, I have to close my laptop, put my pen and notebook away, and try to reenter the “real world"—a world that doesn’t always understand the weight I've been carrying. 

It can be so isolating, feeling like the only person who understands the emotional journey of your writing. Knowing what it feels like to create characters and their stories and emotions and personalities just as if they were real humans. Our non-writer friends and family members try their best to be supportive, but unless they experience it firsthand, they cannot fully grasp the depth of what we go through. I can tell when I explain my projects to others who aren't writers, it can sometimes feel like they don't care about what I'm saying to them. Or it can also feel like, my stories are just a synopsis for an underrated movie no one’s ever watched.

It's a Profession of Rejection

I think we all know, writing is a tough gig. It's a tough career and job. Even the most successful authors have had to face their fair share of rejection. The rejections can be received from agents, publishers, readers, or critics. (like I mentioned earlier), and that constant stream of “no’s” can really chip away at our confidence and sense of self-worth. And especially if you're an aspiring author and have not yet published your work. Knowing that rejection is a big part of the career of writing is frightening. Really.

I remember when one of my best friends, who is a writer, who is currently in the process of publishing her book, would send query after query only to receive endless rejections. She told me it felt like the entire world was telling her, “Your writing isn't good enough,” and that can be a pretty lonely and demoralizing place to be. It has made me anxious about getting to the querying phase, as I still haven't begun to query yet.

Even when we start to find some success, the fear of rejection never really goes away. Will readers love our next book as much as the last one? Will readers even like my debut novel? Will the critics tear it apart? I know when I first started writing my first novel project. I rewrote the first chapter. 13 times!! And that’s because of all the questions and doubts I had in mind. It’s enough to make any writer want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

And the thing is, as writers, we often don't have the same support system that people in other professions might have. We don't have coworkers to commiserate with or a boss to reassure us; it’s just us. Our doubts and the eerie silence of an empty inbox. For example, Ana Neu, one of my all-time favorite Author-Tuber's, has dealt with similar struggles. She’s mentioned several times how lonely she feels and how her family doesn't fully understand her love and passion for writing. And I completely agree with her. If you want to listen to more of her, please listen to her podcast and watch her videos on YouTube here.

So, now that I went over the key reasons as to why writing is so lonely, I didn't want to end this post on negativity, that’s why I wanted to list the main strategies that have helped me:

Build a Writer’s Community

One of the best ways to combat the isolation of writing is to surround yourself with other writers. That’s why I found social media to be a gift, not just for the other obvious reasons, but because we get to find writers around the world who enjoy the same things we like. Having that sense of community can be a game changer.

When I first started my Tumblr blog, TheWriteAdviceForWriters, I was really hoping to create that kind of supportive space for writers. I wanted to create a space where anyone who enjoys writing—not just fiction writers, but anyone who finds writing to be a passion of theirs—can share their dreams and struggles with. It's been amazing to connect with so many incredible people who just “get” the unique challenges we face. Being able to share our achievements and share our compassions. It's been vital for my own mental health as a writer, and I hope that it can also be vital for all of you.

And of course, the community is not about venting or seeking validation from others; its about providing feedback, encouragement, and just being able to make friends. Having that makes the lonely parts of the writing process and journey feel a little less lonely.

Prioritize Self-care

It's so easy to get caught up in the work and neglect our well-being. There have been multiple times where I wouldn't take a break from my writing sessions and simply not eat and drink. I wouldn't give myself time to process everything I wrote, and I immediately after would criticize it.

However, I find that self-care is the most important part of combating the isolation that comes with being a writer. For me, that looks like making sure I get enough sleep. You can't process, learn, and remember anything when you don't have enough sleep. During my personal self-care, when I do 45-to 1-hour writing sessions, I usually take a short nap after. Eating nourishing meals and snacks is important, as is making time for the hobbies and activities that bring me joy. I usually like reading books, spending quality time with my family members, and very feisty (and sometimes scary) cat.

3. Cultivate Gratitude

When loneliness starts to creep in, it can be really helpful to shift our mindset and focus on what we are grateful for; this can be really productive and rewarding. Being a writer is a gift; we get to spend our days doing what we love, bringing our creative visions to life and sharing them with people who love literature. Readers are such a big part of being a writer, and they're huge motivations to me.

So, if you can, just take a moment to appreciate the joys of writing. For example, if you have any writing quirks, I personally have to wear bracelets on both of my wrists in order to produce some type of creativity when I write. I'm not sure why it's just something I noticed. I also really love writing my manuscripts physically. I tend to do this when I'm suffering from writer's block, and for some reason my writing style is a lot better.

And don't forget the many other joys of writing, like drafting, and the excitement of sharing your work with others. Having a new idea come to mind that fits perfectly in your plot. Or even a reader or beta reader sharing a comment on your work and giving you encouragement.

Also, please celebrate your wins; it makes writing all too fun, and it's a great way to integrate writing into the real world.

End Note

I wanted to write this post because I know a lot of us deal with feeling lonely; I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time, and I wanted to share it with Tumblr. I feel like each and every one of you all feel the same way. And that’s why I created my Tumblr community; that's the reason I created this blog, and that's the reason I strive to build this into an entire brand.

I want to bring more awareness to writers, we are the people behind the stories, movies, and media that we consume today, and we barely get any credit for our work. I want to make a brand where others who never thought writing to be their passion could actually for once consider “Is writing for me?”

I feel like it's such an underrated yet overrated passion. Yet it's not acknowledged as much. 

I hope this post can make you understand that writing is 90% lonely and you are not crazy for thinking so. But, we can use the resources we have today, like social media, to change that and make writing better for the present and the future. 

Thank you all for reading. And please, if you are considering joining a community if you haven't already, please join The Write Right Society. We recently met 100 members, and the community is continuing to grow.

[callalillywrites]

Made up fic title: Pocket Flowers

Based on this ask meme.

It took me a bit to figure out how I wanted this to go, but I knew instantly who it belonged to. It's this guy ⬇️ and it's a little bit angsty but there's some sweetness mixed in.

Pocket Flowers

Steve's been a true gentleman since he was the littlest of little guys. His mama made sure of that.

Since he could remember, he'd pluck out the scraggliest and scrawniest flowers he'd find between the cracks in the sidewalk during whatever adventure he'd find that day. Those flowers would go into his pocket until it was time to go home, then he'd present them to his tired but sweet mama. He knew, even then, how much and how hard she worked to provide all she could for him. The flowers were the least he could do.

The tradition continues well into his young adult years, including those where she's secluded at the hospital when she contracts TB and must remain confined. He finds a way to get them to her each day, just so she might smile once that day.

Even after she dies and before he's recruited into the army, he would visit her grave on a regular basis to give her whatever flowers he's tucked into his pocket. Just for her. Just as he always has.

After the serum and everything with the army, his attention shifts to Peggy, but it's not a tradition he actually starts with her. It's not that he doesn't want to, but she doesn't seem the type to appreciate the simple gesture.

So it kinda just stops for a while.

He goes into the ice and comes out to a changed world. It's a world that he's trying to navigating to the best of his ability. Sure, he's making friends and making smaller connections where he can, but it's really not the same as it was before. It never can be again. Not truly.

During one of his trips through the city after spending some time at the Retreat, he finds himself a little listless and restless, seeking some type of connection he can call his own again.

He's traveling down one of the many streets he used to frequent during his younger days in Brooklyn when he comes across a small flower shop. It's the flyers taped to the windows that draw him in first. Each one promises the prettiest pocket flower designs he's ever seen. They almost look like someone painted them with the minutest details shown so clearly.

It's not even really a clear thought that has him stepping inside, his curiosity piquing.

Your sweet voice is a close second as its sweet melody calls out to him from deeper in the shop. He follows it until he comes upon you where you're working at the little table you've set up for yourself and all your designs. Several arrangements, big and small, surround you, but it's your sweet smile that has him closing the distance between you.

You share some small talk before you ask him what he's looking for.

When he flounders a bit but eventually points at one of your flyers, your smile turns into a pleased grin. You even go so far to hold out the one you'd been working on. Stepping away from your work area, you approach him and nod towards the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

His cheeks are bright pink even as he can't help staring at your hands. They're beautiful as they work, placing the small bouquet just so in his pocket. The soft fragrance of the flowers had him taking a deep inhale as old, bittersweet memories slammed into him.

Yet, even as they made their presence known, they mixed with the present. They brought with them a bit of hope that maybe not everything was different. Maybe he could find his footing again. Maybe, just maybe, he might find love in this new world and find it someone as sweet as you.

*****

Okay, this one went a bit longer than I thought it would, but I do hope you enjoy it. I did try to make this one more of a generic reader, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded. I'm a little out of practice. But, I had a lot of fun writing this one out. Thank you for sending me the title. 💖

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[frostyhelltime]

A Folly of a Plan

Alastor x singerOC

AN: This takes place primarily when they're alive, but will eventually reach hell.

I hope everyone likes it!! I did try to keep in mind some ways of speaking back in the 1920s when writing their thoughts and dialogue.

As a side note, he is still ace in this. I wrote him as demisexual (like myself).

Summary: Showing no interest in women as an adult man means rumors have started that he prefers men. People thinking you're a gay man in the 1920s is NOT how you keep a low profile as a serial killer. But if he could just find some dame to pretend to be into to keep the heat off, he can just break up with her once the rumors are done and go about his life.

At least that was the plan.

Warnings: None yet. 1920s queerphobia by the general populace I suppose? There will eventually be smut and murder and all that fun stuff.

Chapter 1

Alastor had a problem.

He had heard stirrings through the grapevine. Rumors and hushed whispers, as eyes followed him. It had become both obnoxious, and worrying. How was he to continue his favorite…activities, if the whole town seemed so interested in his affairs? It made it remarkably harder to get away and find victims. He had stopped trying to go out…hunting, as often, due to this.

It felt like the whole town was convinced he was one of those queers. Not that he cared one way or the other what people chose to do or not do in their bedrooms. But unfortunately the lack of his interest in anything romantic or more…physically intimate had gotten people talking that he preferred the company of men.

Again, not something he cared about…and in all honesty it was frustrating they jumped to that conclusion instead of the idea he just wasn't interested in general.

But being a barely white passing man who had lied on his census reports about his race to have the radio hosting gig he has fought tooth and nail for, who also moonlighted as a serial killer and…occasional cannibal…the less people paying attention to him with a negative eye the better. He had more than a few skeletons in his closet he wanted to stay hidden.

And the rumor he was a gay man in the 1920s was not the way to stay under the radar.

Which only served to make him that much crabbier since he had to put a pause on his night time activities temporarily. Nothing a little hooch couldn't fix, he's sure.

Which is how he found himself here, in a hidden away speakeasy that was a jazz lounge and music hall as a front. He isn't sure he can actually call it a front though when he sees people already crowded around the stage before the lights have even dimmed.

It didn't matter to him. If anything it felt relieving to not have eyes on him for once. He catches the eye of the bartender, who he knows casually and suggested he come by for a drink, noticing how agitated the man had become during their small talks. By day the barkeep worked at a local food joint that Alastor preferred to grab lunch from when he was short on time.

Neither would call the other a friend…but they were friendly with each other. Alastor slides into a seat at the bar with ease, gladly taking whatever liquid in a glass he hands him. He thinks it might be a kind of whiskey perhaps, as it goes down.

It isn't long before the lights dim just a bit more in this cute little hole in the wall jazz lounge, spotlight shining on a stage as an announcer comes on and introduces their relatively new singer with enthusiasm. He can hear one of the waitresses chatter excitedly about how she apparently went from backing vocals to being the main vocal on a trial basis.

He snorts a small laugh at that. He imagines it'll go well if the crowd is anything to go by. It does have him admittedly curious.

"Now, put your hands together for Miss Clara Massou!"

The announcer cheers in a typically excitable way he is expected to before making his way off stage, allowing a beautiful woman with a form fitting dress that still allowed easy movement to appear on stage and taking her place in front of the microphone. The shimmers of her dress catch the bright stage lights and make it almost impossible not to notice her.

She smiles, crimson lips parted in a seductive manner as she looks out into the crowd, eyes half lidded despite how excited she is. She knows she needs to match the energy of her song, and as soon as she hears the first few chords of music play, she's singing, a sultry and inviting voice weaving itself through the lounge and captivating many of them. It's hard to miss her as the room falls quiet, side conversations falling off into nothingness. She has a sonorous and melodic voice, her blonde curls seeming even brighter under the spotlight as she sweeps them gingerly out of her face as she moves and sways with her song. She can feel her blood pounding with the way she sees them all focusing on her as she reaches the crescendo of her first song, a melancholy longing evident in the powerful high note she sings before she winds down to begin the next song.

She continues on like this for awhile, her audience captivated and spellbound by her as she runs through her set list.

But all good things must come to an end, and it's eventually time to wind down and let everyone relax and continue drinking. So she gives a bow and a heartfelt thank you to the small but cheering crowd, and she begins to make her way off stage.

She feels electric on stage, and is almost bursting with energy as she leaves, that much is clear. She blows a kiss to the cheering crowd before she does leave the stage, knowing that playing it up was vital in this trial run. She has to do everything she could think of to make the crowd want to come to hear her again.

After her last song had finished, Alastor jerks his head up when he hears his bartender friend talking to him. He hadn't even realized he had been staring, so lost in her performance. Had he been staring?

“I could be wrong but it seems she actually caught your attention. I didn't know that was possible.” He snickers and fills up his own glass despite being on the clock. He had certainly heard the rumors floating around town, and it made Alastor roll his eyes.

"You certainly never looked at any of the girls that threw themselves at you that way." There's a hint of mirth in the man's eyes because it's true. Every time he saw Alastor with a girl that seemed to be flirting with him he seemed to be tolerating her at best before he ended up making up an excuse to get away.

“Shut up, Roy. She just has a lovely voice. I work in radio. I'm always looking for lovely voices…It's hardly surprising.” He isn't sure if he's justifying it to himself or Roy. Alastor's smile never leaves his face but his eyes betray the annoyance he actually feels. Roy thinks it's the most strained he had ever seen Alastor's smile.

Meanwhile, the subject of their conversation makes some small talk as she makes her rounds around the room, expertly networking and charming people where it was needed until she finally lands where she would actually like to relax a bit, the bar.

She greets Roy brightly, waving energetically at him as she approaches.

"Roy!" She almost sings, some love of music still left on her lips although the stage was gone. The grizzled and almost weary seeming bartender gives something Clara could swear was a smile as she greeted him.

As soon as Alastor hears her calling out, the murderous look in his eyes is disappearing instantly as if it were never there. He looked over his shoulder at her, listening to her talk to what appeared to be their shared acquaintance.

"I feel so good! I think I did really well tonight!" She's all bright energy and sheer innocent excitement as she orders a drink from him and begins chattering with him in between patrons, sitting a few seats down from what she notes is a sharply dressed man nursing his whiskey and peeking at her over his glasses.

But her energy hasn't quite abated yet and even when she's finished her drink she's still clearly feeling restless, foot tapping to some music that she's humming.

She huffs to Roy now, as if he could magically fix her problem.

"Ugh. I still have so much energy to burn!!" She sighs in a playfully dramatic manner before looking around the bar, her eyes eventually landing on the man a few seats down that she had noticed staring at her earlier. Her intuition just told her he was a good dancer, and if not…well at least it would still be fun since he was handsome.

Alastor becomes aware that he is being observed and quickly snaps his face forward to look back at his drink.

She hops off her stool and walks the few feet needed to reach him, holding out her hand before he can finish internally scolding himself for staring so blatantly and impolitely.

"Pleasure to meet you! My name is Clara. Can you help a girl out and help me get out some energy by cutting a rug with me?" She offers, her smile nothing but charming and inviting.

He looks at her hand a moment, considering it all. To her credit, her confidence doesn't seem to waiver when he takes a few moments to decide. Who knows? Maybe seeing him dance with a woman might get some of those pesky rumors to abate.

What the hell. He was just tipsy enough to think it was a fine enough idea. Maybe some dancing would help get out his frustrations as well. The band was certainly picking up into a more lively number.

Alastor simply nods, a kind smile hiding any lingering awkwardness. “Of course, my dear.” He says and downs the rest of his drink before pushing his glass back onto the bar top, although there wasn't much left by this point anyway, and offers his hand to her.

Roy had to admit he was surprised, to say the least. Alastor wasn’t much of a people person and kept his circle small from what he could tell. Wasn't even sure he had a circle. He certainly never initiated touch first unless he absolutely has to for networking purposes. It's...kind of fascinating to see him actually accept a dance from someone without some subtle sign in his body language showing he would really rather not. But he brushes it off. Perhaps it's a curiosity thing. Alastor certainly never minded getting in someone else's personal space whenever he found it amusing. Perhaps this was a similar thing?

Alastor stood up then, admiring her smile as he did. “My name is Alastor.” He introduces himself with a small and proper bow like a gentleman.

Clara’s giggle shows that she was clearly happy that he accepted her invitation as well as being pleased with his manners, her smile turning just a little coy when he does eventually take her hand.

"It's a delight to meet you." She continues to smile at him as they walk out to the dance floor. She was even more delighted to see her intuition had been right. He was quite a good dancer, and has no problem keeping up with her or the number they're dancing to.

It feels like it's impossible for her to stop smiling at this point, charmed laughter escaping her as she enjoys their dance and all the twists and twirls they do together, heart thrumming from either the exhilaration of the dance or from her partner or both...she isn't quite sure. Sometimes she put on a smile for the crowd, being the show woman she needed to be to be on stage, but this smile as they had fun dancing was so genuine it almost hurt.

She doesn't want it to end, and if she was honest with herself, she did like how warm his hands felt in hers, even through the gloves he wore, and she did feel a small tinge of red blooming on her cheeks when he pulled her close and grinned at her during their dance, the confident and coy mask she wore on stage slipping for a moment at his charms.

Alastor was used to always smiling but this time it was genuine. Far more genuine than when he had talked with Roy earlier at least. He was actually enjoying himself right now.

It was when he pulled her close during the dance that he noticed the rosy tint on her face, which only made him grin further at her, showing he saw the subtle change in the hue of her cheeks.

He was handsome, he knew that. He was used to women swooning over him, and perhaps it's the whiskey…but he's hatching a plan as they dance.

He would have to chat with her, see how tolerable of a person she was to see if his idea might work.

When they do eventually come back to the bar after their whirlwind of dancing she takes the seat next to him instead of a few down where she had been before, something Alastor mentally notes.

"Now that was absolutely delightful! I hope this isn't the last time you visit this place! I'll be just beside myself with grief if it is." Clara is immediately teasing him, gently bumping her shoulder up against his before she turns to their quiet bartender.

"Roy, you seemed to know him. How could you hide such a good and handsome dance partner from me? I'm hurt." She faked a clearly put on pout before relaxing again, even as Roy rolled his eyes and shook his head playfully at her antics, serving them both another drink when they ask before leaving to attend to other customers...but not before looking over his shoulder at Alastor and giving him a knowing grin with a raised eyebrow. Just to annoy him really, something he definitely enjoyed doing on occasion, just for a laugh.

“Trust me, my dear this is not the first nor last time I will be at this lounge.” Alastor promises with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm just surprised. I don't think I've seen you on stage before here, have I?" He asked her curiously, sipping his drink and leaning against the bar to mirror her own relaxed posture.

She just nods excitedly. "Yeah! I started being the main singer a few weeks ago! Before that I just did backup vocals so that's probably why you never noticed me." She looks almost bashful at those humble beginnings, but Alastor sees nothing wrong with it.

"Ah. That explains it. To many more amazing performances." He gives her a comforting smile as he holds up his drink, waiting for her.

At that the bashfulness seems to fade and she straightens up a bit, holding her own glass and tapping it against his lightly.

"To many more!" She agrees, giggling a bit, even though she isn't quite sure why. Perhaps nerves?

Overall Clara seems pleased as punch that Alastor will come by again it seems, and it has her leaning closer into his space now.

Although she almost immediately pulls back a bit since she had noticed he seemed to keep his distance from others for the most part, plus he had seemed to startle slightly when she playfully bumped her shoulder into his unexpectedly and she's unsure if he doesn't mind her being close or if he's just too polite to tell her.

Either way she does her best to not invade his space too much now that she's aware of this possible quirk of his.

Alastor seems briefly surprised by her proximity and the fact she pulls back when she realizes she's gotten too close without him having to tell her. Others wouldn't have been that polite, or perhaps even notice his discomfort. Mimzy certainly wouldn't have cared whether he likes it or not. Clara was simply solidifying herself more and more as an excellent candidate for his plan.

"You know, for certain people I don't mind taking requests. I do mostly covers now, but I think I've almost convinced the owner to let me sing an original song eventually. Now I just have to pick from the ones I've written to show him my best one." Her smile is almost sheepish at the admittance she has written so many songs that haven't seen the light of day yet. But she hopes soon they will.

"So do let me know if there's a particular song you want to hear next time. I'll make sure to practice so it's just perfect." She tilts her head down a little bit, looking up at him through her eyelashes in an effort to look extra tempting.

"Hmmm. I'll have to think on it, see if I can think of a song that does that voice of yours justice." He eventually says, tapping his chin in thought.

"When you get the greenlight for the original song, let me know. I'll be sure to be there opening night." The charm and subtle flirtation comes easy to him, used to this game of cat and mouse by now from the previous people that had attempted to charm him.

Clara can't help the way she nervously but excitedly fidgets with the napkin below her drink as he promises to be there for the night of the original song.

"I can't wait!"

He quirks an eyebrow at her, a funny question that has been gnawing at his mind for a bit now bubbling to the surface.

“You seem much more…demure and modest compared to what I was expecting.” He says, and he only realizes how he's put his foot in his mouth when he sees the shock on her face and he's wide eyed and quickly speaking to clarify, but she stops him, gently holding her hand up to signal him to save it.

“Don't worry. I get it.” She giggles a moment, that innocent charm and excitement from before showing through.

“The sultry siren is what sells seats. Once I get to showcase my own songs I plan to show a lot more versatility.” She says, a wistful look on her face, her own imagination likely getting ahead of herself before she brings herself back to the here and now.

While she's preoccupied with her daydream, he can feel his plan coming together in his mind. He doesn't know why he didn't think of it before. Date someone long enough that all those pesky rumors stop, dump her, and go on with his life.

He has to admit…if he must use someone as a cover to get people to get off his back…she certainly seemed like one of the better options he could think of. She respected his personal space, had a strikingly lovely voice, good taste in music, and was such a fascinating little thing overall. She seemed far too intelligent and cultured to really fit in at this underground establishment. Something told him this wasn't her normal type of place and that had him curious. He's certain at the very least she'll be entertaining, and most importantly…tolerable, compared to a number of other women who had brazenly made their interest known. He didn't find his patience wearing thin with her the way it sometimes could with others, especially when they thought invading his personal space and getting up close and personal was the way to earn his affections.

He makes just enough small talk with her to learn when her next show is.

He's found his target, all he has to do is lay his traps.

[melodic-haze]

Could you maybe do nsfw hcs for Jinhsi?

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Jinhsi x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: bondage and use of toys

☆ — NOTES: it's 1 am and I should be sleeping bc I'm fucking off to London tomorrow early morning. Oh well LOL

☆ — PARTS: Part 1, Part 2 (you are here)

So we witnessed the part 1 right? Day mode Jinhsi content? If not and you came straight for this then you're FILTHY❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️ Jokes me too

Anyway she's as sweet in bed as she is in the streets my babyyy 🫶🫶🫶 AND she's also as strong and formidable too. Thoigh tbf cmon you're BASICALLY bedding royalty/royalty-adjacent 🤷‍♀️ like be real

As much as she holds power and authority in her duties with a balanced grip, soft and caring yet firm and watchful, she does like the feeling of letting it go. She isn't a workaholic despite the workload she acc has so she recognises just how nice it is to simply stop thinking. And she puts herself in your hands, so full of trust as if she wasn't superior to you. Though really, in the room you're in? You may as well be equals-- no, you may as well be the one superior to her

I think while she may seem like very vanilla, she's definitely looked into things once or twice to experiment and see what she likes and doesn't like, sort out her preferences and stuff yk. Don't think she's be open about it though, more of a 'need-to-know-but-you-have-to-ask' basis which nobody's ever been.....until you, DUH

Ohhhhh I see her as a toy enthusiast. She doesn't get them out often (and no FUCKING way would she display them or anything) but she does certainly have a collection. She buys them under different names, has trusted couriers deliver it without knowing what's inside and it would be a disgrace upon the Magistrate to take a peek❗️❗️❗️ and just keeps them in a hidden box with different compartments. I just KNOW she'd be extremely knowledgable on them though, like how you're able to use them to gain max pleasure and etc despite not actually using them a lot

I personally don't think she'd have much of a libido!! Might be bc of how swamp she basically is with work, both while she's clocked in AND clocked out, but she's just never had that constant want or need—that kind of thing is at the back of her mind, esp when she has an entire region to manage and protect as its Sentinel's blessed

When she does get the urge to do so though, especially when she's with you, oh it hits STRONG I fear. Maybe it's bc of how pent-up she may be (bc really sometimes toys get to the point where they jsut aren't enough), or maybe it's bc of her being closely linked to said Sentinel ☺️☺️☺️

By THIS I mean with the whole sharing powers thing, there's no way some of its draconic traits haven't affected her in a certain way. SHE SPROUTS HORNS FOR GOD'S SAKE

Maybe that was mean of you, leaving her all alone for a little while in the dark while the vibrator inside her pussy operated as it should.

Really, you were just having way too much fun with her collection and you just wanted ti grab a few more.. at least, before you got distracted with one thing or another.

Now that you're back, though, you can't say you regret being distracted; the overall look that you lover was currently sporting, all bound and oh so wet as flickers of the power you both fear and respect make themselves known by having her—or rather, Jue's—horns manifest on her head from the overwhelming feeling of wanting to let go. But she can't, not when you've yet to give her the command to do so.

"For a leader, you obey me so easily, even when I'm not even there," you notice. "This whole time, you're just really eager to please, aren't you, dear Magistrate?"

Of course she couldn't answer verbally, you hadn't told her to speak, but she nods her head desperately as she trembled and that was good enough for you.

You see her eyes tracking you as you came closer, her irises quite literally glowing a celestial gold from the need of release. The closer you got, the more you see her struggling with her bonds to reach you... And failing miserably, much to her credit considering how you knew she could tear through them if she really wanted.

When you finally, finally get close enough, your hand goes over the dildo vibrator inside her, yet you don't grip it. Instead, you simply graze your hand on the toy's handle, perhaps even knocking it slightly sideways for a little extra motion, to which she lurched so delightfully—unbefitting of a government official like her, of course, but certainly befitting for your beloved in the bedroom.

"Do you want to cum, babe?"

She nods.

"How badly do you want to cum?"

No answer.

"Speak."

And all at once, her thoughts burst forth, the blatancy still unfamiliar to you to this day yet it still isn't any less satisfying to experience such a strong, independent soul to fall like this.

"I-- I need you so very badly, please..! I can't.. I don't-- I don' think I can h-hold it any longer--"

"Bold of you to decide what your limits are by yourself." You raised your eyebrow, "You wanted me to take the lead, the least you could do is—" and you turn the vibrator off, "—follow it. Stop thinking, there is no place for you to do so here."

All she lets out is a desperate whimper—she doesn't dare to upset you any further.

..And that has you turning it back on again, though you put it at a relatively low setting for her, keeping in mind that her draconic-esque endurance would need more than the average to break your beloved completely, as per her request.

She wanted true bliss, right? She wanted you to ravage her completely and take control of her in the way nobody else has managed or dared to?

If Jinhsi wanted it all, then she had to let herself go completely first.

Anyway ab her horns, touching the base of them would set her the FUCK off 🥰🥰 no, not the horn itself. Apologies have to be made right here right now but I believe in horn technicality which means horn sensitivity is not a thing, ESPECIALLY when it's her type which only really appear when she's channelling her abilities. The ROOT of it however would be a different matter, so massaging her head would basically K.O. her self-restraint

But that's fine, you'll make sure it happens.. no matter how long it'd take and how loud she ends up becoming.

Along with that, she probably has INSANE durability and stamina let's be so real. Each time you do anything remotely harsh on her, her tacet mark flickers for a brief second and it's like you're simultaneously striking soft skin and scales at the same time. She can ALSO go for a VERY long time, so edging her? Is REALLY fun when you wanna test exactly how much shr can take befkre she breaks and starts begging for you to help her get off 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️