#because she thinks all humans are prudes

[dazeddoodles]

And Eda tells Camila that Darius worked in the red light district and that’s how she met him.

I meant they lied about sleeping with prostitutes not WORKING as prostitutes. But also

WTF IS SHE TELLING HER THAT FOR??? 💀

[tedlovesmusicals]

Some nerdy prudes headcanons in no particular order:

• Steph is a gamer girl. Her dad bought her the full gamer girl set up with the pink cat ear chair and see-through computer tower for her to just play the sims and stardew valley. Richie and Ruth get her into fortnight.

• Pete gets motion sickness so he reads a book while listening to his girlfriend cuss out 12 year olds.

• Richie made them all a discord server because it's "way cooler and more efficient than snapchat."

• Grace constantly sends Jesus themed gifs into the chat as reactions. Think of the stuff your grandma sends you when she discovered how to use the keyboard on her phone. Exactly. A lot of glittery easter crucifixes.

• Steph convinces Ruth to audition for the next school musical. Ruth gets her first ever lead role. Steph agrees to be in the chorus with Pete to support her.

• Grace forms an Abstinence Club so she can lure more dirty dudes and eat their souls or whatever.

• Pete gets them to play dungeons and dragons with him once. He was the dm. Richie was a dark elf rogue with a complicated backstory. Ruth was a bard that tried to seduce everything that moved. Steph got frustrated with the rules immediately and eventually just had Pete make a character for her. Grace played a real human priest that shamed the entire group for playing the devil's game before storming out after only being there for five minutes.

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter II

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Songs of Solomon 8:6-7.

As newly appointed Duchess-To-Be, you have much to learn. Etiquette, conduct and eventual motherhood are the pillars you are expected to live by. Because who cares about your choosing?

The Chapel, tended to by a mercurial Priest, is the perfect refuge.

…right?

Pairing: Geto x female reader

A/N: The is dedicated to the artist ( @captainsalsaa ) I mean look at our fallen Angel. His tears. His frustration. Dear GOD.

To the artist: I stared at your piece, then heard a specific song on my writing playlist then wrote the entire last scene in one sitting. To date, it’s my favorite scene in my author’s portfolio. I hope I did our fallen Angel justice. Thank you for creating this 🤍

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CHAPTER II: Hello, Father.

“Awake early, little dove.” 

Warm hands caress your shoulders. A welcome contrast to the chilly nautical dawn. The sun still has a ways to go, but songbirds have begun their wake up call. 

“As are you, Arella.” 

Your eyes float to your favorite maiden standing above you. No more than a handful of years older, but with a heart for you as if she raised you from birth. 

“It’s my duty to tend to you, is it not?” 

Soft laughter harmonizes with the nightingales. A quick kiss on your forehead before her warmth disappears off the balcony —  undoubtedly to go retrieve a treat of some kind. 

She’s not wrong. 

Technically it is her duty. 

But Arella is your blessing. 

Matting and kneading your surroundings to fit your needs. Eager to dampen the growing pains of settling in a new home. 

Constant hellos. 

Permanent smiles.

Not too wide, like a promiscuous woman. But not too tight, like a cold prude. 

Rooms to tour. Hands to shake. Garments to pin and tie and lace around your lungs as if your God-given ribcage was a frivolous extra not needed for life. Not needed to breathe. 

Breathe.

Your lids screw shut. Pulling in as much of the balmy, saltwater breeze gliding up the steep rock face along the overhang. 

Much like he did. 

The Chaplain. 

His hair cascading down his back in the same way poets monologue when inspired. His eyes a mural of what the Gods paint when they want to show off. 

The way earth acquiesces to his touch as if he is the Creator. The birds choose to perform for him every morning. And the ocean exists to bathe him. 

You cannot decide if the sorbet sunsets are created by the Chaplain. Or if the Gods fight over who gets the honor of painting him a new one each evening. 

“Sleep still escapes you, precious girl.” 

It does, but not for the reason she thinks. 

“You worry too much, Arella. I’ll adjust soon.” The tea she brought you is delicious.

The both of you cross back into your quarters. The stagnant, perfumed air suddenly suffocating.

“I would like to go to the chapel garden.” 

A quiet declaration that stills your handmaiden in her tracks. Then a small grin blossoms on her beautiful face. Fussing with your bedding. Wiping away evidence of your sleepless night. 

“For the flowers that bloom, little dove? Or for the God that tends to them?”

The blood in your veins runs subzero. 

“Arella! I am engaged to be marri—“

“Of course you are. But eyesight isn’t a sin.”

Another moment of feigned irritation before you burst into a fit of childish giggles. The both of you no better than school girls, covering your mouths, stifling your laughter. 

“I just wanted to see you smile.” Arella gestures to your extravagant dresser across the room. 

“In the second drawer you can find a casual garment. Come back with at least one hour to prepare for Mass.”

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

A hummingbird chaperones your walk to the church estate. Dulcet hums drown out the rattling heartbeat between your ears. 

This is harmless.

It is not a sin to take in Earth’s natural candy. To appreciate God’s gift to humanity.

In all of his majestic glory. 

Your eyes dart around as if your thoughts are a tangible scroll. Written in ink for the world to see.

Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no one around. 

Just you. Your fluttering companions (both heart and bird). The waking sun. God above and his plants swaying in the gentle gusts of wind. You’re safe in your mind. 

Until he decimates all logical and reasonable train of thought, that is. 

You should be angry. Infuriated. That no one adequately prepared you for seeing the demigod for the first time. Even now, you question whether he’s flesh and blood. 

Maybe an illusion? 

The Lord playing tricks from his throne? 

The mirage before you halts your paces. You can’t help but question your level consciousness. 

Because this must be a dream. 

“Oh, don’t be cruel.” 

Words slip out of your mouth, currently ajar. It’s not your place to chastise the One above, but come on. 

Your eyes taste the Chaplain for a second time and this course is even more decadent than the first. 

There he stands. 

A raven waterfall down his broad, muscular back. Half of it tied away from his face. Olive skin so rich the surrounding plants pale in comparison. Russet brown working pants hang loose around his tapered waist, but snug around his thighs. Various tools hooked in the belt loops. Heavy mahogany work boots match the worn leather gardening gloves fitted to his hands. 

His hands. 

Reaching for thorny vines plaguing his hydrangeas. Even at your distance you could detail each muscle fiber in his arm tense and release with every pull and toss.

Pull and toss.

Pull and toss. 

You would have gotten lost in his rhythmic trance, if it weren’t for the symbol branded in charcoal sprawling his back. The emblem peeks through his thick hair, every now and again. 

A spear? 

No.

A trident. With waves snaking up its stalk along his spine. 

His gravitational pull is overwhelming. Your feet move with more stealth than the King’s Guard.

“Working on the Day of Rest, Father?” Casual, measured. 

“Duchess,” Saliva pools in your mouth. His smile teases your ears before he graces you with it. 

“I have to start being more careful about my clothing.” A playful glint in his eyes. 

“Especially now that I’ve been blessed with a fellow greenskeeper.” 

He is a man of God.

And would never insinuate anything impure. 

But that doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around his words steeped in a baritone potent enough to rumble the ground beneath you.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent word that I was coming.” 

“This palace belongs to you, Duchess. You are welcome here at any hour.” His hand captures a vine and tosses it into the pile without his eyes ever leaving yours. 

You are weak.

And greedy. 

The way your gaze drops to his arm. Desperately etching its contours into memory. Seconds, maybe minutes pass before you realize you were gawking. And the Chaplain just let you. 

Head cocked to the side. Soft smile ghosting his full lips. 

“Would you like to finish the tour of your new playground?” 

“Y-yes. Of course, please.” Stumbling over the uneven cobblestone in your voice, you turn away to begin the coordinated stroll. The Priest slides his arms into a linen button up. Lazily fastening two center buttons only. 

He informs you of the work that has already been done, what’s left. Where the soil is richest, where it is the most acidic. How the sun hits certain flowers at each hour of the day.

Brilliant. 

With complete command over God’s bouquet. The sun following him wherever he steps.

“Did you enjoy your swim today, Father?” Both you and the Priest come to a slow stop. One of his angular eyebrows raised.

“I’m dry, Duchess.” He responds with a low, hypnotic chuckle. 

Heat floods your cheeks. How could you be so presumptuous?

“What gave me away?” 

Your knees nearly betray you. The razor sharp grin on his face could cut glass. 

“You were born for the ocean. Or rather, the ocean was born for you.”

Your statement is greeted with blaring silence. 

Lava in his gaze. Singeing every part of your face it touches. His expression is like a foreign language. 

“I—I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Clearly I have much to learn about social graces.” A meek apology bubbles out of your lips. Desperate to fill the space between your bodies. 

The mercurial man shakes his head slightly. Thawed out from your statement, he reaches over and plucks a stray lilac petal resting on your crown.

“My father used to say the same.” He muses, looking away for the first time. 

“Your father! Is he—“

“He was called home some time ago.” This smile is soft. Reminiscent. Polite, but his mind clearly elsewhere. 

“Oh Father Geto, I’m so sorry.” 

A foot in your mouth is not enough punishment for your indecency. Why would you go prodding like this?

“Don’t be, I’ll see him again. Soon enough.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” The statement draws a stunned gaze from the Chaplain. Eyes dancing between yours. 

“Time to prepare for mass, little dove!” Arella’s melodic call tethers you back down from outer space. 

You flicker over to her with a ruby dusting over your nose and cheeks. Like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar before supper. 

“Happy Sunday, Father!” Arella calls out, cheshire grin on her face deepening your crude blush. 

“Indeed, Arella.” He returns the greeting while keeping his eyes on you. 

“Send my regards to the Duke.” His voice lowers, for your ears only. With a nearly imperceptible edge to his tone. 

“Happy Sunday, Duchess. We have a counseling session scheduled late afternoon, yes?” 

A statement of pure black and white fact. And yet it travels down your spine and settles between your legs. Wet heat dampening your thin negligee.

“Yes, Father. Happy Sunday.”

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Mass was miserable. 

Your corset laced tight enough to meld your two lungs and beating heart into one entity. To say the neckline strangled you is putting it mildly. Cold, uninviting pews dug into your skin at every turn. 

Wretched. 

But the worst of it wasn’t the thin, oxygen-deficient air. Or the shards of glass that slid down your throat with every swallow. Even the jaw pain from tensing your lips in a well-mannered smile for two hours straight was tolerable. 

The worst part of it was him. 

The Priest mesmerized an entire congregation to an ear-splitting hush. 

His first Sunday mass since appointment and nearly everyone in the country and every surrounding province stuffed into the chapel. 

So desperate for blessings from Father Geto. 

Could you blame them?

His voice danced in and out of the pews listlessly. 

Soothing fussy children. Adolescent girls and their mother’s alike — utterly smitten. Adolescent boys experienced their first “I want to be like him” with their fathers sitting right next to them. Husbands glanced feverishly at the women in their lives. 

He had to have noticed it. And yet, he floated above it all the entire service.

Above you. 

Refusing to gift you those eyes that put Vincent Van Gogh to shame. No matter how much you shifted in your seat and straightened your spine.

The Priest spoke to everyone in the room but you. 

Did you read him wrong? 

Did you misinterpret your budding friendship? 

Does it…should it even matter?

Your irritation is palpable. Innocent bystanders are caught in your friendly fire. Including Arella, who changed you out of that horrid costume. And sweet Noel, who ushered you into the seating area — just outside of the good Father’s office.

You make a mental note to send treats to the tender-hearted alter boy. And to apologize profusely to your handmaiden. 

“You are a million miles away, darling.” The sound of your betrothed tows you out of the storm clouds. 

You flicker over to the Duke. Emerald green eyes, high cheek bones — handsome in a way that is characteristic of everyone native to your new home.

“I’m right here, Ezra.” 

“Are you, sweetheart?” The back of his hand caresses your cheek. 

“Mmhm.” You offer your future husband a weak smile and kiss on his cheek. His eyes  faltering slightly, undoubtedly hopeful for lips instead. 

“Good afternoon, Duke and Duchess Ahriman.” 

Father Geto’s velvet greeting encases you both. If Ezra’s arm didn’t guide you to stand you would have been paralyzed in your seat. 

“Father Geto, a pleasure. Thank you for seeing us.” Ezra offers a genuine smile and handshake. Buying you a few extra seconds in your mind’s safe haven.

The Chaplain is tight lipped. Professional. He returns the handshake firmly. 

“Pleasure is mine.” 

Ezra shifts slightly on his feet. Straightening his spine and dropping his shoulders. Your eyes bounce between the Chaplain and your fiancé.

“I must say, Father. You are even more handsome up close. I speak for the men in this country, thank you for taking the vow of celibacy!” The words spill out of the Duke. Unknowingly thinning the air. 

The Priest chuckles quietly, dropping his eyes briefly before landing them on you. And it feels like you could double over.  Your core temperature skyrockets under his smoldering gaze. 

He, the archer. You, the bullseye. 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” 

Ezra laces his fingers in yours, taking the two seats directly in front of the oak desk. A leather bound notebook and pheasant feather pen are neatly arranged — with your names on the first page.

Blue flame rises from your toes to hairline. You might as well have been sitting naked. With how exposed, how vulnerable you feel already.

“What will we be covering first, Father? Something about how wives should obey their husbands, right?” Ezra is light-hearted. Meant to be said in jest.

But he finds himself being the only party in the room laughing. 

The Priest rolls the ink pen between his fingers. Allowing a deafening silence to coat the walls. His expression is neutral, but eyes ablaze. 

“If the man in question is worthy of submission.” He starts. A low, ominous rumble. 

“Uh, yes. Of course.” Ezra responds, shifting in his seat. 

But the Chaplain does not stop. Intent on making a point, he leans in. Pen whirling lightning fast between his long, deft fingers. Enough tailwind to launch across the room, if he desired.  

“If the man in question would give his life for his wife.” Volcanic eyes linger on you, then back to your fiancé. Ezra’s palm finds your thigh. You gnaw on your inner cheek to avoid flinching away. 

“If he would love her like Christ loves all of his creations unconditionally. Unselfishly. Irrationally.” 

“Yes, Father. I understand.” 

“Only then, should she submit.” His serrated tone could split chromium with ease. 

“Of course, of course.” Ezra wisely accepts defeat. 

He presses a short kiss on your cheek as an apology that you didn’t ask for, nor do you want. 

“Mmm.” A forced acknowledgment of the Duke’s affection through your pinched lips. Barely able to move under the Father’s microscopic gaze. 

“Now then,” Father Geto clears the boulders in his throat. 

“Tell me about your love.” 

The question stuns both you and the Duke. Looking to each other sheepishly because neither of you chose this.

War is young men dying and old men talking. And your life path is no different. Dictated by conversations between the powers that be. 

“We’ve only met a week ago, Father.” Your honesty drives both of his eyebrows upward. 

“A week ago?”

“But we are hoping you can teach us.” The Duke, overeager and excitable. 

“Teach you…?” Father Geto muses. You can’t quite interpret his tone, or minimal response. But your heart flutters all the same. 

He is thinking something. And what you would give to get a glance. To be let in. 

“Perhaps guide us?” Ezra gives an unintentionally painful squeeze on your thigh. You fail to muffle the tiny whimper. 

The Priest’s eyes laser down to where your fiancé’s hand lays. Chest rising and falling dangerously slow. 

“Right.”

Your eyes trail upwards as he stands. Closer to God than to you from this point of view.

“Duke, Duchess. You’ll have to accept my sincerest apologies.” 

His fingers dip the unused pen back into the ink cup. The edges of his leather bound notebook coming together. Seemingly without any notes, but an entire script from this session swirling in his mind. 

“My schedule is incorrect. I have another commitment. We will reschedule, yes?” Said with a finality that sends chills crawling down your spine. 

The two of you stand. Another handshake between the men. A restrained nod for you.

Just as quickly as you were let in, Father Geto shuts you out of his office and his mind. 

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Suguru presses his forehead against the shower tile. Warm water raining down his loose mane. Soothing his sore, overworked limbs. 

Today was maddening. 

He nearly destroyed his vestment the minute that God-forsaken counseling session ended. Seeking refuge, he took to the coast. 

And the sea provided anything but peace. 

She was angry with him, tonight. 

Curt. With unpredictable currents. Rip tides at nearly every turn. She tested his adaptation without mercy.

Just like that night.

“I’m going to stay on board, brother!”

Suguru flickered over to the silver-haired deckhand. An unfamiliar reservation opacifying his nearly translucent, iridescent eyes. 

Brother in name, technically. 

Their bloodlines were oil and water. He was a high born. Suguru was born unworthy of a beggar’s pity. 

But, bloodlines were inconsequential when their souls were instep as one. Both handed to humanity on the same night. During a thunderstorm already inscribed in history books.

‘The Tide of Eternal Requiem.’ 

It brought complete devastation. Crops destroyed. Families torn apart by tragic accidents inland and at sea. 

Then fate struck. 

Within the same hour, a voltaic boy, with a halo that put the clouds to shame and diamond eyes that could draw truth from murderers was born into the loving embrace of his parents. 

And Suguru was born with a crown so dark that the raging midnight appeared bright. 

With eyes as ominous as the sky above. 

Gunmetal grey, accented by an eerie violet swarm. Dormant volcanoes, threatening eruption. His birth mother abandoned him in an alley. Driven by fear that he was a bad omen from the Gods. 

“Ahhh, Satoru come on. Since when do you shy away from a few waves?”

Suguru teased. Already well into the process of shedding his work gear. 

“Zeus is the one rumored to be my father.” His counterpart flashed a knowing smile. 

“Poseidon doesn’t watch over me like he does you, Suguru.”

A tsunami couldn’t keep Suguru from his home. Much less a little rain. 

They were 3 miles away from the shoreline. Using his God-given ability, Suguru regularly acted as their scout. Performing his own reconnaissance then alerting the incoming ship of safe or turbulent terrain. 

“Almost ready to go, son?” 

His chosen father came up behind him. Suguru knew there were tears lining his meek eyes before turning to face him. 

“Dad.” Suguru sighed, fully disrobed now. Just his muscular frame and a compression suit. 

He met his father’s concerned gaze. Always like this during sea storms. Quiet prayers written all over his gentle features. 

Despite the worry, he never once attempted to convince his oceanic boy to stay on board. It would have been too cruel.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve traversed angrier swells.”

“Suguru, take care of yourself when I’m gone.” 

Elder, worn hands landed on his shoulders. Nearly too high for his reach. Suguru cocked his head to the side. 

This goodbye was different. 

“Stay on this path. For me. Albeit straight and narrow, there is a wonderful view. This is all for you, son.” 

Both men glanced to the Persian gulf. She thrashed against their vessel. Swaying their catch left and right with the intention of taking her creatures back. 

“Where is this coming from?” A genuine question from his younger self. Unable to read between the lines. 

“Can’t a man just speak from the heart?”

The melancholy smile didn’t meet the wrinkles of time decorating his eyes, but they shared a laugh anyway.  Suguru turned away but was promptly drawn back. 

“My beautiful boy.” 

The fisherman cradled his son’s face. Swimming in the eyes that Suguru once hated. The eyes that convinced his birth mother to abandon him. 

“Make it to shore, son.” Suguru rested his head against his father’s neck. Taking a slow, sweet drag of his scent.

Oak. 

He always smelled like oak. It was one of Suguru’s favorite things about him.

“If Poseidon calls—“

“I’ll tell him to fuck off.” Mischievous grin plastered on Suguru’s face. His father planted a kiss on his cheek, pushing him towards the end of the boat. As he always did.

Then the Gulf wrapped him in her hostile embrace. 

She was irate. 

Vicious tidal waves. Rapidly shifting currents. Even her creatures knew to settle below their usual depth. Suguru cursed the fact that he was born with useless, human lungs. Unable to withstand the pressure of the Midnight Zone. 

Within minutes his long, lean frame was riding her whims without a shred of control. Tossed around like a rag doll. At her complete mercy — or lack thereof. 

This was the first time he struggled to tame his element. A muffled groan bubbled around him. Serrated edges of long coral stalks dug into his back. Stark white foam whirled around him. 

Aerated waters. 

Suguru could barely maneuver against the waves pummeling his core. Searing heat traveling up his spine. His lungs demanded oxygen. 

The boat. 

The boat would never make it to shore. 

Desperate, furious strokes of his arms meant nothing against her unrelenting grasp. Effectively pinning Suguru to his underwater cross. 

A piece of chewed plank wood whizzed by his face. 

Followed by another. 

Then another. 

And Suguru watched his nightmare materialize before his eyes. Mustering his last oxygen reserve, he bellowed against his closed lips.

As if she hadn’t already ignored the cries of his fellow fisherman. 

Even still, he screamed so loud his ribcage should have vaporized. But ushering him to a watery grave at that time would have been too merciful. 

Suguru blinks out of the harrowing memory. The steeping tea takes at least two layers of epithelium off his esophagus.

Fucking, hell. 

He can’t seem to escape pain today.

The swim was excruciating.

Mass was dreadful.

Watching that boy’s hand lay on your lap was grating. 

Suguru’s mind drifts back to you. Your thought washes over him like baptizing waters purifying that which is impure.

The gleam in your eyes when you asked about his morning plunge. Barely a week and your pulse on him is already this precise.

Do not covet, Suguru. 

He scoffs to himself. Shaking free of your tempting spiral. 

This ‘straight and narrow’ path is proving to be more challenging than he let on. 

“Would you be proud, Father?” 

A whisper of accusation at the end of his inquiry. Suguru would give his arms, his eyes…his life to hear his father’s voice on the other end of his questions, once again. 

“Did He tell you?” 

Roaring silence. Of course. He knows that. He expects it. 

But it angers him all the same. 

“Did He come to you in a dream??” Suguru echos louder. More frantic. Punched out in a way he can barely recognize. 

“Was the reaper at His left, my heart on the right?!” A weak sob slips through the crack in his baritone. 

Yet another pain. But this one is tart and blurring his vision. 

“Did you KNOW? D—did you know that day was your last?!” He hisses through a salty stream.  Storming out to the garden to escape the walls collapsing in on him. 

Suguru’s eyes laser to the remaining thorny vines along his bed of hydrangeas. Without a second thought he wraps them around his bare arms. Staining the plant and his freshly bathed skin with crystalline tears. Once its thorns sufficiently bury into his skin he rips it away from the soil with all his might. 

“Bastard. I’m your SON.”

Warm metallic drips down the hills and ridges of his arms. Collecting in the flower bed. 

Is he cursing his earthly father? 

His Heavenly One? 

Or the Deity that brought this grief on him in the first place?

It hurts. 

An unforgiving pain. 

Much like the thorns in those rapids. Much like the inconceivable burn from his lungs begging for expanse. The time limit, even for him, ran lethally low. 

Well exceeding his father’s time limit. 

Poseidon stole from him that day.  

A callous trade for Suguru’s continued existence. 

“Why didn’t you…I—I should’ve been there.” 

Guilt eviscerates Suguru’s remaining resolve. Tilting his head up, he lets the salty crystals rain down his cheeks freely. 

The full moon cradles his face with the same warmth, the same adoration his father’s hands used to. 

Suguru accepts its celestial kisses for a moment before burying his face into his bloodied palms. His damp locks curtain his flushed face. Protecting the world from his unruly sobs.

“I’m here.” Barely audible words escape through desperate grabs for air. 

“I made it to shore, Dad.”

E/N: Oh hello, don’t mind me just sobbing. Also, guest appearance by our glorious Blue Eyed Babygirl King™️ If you need me, I will be in witness protection before Gege finds this since it’s a crime to be a S*toru lover. 

taglist: @blkkizzat @rotteneyess

[dressed2k1ll]

I’m giving up on men because

1. The fact that they all assume they’re experts in everything

2. The fact that they all assume they’re smarter than me immediately

3. The fact that they allow and use slurs to divide women like Karen, Pick Me, Terf, The Main Character, SWERF, prude, slut bitch

4. The only slur they have is incel which relies on the premise that they’re entitled to sex

5. Moms are expected to be perfect and if she makes a mistake she’s a bad mom. Dads are considered perfect despite their mistakes and even being a poor parent

6. They think sex is a service

7. They cannot have a magic sexual moral barrier that divides children from teens from women. I refuse to believe it. And the media sexualizes kids and infantilizes female sexuality… so what now?

8. That porn is so normalized and teen is a category and yet we can’t check a man’s porn viewing history before allowing them to coach, treat, or be alone with vulnerable people.

9. That some will and can and do have sex with corpses. That deadness is sexualized in fashion photography as arousing

10. That choking has become normalized in porn

11. That we know porn becomes increasingly more extreme through algorithm and capitalism

12. That they hide behind plausible deniability and think we are too stupid to see it - like the devils advocate position

13. That they convince themselves their plausible deniability is a moral standard

14. That even the normal married ones with little girls for kids are shitty

15. That they think their pleasure overrides the civil rights of a person

16. That they believe consent magically changes abuse into kink

17. That they don’t even know what misogyny is

18. That they think misandry is somehow comparable

19. That they think my hurting their feelings or making them feel uncomfortable is a violent act. That pointing out violence makes me the violent one.

20. That they defend Johnny Depp

21. That they’re afraid of false accusations

22. That they defend the reputations of men they haven’t met more than the reality of the women who report them lmao

23. They don’t take care of themselves physically

24. They can choose to be civilized but use animal evo psychology to defend subhuman actions

25. They believe that women’s sexuality is an economy for them

26. They created religion to usurp creative power from women

27. They convinced other men that humans came from a man’s rib, from a patriarchal god, when literally no man has NOT come through and from a woman.

28. They have sexualized every aspect of women’s existence including pain and crying

29. They’ve convinced women that empowerment is a feeling and not a change in power position

30. They blame their antisocial loneliness epidemic on us

31. The tried to use the Love Languages on us

32. They created psychiatry as a way to at least in part control women just as they created medicine to control and destroy midwives

33. They place the locus of responsibility outside themselves which makes them perpetual victims

34. They created purity culture

35. They created porn culture

36. They buy and use and masturbate to trafficked and vulnerable women and it doesn’t matter to them

37. They corner me in the workplace

38. They are always looking at us - I want to not be perceived sexually at all

39. They use women for all of their emotional dumping and we aren’t certified to handle it

40. They resent our happiness (shaming it)

41. We had to create laws to keep them from marrying and having sex with kids. Like, everywhere. We haven’t even succeeded globally

42. They hold women in power to an entirely separate standard than men

43. They’re lazy

44. They can solve complex problems and be incentive and self-improving at work, but are seemingly really incapable of doing this for relationships

45. They won’t see something unless it directly impacts them personally

46. They are emotionally unintelligent

47. They are violent

48. They are wilfully ignorant of the constant threat of sexual violence women face

49. They are making and using technology to get past consent

50. They believe women have a use value

51. They’re lying when they say they can’t show emotions : art, culture, music, etc belie this. And this is aside from the fact that we acknowledge their pride, nationalism, anger, boorishness, sulkishness, entitlement, jealousy, etc. these are emotions too.

52. They use power to get or pressure or coerce sex

53. They don’t mentor women professionally unless they’re sexually attracted to them physically

54. They’re bad and aggressive drivers

55. They’re predatory and some don’t know it ???????

56. They play dumb

57. They owe us reparations and refuse to even consider this - we were left out of Das Kapital

58. They try to turn their wives into their mothers

59. They moderate men and women differently in social media spaces

60. We can’t trust them as soldiers or peace corps

61. We can’t trust them alone with kids period - who do we tell kids to go to if they’re lost?!!

62. That they’ve turned violence into sex “body count” “fuck the shit out of you”

63. We can’t be honest with them - we have to tiptoe around them

64. I’m pissed more men aren’t speaking out about the obvious loss of civil rights of women globally - what the hell! It makes me believe that they kinda want it to happen (plausible deniability of course) because like it’s not gonna hurt them right?

65. At any given time I could pull up incidents where instead of intervening while a woman is being assaulted, the assault is filmed by other men. The reverse simply doesn’t happen.

66. They love borrowed authority

67. I hate them because when they ask “what do you want me to do about it?” And you say the most slacktivist thing, they won’t even do that. They’ll do NOTHING.

68. Because the most unsafe place for a woman in the world is the home

69. Because a woman is killed by an intimate partner globally every 11 minutes

70. Because the number one cause of death for pregnant women in the states is murder

71. Because they believe their morals are their best intentions. It’s like they all think they’re brave but he’s anyone done anything brave ?

72. They use weaponized incompetence to control people and be lazy

73. They believe sexism is benevolence

74. Because someone taught them that it’s the thought that counts and it almost never is the thought that counts

75. That gang rape is a thing

76. Because only a handful of men have most of the global wealth

77. They move goalposts: you can say what your experience is but they’ll discount it as one. You can say it’s others that have experienced the same thing and they’ll discount it as over represented.

78. There’s no acceptable way to be really angry with them, and express that, as a woman

79. They feel comfortable making comments about women’s physical appearance, touching us without our consent and bank on us not rocking the boat.

80. They refuse to believe in the wage gap

81. We could have child care as being mandated but because women are primary childcare givers, we don’t have this.

82. Medicine was only tested on both genders recently because it was too difficult to do apparently

83. Our medical issues aren’t taken seriously

84. Mass shooters are almost exclusively men

85. Because they moan about suicide rates and forget to mention all the women and kids and sometimes strangers that suicidal men take with them

86. They believe they’re entitled to sex - through payment guilt or force

87. They rarely care about what girls think unless they have a daughter

88. Cultures abort girl babies and before they just exposed them to the elements. As a result there’s India and China and the Middle East Hong Kong, South Korea, Taiwan Vietnam etc there are more men than women

89. They don’t stop female genital mutilation. And they could if they wanted to.

90. More than 100 million women are missing - the shortfall of the number of women in the world we would expect in the absence of sex discrimination

91. They desire us to be dependent on them. Independence terrifies them.

92. They let women leave the workforce during the pandemic.

93. They see male history, male writing, male law as standard and they aren’t. They’d freak out if the USA had 9 woman Supreme Court justices

94. They are more sexist than even racist

95. Male over female Domination is the first and most primal form of oppression

96. Prostitution is the first form of trafficking not the worlds oldest profession

97. They can compartmentalize the pain of others - especially if it doesn’t impact them or their family (their own private kingdom)

98. Every man assumes he’s the king and grows up taught that they deserve to own things, people and property

99. They see women as girls all as potential sexual objects. Especially if they’re mad.

100. They treat sex workers as a different class

101. Women don’t keep men as sex slaves

102. They’ve made the law such that women cannot logistically perform murder in self defence

103. They say porn is free speech and that it’s not real when it’s convenient

104. Despite all of this: all of the proof and every experience logged and litigated… that they don’t believe that women still are being oppressed under male supremacy.

105. Because someone has said it’s okay for drag queens to use “bitch serving cunt” as an expression of femininity- and claim it’s not misogynistic

#misandry #misogyny #feminism #feminist

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

okay so I can't stop thinking about a nerdy prudes star trek au

Pete: Android, Chief of Science

second “son” and creation of infamous non-federation cyberneticist t'noy karaxis (because come on that just sounds like a Star Trek name) 

t’noy’s first creation (ted) was considered unstable/aggressive by the federation standards and was incredibly dangerous, but when they went to handle the situation both ted and t’noy karaxis had ~mysteriously disappeared~

pete doesn’t know where they went either and he’s always very worried about them showing up again (but also, secretly, really wants at least ted to)

pete was never completely finished because of the disappearance, so he’s faulty, prone to power fluctuations (woah,,,, almost like low blood sugar,,, crazy,,,,)

he’s got an emotion chip, but it’s also faulty, in that it spikes hard into overdrive, and he has a hard time controlling it some of the time

If he’s feeling really upset/worried about something important/embarrassed he’s prone to remove it (especially when he’s younger/before he’s got his established friend-group-crew; they really try to stop him from doing that)

VERY IN LOVE WITH STEPH BUT HE DOES NOT REALLY UNDERSTAND IT AND IT’S STRESSING HIM OUT

started just as a normal science officer but like six people died and now he’s got the position– he’s also really stressed out about that precedent

he loves outer space so bad, they regularly have to reign him in on ground missions or during very dangerous space-issues because he’s just so excited about learning cool new space facts

his room is just books and experiments and a huge window so when everyone else goes to sleep he kind of just Stares out at the stars

he has little cyber-glasses that ‘help him analyze things’ but mostly he wears them because he thinks they look cool

not great with people both for android reasons and for ‘spent the vast majority of his early existence entirely alone and isolated, finishing building himself’ reasons 

Steph: Half-betazoid, Security Officer (She’s….. the brawn……. he’s the brains)

okay first things first I know betazoid's irises that are all black but I've always thought it would be cool if it was their whole eye and this is my au, gene roddenberry, so leave me alone

back to actual au: her dad (human) is a high ranking starfleet officer who nepo-babies her through the academy and onto a starship but he’s incredibly open, both vocally and projecting-his-emotions wise, that he’s doing it to get rid of her

her mom (betazoid) died when she was really little and she was raised across multiple starships/bases by her dad, so she’s entirely cut off from that part of her culture

she’s flying completely blind with her emotion/mind reading abilities and from a very young age has learned how to take advantage of it for her own benefit

it’s basically masking times four hundred because she’s navigating all of her relationships and interactions based on the thoughts of those around her/what they’d like or want from her

she’s constantly subjected to the really gross thoughts of her crewmates and it’s GROSS AND BAD and has really heightened her defenses

especially in her academy days (at the behest of her friends) or when she’s feeling threatened she can and will use her mind reading abilities to be really, really mean but,,,, she doesn’t do it much anymore and does feel very bad about it

she really hates pete at first because he’s the first person she’s never been able to read the mind of and she doesn’t know how to navigate it/it’s way, way too vulnerable for her but it actually ends up making them way closer because it’s the first relationship she’s ever had based fully on trust

never actually gave a shit about star fleet or it’s missions before, she was honestly really annoyed by the academy and her dad all but forcing her to take this position, but it’s… sort of growing on her (don’t tell anyone)

Grace: Human, Medical Officer

human and incredibly proud of that

she’s like…. maybe a little prejudiced about it,,, she certainly doesn’t mean to be,,,, but she’s always the one to deliver that classic star trek ‘I thought this race didn’t have BLANK advancement, humans do this better, etc...’ lines that kicks off an episode to tell you about the new alien race of the episode

both her parents worked with star fleet but never actually made it off of earth (because they didn’t want to) so she’s her family’s equivalent of ‘kind of a rebel’ for wanting to be on a starship

she’s just a really high achiever and is treating it sort of like a mission trip to help other planets

(she also just… really wanted to and thinks it’s cool but she thinks that's kind of selfish so she keeps that a secret) 

doesn’t trust pete and is at least somewhat miffed about him not needing help from medical 

met steph in academy and was really, really, really excited when they got assigned on the same ship (steph was NOT)

huge stickler for rules and regulations and it’s either incredibly helpful or causes all their problems there's no in between

morally against the holodeck and no one is necessarily clear on why

because her parents worked for star fleet on earth she still lived with them during academy so being on the ship is her first time ever being apart from them and it’s causing some sort of crisis (though who know which way said crisis is going to hard pivot) (you hope it’s in a gay way but it’s also grace so it could be in a space murder way,.,., only time will tell)

Ruth: Human, Engineer

human and livid about it

desperately wants to be captain one day, and has dreams of being on the bridge, but it became clear very quickly in the academy that she was too anxious to ‘boldly go’ as far as she’d need to to achieve that :(

she’s very good at engineering but she thinks it’s boring, and she thinks just being a human amongst all these cool aliens is lame, and she kind of is under the impression everyone is judging her for it (they’re not)

don’t let this bitch around an visiting vulcans she will ask them about pon farr

she asks steph about “the phase” IMMEDIATELY (context: the phase is where mature betazoids suddenly become horny forever basically) and was like ‘is that going to happen even though ur only half??’ and steph, who had never heard about it, was HORRIFIED

met richie and pete in academy and thought they were so cool she needed them to be her friends or she’d die

they were both very okay with it 

they’re all buddies :)

she helps pete with any repairs when he gets damaged or something happens- she’s the only one he trusts to do anything other than himself 

(... she also wants to test if he’s actually ‘fully functional’... pete’s said no so far though :/)

spends hours on the holodeck

Richie: Andorian, Communications Officer

he’s not much of a fighter, despite being andorian, and initially wanted to go more into the artistic side of his culture but his fascination with other planets/cultures/people as well as the concept of ‘boldly going’ pushed him into joining starfleet

still draws/creates art in his free time tho

managed to be fluent in like forty different alien languages and the universal translator pisses him off in CONCEPT (even though it’s still incredibly helpful that he doesn’t Need it and is part of why he has his job)

he keeps his room freezing and pete’s the only one willing to hang out with him in it because he can’t get cold :) 

he’s mad he has to wear the red uniform because of his job >:( he’s blue why can’t he wear blue >:(

constantly gets in trouble for wearing increasingly non regulation layers over his uniform

single handedly caused the tribble outbreak on their starship

he’s banned from ground duty anytime they’re on a random planet because he gets over excited and keeps almost dying from getting straight up phaser-set-to-stunned (because he’s not only andorian but he’s a particularly fragile andorian like it doesn’t even need to be a phaser pistol just a normal phaser fucks him up)

also spends hours on the holodeck, often with ruth, and they like to drag pete with them even if he doesn’t really get it

[ipostwhatiwant1202]

His Feelings: Leo Imagine

warnings: none, gender neutral reader. sfw, fluff. turtles are 22-25

Leo always found himself trying to be his best self every day. A perfectionist, if you will. He trains hard, keeps his head level, and thinks way more with his head than his heart. At times it was a curse more than a blessing because he may seem cold. It's not intentional but he has a lot on his plate and on his shoulders.

He tries not to get close to anyone outright for safety reasons. He's skeptical and needs to make sure this person is more of an asset than a liability. He trusts Vern, April, and Casey with his life, which is saying a lot. The police officers at the NYPD? Not so much. Then you showed up.

You were a social worker/officer/CSI that transferred from a different state. You were assigned to accompany the turtles on their missions when they helped out the police. You were still young, in your early 20's, so you had a lot to learn. You knew they could probably teach you a lot so you accepted.

The guys, especially Mikey and Donnie, warmed up to you rather quickly. Raph came around after meeting you a few times but Leo was still somewhat distant. He was friendly with you of course, but he found himself scared of what this meant.

He prided himself on being rational and not allowing his feelings to get the better of him, but you were slowly, and unknowingly, throwing a wrench into that.

Mikey decided after working with you for a month that you absolutely had to join them for dinner one night. You met Splinter, who was glad to meet you finally after hearing so much. You knew you'd have to fully gain his trust but you knew he would become a second father to you eventually.

Leo didn't ignore you but didn't acknowledge you at the same time. Your presence made him uneasy. He felt anxious and on edge everytime he saw you. He was great at hiding it because his father, his brothers, or April and Casey had yet to say anything. It still hurt your feelings though.

As the months turned in to a year, you came by the lair more and more often. Mikey stole you to play video games, Raph liked to talk work stuff and help you with it, and Donnie just liked talking to you while he worked. You were nice company and actually listened to him. Leo, however, still couldn't bring himself to get close to you.

"Have you thought about what I suggested?" Donnie asked you, helping you fix your laptop.

"The training thing?" You asked, shrugging your shoulders. "I don't know, Donnie."

"You're associated with us, which puts you in danger by default." He responded, pushing his glasses up. "We all agree you need to know how to protect yourself."

"Leo wasn't in on that." You told him, crossing your arms. "I don't think he wants me to."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course he does!" Donnie replied, playfully nudging your elbow.

"Leo doesn't like me, Donnie." You pointed out.

Leo could hear your conversation through the wall, unbeknownst to you and Donnie. He did like you, a lot, and that was his problem. April confronted him a few months ago about his withdrawn behavior and then she made him realize what he was feeling. Now everytime you're around, he feels like he has to avoid you more.

It wasn't that he didn't want to get to know you, in fact he knew a lot about you because he was observant. He knew your favorite foods, favorite movies, and he even knew how you took your tea/coffee. He's memorized your little quirks and how you laugh, hell he could even tell it was you by your footsteps.

He couldn't possibly tell you how he felt. He was sure of his feelings but it could never work. He was a turtle, you a human. He couldn't take you on dates or show you off to anyone. He couldn't buy you presents or marry you. If you wanted kids, he couldn't give you that. He couldn't provide for you like a human boyfriend would.

"I think you should talk to him." Donnie told you honestly. "He may be a prude sometimes but he isn't hard to talk to."

Gee thanks Donnie. Leo thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

"I think I will. Thanks, Dee." You told him, patting his arm.

Leo could tell you left the lab and was making your way to his room, so he quickly went back to cleaning his katana. He could smell your perfume/cologne as you came in to his doorway. At this moment, he hated his acute sense of smell.

"Yes?" Leo asked, not looking up from his katana.

"Leo," you started, "can we talk?"

Your voice was so sweet and how you said his name made him all the more queasy.

"What about?" He replied, looking up from his katana.

You were in his doorway, your arms around your stomach. Your cheeks were slightly flushed due to the coolness of the lair. Your body was so small in his eyes and your eyes, your eyes seemed a shade (eye color) brighter than normal. Your hair was slightly touseled and looked so soft.

"Um," you cleared your throat, "I just wanted to ask if I did something wrong?"

You could never do anything wrong.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his forehead crinkling in confusion.

"Well, you just seem to not like me very much and I just want to make sure I didn't offend or upset you." You explained, walking further in to his room.

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "No, no you didn't."

"Then...why do you avoid me...?" You carefully asked.

Leo froze. "I...don't mean to."

"But you do." You replied, your voice growing more confident.

Leo set his katana behind him and stood up. He stood a good foot taller than you. He adored that he was bigger than you and hated it at the same time. He hated it because you two couldn't sneak anywhere and loved it because he could easily shield you from harm.

"Look, Y/N, I can't afford to get close to many people." He said, crossing his arms. "It's dangerous."

"You got close to April and Casey..even Vern." You pointed out.

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

I care for you differently.

Leo didn't know how to respond to you. His body language was suggesting he was guarding himself. You now looked annoyed, almost hurt. You came late in the game no argument there, but that didn't mean you couldn't share a friendship like April's or like Casey's, even Vern's!

"It just is." He mumbled, looking down. He could see the hurt flash on your face, he felt ashamed.

"I have tried so hard to be nice to you and you can't even acknowledge me with a hi." You snapped, shaking your head.

"That's the problem!" He snapped. He couldn't help it.

"My niceness is the problem?" You asked, your eyebrows furrowing. "For God's sake, Leonardo, grow up!"

"That's not what I-" he sighed, running his hand over his face. "-I didn't mean it like that."

You shook your head. "Don't worry cause from this day forward, I won't be nice to you."

You turned on your heel and went to walk out but he grabbed your bicep gently.

"You have the most wonderful laugh." He admitted.

You slowly turned around. "What?"

"Your laugh...it's wonderful." He told you, swallowing thickly. "You have this-this thing you do when you're happy where your nose crinkles up."

"I don't understand." You said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Your niceness is a problem because it's giving me this problem and I can't shake it." Leo said, letting go of your bicep. "It's not that I don't like you, it's actually more than that."

"I'm listening." You said, crossing your arms.

Leo shuffled his feet awkwardly. How did humans do this? Never in his life had he ever had to be so vulnerable and openly admit to something so big, besides the purple ooze incident. He felt cornered, scared even, but not cause you're making him that way...but you are.

"You make me feel so weak but not in a harmful way, more like in my chest. I see you and I falter. I just," he shakes his head, "I can't get over what you've done to me. It's like it gets worse when you're here."

"You...don't like the way I make you feel?" You asked, confusion covering your face. You had an idea of what he was trying to say but you needed to hear exactly what it was. Leo was a man of few words so this word vomit he was giving you came as a huge surprise.

"You make my head spin everytime you laugh. You make my chest get this weird feeling everytime you walk in a room. Then when you're doing your job, it's something I could watch for hours and never get bored." He explained, walking closer to you. "But your smile and your kindness? Those make me so weak in the knees that I feel like I'll crumble."

"Leo..." You whispered, your breath hitching slightly at the closeness.

"I can't give you what you deserve." He mumbled. "You deserve proper dates and proper support and I can't give you that. I avoided you because I hated the fact that I can't have you how you deserve. I can't buy you things or give you children/adopt a child and I can't do spontaneous outings to public places." He shook his head. "You need someone-"

"-How do you know what I need?" You asked, putting your hands on his biceps.

His whole heart skipped a beat.

"Y/N-"

"-Let me finish." You cut him off again, looking up at his icy blue eyes. "I want someone who is kind and smart and selfless. Someone who has a back bone but is able to compromise. Someone who can make me laugh or keep me in check when I'm losing my mind. I want someone who can be my best friend, partner, and lover at the same time. I don't need fancy dates or-or gifts, and I don't need children. Leo," you moved your hands to his, "I need something real and someone who feels like home. I need someone who makes me feel safe and most importantly, loved and wanted."

Leo's much larger hands held yours securely. He knew you were being sincere but he was still scared. What would his father say? His brothers, what would they think? He had a city to protect and a family to watch out for.

"The risks-"

"-I know." You replied. "I can take it."

"Oh just kiss already!" Raph's voice rang through the wall, making you jump. "I'm tryna watch a movie!"

Leo groaned and glared at the wall. You, however, started to laugh.

"Raph!" Leo shouted in annoyance. He looked at you. "I'm sorry, where were we?"

You gave one last chuckle and reached up, cupping his face. "I think doing what Raph wants us to hurry up and do."

Leo only smiled at you before slowly leaning down, connecting his lips with yours. It was soft and a bit awkward due to it being his first ever kiss. He was a quick study and quickly learned the rhythm.

"Finally! Donnie!!! You owe me $20!" Mikey's voice rang from the door way. You jumped.

"Ow!" Leo yelped, holding his lip. "Mikey!"

"Uh oh." Mikey mumbled, running out of the door way.

You were biting back a smile as Leo went to run out after him, but not before giving you one last peck on the lips.

"Excuse me while I go kill him." Leo said, running out and after Mikey.

You shook your head and smiled. You can't take the boy out of the man, no matter how infacuated he is with you.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Reason number 2636185372 I love Nerdy Prudes Must Die-

Max is humanized without being absolved of his actions. Maxwell Jägerman was undoubtedly a piece of shit. He was a controlling prick that refused to let anyone have control over their own life, abusing his "friends" and his enemies alike. He took real joy from punishing the people around him when they tried to sidestep his arbitrary rules, enforcing them with the threat of violence. He knows he's physically stronger than everyone around him, and he takes advantage of that. He's 100% eager to fight before considering other options. Even the other jocks are scared of him, because he defaults to beating the hell out of people. (Also note that he's stronger than all of them too. When they do the chest bump Jason falls backwards and has to catch himself, and he knocks Kyle senseless with just one hit, to the point that he has to be carried out by his friends.)

I feel all of that very strongly. But at the same time? He's like... A full person. Big things can be revealed when a character thinks they're alone, and although him going through the Waylan place shows him being a prick as expected, it also shows him being scared. It seems to me like he's a very fearful person. Scared of ghosts, skeletons, judgement from his dad, even those cheap costumes seem to genuinely freak him out before he forces himself to get a grip (which just means getting aggressive). Or look at how he interacts with Grace. It's easy to assume he's just being manipulative, but there's never a point where it seems like Max is particularly skilled at emotional manipulation. It seems to me like he actually, genuinely likes her in a weird way. He's an ass, but he totally brightens up when he talks to her. He thinks she's funny, he seems a little bit awkward during conversation with her, he doesn't like people picking on her.

"She's such a prude!"

"Yeah, isn't she great?"

I'm sure part of it is that he just wants to get in her pants, but that doesn't seem to be the only factor here. He wants to carry her books, he wants to cuddle, he doesn't see her prudiness as an obstacle the way you would expect an asshole like him would. It seems to be part of the reason he likes her at all. It's not a healthy or respectful dynamic, but it is bizarrely genuine.

The characterization in this show is just so good y'all

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Today was a Fairytale

Pairing: PrinceJosephQuinnxReader

Summary: The King and Queen have a ball to find a bride for their son. Prince Joseph is not amused because he is beyond bored of all the royal ladies and their ridiculous natures. He has been refusing marriage for far too long. So, they agree to open it up to any eligible maiden in the kingdom. You receive an invitation and have no desire to go but the punishment for not going is far too harsh and you like your neck too much. Little do you know, but going to the ball will be the best decision you ever made.

18+ ONLY Minors Go Away

Word Count: 7.1K

“Joseph, this is not an option,” his mother chastised, striding across the room, her face set, letting him know she was not amused by him. Of course, she rarely was amused by him. “You are the Prince. One day you will rule this kingdom and it will be expected for you to have a bride, a queen, so that you may produce heirs. This ball is not a choice. It is your responsibility as our son.”

Joseph slunk down into his seat, arms folded over his chest, full lips in his famous pout. It was a running joke in the castle that his face was simply stuck that way as he was often unhappy. This castle, this life, everything about it, annoyed the hell out of him. 

“But mum,” he whined, a man far too old to do so, “balls are so ridiculous. I don’t want to get dressed up. And I don’t want to get married. The royal girls are so boring. All they want to do is sit, look pretty, and talk about nonsense. It’s bloody awful and I’ve already met them all. Remember Princess Elena that visited last month? I wanted to rip my bloody ears off just to get her to stop talking about her damn poodles.”

His mom’s long manicured nail came to her mouth as she thought about his words. Joseph straightened optimistically, thinking perhaps he’d gotten through. Perhaps his mother had actually listened to him for once. Perhaps she wouldn’t force him to marry some boorish girl that would make him miserable for the rest of his days. 

“Well, if you’ve already met the royal girls, then perhaps it’s time we opened up the pool a bit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Perhaps we don’t just invite royal girls. Perhaps we invite the entire kingdom. Every eligible young lady can attend the ball. Maybe then my stubborn son would be able to find a bride that is up to his ridiculously high standards.”

Joseph snorted, “As if father would ever approve of me marrying a commoner.”

“You let me deal with your father. I have my ways of persuading him.”

She smirked and Joseph felt his stomach turn over. He made an obnoxiously loud gagging noise, leaning forward in his seat. 

“Jesus, mother. Was that really necessary?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. How do you suppose you came to be? Don’t be such a prude Joseph. How will you ever provide heirs if you’re going to be so sensitive to the very subject of sexual intercourse?”

“My god, mother! Please stop!” He leapt to his feet, covering his ears. “I am not sensitive to the subject. I know about it quite well, actually. I am just sensitive to the idea of my parents and that subject.”

His mother rolled her eyes, “We are humans, you know, and not so old as to not be…”

“Enough!” he pleaded. “I am begging you.”

“Fine,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I will go speak to your father. You are going to find a suitable wife at this ball if it’s the last thing I do. You are getting far too old to be a bachelor anymore. People are talking, you know? You think I don’t know about your trysts with the maid or the lovely young girl who sells goat cheese in town or my handmaiden?”

Joseph’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. He’d thought he’d been discreet but clearly not discreet enough if word of his sexual relationships was reaching his mother’s ears. It’s not that he wanted to have casual flings but he’d yet to find anyone who interested him beyond what they provided carnally. Most girls simply wanted him because of his status. They wanted a shot at being the queen one day. None of them actually cared to get to know him in the slightest. 

“Mother, I…”

“Joseph,” she warned, holding up a hand to him. “I am aware you are a young, virile male. I know all about urges but this kind of nonsense must stop. We cannot have the prince become a laughing stock of the town. The people will lose all faith in your ability to rule. The simple answer is to see you properly married. It will show that you have grown up, matured, that you are responsible and ready to take on the demands of running a kingdom.”

“I don’t see how being a husband has anything to do with running a kingdom. I do not require a wife to do my duties as King.”

“You do require a wife to produce an heir, which is one of the most pressing demands of a ruler. It leaves the kingdom open to hostility, war, and treachery when there is no clear lineage. Every kingdom within one hundred miles will be ready to lay siege to us. That is enough to leave the people nervous and understandably so. So, we will have a ball and you will find a wife and you will do your duty as next in line for the throne.”

“But…”

“Joseph Anthony Francis Quinn,” she hissed, letting him know with those four words, his full name, that this conversation was closed.

“Yes mother,” he muttered, shoulder slumping forward in defeat. 

____________________________________________________________

A soft breeze lifted your hair as you knelt in the dirt, working to pull a particularly stubborn weed that was fighting back with all it had. Beads of sweat dripped down your face, a salty tang coating your tongue as they slipped off your nose, down your cupid’s bow, and along your lips. Pulling with as much force as you could muster, you fell back, the weed coming with you. 

A small oof fell from your lips as the drop but you smiled, victorious. Finally, the last weed was pulled. Your chores were finished for the day. You were looking forward to washing the dirt and grime from your body, curling up with a good book and a nice, cold glass of lemonade. Anything to ward against this heatwave, summer not wanting to let go of its hold, refusing to allow fall to take over. 

“Hello there!” called a voice from behind you and you turned to see a courier strolling up the stone path toward your small, run-down cottage. 

“Hello,” you replied, placing your hands on the ground, pushing yourself up to stand. The back of your hand swiped across your forehead, removing the sweat but leaving behind streaks of dirt. 

The courier gave a cringey smile as he held out a piece of parchment, rolled up and tied with a bright blue ribbon. You wiped your hands down the front of your dress in an attempt to remove as much dirt as possible before accepting it. 

“What is this?” you inquired as you never received mail, let alone official papers delivered by a royal courier. 

“It is an invitation, madam,” he replied. “All eligible ladies are being summoned to attend the Royal Ball in two days' time. Prince Joseph is searching for his future queen.”

Little frown lines created divots in the skin between your eyebrows. You untied the silky ribbon, rolling the paper out. Sure enough, in lovely flowing writing it said:

The Court of King and Queen Quinn

Summon you to attend a Royal Ball

In honor of the son, Prince Joseph

The 18th day of October at 7 in the evening

Your eyes tracked the words before returning suspiciously to the well-dressed man standing in front of you. Why would you be invited to a ball at the palace? Why would ever be considered to be queen? You were nobody, the sad orphan who no one had wanted, the town exile, living in the woods in a dilapidated cottage you’d found and made your shelter, away from the bustle of the village. 

“Pardon me, sir, but this must be some mistake. I am not royalty. I am not fit to be on the arm of a prince, surely.”

“No mistake, madam. The King and Queen have decided to invite all ladies of the right age who are not married. It appears our prince can be rather fickle and has yet to find a lady of royal status suitable. They are quite keen for him to find a wife so it seems they have…lowered their standards a bit.”

He sneered down at you, his nose wrinkling as if he smelled something offensive. Which, he probably did, as you had spent much of the day in the heat of the sun, working hard. Something this man probably didn’t understand as his only job was to ferry paperwork from the palace. You stood tell, refusing to quaver under his stare, quite used to being looked down upon by others. 

When you started your life being discarded at an orphanage, you were looked at as garbage. The villagers smirked and sniggered behind your back but you could hear all the vile things they said. That your mother must have been a whore. That you were worthless, bad, evil. Because if your own mother didn’t want you then something must be wrong with you. 

After years of putting up with abuse at the orphanage: starved, beaten, berated, you’d had enough. The moment you’d come of age, you ran and never looked back. Finding this little cottage had been a godsend. Maybe it was a mess. Maybe it needed a lot of work but it kept you away, never having to be looked at that way again. 

You raised chickens and planted fruits and vegetables. You learned how to can your produce to make it last you through the winter. You never had any reason to step into that horrible place where everyone thought you were dirt on the bottom of their shoe and you had no intention of starting now, summoned or not. 

“While I appreciate the invitation, I shall be declining,” you stated, making to hand the parchment back but the courier held up his hand, stepping back.

“I am afraid that is not an option,” he stated, shaking his head. “The King and Queen were very clear. Every maiden is required to attend. If you do not, you will be arrested for treason.”

“Treason!?” you exclaimed angrily. “For not attending a fancy dance?”

“You would be betraying your King and Queen, your prince, and your kingdom by not attending.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Be that as it may, I would strongly suggest that you reconsider. Unless you desire to end your life on the hangman’s noose.”

Your stomach turned over. You’d seen enough hangings in your life to know that was not how you wanted to go out. The poor people whose necks didn’t break upon impact were the worst, legs flailing as their eyes bulged out of their heads, slowly choking to death. It appeared you had no choice. Dance or die.

____________________________________________________________

Sitting on his ornate throne, one knee crooked, foot propped in front of him, Joseph watched the bevy of dancers as they twirled around the ballroom. He was bored stiff. This was precisely the kind of thing that he despised about his position. What good was it to be royalty if he had to do things he hated? Shouldn’t he be allowed to say no to anything he wanted? Shouldn’t he be allowed to spend his days however he wished.

Sometimes he envied the commoners with their simple lives. They could come and go as they pleased, no official guard following them around, ensuring they weren’t doing anything that could ruin their reputation. 

A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he remembered the amount of times he’d managed to evade their watchful eyes. Yeah, the young girl who sold goat cheese, with her flaxen hair and ocean blue eyes, had been quite fun. At least for a short time until she got needy and clingy, chasing after his carriage every time it rolled through the village, convinced that he was in love with her.

Joseph had never loved anyone. He had fun, as most young men do. He’d enjoyed the women he’d been with. He may even have cared about a few but he’d never loved any of them. They were either dull as dishwater or they were only vying for one thing. The throne. His position made it quite difficult to find someone who actually wanted him, wanted to know the man that was underneath that golden wreath that circled his head. 

“Darling, there is no point in this ball if you are not going to ask at least one of these maidens to dance,” his mother grumbled from his left. 

Joseph whined, his head thumping against the back of the ridiculously high throne. “I didn’t want to have this ball to begin with so why do I have to participate?”

“Because it is your duty as future ruler,” his father seethed, managing to convey all the disgust he had in his son and his immature behavior while keeping a smile on his face. Must keep up appearances for the people. “You will go socialize, ask ladies to dance, smile…and you will finish this night choosing a queen.”

Joseph sighed, eyes roaming over his options. Every lady here had been presented to him. They’d given him their best smile, curtsied, batted their eyelashes. Anything to try to show him that they were the one he was looking for but none of them were. 

He rose from his seat, rolling his eyes when all eyes turned hopefully towards him. A sea of women all desperate to be the one he would approach. Which one of them would be the least vile? He’d just settled on a lovely brunette in a blue dress when the massive double doors opened and every other thought floated out of his head.

___________________________________________________________

You entered the ballroom, overwhelmed by the sheer opulence of your surroundings. It was a space of pure elegance and grandeur, a setting fit for the royalty that sat at the front, looking down on the commoners from their high thrones. It was not a space that you belonged in, standing in your dress you’d managed to piece together from some emerald velvet curtains that you’d found in a closet. 

It was a scene of beauty and money, your stomach knotting uncomfortably as you thought of the hundreds of people who went hungry, working themselves to the bone, just to survive while this existed. The walls were lined with tapestries and rich fabrics, the chandeliers above filling the space with a magical glow. The marble floor shone bright white. Everything was just as you’d imagined when you read those fairy tales as a child, wishing for an escape from the misery that was your life. 

Couples twirled around the floor in dresses and suits that were masterpieces. Jewels adorned throats and wrists, a dazzling display, twinkling like stars every time the light hit them just so. The food laid out on a table as long as the room was a banquet worthy of royalty, only serving to remind you how so many went hungry while those in the palace gorged themselves and wasted precious resources as if they were nothing. 

It was a place that existed outside of space and time, everything perfect and timeless. It was an absolute dream, a glimpse into a paradise that you would never know. You would enjoy the evening, fill up on delicious food, perhaps even partake in a dance or two if a gentleman asked. But then you would retire, back to your dilapidated cottage, your rags, and your solitude.

“Pardon me.”

Blinking in surprise at being addressed, you turned your head to find the most delicious chocolate brown eyes gazing into yours. Your eyes trailed over him, from the soft curls that adorned his head, the full lips that were curved into the slightest smile, the hand that was turned up in invitation. Standing in front of you was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Not that it was saying much as you hadn’t laid eyes on many people at all in the last five years. Not since you fled the orphanage and hid among the trees. 

“I was wondering if I might have this dance?” he inquired, his voice like a gentle sigh, a calming presence in a stormy world, a warm cup of tea on a winter’s night. 

You spotted the circlet of gold that rested atop those luscious locks and paused. This had to be Prince Joseph, the guest of honor, the man who was looking for a wife tonight. Your eyes moved around the ballroom, taking in the bevy of ladies, their eyes turned to you, hatred and seething jealousy pouring from them. Why was he asking you? There were so many beautiful girls to choose from. Surely, you couldn’t be the one he would choose to share a dance with?

“Me?” you asked, hand flitting to your chest. 

Full lips pursed into a deliciously sinful little smirk, “You are the one I am asking, are you not?”

“But why?”

“I am the prince. Do I need a reason?” he questioned, head tilting just slightly, eyes lighting up like the sky at sunrise. 

“No, I suppose you do not. Forgive me, your majesty,” you stammered softly, eyes dropping to your feet. He was the prince. Of course he didn’t need a reason and denying him could also mean the noose for you. 

Two fingers pressed under your chin, lifting your eyes to his, “No need for apologies. Just a dance.”

You swallowed down the anxiety that clogged your throat as one of his hands wrapped around yours, the other curling around your waist. With a slight tug, your bodies were nestled together, so close that you could feel his heartbeat pounding rhythmically against your own breast. 

The musicians began playing a waltz, filled with grace, a melody of joy and pleasure. You stiffened in Joseph’s arms because you had never danced before and the others around you made it look so easy, flowing along with the strains of music. He noticed. Those eyes, the depths of which were pulling you under, crinkled in the corners in amusement.

“Is something wrong?”

“I…you see, I…” you stammered, nervous to admit to the prince that you had no idea how to dance. “I have never danced before.”

“Is that all? No worries, love. Just follow my lead. I’ve got you.”

And he did, your feet barely touching the floor, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud, the two of you appearing in perfect harmony. It couldn’t be further from the truth as you hadn’t the foggiest idea what you were doing, simply holding onto his hand and allowing him to guide you. His hand on your waist moved you easily and it felt as if the whole world stood still, a scene from a storybook. 

You knew you should take in this moment, the elegance of the palace, the beauty of the movement of the dancers, the melodies and rhythm of the music. But you couldn’t. The only thing you were taking in was the man in front of you. His face was a poem that you wished to memorize and hold close to your heart every day as you resided alone in your cottage. His hands warming your skin, like the touch of sunlight on a cold winter’s day. His voice, a soothing lullaby you wished to hear every night as you slipped into slumber. 

You danced, song after song playing, but you couldn’t have said how many there were, so lost in this moment, this beautiful man. You couldn’t even hear the notes as you brain was flooded with only him. He never released you, never moved to dance with anyone else, keeping a hold on you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. 

You knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. You were nobody, an outcast, a blight, the shame of your mother who had looked upon your face and found it impossible to love you. He was a prince, the future king, royalty. Why would he ever settle for you when he could have a princess? A maiden who wore beautiful clothes and perfect skin because they never had to toil a day in the sunlight. You could not understand why he was choosing to spend his time with you but you knew it was temporary, fleeting, a moment to savor because it would never come again. 

The last notes of the song played and Joseph stepped back from you. You inhaled sharply, assuming this was the end of your time with him. You should be grateful you had any at all but instead were left with a feeling of melancholy that this was all you had. A few songs, a few dances, a few stolen moments of his time. 

“Come with me,” he urged, pulling on your hand. 

“Where?” you asked in surprise.

“Does it matter?” Joseph’s eyes twinkled mischievously. 

No. It did not. You would follow him into the very fires of hell if it meant even one more minute of his time. Nodding your assent, you allowed him to lead you through the throngs of dancers, not missing the harsh glares you received from the females. They were clearly angry that you were monopolizing his time, reducing their chances of being chosen to be the next queen. And perhaps it was selfish because it would never be you.

The two of you raced down hallways, your eyes barely able to take in the magnificence that surrounded you as he hurried you away from the festivities. The marble, bronze, and glass blurred past you until he stopped before two massive doors with large, golden handles. Releasing your hand, he grabbed onto both, shoving them open. 

You gasped, booths hand clutching your chest, as you took in the sanctuary of knowledge. The walls were lined with shelves of books. Moonlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the books that adorned them, spilling across the rich woodwork. The fragrance of leather and old paper filled your nostrils and with it, filling your soul with a sense of peace. You had stepped into a world of beauty and history. To have access to this many books would be an absolute dream.

Books were your magical escape from reality, the only one you had. When you could get your hands on a book, and it wasn’t often, your only means was the one friend you had in the village, the librarian who would deliver you two at a time, you would dive in. You would escape into the pages of another world, the dismal and dreary landscape of your life fading into the background for as long as there were pages left. 

“This is…”

“Isn’t it?” Joseph asked, whirling around, arms spread as wide as the smile on his face. “This is the one space in the castle where I can find solitude, where I can pretend, for just a little while, that I am not the prince. I am not responsible to anyone. No one’s opinions of me matter. I don’t need to put on airs or pretend to be something I’m not. I can find something real, something tangible, in these pages.”

Your head tilted as you took in his words. How ludicrous that the two of you, who could not be more different, who came from entirely different worlds, used the pages of a book for the same thing. You both looked for a distraction from your lives but for very different reasons. You tired of the loneliness while he tired of being surrounded by people. You were exhausted from your uneventful life while he was exhausted from the endless events he must attend. But both of you were trying to escape other’s opinions, their views on who you were and who you should be simply because of who you were born to.

And wasn’t that what it all came down to? The only reason you lived in the woods, in poverty, in a cottage that was barely standing and he resides in a great palace was because of who your parents were. He’d done nothing to deserve any of this magnificence and you’d done nothing to deserve the humble life you led. It simply was because that was how society deemed it to be.

Anger trickled up your spine as you really thought about the situation. Here was this man who had everything. He’d never gone hungry. He’s probably used the word starving multiple times over the course of his life without having any understanding of what that word meant. He’d never wrapped himself in whatever threadbare linens he could find to fight back the bitter cold of winter. He’d never been beaten or spit on or called vile names because of something he’d had absolutely no control over. Yet, here he was complaining about his life.

Your fingers trailed over the spines of the books as you strolled along, observing him, “I cannot imagine your life to be so awful that you need to escape. Look at everything you have.”

“Ahh, yes. I am sure I sound like some pompous, spoiled, little brat complaining about my glorious life,” he sighed with a dramatic flourish of his hands. “But this? This is a prison, my darling. A prison intricately disguised as a palace. Do you know what I would give to have the freedoms that you have?”

“Freedom?” you snorted with derision, shaking your head. “If by freedom you mean living in squalor with no running water or electricity. Growing my own food in the hopes to have enough to make it through the winter. Freezing because I happened to find shelter in an abandoned cottage with no heat where the wind comes right through the windows in their rotting frames. Yes, freedom to hide out and never show my face in the village because I can’t bear to see the dirty looks and hear the vile remarks one more time.”

Joseph moved toward you, three long strides and he was right in front of you. So close that you could see the way the light glimmered in those chocolate eyes. Two full lips pursed with interest at your statement and you could have kicked yourself for allowing him to cause you to reveal more than you wished. This could have been one beautiful night where you were some mystery girl but instead you’d allowed your emotions to get the better of you and ruined it. 

His hand, skin so soft because the man had never known a day of hard work in his life cradled the side of your face. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing it slowly, and a shiver raced along your spine at the simple contact. Your eyes fluttered closed, an incessant pulsing between your thighs, your body wanting more. 

“Tell me, what vile things could anyone have to say about such a beautiful creature?” he whispered, warm breath caressing the shell of your ear. 

“I…I…I was left on the doorstep of the orphanage as a child,” you rasped, struggling against the pull of him. So close you could reach out, pull him to you, and find out exactly what those luscious lips tasted like. “I was…mistreated, which is putting it nicely, my entire life until I turned eighteen and I could escape. The villagers say I am a bastard, unwanted, unloved. They say something must be wrong with me if my own mother couldn’t stand the sight of me. I was never going to be anything but trash in their eyes so I fled.”

“Fled where?” Joseph’s words fanned over your lips, the scent of mint and champagne invading your head. His hand slid down, resting against the side of your neck, warm and comforting as he stepped forward, pressing you back against the bookshelves.

You were horrified when a small whimper passed your own lips, “The woods. I found…I found a cottage, abandoned, in the woods. That’s where I live.”

“A cottage in the woods?” mused Joseph, tilting his head, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. “That sounds secluded, private, and absolutely wonderful.”

“If you don’t mind freezing and having to bathe in the lake, then sure.”

“Mmm…are you often nude in the lake?” he asked, eyes moving along the length of your body.

“When I need to wash, yes,” you replied with a small laugh. “It is out of necessity and let me tell you, you wouldn’t want to smell me when the lake freezes over.”

Joseph inhaled, nose moving through your hair, “I rather think you smell divine.”

“It’s summer and one has to be presentable when attending an event at the palace,” you stammered, hands pressing into the leather spines of the books behind you. 

“My darling, you smell more than presentable.” His words a rumble through his chest that you could feel against your own, his body pressed against you, pinning you between him and the books. “You smell delicious enough to eat.”

“I…this…pardon, my prince, but this is inappropriate, is it not? You are meant to be married and I…”

But you were what? You were not a virtuous woman and certainly no virgin. Your loneliness and desperation to matter to someone, anyone, had led you to make more mistakes than you cared to admit. Clandestine encounters with men who wanted the thrill of having the outcast, the unwanted, but didn’t want anyone to know. Dashing out after, leaving you feeling empty and alone, disgusted with yourself for being so desperate for an ounce of affection that you allowed yourself to be used.

“If you are going to be my betrothed, what would be inappropriate about it?” Joseph challenged, the backs of his fingers running over your cheek, lips featherlight over your jaw. 

“Betrothed? You can’t mean…”

“Oh, I very much do.” Those fingers followed the column of your throat, over your collarbone, stopping just above the neckline of your dress. “I have met more ladies than I care to count and you are, by far, the most interesting one.”

“But I…I’m just…I’m nobody. I’m not fit for a palace. I am no princess. I am just…”

“Just fascinating? Just courageous? Just fearless? Just resourceful? Just captivating? Just the absolutely most beautiful woman I have ever seen?”

“My prince…”

“Joseph, love. Just Joseph, please.” His thumb settled on her bottom lip, pulling it down gently. “I need to hear my name coming from this pretty mouth.”

“Joseph…” you breathed, relishing in the feel of those two syllables on your tongue, in the way his lips curved into a smile, his forehead pressing against yours. 

“My name is a song when you say it.” Fingers on the straps of your dress, grasping the thin material, slowly dragging it down off your shoulders. “I want to make you say it again and again.”

You knew you should stop him. His words were pretty but you’d heard pretty words before. Words were easy. Men threw them around as if they meant nothing, as if they didn’t burrow deep into your soul, leaving you with hope that this moment actually meant something only to be burned when it didn’t. 

But when his lips pressed against your shoulder, taking their time to savor each and every inch of skin while his fingers pulled on the thick fabric, slowly exposing more. Your fingers curled, finding nothing to hold onto, lost in the feel of that mouth on your flesh. When his lips latched around your nipple, you keened, back arching, hand grabbing onto the back of his head. 

Those curls were just as soft as they looked. Your fingers slid through them, holding him against you as heat pooled in your center. Maybe they were just pretty words but he was writing sonnets on your flesh with his lips and suddenly it didn’t matter if he meant a single word or not. You were desperate for more, for there to be no barrier between the two of you.

You grabbed onto the lapel of his burgundy velvet jacket, pulling it down off his arms. He rose up, large hands grabbing onto your face and finally his lips collided with yours. They were just as delectable as you’d imagine. 

Your fingers deftly unbuttoned his white collared shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and onto the floor. And then your hands were on him, exploring every inch of his chest and stomach, moaning softly when your fingers brushed over the soft trail of hair that led into his black slacks. 

Joseph’s hands were on your thighs, lifting, dragging you up his body until your legs were wrapped around his waist, your arms locked around his neck. Fingers pressed into your skin as they moved around to grip your ass. 

Dragging your lips from his, you kissed along his jaw, enjoying the way the soft scruff there tickled your chin. When you flattened your tongue, pulling it up the side of his throat, your center ached with need at the groan it drew out of him. Confidence filling you, you latched onto the tender skin there, sucking gently. 

“Bloody hell, love,” he rasped. 

Then you were slipping down his body and he was yanking the rest of your dress off impatiently. Suddenly needing nothing to keep you from feeling him, every part of him, completely, you hurriedly undid his pants. You pushed them down as he shook one leg and then the other before stepping out of them. 

And then time stopped, the rush over, as you both stood there, taking in the sight of each other’s bodies. You sucked in a breath, your eyes roaming over every inch. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“My god, you are goddamn exquisite,” Joseph growled, stepping into you, fingers tangling in your hair as he walked backward until he hit a chaise lounge. 

He sat down, lifting both hands, beckoning you forward with his fingers. But when you went to move he shook his head, twirling his finger to indicate that you should turn around. You obeyed, his fingers digging into your hips as he guided you backward. You spread your legs, hovering over him before slowly lowering yourself. 

Joseph held his cock and you covered him, sucking in air as each inch of him filled you until he was nestled within you, his balls pressing against your ass. You heard him hiss from behind you as you both stilled, relishing the feel of your warmth surrounding him, him stretching you completely.

“You feel like bloody heaven,” he murmured, lips pressing against your shoulder, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs dragging over your nipples. 

“Joseph,” you whimpered, hips rocking forward and backward. 

“Yes darling, say my name,” he urged, one hand moving between your breasts, along your stomach, and down between your legs. 

“Joseph,” you groaned, collapsing back against him. 

“Yes. Again.”

“Joseph…Joseph…oh my god, Joseph…”

His fingers worked your clit, tremors of pleasure shaking your body. Your hands wrapped around his arms as you rolled your hips over him, each forward movement sending him deeper within you. Gasps fell from your mouth as the pleasure built up within you, a pressure cooker ready to burst. 

“Come for me, love. Come for me and scream my name.”

“Scream…but…people…I…”

“Let them hear,” Joseph growled against your ear, his tongue darting out to trace the shell. “Then everyone will know that I have chosen. Consider it our royal announcement of our engagement. I have claimed you. You’re mine.”

He kept saying that but would he feel the same once the fog of passion had dissipated? Once he’d gotten a taste, would he want it again or would he desire to try another flavor? If you screamed and everyone heard, you could only imagine the things they would say. You would forever cement your place as the village trash.

But damn if he didn’t feel good. Those fingers played you like the cellist played the waltz earlier, expertly, without missing a beat. Your hips circled him and you cried out, back arching as he hit a space within you that you didn’t even know existed, a space that sent not just shockwaves but full on earthquakes knocking down any sense of reserve that you had. 

“Joseph…oh…shit…oh my god…Joseph!” you screamed, losing all control as an orgasm with the power of the big bang itself shook you to your very core. Your entire body shook, sounds releasing from within you that didn’t seem human.

“Yes darling. That’s it. Come all over my cock. Fuck,” he groaned, taking over, hands gripping your hips as he thrust up into you. “Jesus Christ, you feel so perfect. You are so…fuck!”

His release painted your walls as he held you tightly against him, his cock pulsing within you. Your nails dig into his thighs as your own trembled, slowly coming down. Your body melted into his, oozing like spilled ice cream into the cracks of a sidewalk on a hot summer day. 

“Mmm…” he murmured against your ear, planting kisses to your cheek and jaw as his hands trailed lazily up your stomach, over your breasts, one moving to grip your chin and tilt your face back toward his. His lips captured yours in a sweet, gentle kiss, so opposite from the passion fueled one from earlier but still just as delicious. 

You smiled lazily, “So, does that engagement talk usually get girls to agree to go to bed with you?”

“What do you mean talk?”

“You know,” you laughed, trying to act as if it didn’t matter, as if in the short time since you’d met he hadn’t invaded your body and nestled within you, leaving you wanting more. “You’re the prince. I’m sure you don’t have any trouble getting ladies but I mean, a promise to be the future queen is going to guarantee a sure thing.”

“Love, I was not just talking about anything. I am serious. You are the most intriguing, delightful, breath of fresh air. You are the first woman that makes me want to come back for more. More of this.” His hand slid through your slick, brushing over your throbbing core. A rumbling laugh rattled his chest at your squeak. “But also more of this.” His lips pressed against yours once again. “And definitely more of this.” His finger gently tapped the side of your head. “Intelligent, interesting conversation is in short supply these days. I want someone who will challenge me, who will push me, who will make me think beyond the walls of this palace. And that’s you. I knew it from the moment you walked in. Every other girl who walked in here looked straight at the throne, searching for their prize, me. And not because they are interested in me but because they are interested in what being with me gets them. You didn’t. You walked in and looked around and your face, yes you were in awe, but you also looked a bit put off by the whole thing. You never even searched for me. You didn’t look like you’d come here tonight for me. You looked like you only came because you were forced to and would rather be anywhere else.”

“You’re right. I didn’t want to come,” you admitted. “The royal courier told me I would be hanged for treason if I didn’t. And since I do value my life and my neck, it seemed the smart decision to come. I did not search for you because I never even entertained the thought that I would be your future bride. I figured I would come, eat, perhaps enjoy a few dances, and then disappear back into the woods.”

“But what if you didn’t have to disappear? What if you could stand proudly in front of every single one of those awful people who dared to judge you for who your parents were, for the hand that life dealt you? The girl they cast out chosen to lead them?”

“I…but this isn’t me. I don’t even know how to be like you. Joseph, I spend my days working. I don’t know how to do my hair. It’s always just pulled back and out of my face. And I never do make-up. I have no need when no one ever sees me. I dig in the dirt and I fetch water and I chop wood for my fire. I am dirty and wearing rags most of the time. I feel I would embarrass you.”

“No, my darling. You would shine. You would be everything this village needs. You know what our people need. You could guide me, be my right hand…woman. And as far as your hair or make-up, we have people to help with that.”

Your lips pressed together, worrying back and forth as you considered his offer. This man wanted you. He wanted to stay. He wasn’t rushing to dress and dashing out like the others. He didn’t just want you. He wanted you to be his wife, to lead beside him. Could you give up your life of solitude? Could you wear fine clothes and learn to be prim and proper like all those other ladies?

“I don’t know if I could learn to be royalty. What if I sit wrong? Or what if I say something wrong? What if you realize you made a massive mistake choosing me? Or what if…”

Joseph fingers grabbed your lips, pinching them closed, “What if this is everything we ever wanted? What if you stopped worrying about what could go wrong and just focused on what’s right?”

“What’s right?”

“Us.”

“How can you know that? We just met.”

Joseph smiled, tipping you back onto chaise, his hands coming down to hold himself up as he hovered over top of you. Those lips were on the move again, igniting a fire within you all over again. 

“Because I felt more for you in the moment I saw your face than I have for any other woman. Because sex has always been one and done for me. I experienced it and it was fun but then I was ready to move on but with you, I want more. I want to explore everything with you, find out what you like…” Teeth pulled at your nipple and you bit down on your lip. “Find out what drives you crazy, what makes your toes curl, and then do that over and over again.”

“I think you’ve already done that…” you whimpered, his tongue tracing lazy circles now.

“Mmm…but darling, I haven’t even started. If you only knew the sinful thoughts that are monopolizing my brain right now. I want to make you happy, to give you everything you deserve.” He pushed himself up, brown eyes gazing into yours. “Marry me.”

You cradled the face of this beautiful man, your prince charming, and said the only word you could, “Yes.”

[notanerdyprude]

richie headcanons because by GOD do i love this

appearance

• richie is TALL. lanky mf. he was shorter that pete in middle school and then shot up to 6’3 in highschool.

• richie constantly dyes his hair. paul hates it, mainly because of the mess he makes of it. its partially a stress thing partially him wanting to make it gleamingly obvious that hes queer.

• has like an Okay sense of fashion, mainly thanks to ruth. he took the idea of layering stuff and RAN with it.

• always has a shit ton of pins and badges, some anime themed, some themed with other stuff.

• paints his nails sometimes. he tried nail art and it turned out shit but he liked it anyways.

personality

• this. man. is. a. BITCH. if max wasn’t the coolest guy in school richie would be such a cunt to him. well, more than he already is “i didnt mean to walk through YOUR hallway 😒”

• very blunt, he will tell his friends what he believes without sugar-coating it.

• richie is his friends number one hype man if he actually believes in them. in the audience of every school show screaming at the top of his lungs when the tech crew get thanked.

general

• gay, trans man. he/him pronouns user

• plays the drums! yes this is because i play the drums get out of my house.

• LOVES photography, will take photos of pretty scenery whenever he gets the chance. paul got him a proper camera for his 18th and he nearly cried.

• listens to 80’s rock/indie rock

• blur fan. not elaborating.

• will order boba tea or coffee that is 90% milk + sugar whenever the nerdy prudes get drinks.

• HUGE sweet tooth.

• theatre kid, the only reason he doesnt do the school musicals is that he thinks theyre all shit.

• works after school in a bookstore, spends most of his time studying or drawing.

• had a massive among us phase. he refuses to speak of it.

relationships

• paul is his uncle, emma is basically his cool wine aunt. she helps him dye his hair most of the time, and they gossip together.

• him and ruth are basically brother and sister, attatched at the hip, basically have twin telepathy. richie is the ultimate wingman.

• had a crush on pete in middle school that he got over. he still hasnt told pete about it.

• stephanie: kys

richie: you first whore

stephanie: do u want chilis

richie: yes

• (no one dies/everyone lives au) max and him have a frenemy type thing going on. after max DIDNT fall at waylon place, richie saw that max was less god more human, and felt more comfortable arguing back with max. they both prefer this, it makes class more fun.

• once made grace cry with the shit he said about his anime crushes in a groupchat

richie: i wanna #### him and ### his ####

grace: I hope I get to watch God offer you His divine judgement when you reach the gates of hell so I can laugh as you are banished from the Kingdom of Heaven.

[inamindfarfaraway]

In “The Summoning”, Tinky obviously singles out Pete because he’s weird about the Spankoffski brothers. Blinky taunts Grace because she has religious trauma related to shame and external judgement and lack of privacy and such.

But oh, the Implications of Nibbly specifically addressing Steph. Nibbly’s domain is hunger in every sense. He not only regularly craves the freedom to roam the Earth and has formed and maintained a cult to satiate this desire, but he finds unmet needs and wants delicious. The most desperate, unfulfilled, yearning human souls are the tastiest to him. And he says, “Stephanie, yum yum!” He’s happy to see her. Because she is delectably hungry.

Her father is abusive and uncaring, as well as constantly modelling and encouraging strong ambition. Her mother is gone. Her popular friends are shallow and don’t know her very well; compare their superficial school gossip to the more familiar, emotionally vulnerable and impassioned scene between Pete, Ruth and Richie. Her phone is what she has the most attachment to. She struggles in school and thinks she’s stupid. I elaborate on these points in this post, but overall, every aspect of Steph’s life before a certain bespectacled nerd enters it is a recipe for a very lonely, insecure person. A person who feels empty and needs to be filled, who's been starved of love, comfort, happiness and hope. Nibbly’s favourite food.

Doesn’t Solomon remind you of someone we met in Nightmare Time? Another critical, mocking father to a daughter with no siblings; another man of power, wealth and influence in Hatchetfield who knows about the place’s dark, supernatural underbelly and has dealt with the Lords in Black? Doesn’t even the detail of Steph’s phone being what she values most sound familiar?

'Narrator: She looks down at the shattered remains of her most prized possession. Her veins bulge, her blood bubbles thinking of all the things she never got to back up on there.

Zoey: My pictures!'

— “Honey Queen”.

'Stephanie: Be careful with that, Dad. Please, Daddy?

Solomon: I'll be careful with it. I'll carefully smash it with this hammer.

Stephanie: You wouldn't. Not even you would do something that evil! You know all my pictures are on there!'

— Nerdy Prudes Must Die.

Steph is well on her way to becoming the sweetest woman in Hatchetfield.

Except… in every timeline, she meets Pete. He believes that she is more than anyone else sees and better than she thinks she is. Something real and unconditional fills her cracks. Something warm sits securely in her stomach. Someone is willing to die for her, someone cherishes her more than anything, and that readily given love changes her fate. Steph is to Nibbly the perfect meal just barely out of reach. Forbidden fruit; it's always the sweetest.

Perhaps Pete is in the same boat. After all, Tinky says “I’ll have the whole set in my toybox”; he will, if the deal works out how Tinky wants, while “Time Bastard” establishes that Ted already is in the Bastard’s Box before he dies. Pete isn't yet. He might still not be even after the deal, since Grace pays the price instead of him. Grace is involved and the situation forcing them to make the deal exists, in a roundabout way, only because Steph got involved with him. Maybe Pete and Steph save each other.

[eggelette]

Webby and Wiggly Twin Theory

I haven't seen this theory in my musings of the Hatchetfield/Lords in Black lore, so if it's already cropped up I apologise and I'd like to credit it here if someone mentions it

I just wanted to raise the theory that Wiggly and Webby are twins. Initially I had thought so because of the interesting conflicting relationship of "The Lord in Black" Wiggog Y'wrath and "The Queen in White" Webby. As creatures beyond our understanding they both act as the figureheads of the Black and White respectively, and while Wiggly is the leader of the Lords in Black, Webby is their enemy. They are siblings themselves but them being twins makes the lore feel balanced. One cannot exist without the other. They are defined by each other.

Also in sketching out Webby's potential doll design, I realized that to me Wiggly's design actually makes a lot of sense. Wiggly shares the same features (the little prongs from the mouth resemble those of a spider spider! Webweaving also being Webby's biggest theme). Webby is ACTUALLY Hannah's friend in Black Friday, while Wiggly pretends he is one to her and to the Hatchetfield citizens.

I also like to think that the dialogue of Wiggly saying "Webby is a stupid bitch" is the most sibling like attack when the horrors are made each other. Like I like to imagine Webby telling Hannah that Wiggly is a deceitful little prick.

I also think that the two being twins speaks to the cosmos, and also to the rest of the Lords in Blacks. They all have the potential to do good- to be good, they even did so in Nerdy Prudes Must Die in getting rid of Max Jagerman. Yet they persist in playing with humans' lives, like when they subsequently enabled Grace Chastity. All reflect humans potential cruelty but also kindness yet they don't do any of the latter. I think part of them are trying to impress Wiggly, because they do not compare to Webby, his twin sister, because Wiggly wants deep down for there to be six Lords in Black.

Webby is what stands in the way of the Black and White expanding into our grey reality. Webby, even as the queen of the white, treasures the greyness of humanity in the silver threads she weaves across dimensions.

[yanderedollhouse]

How possesive are all 3 yans when they're in public with Darling? How far are they willing to go in public and in private?

Ooh good question!

Raphael likes to be in public! He feels a lot of comfort in distractions and enjoys people-watching. In public with you, however, he turns into a completely different person. He's a very clingy guy, so you always have to be holding his hand or at least let him wrap his arm around your shoulders. He's actually a pretty good artist too, so I could imagine you and him camping out in an outdoor cafe area for hours drawing the other patrons and making up stories about them.

In regard to PDA, this man is literally such a prude. You could get away with a kiss on the cheek and hand holding, maybe, but he will be absolutely scandalized if you try to go any further. The only exception would be if he hadn't seen you in a while. If you're reuniting after a day or so apart, he might just get tunnel vision and kiss you after pulling you into a rib-crushing twirling hug.

Cordyline hates the public. How dare they exist where she is trying to go? She is all about getting what she needs and leaving immediately. If Raphael is the guy who draws people in public, Cordy always feels like she's the one being drawn. She always gets paranoid that everyone is looking at her and wants to leave. Taking her out on a date is like pulling teeth, but once she is out with you, she'll relax just a tiny bit.

Cordy can get pretty possessive, but she's definitely not one to force anything on you in public. If she thinks someone else is flirting with you, she'll just get really quiet and come 'save you' from them by dragging you away or faking a headache so you two have to leave. You should really be grateful to her, after all, she could have used the taser.

Andreas is perfectly comfortable in public. He is rarely seen in neutral territory, so he has no reason to feel threatened anywhere he goes. After he 'takes you in' like a stray kitten, he'll wait a few weeks before letting you go back out in public, just to make sure you aren't going to try anything stupid. If you're good, he'll reward you with a trip to your favorite shop or restaurant. Money is nothing to him, so he'll buy you as many books or treats that you want. You should absolutely take advantage of his 'generosity' because who knows when he'll let you out next.

Andreas is incredibly possessive of you in public, moreso than in private really. He will do all the talking and ordering for you, after all, he knows what you need better than you do. If an unsuspecting human decides to speak to you, he'll immediately intervene and end the interaction then and there. You know he's perfectly capable of ruining that person's life, so you kind of have to go along with it. When it comes to PDA absolutely nothing is off limits to this man. He's a bit of a slut, so choose your words and actions carefully if you don't want him to drag you to the men's bathroom for a little 'fun.'

[perpetualexistence]

Tell us about your other Alenoaheather AU(s). I know you have them. 🔫

- Totally not Ophe

Hello completely random anon whose identity will forever be a mystery!

See, with the way you've phrased this, you've actually opened yourself up to a few options. I'll tell you a little bit about each one and you can tell me which one you want to learn more about first.

Currently unnamed G/T Alenoaheather

Definitely the most detailed AU of the bunch. It's got backstories and character arcs for each of the three. Probably the best way to describe it is Urban fantasy since none of them are (completely) human, but they pretty much live in a modern setting.

It does get dark at times. Think Beastars-adjacent in terms of vibes. Including the murder bits. But it's mostly self-defense or being forced into it, so take that as you will. I will say that it's nowhere near the levels of toxic relationships that something like the Sea Monster AU has. And they do actually improve as people. These three still get drama mind you, but it's from keeping secrets rather than being genuinely manipulative. ...Well. Too manipulative. It does have Alejandro and Heather in it. But it's got fluff moments because fluffy giant/tiny dynamics are precious and must be preserved at all costs.

It's got Alejandro who's a giant-shifter able to grow even larger than most other giant-shifters thank to his Burromuerto heritage. The Burromuertos are a completely upstanding giant-shifter family and definitely don't have any incredibly fucked up family traditions they expect Alejandro to continue.

Noah's a were-mongoose. Werefolk come in a large variety, though mongoose is on the far more uncommon side. Unlike most werefolk, this kid genius actually figured out a way to not completely give into his instincts during full moons. This has absolutely no negative repercussions on his wellbeing.

Heather who's a giant-shifter hybrid unable to grow thanks to her human heritage from her father's side. She's the only one of her siblings unable to grow. She definitely doesn't have a complex about this. But she has managed to find her own way of making herself just as much of a physical threat as her two boyfriends. (Aka the day I take away from Heather's inherent badassery is the day I die.)

Serial Killer AU

It's exactly what it sounds like. With exactly the vibes the name implies. Definitely the darker one. They're just a thriving villain throuple with a body count. It's also mostly Noah-focused so far as I haven't figured out Alejandro or Heather's motivations.

Noah stumbles across a body of a serial killer spree, only to be the first to realize that one serial killer is actually two. Curiosity leads him to investigate...but not for the reasons you'd think.

(For this one that's pretty much all I can share before just going into the whole AU)

And then, on the completed side since might as well dump all the Alenoaheather AUs:

Noah and the Beanstalk

Another giant/tiny AU! This one's actually got its own post already. I don't really have anything else that I didn't already mention in that post. But it's my blog, so I'll advertise my own AUs as I please!

Collab AUs

The Royal Court AU

Originally named The Lords In Black AU because it was originally inspired by me watching an animatic of The Summoning from Nerdy Prudes Must Die. Then it evolved into something far beyond that where the name doesn't seem quite right anymore.

It's got Alenoaheather as the worst teens at school and unashamed about it. ...Until Alejandro goes missing, and nobody else really seems to care. Leaving Heather and Noah to investigate and try their best not to be next.

They fail, but hey, at least they get cool eldritch powers out of it!

This AUs also dark because the premise is them being kidnapped to be used as sacrifices. And it's got plenty of eldritch horror in it. The posts for it are scattered because they ended up going into two separate reblog chains with @total-drama-brainrot and @ur-local-brown-multifandomist. If you look up 'lords in black au' on my blog you should be able to find most of it. I'm going to just centralize it for ease of organization one day. It'll just be. You know. Effort.

Also, @ur-local-brown-multifandomist is currently making a fic for it! It's their first one, so feel free to check it out.

Fake Dating Alenoaheather AU

This one's a collab AU between me and @total-drama-brainrot, a person you have never met because you are a completely anonymous anon. Noah gets caught in between Heather and Alejandro's attempts to make the other jealous by each making him pretend to be their boyfriend. Shenanigans and drama ensue. The posts for this are also scattered and tagged on both our blogs, and one day we might make a fic about it. For now, there actually is someone already making a fic about it that you can feel free to read!

I still can't believe two different people decided to start making fic of AUs I helped create. It's wild, and I'm incredibly touched.

"Why are all of these AUs except for one dark in at least some way?"

I honestly couldn't tell you exactly why my brain works the way it does. It just decided that the two canon villains and one-villain coded teenager deserve to be at least a little feral. As a treat.

Maybe one day I'll have an AU with them that's not so dark. That day will be a surprise to us all.

But yeah, that's all of the Alenoaheather AUs I got! The first two I'm more than happy to go into more detail for if you ask!

[shelbgrey]

Dating Eleazar Denali Headcanons

Paring: Cullen!Reader X Eleazar Denali

Summary: just some dating headcanons for my favorite Spanish vampire from Alaska

Warrings: there's a few NSFW headcanons in here so be aware.

🩵Eleazar denali series 🩵twilight master list

Your the newest addition to the family, you joined around the 90s (in the twilight timeline). With you being the newest member you and the Denalis didn't interact as much.

After Carmen cheated on Eleazar with Demetri, he moved to Forks with Tayna, Kate, and Irina in tow.

Then he saw you again for the first time in a while. I think the two of you always knew there was a connection or mate bond but never acted upon it due to obviously reasons.

He spent his entire first week at Forks talking to you and during that time he fell harder for you.

You couldn't help but fall for his charm, he just knew how to make you blush.

When Your 'brother' carlisle found out he was pissed, the family has never seen him that angry. He's very protective of you and when he heard the Eleazar was your mate he punched him.

“stay away from her”

Esme has to pull him away and talk some since into him. “they're mates... And they're happy”

Him and Eleazar made up and Carlisle spent over two weeks apologizing for his actions. It's all water under the bridge because Eleazar understood where he was coming from and carlisle knew Eleazar would treat you like a queen.

“I love her”

“I know you do”

Your engaged by the time Bella shows up. To put it delicately she the reason your wedding kept getting put off. James, birthday gone wrong, newborn army, ya know 'normal' stuff.

You got married after the newborn army problem ended. “yeah you think we could get married now? Just a thought”

Eleazar secretly gets really tired of the Bella and Edward drama, so he made sure you got your wedding first. You guys have been waiting too long.

He loves your eyes, especially when you were human. He loves how innocent and soft they looked, they're so gentle.

I wouldn't say Eleazar is a prude but he's definitely uptight and is the serious one out of his coven, but you bring out a softer and brighter side in him. He loves how you can make him laugh and being him out of his comfort zone.

You can always make him laugh, no matter what. He's the serious one in the relationship and your the bubbly one.

Tayna calls you the golden retriever of your relationship and Eleazar is the black cat.

Your the only one who can call him Eli... Maybe Tayna but other than that your the only one who gets the pleasure to do so. “she's the only one who can call me that that”

It's the small things that matter most. He loves dancing with you to your favorite songs. It brings a softer side to your guys chaoic lives.

He never was much of a dancer before meeting you though, but you changed that. It first it was just to mess around because you were bored, but then you both found out how much you loved it.

“I don't dance Love”

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around him. “you do know”

He leaves love notes every where for you to find, sometimes it will be on your mirror, sometimes in the book your reading at the time, no matter what your always finding his sweet messages.

'If I were to kiss you and then go to hell I would, so then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without even entering it.'

You guys love watching old monster movies together.

You learned he paces when he's nervous or aggravated. He'll move back and forth in your room at lighting speed somethings, mumbling Spanish. If he gets real aggravated he'll rant in English and slowly bleed into Spanish.

With jobs its simple, when he moved to Forks he became the Spanish teacher at Forks High, your doctor like Carlisle.

He didn't relize how touch starved he was till he met you. At first touching and contact wasn't really on the top of his list of needs(him and Carmen didn't touch much) but when you started dating he couldn't keep his hands to himself, he always has to be holding your hand or if your sitting on the couch or something your head is on his shoulder or chest.

You guys are family people, you have this mother vibe to you(Emmett says your like the second mom to them) so when the whole new-born delema happened Eleazar convinced Felix to spare Bree Tanner. You two adopted her and became the parents she never had.

If you met and and married before your transformation you two would have twins, the birth wasn't dramatic like Bella's and you made it threw with smooth sailing after Eleazar terned you.

From the beginning Carlisle was gonna turn you. When you first joined the family you were human, but when you met Eleazar you decide it would be him that would turn you.

Anyway, your twins are a boy and a girl(hybrids of course). Your daughter is gifted, it kinda mirrors Eleazar's ability to see what gift a vampire has. Instead of reading them she copy's them. She found out one day when she was holding Kate's hand then shocked Emmett by accident.

“your daughter is a copy cat” Eleazar smiled proudly. “yeah no shit” Emmett said rubbing his arm.

Your son doesn't have any special powers expect being incredibly fast, faster than Edward even.

Your daughter is an exact copy of Eleazar and your son is a copy of you.

Your really close to Tayna and Kate. They are both like little sisters to you. You and Irina are not as close but you got each other's backs.

Of corse you'd never trust Irina again after she went to the vulturi about the Twins and Renesmee.

The girls were over the moon when Eleazar told them about you and in the beginning of your relationship he was always going to the girls for advice.

He's so afraid of losing you, your the best thing that's ever happened to him and he doesn't want to screw it up. Of course he doesn't have to worry about that.

Your always resuring him that your always gonna be by his side. With that I think he's secretary insecure, he's never really had anyone drool over him like girls do Carlisle or Garrett, so your always telling him how handsome he is.

“have I told you how handsome you are?”

He smiled softly. “Yes dear, like a million times”

He just the same, he makes sure your the only woman he sees. Your truly the most beautifulest woman he's ever layed eyes on. “your so beautiful”

He's very protective of you, he not a violent person in the slightest but if someone caused you harm he'll tear the world down.

He doesn't let anyone talk down towrds you or about you. He's the type to either put the fear of God in them or if it was a friend they won't be on speaking terms anymore.

He'd never admit it or talk about it to someone, but he's a cuddler. If your still human your curled up to his chest sleeping like a baby, he'll have his arms around you all night and intill your wake up.

If your in the living room watching a movie with the family your head is on his shoulder or in his lap.

He'll watch anything that interestes you at the time. He likes supernatural and he'll watch Greys Anatomy on an ocation, being friends with Carlisle for centuries you learn alot of medical stuff, so he knows when somethings wrong in the show.

He's definitely a 'yes dear' when it comes to things, not in a bad way or anything. It boils down to that he'll do anything for you.

He's a rough but passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure your the only one on this earth he wants to love.

NSFW headcanons:

Eleazar has this mischievous kind of charm to him and he uses it to his advantage when it comes to getting your attention. He knows all your ticks and can easily get your riled up.

And it's definitely not one sided. Eleazar would consider himself calm and collected... Serious even, but you know how to get him riled up as well. Like I said before he became a touch person after meeting you. Sometimes all you have to do is Trail your hand down his chest or rub the inside of his thigh. When you push the right buttons he'll pull you towrds your room and you'll be in there for hours tangled in each other.

“darling... Don't start anything you can't finish”

He tries his hardest to be romantic all the time, during sex especially. He wants you to know just how much he loves and adores you.

He's a soft Dom and he always makes sure your comfortable. He loves to take control in the bed but would never push you.

Your pace all depends on your moods honestly. Usually it's slow and loving, everything moves so quickly in his life so it's nice to just savor moments like this. But if you get him riled up or push the right buttons that switch will be flipped in seconds.

Your small compared to him so he loves to have you in his lap, holding you when you make love.

Speaking of which, he refuses to refer sex as 'fucking', he thinks is degrading towrds you so it's 'making love' in his vocabulary.

He loves hearing you moan. If you try to hold back or even muffle them when it's unnecessary, he'd put an end to it. “please don't hold back Love, let me hear you”

He definitely has a Praise kink, he loves making you feel loved and appreciated. He love how he can easily make you blush. “your so Beautiful”

He found out very quickly how much it makes you blush. He took it as more sweet and innocent than sexual.

Small choking kink when you get him in the right mood, he'd never do anything to hurt you so this is a very rare occasion during sex, especially if your still human.

Loves eating you out,your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

Lots of broken furniture(Esme has about had it). Usually it's broken headbords on your beds. There's always gonna be a dent where his hand grabed in attempt not to hurt you.

He's not very vocal, unless he's praising you. maybe some groans here and there, he'd rather hear all the sweet noise coming from you.

Eleazar is a god when it comes to aftercare. He'll knows exactly what you need and gets it. He'll make sure your comfortable and cleaned up then hold you in his arms.

[sentientgolfball]

Ghoulette Appreciation: Week 1

I kicked the writer's block and was able to write the first prompt for @jesusbutbetterrr ghoulette months :3 I did a mix of start of something new and girl's night in

All the prompts I do are gonna be nothing but Mistshine! I'm taking this as an excuse to write for my favorite ghoulette pairing, but of course all of them will be making appearances :3

Word Count: 1937

Tags: ghoulette pile, drunk/high sex, Mist is intersex with a tentacle, transfem Sunshine

Summary: The band would be heading out on tour soon and the girls have their last Ghoulette Night before they're separated for months

Mist was one to usually keep to herself. They were quiet, reserved, preferring the calm silence over chaotic company. Some thought it was because she was cold, emotionless, and a bit of a prude. Others thought it was because she was too dangerous for even the other ghouls to be around them. The venomous barbs sheathed in their wrists were proof enough. 

That was the problem with humans, Mist thought, they never see the full picture. While some of their whispers had merit, they would never understand why. Mist was a deep sea water ghoul. Unlike your average ghoul of any variety really, the deep sea beasts were solitary in nature. The only time they’d see another of their kind that wasn’t immediate kin would be during the mating seasons. The only packs that existed were made up entirely of family, and even then those packs were minuscule. It was rare for deep-sea ghouls to have more than two kits. 

So yes, Mist could be described as cold and reserved, but it didn’t reflect all of her. Living on the surface taught her how nice it is to have packmates. To know that any of them would drop everything for her if she needed, and she’d do the same. Of course, as much as she cherishes each and every ghoul, that doesn’t change her basic nature. She still enjoys her alone time, needs it. They spend so much of their free time alone that they’re always a little surprised when ghouls come looking. 

It’s not often that they find themselves sitting on a lumpy bean bag in Cirrus and Cumulus’ room surrounded by the other ghoulettes and copious amounts of wine, weed, and self-care products. Mist would be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy these rare nights of pure indulgence. They’d let Cumulus and the newly summoned Aurora use her for makeup practice, they’d let them put whatever cream or lotion on her because it made them happy. Mist would let Cirrus keep her glass full of the wine she had Swiss steal from Terzo’s personal collection. They’d let Sunshine feed her a joint until she got bold enough to sit in their lap and shotgun. 

Mist would do the same for all of them. She’d bring the best food to complement the wine. She’d brush their hair and work knots out of their muscles with her rough hands. She’d give exactly as much as she’d take. 

Tonight’s Ghoulette Night was bigger than any they’d had recently. It was the last before Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora would be off on tour. The wine was the sweetest Swiss could get his claws on. The weed was harvested directly from Mountain’s personal store. Mist had even broken into the Ministry cellars to get their hands on the best meats and cheeses for the ghoulettes to snack on. It was a necessity, she had decided. 

Now they all sit in Cirrus’ nest, more than a little buzzed and lazily touching each other. 

“Fuck I’m gonna miss this” Sunshine sighs, resting her head on Mist’s shoulder. 

“Me too” Aurora giggles when Cumulus kisses behind her ear. 

“We can always make a shitty nest and drink shitty wine in the hotels” Cirrus chirps.

“No way! You guys aren’t allowed to do it without us!” Sunny sticks her tongue out and clings closer to Mist. 

Mist just hums and squeezes her waist. 

“Oh we’re still definitely drinking” Lus purrs “but it won’t be the same without everyone.” 

“I don’t wanna think about that. Don’t wanna think.” 

Sunny suddenly jolts from where she had been lounging against Mist. She crawls into her lap and Mist knows she’s grown impatient. It’s an unholy miracle it took this long for her to start this. Usually, when they’ve snatched Mountain’s weed they’re all wrapped around each other before a coherent conversation can be held. 

“Wow, Sunny I think that’s a new record for you” Cirrus laughs but starts to shift Aurora onto her lap. 

“Took you long enough” Cumulus slots herself behind Aurora, caging her in. 

Mist had to agree. They had been painfully waiting for Sunshine to make her move. It always started like this. They’d all relax and let the alcohol and smoke turn time to honey until one of them couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. It was usually Sunny, save for Aurora’s first Ghoulette Night. 

Mist loved the way Sunny would always cling to her first. No matter what they did to her, Sunny would always come back for more. Mist would be lying if she said it wasn’t addictive. With Sunny finally in their lap, they made their move. 

“This is for making me wait” she whispers low before sinking their fangs into the side of her neck. 

Sunny whines high-pitched, twitching her hips forward, dragging her cock against them. Mist squeezes her hips harder, feeling their tentacle start to poke out of its sheath. 

“‘M sorry” she squirms.

“No, you’re not” Mist tears Sunny’s crop top off. 

She just giggles and shrugs. 

On the other side of the nest, Cirrus is lying flat on her back as Aurora scoots closer and closer to her face. Cumulus has one hand under her skirt and another in Cirrus’ underwear. 

“Don’t look at them” Mist grabs her jaws and forces her attention “You only know me.”

They crash their lips together in an almost possessive manner. It's filthy instantly with tongue and fang licking and clacking together. Mist yanks at the short hairs around the nape of her neck pulling breathy little gasps from her. She slides her hands under the hem of Mist’s shorts, slowly starting to pull them down. 

“Lords below it has a mind of its own” Sunny giggles feeling their tentacle writhe against her fingertips. 

“You say that every time” Mist deadpans. 

“Whaaaat I think it’s hot how excited—“ 

She’s cut off by Mist tweaking both of her nipples. They drag the flat of their tongue over the scars under Sunny’s breasts before replacing a finger with her mouth. She sucks and nips at her tits until they’re decorated with purple and blue marks as deep as Mist’s eyes. Until she can feel Sunny’s cock kicking in her pants. 

Her eyes briefly flick when Aurora moans. Cirrus’ face is covered by the fabric of her skirt and her thighs. Aurora shakes, grinding down on her face. Cumulus is laying on her stomach, face buried in Cirrus. 

Mist's attention is drawn back when she feels warm fingers teasing her cunt. Sunny is grinning down where she has her hand shoved into her shorts, tentacle wrapping around her wrist to pull her closer. 

“I think it’s unfair you get to look at them but I don’t” she pouts, but slowly slides a finger inside of them. 

Mist grabs her wrist, yanking her hand away. They shove their shorts down enough to let their tentacle fully free before popping the button on Sunny’s pants and wiggling her out of them. She seats Sunny back on her lap, letting the tentacle probe curiously at her ass. 

“You’re right. It is unfair” she wraps a hand around Sunny’s cock right as the tip wiggles in “but I want all of you.” 

Sunshine squirms and whines as the tentacle slowly slides into her, wet and sticky with Mist’s slick. They squeeze the base of her cock and Sunny yelps. Mist does it again and again and again, pulling those pretty little sounds from her. 

They latch onto her neck, trailing bruising kisses up her throat. She licks into Sunny’s mouth tasting her sweet orange and vanilla flavor. Sunshine pants into her mouth as the tentacle writhes within her. Mist starts to jack her off, pressing a cruel finger to the underside of her head every time their fist passes over. 

Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the noises of Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora. Maybe it’s just Mist, but Sunshine can already feel her balls drawing up as her cock spits pre.

Mist bites her bottom lip and trails wet opened mouth kisses up to her ear. They drag their tongue over the shell before biting the lobe. 

“Cum for me”  they whisper low. 

Sunny does. Hard. Everything is intense and floaty as she spills over Mist’s hand. Tears prick the corners of her eyes from the tentacle still moving inside her ass. Mist snickers, kissing across her collarbones. 

“Mist can we play? Pretty please?” 

They slowly unlatch from Sunshine and look down. Aurora, now completely naked, has crawled over to them. Her eyes are big, pleading, and a little red. Something inside Mist burns. She doesn’t understand why, it’s not like she dislikes Aurora. Quite the opposite actually, she thinks her bold nature is quite charming. But when Sunshine wiggles off of them at the call of Cirrus and Cumulus, the burn only intensifies. They make a mental note of this, something to examine later, before they push Aurora onto her back and climb between her legs. 

The tentacle immediately starts slipping into her cunt and Aurora giggles at the sensation.

“You didn’t let me have this last time.” 

Mist tears her gaze away from where Sunny is choking on Cumulus’ strap. 

“You were new. I didn’t want to frighten you.” 

“Please” she snorts, “it takes a lot to get me to crack.” 

Mist tilts their head with an eyebrow raised. 

“C’mon Mist I’ve heard the others talk. Give it to me.” 

“Hm. Not here. Not now.” 

“Why not?” She huffs. 

Mist leans forward, wrapping a hand around Aurora’s throat, and squeezes hard enough to make her gasp. 

“Because” they whisper “if I'm going to, I want you tied to my bed so I can break you.” 

Aurora’s eyes roll to the back of her head and she clenches hard around the tentacle. 

Mist tries to put all their focus on fucking Aurora, giving her a little something to think about as the tour starts up, but everything is clouded by the noises Sunny is making only a few feet away. Every gasp, whine, keen has a flash of heat coursing through her body. She doesn’t understand why though. They’ve been having these nights since the two air ghoulettes were summoned and not once has this happened before. 

She decides it’s the effects of Mountain’s weed, she was always a lightweight when it came to anything drugs. They shake it off and drop a hand to Aurora’s clit, circling it as they squeeze her neck. 

Aurora cums with Mist’s name on her tongue. They coax the tentacle out of her and help her sit up. She props her up, letting her lean against her as she snatches a nearby bottle of wine and offers her some. The two cuddle and pass the bottle back and forth as they watch Cirrus and Cumulus milk every last drop out of Sunshine’s cock. 

“You’re growling,” Aurora says sleepily. 

Mist hadn’t even realized. She stops herself immediately with a cough and swig. Sunshine cries out both of the air ghoulettes names and they nearly choke on the wine. That fire ignites in her belly again and now that she’s not buried to the hilt in Aurora she can place a name to that feeling. 

Jealousy. Possession. 

She wanted to be the one to get Sunny to cry like that. 

She didn’t want to hear another name roll out of her mouth. 

She was confused. Ghouls share everything, even the solitary deep-sea ghouls were strangers to monogamy. So why was Mist feeling this way watching Sunny be taken apart by someone who wasn’t her? 

This is new.

[hatchetfieldtheories]

Who's feeling a little foolish today?

Well, this just started out as an attempt to decipher the brief glimpses of the Black Book we get to see in Killer Track, and it has turned into a bit of a beast.

Rather - today we will be touching on:

Miss Holloway's Deal

Time and Timelines

Hannah

And what all the above tell us about the Tiny Town of Hatchetfield.

The Black Book

First, let's take a look at the book itself.

(I'd recommend clicking to zoom)

There is a LOT of clock imagery in the book, now sure that might be just because Miss H is browsing through the Tinky section of the catalogue looking from great deals on time manipulation spells.

However - I think that's the point.

We can see that there are great volumes of chapters and content in the contents page, including information on the Lords in Black, "The Men" - who I am assuming are the Hatchetmen and information on the Black and White generally.

But what interests me most is what else is within that chunk of the book. If that is the case, and these are the pages on Tinky and time, its definitely notable that these pages also contain images of doors to the Black and White, locks and keys, and a map of Hatchetfield.

Tinky is the one making deals with humans. He's the one influencing how certain members of the town use their "gift", and he is the one who made the deal with Miss Holloway. CCRP try to unlock his powers for themselves. 

Yes we see all five of the Lords in Black at her deal - but her deal was to do with time. And that is Tinky's realm.

Miss Holloway and the Deal

Miss Holloway is a witch. A good one most of the time, but all the same one who has made a deal with the Lords in Black and uses the Black Book.

When we see the range of her powers, they do vary, such as moving around both her own and Hannah's Nightmare Times, going full Monkey Magic and creating a doppelganger using one of her hairs, or rocking a full 80s aesthetic (yes that is a super power).

But the rest of her powers? 

She dies and comes back to life, she can bend time to take minutes from Rose's life and implant herself, and she influences others using a rhythmic tapping - like the seconds on a clock. She even had a gold puzzle box - the Bastard Box.

The deal she made was linked to time, perfect for someone so clearly outside of time. And that's seen further in the consequences of her deal. The memories of her time in someone's life, her own timeline, is set apart - removed from other people's lives. Even causing them to lose time when they try to learn about her. 

That being said - Miss Holloway doesn't realise the timelines are split. When we meet the reconstituted Wilbur Cross in Miss Holloway's Nightmare Time, he tells her:

Miss Holloway made a deal to stop a timeline from happening. And had succeeded. 

Sometimes you have to use something bad, to do something good.

It all has a price.

I know. But I can pay it.

But then Hannah's birth shattered it again - we'll come back to that!

We can even guess where her deal happened. On the stage of the Starlight Theatre. As in Miss Holloway's Nightmare Time we are told the stage had a strange marking carved into the floor.

Hatchetfield - Together in Electric Dreams

Following the release of Nightmare Time 2, I posted my attempt to work out the map of Hatchetfield we see in the book.

However I don't think its necessarily the map that is giving us any clues to the nature of Hatchetfield. Or why its so special.

We learnt a lot about the history of the town in both Nightmare Times. We learnt the Hatchetmen built the town, named it, and contained the witch Willabella in the forest.

But we also hear about the Church of the Starry Children multiple times. 

In one night, every member of the Church was chopped up and the book was gone

In my Nerdy Prudes initial theories post I mentioned how the song Hatchet Town talks about how great the town used to be - sunshine and rainbows - until something happened. Then the town changed.

I think this is a hint towards what happened in 1979 - when the Hatchetmen killed all the members of the Starry Children. I think what unintentionalky followed was a town once filled with psychic energy suddenly becoming a vacuum, ready for the Lords in Black to fill the town with their energy.

I've mentioned in a previous theory before that I think the lighting strikes are important to the series. If we look back at when we see them, we see that not only do we get lighting on title cards, but when the meteor comes crashing through the sky, when anything particularly Lord in Black-y happens. And we see lighting illustrated and labeled in the Black Book.

Lightning is the Lord in Black's influencing Hatchetfield. Their energy is electric and filling the town. 

The town is literally charged.

And we see it mentioned in NMT2, when Sherman uses the spell to gain his youth back:

Frank feels the energy in the room shift, like the atoms in the air are being charged.

Electricity flies through the air.

Lightning strikes.

Its no wonder things go from 1-100 in this place. People literally willing to kill to become a festival queen. To get a doll. To get a husband...

So - what about Hannah?

In 1979 Hatchetfield became a hotspot for anyone wanting to get that Black and White psychic energy. And it doesn't escape my notice that Miss Holloway's whole vibe is the 1980s. 

The Church of the Starry Children were killed. Miss Holloway arrived and got the book. And then made a deal. A deal which would stop the timeline progressing how she could see it doing so. With a cataclysm of Lord in Black energy in Hatchetfield.

This door had opened in 1979 and she was shutting it.

And then Hannah was born in 2005.

And Hannah was a battery of psychic energy. She can see every possibility. She can sense the electricity in the arcade machine in Yellow Jacket.

I've spoken in 2 previous theories about how I view the shattered timelines ( Part 1, Part 2). In fact I think shattered is such a perfect word.

When Hannah was born, Miss Holloway's deal wasn't enough to stop the timeline from progressing. The veil became thinner. PEIP were able to open the portal to the Black and White. Hannah was a battery the Lords in Black could use.

So to stop her brother's from destroying everything she split the timelines. Spun her web.

In those theories I mention how there are certain events or connections that happen in every timeline. Or elements that bleed from one timeline to another. Imagery replicated again and again. I've called these the golden threads, the one's pulling elements of what should be the true timeline.

So where is this all leading?

My prediction for the rest of Hatchetfield's overarching story is that we're going to see Webby trying to unspin her web in a way that means the Lords in Black can't cause harm, bring back the one true timeline.

But hey...