#but i feel like my interests are naturally going elsewhere

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VI: Fire at Will

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

songs for this chapter: thank you for the venom by my chemical romance, that's what you get by paramore

summary: You spend the day with your brother and his friends, and it ends with an unexpected invitation.

a/n: lol... how we feelin' so far?

chapter tags: self doubt, mentions of drinking and smoking, best friend!robin and best friend! Steve of course. | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

-- “Hey, kid,” Your brother is hunched over a bowl of cereal in your kitchen. “Gotta question for ya.”

You pick the sleep from your eyes, still groggy as you shuffle over to the coffeemaker. “Shoot.”

“You know Scotty?” 

You turn to face him, narrowing your eyes as if attempting to read his mind. “Yeah, why?” Scotty’s a nice kid, probably your favorite of Chris’s friends. He’s always treated you like an equal, instead of his buddy’s little sister. He has long, disheveled sandy blonde hair, green eyes, and sparse facial hair, reminding you of Kurt Cobain, if he’d had a happier disposition. Chris and Scotty had grown up inseparable, it didn’t surprise you that Chris would want to set you up with him.

“Well, and don’t like, shoot the messenger here, he wanted me to ask if you’d be interested in going out with him at all.” Chris seems to wince as he says the words, only adding more layers of confusion to the situation.

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it.” You honestly had never given Scotty a second thought, but you’ve been single for about three years now. You deserve some fun. 

“Really? Cool. We’re all going to the skate park later, you should come hang. Test the waters.” Chris points at you. “I’ll let you pick the snacks.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I pick the snacks anyway, Crispy.”

“Of course, Beebs.”

–

It’s unseasonably warm for October, requiring only a hoodie and your go to knit beanie for coverage. Chris greets his friends, dapping each of them with a unique flair you can’t comprehend. Boys confuse you. Luckily, you’re not the only girl there, some of Chris’s friends have brought their girlfriends, and when you go to greet them, your smile is wiped from your face. 

“You’re Bee!” Macy extends one manicured hand out to you from where she sits on the graffitied wooden table. “Hi, Macy.” You greet her lamely, shaking her hand that feels way too soft to be natural.

“These are my girls, Fiona and Zoe.” She motions to the girls beside her, both of them absolutely stunning. Fiona has dark skin that seems to glow in the sun, her hair in long, tight braids down her back, wearing a Citizen sweatshirt and ripped baggy jeans. Zoe is a petite girl, with purple hair tied in space buns on either side of her head. She’s wearing a shirt three sizes too big, her black jeans cuffed. You suddenly feel far too self aware for your liking in your paint stained cargo pants and hoodie worn with age. “Where are your buds, Bee?” Macy asks, passing you what looks like the butt of a joint. 

“What, Steve and Robin? They’re working today, I’m just hanging out with my brother.” You inhale the roach, feeling the sting in your throat before passing it along to Zoe. “You guys skate?”

“Roller, mostly.” Zoe pulls a pair of neon green roller skates out of her duffel bag. “You?”

“A little, nothing impressive.” You drop your board to the concrete, a hand-me-down from your brother when he’d earned enough for a new one. 

“Hello, ladies!” Scotty and Chris approach your group, with Eddie and Gareth close behind them. You can feel your facial muscles fall into a frown at the sight of Eddie, and he locks eyes with you, a teasing grin on his face. “Bee, didn’t expect you here.” You think he winks at you, but it could just be the sun in his eyes. 

“Chris conveniently left out the part where you’d be here.” You grumble, fiddling the board with your feet. 

“Huh, wonder why he’d do such a thing!” Eddie nudges your brother, who shoves him back with more force than probably necessary. You turn to look at Macy, who’s got an obvious scowl directed at her boyfriend. If that’s even what he is. 

“Can we cut the chit chat, please? My grandmother’s coming over for dinner, I need to be home by six.” Garet groans, dropping his board.

“Yeah, yeah. Chris, you bring the shit?” Eddie asks, turning away from you to drop his own board.

“Yeah, man. Who d’you think I am?” Chris shrugs off his backpack, opening it to reveal a handheld camera, fisheye lens attached. “Who’s first?”

Eddie doesn’t bother answering, pushing himself across the park to gain momentum. Scotty turns to you, giving you a smile before he follows Eddie, who is then followed by Chris, camera to his face. 

“You guys comin’? You turn to Macy, who doesn’t meet your eyes, and to her friends distracted by their phones.

“Yeah, for sure, one sec.” Zoe says, typing fiendishly. When she finishes, Macy’s phone dings in her hand, and she answers it with her own speedy fingers. You look at Fiona, who’s blowing a bubble with her gum so big you’re afraid it’ll get caught in Macy’s hair.

“Okay…” You pivot, about to push off and meet the guys, when Macy spits the next words right at her. “How do you know Eddie, Bee?”

“What?” You stumble, board slipping from underneath you and rolling away. You chase it down shamefully, returning to the girls with a red face. “He’s Chris’s friend.”

“For how long?” She doesn’t sound mad, exactly. Worried, maybe. About what, you have no idea.

“Oh, I dunno. Chris met him at an after school club where he had to volunteer in high school to stay out of juvy,” The words pour from you, uncensored. “Eddie was, like, his little brother.” 

“Oh, so he’s like, your brother too?” Her voice lilts, optimistic.

You shrug, putting no effort behind it. “He’s more like an unwanted growth, if I’m being honest.” You regret the words immediately, but Macy laughs at them, so hard that she snorts. 

“Sorry, I was just so worried he had a thing for you!” She relaxes continuing, “I like him so much, but I’m not, like, willing to compete for him, y’know? Well, that’s not true either. I would, probably. But I’m glad I don’t have to!” Her friends giggle, and you shift uncomfortably where you stand, on display in front of the three of them like an American Idol contestant. 

“Hey, lazy bones!” Chris calls from across the park, “You guys gonna skate or what? My followers love watching the ladies!”

“Yeah, we’re coming!” Macy shouts, reaching for her own pair of black and pink skates. “Let’s go upstage these noobs, huh?” She holds out her hand, and you pull her up from her spot, her friends following closely behind. The guys are eating shit, trying ridiculously hard to get the shots they need for their clips. It makes you giggle, watching some of the silliest guys you know take something like skateboarding so seriously.

“Bee, come do one! You’re probably the best out of all of us!” Scotty invites you over, and you can feel your cheeks warm with the flattery. You hold your board in front of you, gathering your momentum before dropping it, hopping on with ease. Your friends, even Eddie, cheer you on as you flip the board, landing an ollie on the first try, and grinding the rail with ease. The adrenaline flows through you, propelling you forward. The board is an extension of yourself, you control it with the finesse of a dancer. Chris films the whole thing, whooping and hollering every time you land a trick. 

“You get that?” You shout to your brother when you finish your run. He nods, offering you the camera to watch yourself back. You’re watching a completely different person, someone confident and graceful, someone that knows exactly what to do with their body, how to move it to their advantage. You don’t recognize yourself, or even really believe it’s you you’re watching. You don’t say any of that, instead only adding a weak “hell yeah” to the group commentary.

–

“Food?” Chris passes you the blunt as your group walks to the parking lot. The sun is setting, casting an orange glow over the earth. You and your friends are exhausted, bruised and scraped up, but in good spirits.

“I could go for some grub!” Scotty skips up next to you, shoulder bumping yours as he motions for the spliff between your fingers. You hand it to him, nodding in agreement. In front of you, Eddie walks with his arm around Macy, whose other hand is laced with Fiona’s, whose other arm is linked with Zoe’s. He whispers something to her, causing her to giggle into the crook of his neck.

“Bee?” Scotty waves a ringed hand in front of your dead stare, snapping you back to the conversation. “Burritos?”

“What? Oh, sure. I could go for a burrito.” 

“Me too!” Eddie calls, raising his free arm. The girls nod. Gareth is complaining about not being able to come. “It’s okay, bud. I’m sure your mother’s making her world famous chili tonight. We should be the jealous ones.”

That seems to satiate his sour mood a bit. He waves his goodbyes to everyone before sliding into the driver’s seat of his mom’s hatchback. The remaining seven of you split between two cars, Eddie taking Macy and her girls while you ride with Chris and Scotty. You climb into the back, letting Scotty take shotgun in Chris’s Corolla. “Bee,” Scotty pivots to face you from the front seat. “You like music, right?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are there people that don’t?”

He forces a chuckle, stirring your confusion further. “I mean, like, you’re into it. Right? Chris tells me you go to all the local shows, and you’re constantly planning trips to festivals and stuff.”

You turn your gaze from Scotty to your brother, squinting at him. “Chris suddenly likes to talk about me?”

“To be fair, I asked him a lot of these questions. I was uh, wondering if you’d wanna go to Emo Night Indy with me, this Saturday?”

Emo Nite. Casual, and rumor has it really fun for people like you. You grew up listening to Paramore and My Chemical Romance, dabbling in black box hair dye in middle school, collecting rubber bracelets of your favorite bands. “Oh, that sounds like fun! I’d love to go with you guys.” 

Scotty frowns at the plurality, and looks to Chris for help. You look, too, pretending not to know what’s going on. “Actually, Beebs, I have plans that night. Band practice, and I’m sure mom will call me into the bar to work.”

You shrug, playing along. “Cool with me, that okay with you, Scotty?”

The boy nods, suddenly shy. “Works for me!” He exclaims as Scotty pulls into the Tequilas parking lot beside Eddie’s rusted hunk of metal. 

“Well, hello again, friends… and Bee.” He grins at you, triggering another straining eye roll. “What have we missed in our short time apart?”

“Scotty asked Bee out!” Chris seems to respond too quickly, and you whip your head to glare at him. What you don’t quite catch is Eddie’s expression, his teasing smile and sparkling eyes seem to fade into a grimace, but you’re too busy silently scolding your brother to catch it. 

“Oh, really?” Eddie recovers, clearing his throat. “Where to?”

“Emo Nite, this weekend.” Scotty, completely oblivious to the different glares being shot around the group, answers gleefully. 

“Oh, in the city! The girls are performing at that, aren't cha, babe?” He shakes Macy’s shoulders, and she blushes. 

“Yeah, we go on at ten. Hope you guys like punk!” Any excitement you’d had for your date seems to crash like an elevator pulley snapping, sending your heartbeat plummeting into your stomach, making you sick. 

–

“Why’d you tell him?” You berate Chris as you open the door to your house, kicking your sneakers off without bothering to untie them. You turn around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest as if you’re your own mother, scolding him for eating cookies before dinner.

“Told who? Told him what? You’re gonna have to be more specific, Bee.” He passes by you, ignoring the way you seem to simmer with rage.

“Eddie! Why’d you have to tell him I’m going on a date?”

Chris makes an ‘I dunno” noise, shrugging as he plops himself on the couch. “Didn’t think it would bother you that much. Why does it bother you?”

It’s your turn to make a noise of uncertainty. “He doesn’t need the details of my personal life, Chris. He’s your friend, not mine.”

Chris scoffs, snagging the remote from the coffee table before you can. “Whatever, sounds like you’re the one that cares too much about what he knows.

“What does that even mean?”

Chris ignores you, flipping through streaming apps before landing on the usual, the ukulele of Bob’s Burgers a comfortable background noise. Your phone buzzes, and you peel your glare away from your sibling to read it.

Scotty A.: heyy =)

You type a “hi!” back, sending it without a second thought. This will be good, you think. A welcome distraction from the chaos that’s surrounded you for the past month. Your phone buzzes again. 

Excited for Saturday! Have a good night, beautiful.

– 

“Scotty? From band class?” Robin interrogates you over the counter. You’d sat on the news of your date all day, debating on whether or not to tell your friends before it actually happens. If it even does happen.You’ve been texting all day, though, so you decide to talk through your anxiety with your friends. 

“Yeah, him. Super senior Scotty.” It’s a nickname he’d introduced himself as, one he’d embraced after his second run at senior year. 

“Forgive me if this is rude, but, why?” Steve asks from where he stands, pretending to put records away.

“Carpe diem, I guess? Why not?” 

Steve secedes to your argument, motioning in agreement. “‘S’he cute, at least?”

“He’s not hard to look at.” The back of your neck is hot as you say it. Steve points to your cheeks teasingly, but brings no more attention to your bashful state. Robin looks back and forth between the two of you, irritated with being left out of the loop. “What about Eddie?”

Your playful banter with Steve dies in your throat, as if a trapdoor has opened and swallowed you whole. “Robin, what the hell?” Steve tries to sever the tension, but it's stifling. 

“What about Eddie?” You await her response as she darts her eyes between you, and Steve over your shoulder. “I- uh,” She’s floundering, you use it.

“Did he say something to you?” You push, you need leverage. “Rob, I can give you Nancy Wheeler’s phone number right now, I just need you to tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Robin,” Steve’s voice is a warning. He catches Robin’s eyes and holds her gaze, eyes unblinking, unwavering. She loses, looking shamefully to the dull tile of the store floor. “I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t lie to her!” She looks at you, eyes glassy, lip trembling. “I don’t know the whole story, but I was eavesdropping at the bar last night.”

–

Last Night (as told by Robin)

“Hey, I gotta pee!” Robin shouts in your ear, and you nod, taking her drink back to your side of the bar. Robin is careful not to wobble as she finds her way into the bathroom. Unfortunately, it’s not until she walks past the empty urinals and into a stall that she realizes she’s in the wrong restroom. Even more unfortunately, she doesn’t get to make an escape before two sets of footsteps enter the bathroom, placing themselves at the urinals that she would have to walk by to escape. Urinals that, for some reason, face a mirror. A mirror she would risk being seen by men, in the mens’ room. She’d never live that down. 

“So, you gotta girl, S-scott?” It’s Eddie, slurring his words after another night celebrating his mentor’s return. Robin, personally, thinks Eddie is Chris’s bitch. He has yet to prove her wrong.

“Nah, man,” The second voice, presumably Scott, responds. Behind their voices, Robin has to tune out the sounds of them pissing, while simultaneously trying to silence her own stream.

“You into anyone?” Eddie prods, and Robin can’t help wondering why men have to be drunk to talk about their crushes.

“I mean, I think Bee’s kinda cute…” The voice gets shy, but Eddie doesn’t take the hint.

“Chris’s little sister?”

Silence. Presumably, he’s nodding.

“Bet I could get you in with her.” 

“Really, man?” The voice is eager. Robin thinks it’s sweet. 

“Yeah, man. I got two tickets to Emo Nite Indy. I was gonna ask her to go, but Macy got me on her guestlist.” This confuses Robin supremely. You and Eddie don’t get along, why in the world would he invite you out on what is, very clearly, a date?

“Wait, I don’t like, want to whisk her away from you or anything.” The second, decidedly much nicer guy, questions him. Their streams have stopped, and Robin leans against the door to listen as they continue. 

“Oh don’t worry, I lost my shot with her a long time ago.” Eddie doesn’t elaborate, and Scott doesn’t pry. Robin is silently pleading he pries, but to no avail. The footsteps fade from earshot, and she’s once again alone in the mens’ room. 

–

Present

You’re stunned into silence. Not a single thought is making it from your brain to your throat, instead feeling air pass between your ears, fanning the electrical fire Rob’s story has caused. 

“Rob, you broke our friend.” Steve scolds, motioning to where you’re frozen, reeling, trying to make sense of the fantastical myth your best friend has spun for you. 

"You cannot be serious." You manage to speak, but you sound unconvinced even to yourself.

“Scout’s honor. I had a couple last night, but I remember it all. Here,” She pulls her phone from her pocket, punching in the code before handing it to you. The screen is opened to a Notes entry, and you try hard not to laugh. 

S: bee’s cute

E: can get u in (??? wtf)

E: emo nite (omg fun) / (WAIT WHAT?!) / (how long has he had these?) / (THEY WENT ON SALE SIX MONTHS AGO… BEFORE CHRIS HAD HIS RELEASE DATE?! IS THAT WHY HE CAME BACK?!?!?! dkfgdkngkd 

You can’t help but snicker as the note descends from quoting what she’s hearing to reacting to the words being said. “Okay, I get it! It just, doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe this is his way of apologizing.” Steve offers. “Y’know, setting you up with a nice guy, to make up for not being a nice guy.”

“So what, he grew a conscience? Only took him,” You pause to mime checking a watch you’re not wearing, “six years. Bullshit. He’s got more stake in this than that.”

“Bee, you have got to stop thinking Eddie’s out to ruin your life.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to feel, Robin. I know what I know.”

“And how many times has Chris told you that what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story? Grow up! Let it fucking go!” The silence following her shouts is deafening in the empty record store, save for you three. “Or, if you are so desperate to prove me wrong, do it. But don’t come crying to me when the information you find doesn’t support the narrative in your fucking head.” She storms into the back room of the store marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “I’m taking my goddamn lunch!” She calls over her shoulder.

You huff out a breath, heart slamming against your ribcage as you pivot to face Steve. He holds his hands up, an old Paramore record in one hand, the same one playing over the speakers. “Don’t look at me, baby. I’m not part of that circus.”

You can’t help but laugh, and Steve joins you in thinning the tension slightly. Robin’s words replay in your head, causing the whispers of another spiral on your heels.

--

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality let me know if you'd like to be added!

[13eyond13]

.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

It's Like Supernatural (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: You didn’t believe in ghosts, so you naturally ignored the warnings that the house of your dreams was haunted. 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Dirty talk, voyeurism, masturbation, ghost sex

A/N: This is a quick one-shot inspired by some behind the scenes looks at ghost!Agatha (the hottest ghost around, truly), my lifelong dream to own a house like the one in Practical Magic, as well as my endless love for Supernatural by Ariana Grande. I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think! :)

Tag-List: @mrsines @chiar4anna

When you heard the house you were interested in buying was haunted, you didn’t think much of it. Locals loved ghost stories, and you assumed this was just another tall tale to spook off tourists. 

Even if you believed in ghosts, which you didn’t, that wasn’t going to stop you from purchasing the home of your dreams. It was a beautiful Victorian house that was arguably far too large for just yourself, with three whole floors to decorate and make your own. There were sprawling gardens and even a large greenhouse already filled with a variety of plants you couldn’t even begin to name.

You wondered if the realtor had been tending to them.

It was perfect, and you couldn’t believe how cheap it was. The realtor seemed far too eager, and a bit surprised, when you settled on it, but you chalked it up to desperation to make a sale. 

When you had moved the majority of your belongings in, you decided it didn’t matter if this alleged ghost was real or not, absolutely nothing would ever make you want to leave. 

If only you knew how very wrong you were.

Things seemed normal, at first. The house was everything you dreamed it to be. From what you were able to get out of the very quiet realtor and even more closed off locals, the house had been abandoned since its last owner died. There wasn’t much information on her, but she apparently gained a rather interesting reputation, based on the horrified expressions on their faces whenever you asked about her.

Agatha Harkness. 

There was a portrait of her hanging above the fireplace in the library. It was one of the things that caught your eye the first time touring the property. She was beautiful, with wild dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to follow you around the room. There was a locket around her neck that appeared to be a family heirloom, maybe. Her red lips were twisted upwards, forming an almost diabolical smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe there was a reason the locals all seemed to fear her.

Things changed a few weeks after you moved in. It wasn’t much, at first. You left your laptop on the kitchen counter one morning before leaving, and when you came back home that evening you found it on the dining room table. Maybe you moved it and didn’t remember, you decided as you started your dinner. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

Only, things you placed around the house kept showing up elsewhere, and the more it happened the crazier you felt. You left a book in your bedroom and found it in your bathroom. The reading glasses you always kept in the sitting room wound up in the dining room. Clothes you swore you folded and set in your dresser were later found in a wrinkled heap in one of the spare guest rooms. 

It finally reached the point where you wondered if someone was breaking in, but surely an intruder would do more than just play little pranks on you. 

You didn’t even take the time to consider if the whispers and rumors of a ghost were real, you knew it was just your overactive imagination playing tricks on you. Work had been more stressful than usual, this was surely just a case of exhaustion. You most likely moved all of those items and couldn’t remember, that’s all.

It was around a month after you moved in when you decided to do some redecorating. You’d kept the majority of the paintings the previous owner, Agatha, had collected. They were interesting pieces, most of them seemed to be hundreds of years old. But there were a few you were looking to swap out, the portrait in the library included.

One rainy Saturday afternoon you grabbed a ladder, trudging into the library. Your eyes briefly flickered up at the portrait, and felt the strange sensation that the haunting blue eyes were watching you. Climbing up, you steadied yourself and made sure your feet were secure as you raised your arms, grasping onto the frame. Tugging lightly, you were perturbed when it didn’t budge.

Odd, but it did appear to be rather old, maybe it was stuck on one of the nails. Readjusting the position of your feet on the ladder you leaned forward, pulling harder than you did the first time. The painting still wouldn’t move. You tried everything, lifting and even trying to turn it, but it wouldn’t move.

Questioning your strength, you attempted to get it off the wall one more time, your feet nearly sliding off the ladder as you quickly grabbed onto the mantle of the fireplace stopping you from toppling backwards. 

“Not very strong, hm?” 

A sense of panic overtook you and you lost your balance, hitting the floor with a loud thud as the floorboards beneath you creaked. You whipped your head around, wondering who said that, whilst coming to the startling realization you weren’t alone.

Maybe someone had been breaking in.

Looking up, you felt your heart stop as you saw a translucent figure floating in the air. You did a double take, looking between the figure and the portrait on the wall while struggling to catch your breath.

It couldn’t be. 

The figure looked down at you, a predatory grin forming on her lips. Her long hair was so pale it appeared to be white and it was draped over her shoulders cascading down her back. The longer you stared at her the more you realized that it was Agatha Harkness.

But that’s impossible. Ghosts weren’t real.

“I…I don’t,” you barely managed to get out, at a loss for words as Agatha let out a loud cackle, the sound bouncing off the walls.

“Not very clever, either,” Agatha mused, tilting her head to the side as she gazed down at you. “I would have thought my rather obvious haunting over the past few weeks would have been enough to make you notice.”

Your head spun as you listened to her talk, and every odd occurrence over the past month started to make sense. 

“You’re less chatty than I thought you’d be,” Agatha observed, floating down until she was inches away from your face. “Although the silence is certainly better than that incessant singing you do in the shower. Ever heard of voice lessons?”

Your eyes widened as you realized she had been spying on you, and your cheeks grew hot at the knowing smirk she gave you. 

Clearing your throat, you managed to stand up, taking a step back to create some distance between you and…the ghost. 

“Is this the part where you send me running so you can keep the house for yourself?” You asked, shocking both yourself and Agatha.

“She makes jokes,” Agatha retorted, raising her hand to tap her index finger across her cheek as she stared at you. “And no, dear, if I wanted you gone I would have sent you away like the others.”

“The others?” You questioned, thinking back to your many conversations with the realtor and vaguely remembering being told you were the first person to have purchased the house.

Agatha appeared to watch the gears turn in your head as she came closer to you, slowly circling you. “There’s a reason no one else ever bought this house. They all wanted to renovate it, or tear it down and build some monochromatic slab. Modern architecture is truly a disgrace.”

She spat, frowning at the memory before looking back at you, an intrigued expression on her face. “But you’re different. I could tell.”

“So you’re a ghost because you want to keep your house intact?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha scoffed, as if that was the craziest question you could have asked her. She motioned to her wispy form. “This was a calculated risk that I plan on reversing. Eventually.”

“I see,” you said, taking in what she said, while also wondering why you were having a conversation with a ghost instead of doing what any sane person would have done. Moved. But there was the doom and gloom that was the current housing market, so maybe you were the sane one. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming up and down your body in a way that left you shivering. “I’m glad you asked, doll.”

You made a mental note to start listening to people more often, especially when they try to tell you a house is haunted.

Agatha Harkness was one of the most intriguing people, or rather ghosts, you had ever met. She was full of contradictions, and you sometimes struggled to decipher if she was lying to you or not. It was clear she wasn’t used to sharing her space, in this ghostly form or not, and had absolutely zero sense of boundaries.

It was also hard to establish ground rules when she could just float through locked doors. 

After a while you got her to stop listening in on your concert showers, although you swore you’d sometimes catch a glimpse of her in the bathroom mirror as you were washing your hair. You didn’t want to explore why the thought of her lurking made you as excited as it did.

She was brilliant, clearly, and you had difficulty wrapping your brain around the existence of not only ghosts, but witches. After your conversation in the library, she instructed you on how to open the passageway behind one of the bookshelves, which revealed a room tucked away from prying eyes. It was filled with countless items you couldn’t begin to recognize, as well as dozens of vials filled with colorful liquids and various animal skulls.

After you nearly fainted from the overwhelming and shocking turn of the day’s events, Agatha casually informed you that she was a witch. A centuries old witch. What led to her current spirit state was unclear, and the light prying you attempted got you nothing but icy cold glares, so you let it go. 

She did seem to have a rather interesting plan to get her corporeal form back, although you understood absolutely none of it no matter how many times she impatiently explained it to you.

You thought it best to leave all magical and potentially illegal activities to her.

Agatha wasn’t kept to the house, a fact you realized one morning a few weeks after her rather blunt introduction. She could come and go as she pleased, and you never questioned where she floated off to, choosing instead to enjoy the welcome peace and quiet. 

She’d come back hours or sometimes days later more annoyed than when she left, so you assumed wherever she was heading didn’t do much to lift her spirits. Pun intended. 

You chose not to linger on why you were beginning to enjoy her presence more than her absence. 

After a while the two of you settled into a rather comfortable routine. You had learned Agatha was able to muster the energy to physically grasp onto objects, hence the rather annoying saga of ‘I thought I left this here but it ended up there’. She enjoyed showing off for you, making a show of stirring your tea or tending to the plants in the greenhouse (it was there you met her familiar Scratchy, the rabbit that was most definitely not a rabbit).  

There was the one time you were getting dressed and your bra was unhooking after you were certain you secured it, but Agatha swore up and down she had nothing to do with it.

You both ignored the fact that you could feel her icy presence behind you as her hands delicately played with your hair. 

It was nice, in a way, sharing the enormous house with someone else. Even if that someone else was a ghost, who was really a witch, who most definitely had murdered countless people. But, there was a different problem that had been brewing since she revealed herself to you.

You were embarrassingly attracted to her. 

It was unclear where the supernatural pull came from, but she soon became the only thing on your mind. You were entranced, completely under her spell, and all you could do was enjoy having her attention. The feeling of her watching you, the almost hungry look in her eyes as she stared at you left you wanting more. 

You couldn’t help but wonder how long she was able to use her hands before fading.

As much as you tried to hide your crush it was becoming increasingly obvious, if the way Agatha leered and smirked at you was any indicator. You had never been good at this sort of thing, and the added complication of pursuing a, possibly temporary, ghost left you reeling at how to make a first move. 

It didn’t help that Agatha was a relentless flirt, saying endless cheeky one liners and innuendos, delighting in the way your cheeks would flush. It sometimes felt like she was testing how far you would let her go before squawking and retreating to the comfort of your bedroom. 

Lately you decided to push her buttons in the only way you felt comfortable trying. Since outwardly flirting wasn’t your strong suit, you decided to take a more subtle approach. You were curious to see if she would take the bait.

After a particularly interesting dinner, which consisted of you eating and Agatha watching you eat, you had left more flustered than before. While Agatha watching you eat was a normal occurrence (she claimed she missed food), this evening was a bit different. You had tried a new recipe she taught you, and couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at the taste of the vodka sauce.

Agatha’s reaction was different, though. As you were trying to determine if her eyes were darker than they normally appeared, the ghost had moved from her normal spot of hovering over the center of the table to settling beside you. 

Swallowing your bite of pasta you glanced at her, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the way her eyes were locked on your lips.

“Can I help you with something?”

Agatha refrained from commenting, silently vanishing from the room in her typical dramatic fashion. Rolling your eyes, you finished your dinner alone, all whilst replaying her reaction to your moan. 

Later that night you got settled in the bathroom, stripping down and turning on your shower. Steam filled the room, you’d always preferred the water to be just below scalding, and once you were satisfied with the temperature you got in. Lathering your body with soap, you peeked out of the shower to see if Agatha would appear. However, if the ghost was in the room, she wasn’t making her presence known. 

You continued on with your shower, the steam starting to fog up the mirrors. It was then the idea hit you. Your hands roamed down, and you spread your legs. Initial hesitation and embarrassment pushed aside in favor of imagining Agatha’s heated gaze once more, you teased yourself. 

Using two fingers you played with your clit, circling the sensitive nub until you let out a soft moan at the sensation. You were already on edge after dinner, and every time you closed your eyes you pictured Agatha staring at you. Leering as she licked her lips. Letting out another moan, you teased your entrance, pretending that Agatha’s fingers were your own as you slowly pushed your index finger in with ease. 

You were soaked, and not from the downpour of scorching water flowing around you. Adding a second finger, you took your time, enjoying the slight stretch as your inner walls fluttered. You couldn’t help but think about how much fuller you would feel with Agatha’s fingers inside you, her lithe digits hitting the spots you had difficulty reaching on your own. 

The name slipped past your lips before you were fully aware of what you were saying.

“Agatha,” you whimpered, the sound of your voice cutting through the downpour of water. 

Closing your eyes, you cupped your right breast with your other hand. Using your thumb and index finger to lightly tug on your nipple, you imagined Agatha standing behind you as her hands roamed your body. It was far too easy of a fantasy to slip into, as you were lost in your pleasure, increasing the pace of your fingers as you fucked yourself.

Nearing your release, you tilted your head back, the warm water cascading down as you let out a louder moan. You were so close, you could nearly taste it; an earth shattering orgasm just out of reach. Chasing your high, you roughly pulled on your left nipple, as Agatha’s name escaped your lips once more, stronger this time.

“Agatha.”

There was a faint, cool sensation behind you and you didn’t have to turn around to know she was there. 

Of course she was. 

Any self consciousness you would have normally felt being exposed was absent, replaced by an overpowering desire for Agatha to have you in whatever way she was capable of. Your fingers slowed as you made your thrusts more intentional, curling them just right and letting out every gasp and whimper. The knowledge Agatha was watching you pushed you closer to letting go. 

But there was still something missing.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as an uncanny feeling washed over you. It was then you heard her voice whispering in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You look so desperate like this, moaning my name like a filthy whore,” Agatha murmured, and you let out a low groan in response, every word she uttered making you clench around your fingers.

“Agatha…”

“Come for me,” Agatha whispered, voice so low you barely heard her.

The reaction was instantaneous, obeying her words as your cunt spasmed around your fingers. Your legs quivered as you rode out your orgasm, feeling the tight coil in your lower stomach send a sweet sensation you felt all throughout your body. Slowing your fingers to a halt, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling, Agatha’s presence still looming behind you as you came down from the high. 

Pulling your fingers out they were coated in your cum, as the water began to rinse them clean. Agatha moved, hovering in front of you. Her pupils appeared to be blown out as she gazed at you in a way that had you squirming. 

“Suck them clean,” Agatha ordered, a trace of amusement in her tone as she watched you eagerly follow her every command.

The strong effect she had on you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, to the point where you were unable to think of anything besides the ghost. 

What was she doing to you?

Raising your fingers to your lips, you sucked on them, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue. You swore you heard Agatha let out a low growl, but when you raised your head she was gone. Disappearing as quietly as she had earlier that evening.

A wave of disappointment hit you, and you tried to ignore the sting of rejection as your gut churned. Turning the shower off, you grabbed your towel, drying yourself off before wrapping the towel around your body, securing it so it wouldn’t fall.

You should’ve known Agatha wasn’t really interested in you. She was probably bored, trapped in her current spectral state and saw you as an easy distraction.

The house was eerily quiet, save for the creaking of the floorboards as you entered your bedroom, and you were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that it took you a moment to realize that you weren’t alone.

Doing a double take, you found Agatha waiting for you. The ghost hovering near your bed, arrogant smirk painted on her features as she observed you. 

“Took you long enough,” Agatha said, appearing to be lounging on your pillows. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d drowned.”

“Nice to see you’d care if that were to happen,” you deadpanned, shifting uncomfortably as a chill overtook you, and not the type you had grown accustomed to from being in the ghost’s presence.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, but she refrained from responding. As you took a step closer to the bed, you went slack jawed upon seeing what was most definitely not on the bed earlier. A collection of your toys were laying in a neat row, having been sorted by both size and color, and it didn’t take you long to deduce who put them there.

Cackling at your reaction, the sound pleasantly ringing in your ears, Agatha motioned to the toys. 

“Well?”

Gulping, you nodded your head towards your most recent purchase. A purchase that was most definitely not inspired by Agatha’s apparent obsession with purple. The toy in question was one far bigger than what you’d usually use, and a lot thicker as well. It was a deep purple that caught your eye as you were scrolling through the website, and you may have pictured it stretching you out as Agatha cooed filthy praises in your ear. 

“Dirty girl,” Agatha said quietly, gleeful as you joined her on the bed, your towel hitting the floor. Her eyes fixated on your naked form as she instructed you to lay against the pillows. “Work yourself up to take it, dear. I don’t want to break my newest toy just yet.”

You felt yourself beginning to ache again, and the anticipation of what was to come combined with the ravenous glances Agatha kept casting at you ensured you were bound to have another explosive orgasm.

Grabbing one of your smaller toys, a light pink finger vibrator, you watched Agatha settle in beside you. It was just enough feeling her beside you that you could picture what it would be like if she could actually touch you. 

Teasing the toy, you turned it on, the vibrations against your clit nearly causing you to let go far too early. 

Agatha let out a rather guttural noise, as she leaned in closer to you. “So eager. You’re just dripping to be fucked, aren’t you honey?”

Her words only served to motivate you, as you pushed the toy through your folds, quietly crying out as it filled you. This was a toy you used more frequently, and you knew the exact speed and way to make yourself unravel without much effort. 

Agatha appeared to be just as entranced as she whispered absolute filth in your ear, watching you fuck yourself closer to an orgasm with every thrust. It was unsurprising Agatha was so skilled at dirty talk, and you were even less surprised at how every word that left her translucent lips had you more wet than before. Your cunt aching as you neared your climax.

“You’re taking the toy so well,” Agatha encouraged you as you let out another whine. “This pussy was meant to be fucked open. It’ll look so perfect stretched around my cock.”

You couldn’t stop yourself as your vision turned white, hips thrusting as Agatha cooed. You came on the toy, crying out even louder than before. The vibrations quickly became too much as you felt your walls quiver and legs shake from being overstimulated. Your arms felt like jelly but you managed to turn the toy off, leaving it inside you for a few more moments as you enjoyed the afterwave of your orgasm. 

Unfortunately, Agatha was even less patient in the bedroom than she was at any other given moment. You felt something cold grasp onto your hands and with a startled gasp you realized Agatha’s fingers were grabbing onto the toy. With a gentle but quick pull, the toy was out of you and tossed on the floor. You couldn’t help but cry out at being left empty, which made Agatha far too pleased.

You watched with curious eyes as Agatha mustered the strength to be able to grab the original toy you selected, feeling another tingle between your legs at the sight of her holding the large dildo.

“You should feel lucky I’m not in my full corporeal form just yet,” Agatha said, voice low with want as she approached you. 

“I wish you were,” you allowed yourself to say, words becoming more difficult to form from how desperate you were to come again. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Agatha warned, raising the toy to tease your entrance, gently rubbing it up and down and you squealed as it brushed against your clit. “I’m going to ruin you, pet.”

You were soaked, completely dripping onto your comforter, at this point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you watched Agatha push the head of the toy inside you. You moaned, feeling yourself being forced to take it as she let out a groan as well.

“What I’d give to feel you clenching around me,” Agatha said, eyes glued to your cunt stretching around the girth. 

Your head thrashed as the pain of being fucked with something larger than you had ever taken began to take over. 

“It’s too much,” you whimpered, hips jerking as Agatha laughed again, forcing you to take more of it. 

“You’ll take whatever I want you to,” Agatha informed you, her words causing your clit to throb. “And I want to watch this pretty pussy be stuffed full of my cock.”

When the toy was into the hilt, Agatha gave you a moment to adjust. You had never felt so full and your hips desperately bucked for more as you writhed from the sensation. The pain beginning to be replaced with a carnal desire for her to fuck you senseless. When Agatha deemed you ready, she moved, her hand fucking the toy into you hard and deep. 

The only noise in the room was the sound of Agatha fucking into your sopping cunt, the wet slaps mixing in with both of your moans. Agatha seemed determined to make you come before she lost the ability to command the toy. 

“I know you can give me one more,” Agatha urged you on, increasing her pace, and you knew you would have difficulty walking in the morning. 

All you could do was cry out in agreement, meeting her for every thrust as you felt your head begin to spin. It was too much, and you weren’t sure how anything else would ever compare. 

“You’re going to come for me,” Agatha breathed out, appearing more desperate than before. You wondered how much of an effect this was able to have on her, given her current state. “And when you do, I want you to scream my name as you soak my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Whimpering as you nodded, Agatha gave one more thrust of her hand as you came for a third time, nearly blacking out in the process as your eyes clamped shut. Your back arched upwards as you squeezed your thighs together, keeping the toy trapped inside you as you felt cum dripping down your thighs. 

It was an otherworldly experience, to the point where you briefly wondered if she had killed you from the pleasure she had just granted you. 

Coming back down to earth, you panted as you collapsed onto the bed. Your body was dripping with sweat and you felt sticky and filthy, but too exhausted to take another shower. It was unclear how long you remained there with the toy nestled deep inside you. Agatha had drifted back up beside you, offering you sweet praises as you enjoyed your afterglow. 

Eventually, the sensation was too much and you managed to muster the strength to gently pull the toy out of you, letting out a satiated gasp when it was removed. Your entire body ached as you made a note to clean the toys, and your bedding, in the morning. 

But now, as sleep became imminent, you tossed your comforter off the bed, wiggling under your top sheet as Agatha gazed at you.

“That was amazing,” you said sleepily, head hitting the pillow as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I’m sorry I didn’t return the favor.”

Agatha shook her head, an unusually soft smile on her face. “Don’t be. I enjoyed the show.’

Drifting off, you blinked, eyelids feeling heavier with each second you kept them open. 

“Besides,” Agatha mused as you felt yourself succumb to sleep. “You can return the favor once I get my purple back.”

You made another note to actually listen to her plans for getting back into an actual body in the morning. Maybe there was something you could do to speed along the process. For no particular reason, of course.

[death---dealer]

Bitter Sweet. ( Five x Reader Oneshot. )

i have no explanation other than my babies are still alive and that season 4 never happened SEASON 4 NEVER HAPPENED---- Give me snarky, asshole, pragmatic five back before i die. Reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated, thank u.

Title: Bitter Sweet. Fandom: The Umbrella Academy. Pairing: Heavily Implied ! Five x Reader. Rating: T. ( Language, lol. ) Words: 1.2K+ Summary: ( Taking place in an AU after season 4, let me live in my fantasy that's what fanfics are FOR ). You knew how specific Five was about his coffee. You knew he would speak his mind regarding and it was too much fun to let go of.

════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ 

Four cubes. 

No, no… Five felt his mouth part in astonishment, crystal clear green eyes peering in languid judgment as your plucked another sugar cube from a pristine porcelain bowl and plopped it right into the white coffee cup that was placed in front of you. It sploshed happily, absorbing the coffee and sweetening the deal for you to enjoy, but that was never the point in the grand scheme. You were ardently aware of how irritating it was, one cube after another. The quantity itself was deliberate and you knew… How you were able to feel his stare hell-bending holes into your face. He was unable to see the liquid despite trying with a narrow gaze but he was willing to bargain much of what he owned that it was pale in color, not even teetering towards tan but more towards plain white.

 A grimace was noticed by Klaus who bargained a chuckle as he looked towards you, seated beside him with raised eyebrows of acute amusement, “You’re desecrating whatever coffee you had, I think Five is going to lunge across the table and take you by the neck---” “Five can shove it.” The innocence that rode against your face was evident as the Hargreeves man  across from you scoffed under his breath at the juxtaposed expression coupled with the aggressive nature of your words. “It’s my cup, not his. We can’t all drink it b---”

“Black like my soul, right?” Five rolled his eyes, shoulders drawing themselves in some minor defense and you were able to see the tightness of which he held himself from the tailored nature of his suit. Five was lanky and skinny, but that didn't seek to say that he was without defined muscles against his sweeping collarbones and it was evident in certain motions that left you reeling back from the hardened words that he responded with.

“Get some original insults, (Name). You’re becoming way too predictable. Boring even---” His voice was incredulous, sticking towards monotonous but still held irate interest in speaking to you, only detectable around the edges and it sang against your ears. 

Flirtatious only to you, aggressive and leaned with hatred to others. A game of cat and mouse, though at times, you were unsure of which one you were playing. “I was going to say bitter just like your personality, but you know me. Predictable.” Klaus held a defensive hand up, grasping at his own cup and pretending he was beckoned elsewhere to avoid the confrontation that was inevitable coming in the way that Five cleared his throat, a hand raising and tightening the bundle of fabric where his tie rested against his throat. 

He straightened it, you noticed with acute mirth, but there was no need to. It was already perfectly placed, part of the morning ritual you imagined he held close to his chest after spending so long cultivating it. Five was… A creature of habit, to many extents. Needless to say, it was one of those simple actions that you enjoyed seeing none-the-less, fingers twitching in a finite need to deshevel the pin-black tie to further push the boundary of where you and Five so often tightroped. No solace was given to either party as his knuckles rubbed against the underside of his sharpened jaw. There was hostility tangling in with notes of attractive coyness as he snapped at you, “You’re a goddamn monster, you know that? Fuck---” “I’m not the one getting angry over how someone else makes their coffee.” You bit back without reserve and another sickly smile placed towards the brunette as you finally picked up your spoon and allowed it to sink into the cup. It scraped -- Horrid, Five felt a shiver run down his spine at the vibrations he could feel against the oak table from your simple movement. Like nails against a chalkboard. 

“Can you even call that coffee?” Five spliced and looked down at his own mug, half-emptied and his saliva still coating and drying where he had last taken a drink against the curve. “Did ya even put any in there? Any beans? Any espresso?” “There’s some in here.” There was a justification with a faux pout which Five remarked as being feverishly unfair. You were good at playing expressions, he was good at playing words. “I think….” You mused and lifted your cup up to your mouth and kissed the rim. Five swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing which was feasted upon by your eyes before you took a long sip. Control rested in your hands as you refused to let him look away from you. 

Five sneered, your eyes taking in the delectations of seeing his sharpened canines. “You’re going to lose all your teeth from all the shit you put in that. Creamer and then what? Five sugar cubes? Are you a horse? Want me to feed you them straight from my hand?” There was a rustling sound as Five leaned inwards, his suit jacket pulling up with the motion that was placed as he so graciously plucked a sugar cube from the bowl that had been nearly emptied by you and offered it in the palm of his hand. “C’mon, take it. Be a good little horse.” “”Ha-ha,” You laughed sarcastically, smacking his gesture away which sent the cube flying off to be cleaned up later. “I’ll bite your fingers clean off.” “Not if you don’t have any fucking teeth! I kind of hope you do lose them. Hell, take me to the dentist when you get them pulled, I’ll bring them home and make a necklace for you.”

“You DIY things, Five?” There was another laugh from you as you took a sip of your drink, “Never pegged you to be that crafty.” There was emphasis on the word ‘pegged’, Five catching hold of the implication which garnered you that shit-eating grin that was more than infamous at this point. “Just this once.” He smirked, giving you a dimpled smile of feigned innocence to rival the one you splayed for him earlier. Sitting up in his seat, it scooted against the floor below with a loud bellow and you watched with bated astonishment as he leaned against the table to bring his upper half closer to you. Face only inches apart now, you refused to relent eye contact with him and tried to desperately shove down the connotation that you were able to clearly smell the after-shave that he favored. Pinely in scent, you wanted to grasp at his chin and feel the stubble against your fingers but that wasn’t the point here. The point was to be the cat while Five was forced to be the mouse.

“Just for you, a nice necklace and some earrings. Bracelet, maybe? A matching set. You'd look like such a doll."

“I’ll wear the set to your funeral. Clutch them instead of my pearls as I sob, telling everyone what a wonderful ray of sunshine you were to be around before you so tragically died.”

“Is that a date?” 

Five huffed at you as you stood from your seat, his gawk watching the movement with hostility as you craned your body towards him and grasped the base of his tie. Enlightened with curiosity, the disgusting smile of attraction rose along his cheeks, quickly torn to shreds as you pulled the tie downwards, the knot coming undone without reserve. 

“With you six feet under? You bet your damn ass it is.”

[judesmoonbeauty]

Chaotic Night CE: Darius Vogel

This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy is not guaranteed. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not re-post my translations elsewhere. Thank you so much for your support, and I hope that you enjoy the story! ☾.

Worried over the effects of consuming the Queen of the Night extract, they each returned to their rooms.

However, there was one person who ignored the warning —

Kate: Darius! It’s dangerous to go out. Victor said you all should be careful tonight, didn’t he?

Darius was cheerfully leaving the palace, so I frantically stood in front of him, blocking his path.

Darius: Why should I listen to what he says?

Darius: I’d like to enjoy an English Halloween.

He smiled brilliantly, like an angel, not paying any mind to my persuasion.

(I can’t get through to him!)

Kate: Please, please refrain tonight. This is for your sake too.

Kate: We don’t know what kind of changes may happen.

Darius: If you say so, then you will entertain me Miss fairytale keeper.

Darius: I know, let’s go to your room, Miss fairytale keeper.

Kate: What?!

Darius: We can lay low in the fairytale keeper’s chambers.

Kate: B-But.

(…..I can’t let Vogel simply enter Crown Castle.)

It was strongly admonished to keep Crown’s secrets safe.

But I can’t say that.

Indifferent to my worries, Darius slipped past me and walked briskly towards the entrance.

Kate: Oh, wait!

(W-what should I do….what would Darius be more interested in?)

Darius: …..It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this excited.

His murmur struck me with an idea —.

Kate: Queen of the Night! There’s a place where it grows wild in the garden!

Darius stopped suddenly, and looked back with interest.

Darius: Oh?

Darius: I’d like to see it.

[Transitions to the garden]

Kate: It’s somewhere around here.

(…..It’s a good thing there’s no full moon or new moon out tonight.)

Darius: What, how boring. I was hoping that maybe at least one flower would bloom.

I turned around when it sounded like he lost interest—.

Kate: ….[Gasp],Darius, you look

Noticing my gasp, Darius touched the top of his head.

There, were very prominent horns popping out.

Darius: Ohh, I thought my head felt itchy for some reason. So, it was because of this. (Bro, wdym? You didn’t feel them growing?? 😭)

His reflection in the nearby pond looks so innocent, as he happily strokes the curves of his horns.

Darius: In any case — I feel somewhat liberated.

Darius smiles in the moonlight, and coupled with the horns that appeared, he looks so divine it’s almost awe-inspiring.

— Like he were a messenger of God.

(…..Which reminds me.)

Harrison had fox-like ears.

His ability became so strong that he could detect lies just by listening to others.

If Ellis’ briar thorns that appeared on him was due to his sin of bondage, and his ability to restrain has strengthened then —

(Darius’ change in appearance may have to do with the nature of his curse)

(…What kind of curse does Darius have?)

Darius: What is it? I feel a hole will open up with you staring at me like that.

Kate: Ah, sorry. It’s just a bit strange ….

Darius: …….

Silence falls, and his honey-colored eyes look down on me with carefully.

With a gaze that seemed to see through everything, as if they were declaring it.

Darius: Would you like to touch them?

Kate: Huh?

Darius: If it’s so strange that you’re staring at me, then perhaps it would good for you to touch and examine them yourself.

He tilts his head with a smile, while looking down at me.

The overwhelming atmosphere didn’t allow me to refuse, so I reached up to gently touch Darius’ head —

Darius: ….Heheh.

Right as I touched a horn, Darius’ chuckled.

Kate: …

My hand let go immediately,

For some reason, I felt an indescribable anxiousness as Darius continued to laugh cheerfully, and I instinctively stepped back.

Darius: Oh, there, if you step back any further —

Kate: Oof!

I got caught by a hole in the ground, and fell hard on my bottom.

Darius: I see you really don’t disappoint, Miss fairytale keeper.

Not even offering me a hand to help me up, Darius just stands there with the moon behind him, smiling as he looks down at me.

When I tried to stand up, pressed by the uneasy laughter—

I felt a throbbing pain.

Darius: Ohh dear, you twisted your foot.

Darius: —It’s because you directly touched me.

Kate: Huh…what does that mean?

(When I made direct contact this happened to me….So, perhaps this is Darius’ ability.)

Darius: Shall I guess what you’re thinking right now, Miss fairytale keeper?

Darius: Something like, does this mean — that if I touch anyone then they will suffer misfortune?

Kate: ….

Darius: Ah, bullseye. You truly are so easy to understand Miss fairytale keeper.

Kate: ….Do you really have that sort of ability?

Darius: Ahha, should you be asking me?

Darius: Remember, that just because you ask a question doesn’t mean you’ll get an honest answer.

Darius: But all right, I’ll give you a special test, Miss fairytale keeper.

Darius: Since I’m feeling very good right now.

It felt as if Darius was looking down from a lofty place, when he crouched down in front of me, who was still unable to move after falling backward.

The sudden closeness made my heart skip a beat.

Kate: Oh, please wait, no more misfortunes.

A gloved hand mercilessly grabbed mine, and pressed it against his horn again.

Kate: —

(W-what’ll happen now….?)

Darius: ……

Although I braced myself, there was no sign of anything happening, so I sighed in relief.

Darius chuckled and pinched my cheek.

Kate: Uhf.

Darius: ….Is this also a “misfortune” for you, Miss fairytale keeper?

His fingers slid from touching my cheek to lifting up my chin.

His platinum blonde eyelashes slightly lowered, as his gaze fell upon my lips.

His beautifully arched lips slowly approached me —

(I-is he going to kiss me?!)

Kate: W-wait ….!

When I raised my voice, he finally stopped moving.

The reflection of my face was bright red, in his very close, deep, honey-colored eyes.

Darius: Hmph, “wait.” ….You don’t want to?

He was so close that our breathing overlapped, and he smiled even more beautifully.

Darius: You’re as kind as ever. If you’re planning to refuse me, then you should push me and runaway.

Darius: —Ohhh, but you twisted your ankle.

Darius: You can’t run away even if you wanted to. That’s your misfortune right now, Miss fairytale keeper.

He suddenly dropped my hand and stood up, as if to say the prank was over.

Darius: — I guess that you won’t be able to escape from Crown either.

Kate: What?

My heart was beating wildly.

Darius: Would you like my help?

Kate: W-what do you mean —

Darius: Your foot’s sprained, isn’t it?

(He’s talking about that….)

Kate: N-no, that’s okay…..

Frankly, the pain was getting worse, but I didn’t want to show him any more of my pathetic side.

Somehow, I managed to stand up.

Darius: I see.

As I brushed the dirt off my skirt hem, Darius glanced at me from the side and then flipped his coat.

Kate: Oh, where are you going?

Darius: I’ve no further business here. I’ll do as I like for the rest of tonight.

Kate: Well, wait a…..nghh!

Even though I wanted to rush after him, I couldn’t because of the pain.

Kate: Y-you can’t leave the palace! Please lay low no matter what….!

I couldn’t do anything other than call out after the white back that was walking away.

“— I guess that you won’t be able to escape from Crown either.”

Darius’ words swirled around in my heart.

(….I wonder at how much Darius knows.)

What did he mean by that.

At any rate, what is Darius’ true ability….

— As my Halloween night went on, the aftertaste of Darius’ prank lingered.

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger

Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from tags!

Well, well, that was interesting. This is my first full event translation for Darius...I don't know him as well as others might, but I hope I did okay. I'm sure I'll get better with his character over time. But, really? You're telling me you didn't feel those horns growing, Dari??

[hellishfig]

just finished listening to episode 34 of worlds beyond number, "something to remember you by," which is the end of arc 3 of the wizard, the witch, and the wild one, and i feel sick from how incredible it was. the physical reactions my body made to some of the words and music in this podcast really took me by surprise. i'm still reeling.

some thoughts:

i'm so happy that suvi is questioning the citadel, her reaction to silver's letter was inspired, and i LOVED her interactions with the quartermaster. she's so clever and intimidating (holy shit that was HOT), but i'm worried about what's happening to silver. i have an inkling that the witches may have already started making moves alongside the man in black, and i wonder how that will affect suvi going forward. and going to try and save silver before returning their "precious cargo" to the citadel... i hope suvi can keep questioning, and that whatever she faces, she doesn't let the justification machine run its course any longer.

eursulon meeting up with tefmet was really cool. i enjoyed the return of the strongest man in silbury immensely. it was extremely funny. and then, when eursulon asked to help and succeeded on his persuasion checks, it was solemnly touching. i love eursulon's power being in steadfast support and protection, and how to him, it's not about opposing the citadel in its entirety, it's about saving spirits, great and small, from those who would use them. and that's something he can do while still protecting his true friends.

ame let the chaos OUT this episode, and it was delightful and nerve wracking and thrilling to listen to. she's very bossy and it's so funny to hear how immediately eursulon goes along with it, despite not knowing what "it" is. growing up watching grandma wren, she seems to have gained a natural authority that makes people who love her listen to her when she asks them to perform innocuous menial tasks. but that's also interesting, because her chaos is focused, if imprecise. she knows what she needs to do and will do it, damn the consequences. as long as she can get away, who cares what she leaves in her wake? that's a problem for future ame.

they stole some brass knockers and a lion! they kidnapped nif to save her from being killed by indri! tof burned bright to free a vrock! suvi heads to war, eursulon and ame TO TOMA! (i almost cried when eursulon said those words and the music swelled. what the fuck, lou. what the FUCK taylor and jared. i'm not okay!!!)

and then of course, brockvale. holly hill. the resting place of sir curran of the hawthorn, who unknowingly sent eursulon on a quest that would lead him to our story. the man in black, the pilgrim under stars, the king of knight, the stranger, holds sir curran's shield. he comes to make an offer. will this poor old guard bid a weary traveler to step over this threshold?

this is why worlds beyond number feels so different to me from other dnd shows and podcasts. these artists have come together with the shared goal of not just playing a fun game that they all enjoy, but with the express aim of crafting a brilliant story. i love a goofy campaign full of shenanigans as much as the next person, but i adore how every choice in this show is given weight and meaning. there are no decisions made for laughs. it doesn't feel like playing a game. it feels like living in the story.

and there are also moments like the ending of this episode. a snapshot of elsewhere in the world, something the players don't know, but the audience gets to. it fills out the edges of the story and provides a richer tapestry of lore and reasoning behind the machinations of those who oppose our heroes. it gives life to the tale.

my heart is beating so fast. this show is incredible. thank you, @worldsbeyondpod , for the world you're creating.

[dhampling]

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k

‘Is my resident corvid lacking ample opportunity to thieve elsewhere? Surely not.”

His gaze wavers slightly, but his own smile remains firmly wide. He wants information. By right of him finding these pages, he sees himself as entitled to it.

-

astarion's habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets. your secret is out.

word count: 1,675

a massive THANK YOU to the beautiful anon who sent this my way - 'bard reader writing countless sonnets about Astarion, and him finding them' - I had a lot of fun figuring out the dynamics here, so hopefully it's something a little different!

as always, read the tags and decide your fate!

“How long have you been here?!”

You, wholly aghast, pinned at the mouth of your little tent by those playfully accusatory eyes. Loose ink-laden pages in both hands as he flickers them in the air. White scintillates against the amber of the fire outside.  

He sits cross-legged in the corner by your keepsake pack, grinning ferociously; tongue denting with the tip of a fang in pure salacion. 

“I’ve found your little stash, sweetling! How far back do all these go?”

You look to him with a hint of unease you’re aware needs to go. Offer up your own coy grin and straighten your sagging shoulders.

Astarion coughs with the flare of an announcement as you fail to respond.  

“Beneath the moon, we weave a tale,

In weighty whispers, light as lead,’

A magistrate working a courtroom. The quirk of a brow. Not once do his eyes leave you.

‘A silent yearning, a hidden trail,

Those labyrinthine corridors, we now tread.”

“You’re rifling through my things, now?’

Your churlish grin rivals his. Arms fold over your chest.

‘Is my resident corvid lacking ample opportunity to thieve elsewhere? Surely not.”

His gaze wavers slightly, but his own smile remains firmly wide. He wants information. By right of him finding these pages, he sees himself as entitled to it.

You and Astarion have - remarkably - been as thick as thieves since the moment he held a dagger to your throat beside the wreck of the nautiloid. Through your time on the road so far your own banter often supersedes general group conversation, with his quick wit and deprecating humour delighting you in their scathing execution. He gives you a sounding board to tread against whilst out in the relative wilderness of the Sword Coast and for that, you thank the stars each evening. 

You know little of his own background. You know he worked in Baldur’s Gate as a magistrate long ago. You know you offer him your own blood whenever he needs it, and that those who were displeased with his condition were told in no uncertain terms by yourself that they were welcome to leave the party.

He continues boldly on. You watch his performance with silent glee, moving from the mouth of your tent to sit lazily astride your bedroll.

“His raffish laughter, euphony so sweet,

Resounds within, stokes passion's fire’

He stops and holds a finger in the air. You lean in with mock enthral.

“So we know it’s a him.”

“Very perceptive, Astarion. Pray tell - you have considered a career with the Fist, yes?”

He playfully taps you on the leg. You roll your eyes.

‘In friendship's dance, a heart starts to beat,

As adoration emerges, a burning desire.”

Whilst notoriously catty, he has a depth to him which allows for enjoyable discussion. He’s a natural performer - with which you resonate - and yet he has layers that you haven’t quite been able to penetrate yet.

It sometimes feels almost like he’s a little surprised that you want to. That you care enough to show interest in his blatantly miserable background to press him on it. Compassionately, but still insistent. 

He jokes about it. You and your ridiculously unfounded want to listen to him. To hear his thoughts, rattle them about in your own head and give a considered response in return. A gift, he’ll smile and reassure with mirth in those late night discussions; cupping your face in one hand as you bat him away in laughter. 

“Are we quite done?” You interrupt with a smile. He senses your want to move on.

Astarion drops the page from his face and rests back on his palms.

“Did you ensnare him in the end?” 

“Hm?”

He picks up a chalice and looks across to you. 

“The subject. Did you beguile him? Love unrequited no more?”

A beat of silence. 

“I haven’t, no.”

A noncommittal shrug, but a hopeful look in your eye. You’re whimsical, ever-the-optimist; you can survive this.

“You haven’t?”

His eyes are awash with scandal. Leans back, swirls his wine and purses his lips with an impish tut. Scans over the page once more from afar.

“Tentative hearts paired on the floor,

One loosely mine, but both now yours.”

Another beat of silence.

It’s been a fraught time so far, but his company has made it easier. 

You’ve enjoyed multiple messy nights under the stars together, come undone at his hand more than you’d care to regale him with; laughed in the early morning sunrise as he basks in the light and continued on as the closest of wayward friends. Drunk bottles and bottles of fine wine (finessed from Gale’s tent, obviously) all the way from the Emerald Grove to Moonrise, and now back again.

“Well. I liked it. The last full stanza was a little messy, but-” 

“Is that why you omitted it?’

He sniffs. 

"How long have you been sat in here?” 

You’ve caught him out, just as he has you, but there’s no urgency in your voice. No judgement nor malice. He has seen your secrets now. You’d intended on sharing them eventually, but a forced hand is better than an empty one.

“A small while. I came looking for you, realised you were elsewhere; and just found your pack open.” He smiles a little, wiggling his fingers.

“Read it to me, then. The last stanza.” You rest your chin on your palm, elbow on your crossed leg.

Astarion looks at you and surprisingly, there’s no guard. 

No triumph, no teasing in his discovery. Inhales.

“If I read it, then it’s real. Or it isn’t, but you’ll know I’ve read it.’

He sighs, muttering.

Oh.

Oh.

“Go on! Read it.”

He looks at you. Really, carefully looks at you. Inhales once more. 

“In twilight's embrace, where secrets reside,

In the quiet, ardour awoken,

A subtle shift, devotion now bides,

Astarion and I, our bond unspoken.”

“Brilliantly told. You’re a natural.” You smile, tilting your head to him.

Astarion sits and watches you for the longest of moments. Meets your eyes with his own.

“That’s it? You’re not mortified?” He queries. 

You frown.

“Why would I be?”

Astarion looks at you like you’re insane. Completely and utterly insane. His tone remains temperate but his eyes are almost frantic.

“I’ve just found your sonnets - pages upon pages, no less - all regaling our bond. Read one, aloud; to your face. You don’t recoil. You’re not ashamed?”

All bravado drips from his face like a wet cloth. His shoulders sag a little. 

You loll your head back as you sit, reaching for his chalice and taking a big sip as you ruminate. The wine steeps your teeth and tongue in a deep heady nectar. It’s good.

“You’re a good muse, Astarion. I’m fond of you.’

You lean in and whisper.

‘I may even go as far as to call you my favourite travelling companion, but don’t tell the others.”

His lips quirk softly. He’s slow to speak.

“I was looking forward to teasing you about this, you know.” He tuts and shakes his head, face statuesque in the low light.

“Then why don’t you?”

A genuine question. You still nurse his goblet of wine.

“Don’t make me say it, you brute.” 

You look at him with a quiet mischief settling across your features. His gaze remains narrow.

“You already have.’

A quiet sip. A smile.

‘Our bond.”

Gods. He is beautiful. Eyes foxlike in their stasis, defined by thick dark lashes; lingering on the strewn page in contemplation. Hair perfectly coiffed. Lithe fingers frozen in midair as he exhales.

A few beats of silence. 

Outside the tent, insects chirp and the fire crackles. The river floats languidly on. 

“I don’t know how to do this.” Astarion speaks quietly.

“What?”

“Gah- I don’t know. This. Any of it.” He confesses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I think we’re doing a good job as we are, no?”

His gaze turns to you, hands reaching to eagerly grasp your wrists in affirmation.

“Yes! Yes. We are.’

He grimaces.

‘I didn’t expect to… I didn’t expect I’d meet someone like you again in my life. Now that I have you here, I’m rather reluctant to let you go.”

“It’s a good job you don’t have to. Provided I never catch you rifling through my things again.’

You take one last sip of your pilfered wine as your eyes meet his in the low amber. 

‘I love you. There’s no rush.”

He takes his chalice from you and downs the remaining contents.

“Minus the very real possibility I’ll watch you succumb to ceremorphosis, or vice versa; I suppose.” He mutters through closed teeth. 

You shove him with your shoulder and sigh.

“Now then. I’ve just been absolutely humiliated by my closest friend in this whole camp. I’m tired, my back hurts, and I need to rest. Can I help you with anything else?”

Astarion’s eyes linger on yours momentarily before skimming over your lips. You swear your heart skips a beat.

“Can I?”

“Gods, yes.”

Your first shared kiss unfettered by the marrings of carnal pleasure alone is beyond anything you’d hoped for.

He cradles the back of your head as his lips press softly against yours, over and over; until he’s verging on hungry with his movement. His tongue tastes of wine and he smells so overwhelmingly of him - herbal with sweetened clinical notes of brandy - that you want to bury your head into his shoulder and spoon him until the sun rises once more. 

“Oh songbird. I couldn’t tire of you if I tried, could I?” His voice heady and deep, forehead pressed to yours,

“Can I test that theory?” You tilt your head, leaning in for another small kiss. 

“Hm?” His eyes are heavy lidded, burning in the low light.

“Stay here tonight. Let me hold you.”

He stops for a minute.

“Just… hold me?”

You hum and nod, bringing a hand to his hair and carding through it softly.

Astarion smiles.

“I’d love nothing more.”

[draconym]

Hello! I’ve been interested in park ranger work for awhile— but since researching the institution a little deeper, I’m worried that park rangers are essentially forest cops. I noticed on one of your posts that you mentioned that you were a a park ranger law enforcement officer— and I was wondering if you could go into a little detail about park ranger work and it’s connection to law enforcement? Another reason I feel weird about pursuing park ranger work is I feel that national parks have a non-ignorable history of stripping land from indigenous people. If you have any thoughts or experiences related to the career— it would be extremely helpful for me to hear since I am trying to sort out what I would like to do after college. Thank you for reading. If you don’t want to answer this question either, I completely understand.

There's no singular institution. There are rangers who work for the National Park Service, for State governments, for local governments, or for cities and towns. And there are many different types of rangers: enforcement, interpretive, wilderness rescue, the list goes on. Different sites have different needs, and different positions will have different duties. Many rangers have zero law enforcement authority, and most I've spoken to prefer it that way: they prefer to focus on education and conservation.

I was an enforcement ranger, but never a law enforcement officer--the primary authority I had was the ability to issue fairly cheap citations for animal-related violations (fishing, poaching, off-leash dogs, harm to wildlife, etc.) through local Animal Control. Though some rangers elsewhere carry weapons and receive law enforcement training, my department never did (the latter, frankly, was often to our detriment).

Certainly the NPS has a history loaded with racism, land theft, land desecration, even genocide. The very inception of the NPS was predicated on the myth that the lands to be designated as National Parks were uninhabited wilderness. But don't assume the problem lies solely with NPS: any institution with even a small amount of power has the potential to abuse it, and smaller parks are no exception. I've never even worked for the NPS (my state doesn't even have any national parks), but local agencies often have histories of segregating parks or enforcing segregation within them.

I've heard people say that park rangers are the "only good" law enforcement, and that's a generalization I absolutely wouldn't make. Yes, there are laws and regulations that are necessary for the sake of conservation and our ability to safely access natural areas. That doesn't mean those laws are always universally fair or fairly enforced.

If this leaves you feeling dismayed, well, yeah. Me, too. But there are also quite a lot of positions within parks that are not rangers at all, and quite a lot of jobs within conservation and nature education that are not parks jobs. I've found both park maintenance and trail crew to be just as rewarding in many ways, and if you can live with the low salary they typically offer, I do recommend giving those positions a try. The salary was ultimately a dealbreaker for me.

I haven't been a ranger for several years. I left because the agency I was working for was undeniably a toxic work environment. This isn't intended to put you off working for parks: it's a valuable, rewarding career to educate the public about the natural world and to help maintain wild spaces. I'm grateful to still be involved with parks in other ways. But even the small agency I'm currently working for struggles to right itself. It can be rough out there.

I've already discussed a few of the above points before in my #park ranger tag, so I encourage interested folks to read there if they're interested in more of the mundane, day-to-day stuff.

[tears0fsatan]

                ♰          ・        𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐄𝐍𝐃!

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... nsfw! minors, ageless blogs and fem aligned do not interact, dom human m!reader, sub sea monster!leviathan, size difference, loss of virginity (levi LOLLLLLL what a nerd), tentacles...

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... obligatory levi sea monster fic but my take on it lololol (also yeah im posting this in december fuck you this is the most productive i've been in a year ok let me have this) someone wrote this really sweet tag on one of my recent works and it gen helped me out with my insecurity so thank you for that

 #﹏𖣠ㅤHEART SHAPED HICKIES MASTERLISTㅤ. . . ㅤ !! ( ☠️ )

how you found yourself in this situation, with your cock stuffed inside leviathan and his tentacles circled around your body, you weren't all too sure, all you knew was that he felt fucking amazing wrapped around you. the very mythical sea beast your ancestors had revered for thousands of years and the one they claimed to be the guardian of the seas was here writhing away beneath you, face flushed with a crimson hue that was nearly overshadowed by the fluorescent shine that matched the skin that made up his tentacles.

when you went out to search for the mysterious gaze sailors often sung about, you sure as hell hadn't thought about being entwined with the very creature you set out for.

the moment you left the reef, the heavy weight of a stare on your back ate away at your suspicions of the sailors tale that there was something watching them out at sea. it was the type of stare that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, as if sensing danger before your mind could catch up, one that reminded you just how large and desolating the ocean was.

everyone knew that a sailors story was, at its core, nothing more than an alcoholics drunken rambling. it was natural to take any tale to whichever poor bloke fell victim to their incoherent word vomit at face value and entertain them with faux interest and encouragement to break away sooner. so it came to no ones surprise that you wanted to prove their stories wrong, to confirm whether it was all hogwash to impress pretty little things into their bed or whether there really was something much bigger than a mere human such as yourself could comprehend.

all you wanted was a confirmation that such a legend could exist, everything else that occurred had be completely beyond your expectation.

a stray tentacle shakily grazed the side of your cheek, bringing you out of your short-lived flashback to focus on the watery eyes that stared up at you with poorly hidden jealousy paired with a slight pout. it took everything in you to not coo at the ancient sea beast who seemed upset that your mind was elsewhere while in the middle of being intimate with him, instead choosing to nuzzle your nose against his as a sort of unspoken act of apology.

if the tentacle relaxing against your cheek was anything to go by, it was safe to say he forgave your momentary distraction.

"don't worry, i was only thinking about you." a hot puff of air fanned over his face along with your whisper, the flush on his face growing redder. leviathan's eyes darted away, the eye contact becoming too intense for him to handle amongst all your other ministrations.

the honeyed words had more of an affect on him the longer he had to process what you uttered, for the moment they finally registered in his mind his walls clamped down around you. his reactions gave away his inexperience despite the poised demeanour he tried to mirror from, presumably, other ancient beings like himself.

"you're much more sensitive than i thought. is it because no one's ever touched you like this, leviathan?" while the idea of a sea monster who lurked beneath the waves and merely watched as intruders breached his home as they pleased had never been put in a situation like this before had you feeling more riled up than ever, it was still hard to swallow that a man this gorgeous had never been admired as he should've been.

you drank up the pretty crimson blush that, at this point, stained his cheeks, taking note of the way the shine spread across his face the more stimulated he was. it was far more adorable than it should've been for a creature double your size who could've killed you faster than you had the chance to think about it.

the weight of your stare bore down on him and in a moment of insecurity, his hands moved to cover his face in an attempt to shy away from your eyes. who could blame him? the intensity in which you looked at him with criminally inviting half lidded eyes that made him feel exposed, like one look from you had shed him of all the barriers he put up around himself and he was laid bare in front of you for you to consume whole.

even though he was the leviathan from human's stories whose unbridled envy and rage caused devastation to many from the onslaught of tsunami's and leaving only destruction in its wake, he couldn't help but feel powerless writhing underneath your gaze.

"y-you're staring too much!" he cried out, using one of his tentacles to cover his face now that his hands were out of commission. you tutted, the pretty vision below you suddenly taken away by a rogue tentacle you had no way of pushing away.

"well, i can't look at you if you keep hiding your face." in an attempt to soften his anxious mind, you rested your forehead against his, nosing gently at the tentacle that stood between you and him. despite the tenderness you showed through your nuzzling, your hips spoke of a different story. he stuttered at your rough pace, the earlier kindness for his inexperienced self nowhere to be found.

while keeping one hand wrapped around his wrists so they couldn't move and come between you and the captivating shimmering flush that dusted his face, you reached out for the tentacle that obstructed your view. it didn't struggle in your gentle hold, letting you pick it up and guide it to your face as you willed. little by little, you brought it closer to your mouth, darting your tongue out to take an experimental lick.

the texture was what you expected, similar to the feeling of the inside of his mouth but not exactly, the liquid that coated the tentacle akin to the saliva that dribbled down leviathan's chin with a slightly sweet undertone. it was slightly rougher than you initially imagined, perhaps due to the element that made the skin shine, like that of a softer cow tongue.

the other tentacles surrounding him flailed, whether in pleasure or overstimulation you couldn't quite determine. just as much as his reactions turned you on, your gestures were equally arousing to him and it showed in the way he clenched around you and the way each individual tentacle twitched in their own way.

if someone had told you that your search for the sea beast that sailors talked all high and mighty about was here, whimpering and whining at the slightest movement of your hips you wouldn't have believed them in a thousand years and yet, here you were. perhaps going with your impulsion and taking the chance to seek out the tales was the best decision you had ever made.

© 2023 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t translate, modify, repost or plagiarise my works anywhere.

[avinwrites]

Glimmers of Gratitude || Norton x reader

Synopsis: You've become close with Norton Campbell despite his erratic behavior. On a particularly bad day, you have something that cheers him up!

Norton… scares you a little bit. He always has this distant, unpleasant look on his face, and while he isn’t directly mean to anyone, he seems annoyed at all times. Despite this, you’ve had good conversations with him. Mostly just pleasantries that happen to evolve into real discussions, such as asking him how his day has been and you end up talking about good and bad experiences for what feels like hours. You naturally get along with him, and you can both appreciate that. Occasionally, he’ll become distant towards you, almost out of nowhere. His temper is somewhat unpredictable, but you make it through with some effort on your part. Right now, however, he seems to be in one of his moods. 

He hasn’t talked to you all morning. Even when you waved, sat next to him, asked him how he slept, nothing. You were going to keep at it, you get the feeling that he’s having a rough time and you want to help him through it, but you had to participate in a match. During this match, thankfully, you were left alone to decode. While moving from one cipher to another, you caught something shining on the ground, a very interesting looking rock. When you first pick it up, it’s unassuming, like a normal rock, but once you shine it in the light, you see specks of gold and green and yellow, that just leave you in awe. It reminds you of a certain pair of eyes.

When you get back from that match, without thinking, you go to knock on his door, eager to show him the acquisition you are oh so proud of. It takes him a long time to answer the door after you knock, so long that you think he’s elsewhere, but, slowly, the door creaks open to reveal Norton with horrid posture and eye bags as dark as his mental state. You look from his face to behind him for a short moment, debating with yourself whether or not to leave him alone, but you really can’t stand to see him in this kind of shape, and your will to make him feel better overpowers your dread of making him feel worse. You stand there, silent for an uncomfortable period of time. 

“I wanted to ask you a question, but I get it if you aren’t in the mood to talk.” You start, having difficulty making eye contact with him.

Wordlessly, he opens his door wider to invite you in, shrugging in the process. From your pocket, you fish out the small, unassuming rock you found earlier, taking his hand and placing it gently on his palm. 

“Look.” You tell him, shining a light on the rock to show him the dazzling sparkles deep within it. He watches with you, paying close attention as you show him all the interesting spots you found.

“You had a question?” He finally responds, whilst taking a closer look at your finding.

“Oh, right, I was going to ask you if you knew what it was.”

“Looks to me like Bornite.” He says, matter-of-factly. You weren’t expecting the quick answer. You watch as he closely inspects the mineral and continues. “It’s commonly found in copper mines, but it's not a rare ore. I used to see it a lot…” He trails off, lost in his thoughts once again.

You take a deep breath before taking his hands in yours. You’re determined to boost his spirits at least a little.

“I saw the gold and the green, and the way that it seemed to shine… the first thing that came to my mind was your eyes. Seeing them next to the rock… your eyes are prettier.” You pause before your attempt at flirtation, not knowing how he’ll take it. 

At first, the silence was deafening. You feel like you just made a horrible mistake, like you had poked the ever-volatile bear, but after what felt like a long time, only a few seconds in reality, you notice the beginnings of a bright red spread across his face. He’s stunned. Then, he does the unexpected. He smiles at you. 

“Thanks.” That soft grin widens slightly. His singular word seems to have more application than just one. As if to say: thanks for the compliment, thanks for the gift, thank you for noticing me, and thank you for your comfort.

“Anytime.” You reply with a smile of your own, reciprocating each appreciation with an acknowledgement of your own. 

Maybe you could have said more; maybe you should have. But for now, just being in his presence, both smiling and happy, is enough. There would be plenty of time and opportunity to talk further, but right now, words aren’t needed when you can see his eyes, sparkling just for you.

[roseboysstuff]

ok so im currently listening to Santa Baby by Ariana Grande(feat. Liz Gillies) and whenever i hear "santa baby" all i sang is "santa daddy" anyways, i want to request a dilf Carlos Olivera (you could also do leon if you're more comfy with that) wearing a santa costume (without the white hair and beard because i think their natural hair color is hotter) punishing the reader for being on his naughty list. any kink is open, make it nasty like incest (which honestly would make it better) okay now that i thought of the incest shit i want the reader's mom to be the one who ask for Carlos/leon to wear the smegsy santa costume (she like bought it or somethn) and she request to have sex with our daddy but daddy refuse becuase he was ✨TiReD✨ then while sleeping he wore the santa outfit and climb to the reader's bedroom window (daddy is commited to the role) and then that is where the smegsy shit starts to happen🤤🤤 anyways now that i read this again before sending i sound soo desperate and lonely (i am T.T)

ps: have a good day ahead and take care of yrslf ❤️

Imma do Leon since I don't write for carlos but this idea is so fucking tasty I also made it incest because the idea stuck in my mind hehe so it's dad/son incest

Leon loved your mom, but some of the requests she came up with to spice up their sex life were interesting. They hadn't had sex for a while, and while she assumed it was just them both being busy and tired, you and Leon knew why. He didn't have time to fuck his wife, when he was busy fucking their son. So when he dressed up like Santa, he didn't get hard from her sitting on his lap, and eventually she gave up and went to bed. Leon wasn't going to join her for a while, however, his mind was elsewhere. You woke up to your window sliding open, and were about to scream, until you saw the familiar blue hue in his eyes. "Dad? What are you doing?" He simply shushed you and continued climbing in through your window. The santa outfit was very comical to you, and certainly not something that would normally look attractive, but he managed to make it look good. He sat on your bed, and in a slightly hushed voice, he said "Why don't you sit on Santa's lap?" You realised what he was doing and instantly felt yourself getting wet at his husky tone. And so you walked over and sat on his lap, getting comfy, feeling his cock against you, hardening quickly. He kept whispering in your ear, that same low, quiet tone sending shivers down your spine. "What does my baby boy want for Christmas, hm? Because I've got something big I want to give you." With that, he moves you so you are facing him, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he pulls the bright red pants down ever so slightly. He's rock hard, and all for you. He reaches inside your pants, and chuckles when he feels the wetness, knowing that despite yourself, you are enjoying seeing him dressed up like this. "You've been a good boy all year, but you're still on my naughty list. So Santa is going to fuck you until you melt, okay?" You're gently lowered onto his cock, and you start bouncing away. One of his hands stays on your hip, the other covers your mouth so your mom doesn't hear what's going on. You're too far gone to care about noise, but he doesn't want his wife to walk in on this scene. His cute little son, riding his cock, it's for his eyes only. And the sight of you cumming on his cock, letting out the smallest of whimpers, as he shoves his fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet, it's the best Christmas present he's ever gotten.

[max1461]

"People feel like X for reason Y, because logically I have deduced it to be so." "Well actually no one would feel like X for reason Y, because logically I have deduced it to be impossible." Current round of "why are there so many right-wing men all of a sudden?" discourse populated by megabrain needs more sodium chloride guys but for human emotion. Have you considered that this might be an empirical question?

Anyway, for my own part, I'd like to ask first off if the proportion of right wing men has increased recently? Is that real or made up?

I know that overall (in the US, idk about data from elsewhere) men lean more right than women. And I'd conjecture that the principle reason is fairly straightforward: feminism, which principally advocates for women's issues, is part of the left/liberal coalition, which naturally is going to be a draw for women and an anti-draw for men qua their self-interest in the general case. So, there you go, there's my Cartesian answer and it's more correct and general than any of yours. Discourse over.

[candiid-caniine]

dumb dog's guide to self-denial

this was by far the most popular option in my last poll so here goes! full disclosure, i am a drooling idiot so i can't promise i won't miss some things. i can promise, however, that 1) i will do my best!! dogs are v enthusiastic!! and 2) there will be no bioessentialist kink of any kind within this post. adding to it with such things will get you blocked. if you're looking for that, go the hell elsewhere :)

disclaimer: i cannot give you advice that will "simply work" because nobody can. your body, your effort, and your time are all variables which I cannot account for with any certainty, so this is meant to get you started with finding your ideals when it comes to orgasm denial. it's not about learning to edge as much as me/for as long as me/as hard as me/whatever - everyone is different!

my approach to this is basically...building a dom/owner/whatever you'd like to call your ideal "denial partner" in your head. if you're single, either by choice or by chance, or you have a partner/s who isn't interested in being involved w/ your denial, this basically means being your own owner! so how does one do that? and how is that supposed to help with denial? you may be asking.

well, denial is about self-control, at least at the beginning. if you're new to this, that's probably what you're struggling with! your body loves orgasms, and it's used to getting release when it's stimulated. you start off a session wanting to edge, intending not to cum, but...you just can't; your body pushes you too far. when you've cultivated self-control, at some point your body starts to accept that edging also feels good, but until that point, it's all willpower.

only, part of being a submissive is wanting to surrender your willpower. so my solution to that was always playing both sub and dom, sort of at once, and to make a habit of it, so that even when you're in subspace it's not too far beyond you. how does that work if you're not a switch? you may be asking.

well...when you touch yourself, you probably fantasize, right? or you watch porn, or read erotica, etc. you may not be a switch, or have any urge to dom, but odds are you have an idea of how you'd like to be talked to. so start there.

want to be praised and trained like a beloved pet? when your body starts to get more excited, talk to yourself, and yes, it always feels stupid at first. "good boys don't cum without permission, isn't that right?" "so close to the edge, aren't you? now stop. stop right now. good girl." "be a good puppy and leave those puppy parts alone, calm down for me. good pet." whisper it if you have to, but do say it aloud. repeating it in your head isn't going to be enough at the start. eventually, maybe, but not yet. or do you want to be degraded and talked down to? tell yourself you don't deserve to cum, you're a pathetic toy, you're such a loser for obeying. then obey. in essence, emulate the dom that's in your fantasies. this is step 1. let your inner dom set some arbitrary, easy limits: just one more edge, then you can cum. or five more minutes, then you can cum. don't take away the goal of cumming just yet. and i do mean easy.

what if you don't have concrete fantasies/are imagining more sex acts than actual dirty talk? then get some! set aside 20-30 minutes before your edging attempt and get to dirty daydreaming! visualize the way you like being talked to, then enact it to, for, and by yourself. note the time to start this is before you've ever touched, if it's not already natural to you.

step 2: get comfortable with it. work a little of your "inner dom" into other aspects of your life; don't worry too much about the edging sessions, just get comfortable with this new persona or habit. when you finish a hard task, call yourself a good boy/girl/pet. when you're getting undressed for the shower, ask yourself, sexily, "is this for me?" and then your choice of pretty/handsome little thing or dirty little slut. invoke your inner dom in other areas of your life you imagine enjoying control. remember: you have to learn to bear through edging on self-control alone before you start to really lean into it from an internal perspective. and when you're edging, it's really hard for that to be the only time you're trying to do this.

step 3: when it's becoming more habitual, it's time to bring the edging up a notch. start setting true limits, experimenting with various things. these are the parameters i recommend experimenting with, one at a time, empirical-style:

how many edges can you do in one session before your urge to cum outweighs your inner dom? can you stretch this, with practice?

how does your body feel edging over and over again for 1 hour, vs. edging once per hour the whole day? more desperate and fuzzy, or less?

how does your body feel being teased slowly up to the edge vs. brute-forced into as quick an edge as possible? can you shorten, or lengthen, the times for each?

how close to the edge can you get yourself before a ruin becomes inevitable? what signs in your body point to this - tightening, contracting, throbbing, temperature, tingling? from there, can you roughly estimate a timeframe or amount of certain types of stimulation?

does setting aside specific times of day to edge, and not permitting it outside those times, frustrate/distract you more? or does allowing yourself to edge whenever you have time/feel like it frustrate/distract you more?

is it better to (eventually) cum directly after a long edging session, or to allow yourself to cool down completely and *then* cum?

how many methods of edging (insertion, fingering/stroking, vibration, humping, nipples, etc) can you perform, and in how many positions?

is it more frustrating to gently stroke/fondle yourself once every few minutes for the whole day without edging, or to edge repeatedly in a short period for an hour once a day?

there's a lot more you can try out. i recommend keeping a journal for all this. setting these kinds of goals and experiments for yourself will both a) keep you engaged intellectually and motivated, and b) get you in better communication with your own body. throughout all this, continue practicing that inner dom persona. praise yourself, degrade yourself, have dialogues with yourself; tell yourself to be useful or good, then respond with a pout and a "yes" and your choice of honorific.

more ideas/challenges can be found all over BDSMlr if you look for "edging challenges," but be aware many of them contain bioessentialist themes/language.

step 3.5: most d/s relationships have a reward/punishment hierarchy. so as you're taking step 3, explore what motivates you more - punishment, or reward - and, conversely, what gets you subbier: having more, or less of what motivates you. i'll explain, but:

when you fail a goal by going over the edge or ruining, what's the punishment that makes you feel the most repentant? is it impact, humiliating yourself somehow, some other unpleasant sensation, writing lines or other tedium? what makes you feel the least inclined to disobey again?

when you succeed at a goal, what reward makes you feel most fulfilled? is it an orgasm? several orgasms? sweet treats? a good smoke session? buying new lingerie? some combination of them?

from there: what successes or failures feel most, to least, deserving of the worst/best punishments and rewards? can you rank them?

and then: are you noticing you meet goals more when you're punished strictly, or rewarded fairly?

then here's the complex bit...does it align more, or less, with your desired form of submission to be consistent like that, or inconsistent? do you want a dom who always gives you the same caliber of reward/punishment for the same actions, or one who's cruel enough to keep you guessing at their whims? do you want a dom who adheres to you being more reward- or punishment- motivated, or a dom who doesn't care what motivates you, but rather what pleases them?

when you reward/punish yourself, thank or apologize to yourself, too :)

step 4: keep taking notes, but ask yourself these questions (you may want to take a break from edging just to have a clear mind):

why do i want to stay denied? is it because i like the challenge, or because i like a feeling like helplessness, neediness, vulnerability, or dumbness?

once you have that question answered, move on to: which of the ways/variables i tested while edging best gives me the feeling i'm looking for? was it more frustration, or less? was it frustration in small doses through the day, or all at once at a predictable time? was it switching up my methods, or staying consistent?

do i want to feel dumb/humiliated/put in my place/crushed by denial, or do i want to feel empowered/secured/confident because of it? which of the variables i tested made me feel the way i wanted?

your answer to many of these may be "both" or "i don't know," to which i suggest you spend some time on each. you'll either have a preference, or you'll switch back and forth, or find some middle ground - up to you.

one thing i've noticed is a theme among my advice asks is: how do i stay denied as long/edge as much as you, and that's for you to figure out if you even should. it's time to ask the question, what feels more doable for me: longer time periods without orgasms, or more edges total? you might say "both," to which i'd say, you and every newbie denial sub! it is 100% more feasible to pick one or the other as a goal at a time. hone those skills separately, and they'll naturally come together eventually if you decide you want them to.

step 5: reach for the stars! if you want to, that is :) you may just find you like a stable pattern of denial. you may find that pushing too hard past a certain point causes dropping. you may find that pushing too hard causes life stress. orrr you may find that "more" is never enough...like myself lol. any/all/it changing/some of each is 100% okay. or maybe you get off (or not) on setting impossible challenges and reaping the punishment for it :)

by this time, your body will have hopefully gotten past the awkward "mind thinks edging is hot, but so hot that i cum when trying to do it" phase. a combo of inner dom chatter + having intellectual/introspective challenges to work through was what got me to where i am right now lol. at some point, having my owner there to take the mental load off was great, but also, i'm so used to it that i still dom myself a lot lol. and a quick note: this may not work for you. that's okay, too: that's all part of your learning process. maybe you need external validation, and that's all there is to it - you're at least one step closer to understanding how denial works for you!

i'll finish with some lecturing to your "inner dom:"

good doms obey limits. if you don't like something you try, no matter how mean your inner dom is, you don't have to put up with it again.

good doms know life happens. if real life gets in the way of edging/completing goals, a good dom would never presume to come above that shit. if edging/completing goals is getting in the way of real life, a good dom would adjust so that it doesn't. responsibilities should continue to take precedence.

good doms are risk-aware. if you're experimenting with pain, bondage, anal, sensation play, etc., do what every good dom should do and educate yourself first! know the risks, and implement strategies to mitigate them.

good doms provide aftercare. take care of yourself on the comedown. try to allow time between a session and IRL responsibilities to recenter.

and finally, just a bit of affirmation for you, the person, as you navigate this exciting new lifestyle:

if you're not having fun, don't do it!

you are fully capable of this. whether it's my method or someone else's, if this is what you want, and it feels good, you can do it. you are not a bad sub if you can't, or if you can't do it the way someone else does.

this is not a masculine thing, or a feminine thing, or an enby thing, or a straight thing, or a gay thing, etc. it's not even a sub thing, really, but the sub perspective is the only one i can speak on. it's a kink, or a kink enhancer, that is "for" anyone who likes it!

in that vein, reject that which does not work for your body. do not be afraid to pass up edging advice just because someone seems to know what they're talking about. you also do not have to accept bioessentialist undertones just because it seems like good advice.

and finally: yes, you can dom yourself. you are capable, you are trustworthy (probably more so than even some doms lol), and you are absolutely worthy of your own submission and devotion.

have fun, stay safe, and drip a little, if it suits you c; (and don't hesitate to ask questions on my blog if you still have them!)

[seventeenytiny]

✿ Spring Fever✿

Smut: Minors DNI

You and Hyunjin go for a walk through a local nature trail and things get pretty heated.  Contains: public sex, fingering, female reader, slight name calling, squirting, unprotected sex (assume reader is on birth control)

Word Count: 1500

Author’s note: I am absolutely obsessed with the idea of Hyunjin and public sex. I apologize for this being a bit rough, I have no excuse, english is my first langue, I just suck at writing right now :))).  

You take a deep breath, welcoming the fresh air into your lungs. The sunlight that you have missed all winter warms your skin as you listen to the birds chirping. You could hardly believe how much happiness blue skies could bring you after months of endless gray. You hold Hyunjin’s hand tightly as the two of you walk down the path of your favorite nature trail, placing kisses on each other's cheeks, simply enjoying the moment. The trail was quiet, it was a bit of a hidden gem in your town, not everyone knew about it. Long, overgrown grass surrounded the edges of the trail, offering a bit of privacy.

You notice a small trail that leads off the main one, a tiny clearing in the long grass, most likely made by a deer.

“Hyunjin, look, there's a little trail there. Can we go see where it leads to?”

He smiles and nods. “I think there might be a little pond that way, maybe we can find some frogs.”

Hyunjin takes the lead, pulling you behind him, protecting you from any cobwebs on the long grass. You admired his strong figure leading you, how could someone be so perfect? Hyunjin was hard to resist, you couldn't help yourself as reached forward, grabbing his ass. He takes a deep breath and stops. You can sense a change in demeanor, he stares straight ahead, his voice low, “You’re going to regret that.”

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pulling you along again. His words send a tingling sensation straight to your core.

The two of you finally make it through the grass, the trail opens up to a small clearing and a large pond. You walk up to the edge of the pond, taking in the breathtaking view as Hyunjin holds you from behind.

“Look at the ducks over there. Aren’t they adorable?” you pointed out.

“Yeah... they’re cute,” he mumbles. While Hyunjin would generally be very interested in such a sight, his mind was elsewhere. He let you know what he was truly thinking about by slowly grinding into your ass. You tensed up for a second after feeling how hard he was before slowly relaxing into it. Hyunjin’s hand began to travel the front of your body, one hand grabbing your breast, the other pushing your hips closer to him. You relaxed completely against his body, letting him do whatever he wants. You tilt your head to the side to allow him to suck on your neck, knowing there would be little red marks for you to have to deal with later.

“Such a naughty girl... letting me touch you like this out here,” he whispers, his voice deep and sultry.

Too shy to answer, you pull away from his grasp, desperately grabbing his face to press your lips onto his. Your lips move against one another, his tongue slips into your mouth as he grabs your ass. You moan into his mouth, enjoying every second of his touch. You find yourself attempting to grind on his upper thigh, desperate to feel something down there.

Suddenly he freezes up, his hand goes up to your mouth to keep you silent. He leans close to your ear, “Be quiet, Princess.”

The two of you stay in that position for what felt like an hour, although it wasn't any longer than a minute. You wait until you hear the voices of the people walking by pass. The two of you had gotten so carried away, simply forgetting you were in public.

Hyunjin wastes little time getting back to work, his hand slips under your dress, feeling your wet panties. “Does my little Princess get turned on by the thought of other people catching her being a slut?” he coos into your ear.

His words make you melt, you’re so turned on but too shy to respond.

“I need to hear your words, Princess. Does the idea of me fucking you out here where anyone can see turn you on?” His finger slides past your panties, entering your soaking wet pussy. A quiet ‘yes’ slips past your lips, but that's not enough for him.

He slides another finger into you, thrusting them in and out, “What was that baby girl? I can’t give you anything more unless I know being a slut like this turns you on.”

“Fuck, Hyunjin, yes I love it, please just fuck me, I’m begging you.”

“That’s what I needed to hear baby girl, take your panties off for me, please.”

You quickly slip off your panties as he undoes his pants, he pulls them down just enough to release his cock. You watched with eagerness as his hard cock springs up from the confines of his pants. He gives himself a few pumps before he pushes you up against a nearby tree. He looks around to make sure no one is nearby before he lifts your skirt up, teasing your entrance with his cock.

“I need you to be quiet, okay Princess?”

You nod in reply, both of your hands are up against the tree to help keep you steady. He places one hand over your mouth to help stifle any possible moans, his other hand around his cock as he guides it to your entrance. He pushes into you, you're thankful for the hand that covers your mouth as you let out the most sinful sound.

“Shhhh I know it's hard baby girl, you gotta be quiet.”

After giving you a second to adjust to him, he begins to move. His cock stretches you out in the best way possible. You manage to keep quiet, the only thing you can hear is the wet squelching sound as he thrusts in and out of your pussy.

Hyunjin whispers into your ear, “Listen to how wet you are, you really are a slut, letting me fuck you wherever I want.”

“Hyunjin... you're going to make me cum if you keep talking like that.”

Your voice is already unsteady, losing yourself in pleasure. Hyunjin reaches around you, drawing little circles on your clit as he continues to thrust in and out.

“Are you going to cum already? I had no idea how kinky my little Princess was...”

He continues on for a bit before picking up the pace, his hips snapping into yours at an all-new speed.

“I’m gonna cum...”

“Do it, I got you, Princess.” He places a kiss behind your ear, his warm breath tickling you, your mind starts to go blank.

You feel the heat in your core build up as your legs start to shake, you decide to not hold back anymore, letting your orgasm wash over you. You can feel your juices running down your leg, more and more coming out with each thrust. You can’t believe you're actually squirting, you’ve never been able to do it before. Your cum continues to pour out of you as you get lost in pleasure.

Hyunjin feels your wetness coat his cock, soaking his jeans. He’s dreamed of the moment of being able to make you squirt, and now it's finally happening. Your orgasm triggers his own, he grunts into your ear as he fills you with his cum. He gives you a couple more thrusts as he rides out the pleasure before slowly pulling out.

He holds you tightly against his body as you regain your balance after your intense orgasm. He pulls away only to watch the mixture of his and your cum drip out of you into the earth beneath you.

You turn to him, only to see the front of his jeans wet from your orgasm. You start apologizing, but he cuts you off by kissing your lips deeply.

“Don’t even try to apologize Y/N, that was the hottest shit I've ever seen,”

You blush before kissing him again, “I love you Hyunjin.”

“I love you too Princess, let's get cleaned up.”

The two of you help the other clean up, you grab the panties you discarded earlier to try to soak up the excess dampness on his pants before using them to wipe yourself dry. You tuck the dirty panties into your purse to deal with later, deciding to finish the walk home with nothing on underneath. Hyunjin takes his zip-up hoodie off and ties it around his waist, using it to cover most of the wet stain on his pants.

The two of you look at the lake one last time before finishing your walk home. He wraps his arm around you and places a kiss on your temple.

“So do you wanna come back here for a walk tomorrow? Maybe we can actually look for frogs.”

You giggle, “I have a feeling we will never be able to come back to this spot just to look for frogs.”

Hyunjin grabs your hand and begins to lead you back to the main path of the trail.

“Oh yeah, you were right Y/N, those ducks were actually pretty cute earlier.”

[doberbutts]

Hi jaz! I know u dont post docking/cropping disc horse on ur blog so if ur ok with it i was hoping u'd be ok answering this privately. Im really really not looking for discourse i was just very curious on what your particular stance on docking/cropping was. There are like obviously advantages and disadvantages for both that I've seen on your blog (from various opinions) but I've only irl met dob owners who are VERY against docking and cropping. Sometimes i see like u reblogged a post of a puppy with docked bandaged ears and i was like "huh! Interesting!" So way less of like a trying to start a discourse thing and more of like. Do you prefer docked or not docked? Do u support docking for any specific reason or not, like i know it used to be so they wouldn't get grabbed or something like that. Sorry if this sounds weird or super blunt im autistic and really terrible at wording things gently,, i've just seen both sides talked about and was wondering like what u thought as a professional dog trainer who's opinion I trust. Its more about personal curiosity than any discourse attempt but also also if u aren't comfortable discussing it at all then no pressure!! Like i dont wanna make u discuss something ur like "damn this is gonna be triggering to talk about" i never want to do that to u.

Thank u for taking the time to read :)

I'm actually fine posting this one publicly, only because I've stated it several times before on this very blog:

I do not give a fuck what other people do with their dogs as long as it is legal within their country and the owner is doing their best to be compassionate and fair to their animals. That can be interpreted whatever way anyone wants it to be.

In other words, someone who makes the decision to have their dog's ears cropped under the care of a vet or who purchases a dog with already cropped ears? Who gives a shit. Not me. Someone who takes a pair of scissors to their dog's ears at home? That person is an asshole and I hate them.

Very few doberman breeders in this country will allow a puppy to go home without cropping the ears or docking the tail. I am not sure if that puppy's breeder counts among them, as I have very little interest in purchasing a dog from her and thus don't know much about that part of her program. The pedigrees are simply not what I feel holds the future of the breed in terms of efforts for longevity combined with working ability, so I simply look elsewhere.

It is worth mentioning that the two fully natural dogs I have had, with one still living, come from countries in which the practice is either banned or so heavily restricted it may as well be banned. If someone is serious about wanting a fully natural doberman, most people will need to import.

I know of less than 10 breeders within this country who would allow the same thing, and of them I think I would only purchase from maybe 2 of them, and *both* of those people would only sell a fully natural dog to me because they know who I am. Someone unknown to them is still getting a cropped and docked dog.

For my own dogs, I avoid all potentially painful procedures that are not medically necessary. This does include cropping and docking, both of which are surgeries and all surgeries do have at least some pain associated with them. However I also don't spay or neuter my dogs for the same reason. When it becomes medically necessary, I will consider surgery. Until then, I will not. Thankfully, I was able to find someone who was willing to play ball with that, and that is why I have had a couple natural dogs. My dobermans prior to that were not, because I was not able to find someone, because they simply didn't exist in this country and I was a poor college kid unable to import.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Your Hand Please, My Lady CE: Jude Jazza Story

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

Jude was chosen to be my butler for a day through the Evil King game —

Jude: Good morning, Miss Kate. You seem well-rested today.

That morning when Jude came to my room, he spoke in beautiful Queen’s English.

(Jude’s accent is gone?! Moreover, why am I being called Miss….)

Kate: ….This is a dream, right?

Thinking it was a dream I sank back to bed when Jude grabbed my arm.

Jude: Excuse me, Miss Kate. I am also terribly disappointed, but this is not a dream.

Kate: I can feel you grabbing me….then this is real….?

Jude: Yesterday, Mister Victor gave an extremely unpleasant….no, a pleasant order, didn’t he?

Jude: To become a butler for one day.

Kate: Ah, that’s right….

Kate: I understand. Please take care of me today.

Jude: No, it’s I who should say that. Please take care of me today, Miss Kate.

Jude: Anyway, that wild hairstyle…..it’s like a work of art. It’s an honor to see it.

(Maybe, do I have bed hair…?)

Kate: I-I’m sorry. It’s unsightly! I’ll fix it right away.

Jude: Ah no, leave it as it is, my lady.

(What, leave my bed head as it is…?)

Jude: I’ll fix it for you, so please have a seat.

Kate: ….You will do it Jude?

Jude: Since I am your butler for today.

Jude skillfully arranged my hair, and tied it up neatly.

Afterwards, I was guided to the dining room where breakfast had been prepared.

(Jude’s an immaculate butler. But…)

Jude: My lady. You’re taking your time eating your meal with that small mouth.

Jude: As a result, tidying up will be delayed……no, please be careful, all right?

Kate: ….Thank you.

(Even though his tone was polite, his words somehow sounded sarcastic….)

He isn’t criticizing me as he usually does, so I can’t talk back, it’s oddly difficult.

Liam: Jude becoming a butler seems interesting! I wanted to see it, but…..it seems a bit shameless doesn’t it?

Kate: That’s just your nature Liam…..

Liam: Kate, now that Jude is your butler, you can do whatever you want.

Liam: Like going shopping and carrying your bags! I’m curious about Jude being used by you, Kate.

Jude: ….You’re using me to satisfy your curiosity? Mr. Liam, joke around in moderation.

Liam: Wow, scary!

Liam: But, Jude didn’t you ask me the other day about products women may like?

Liam: I don’t think it would be a bad idea to listen to Kate’s opinion while shopping.

Ellis: Kate’ll be happy to release her frustration, and Jude’ll be happy to do market research…..

Ellis: ….Yep, I think that’s very good.

Liam: Right?

Ellis and liam both approached Jude with sparkling eyes.

Jude: ……Seems like the both of you will be completely noisy until we go out?

So at Ellis’ and Liam’s recommendation, I went out with Jude.

There’s a hint of sarcasm in everything Jude says, but he carries all of my bags without being asked, fulling his role as a butler with precision.

(Although it was an order from the evil king game….., I’m starting to feel a bit sorry.)

(I’ll tell Jude that this is the last time he needs to pretend being a butler.)

As I stood in the bathroom and thought this, I started back to Jude.

At that moment —

Man: Excuse me. I’m lost, could you give me directions.

Kate: Yes, of course. Where are you going?

Man: It’s in this direction. Come with me for a moment.

Kate: What? That…

(This man…does he really need directions?)

Just as he was about to forcefully grab my arm, I stopped in confusion, and the man’s attitude changed.

Man: Tch…you’re Jude Jazza’s woman right? Listen up and follow me!

Kate: Mmgh.

A cloth was placed over my mouth preventing me from calling for help, and I was snatched away immediately.

I was taken to a warehouse-like place and my hands were tied with ropes.

(…..I wonder how many times I’ve been involved as Jude’s woman.)

(Come to think of it, when I was commanded to become Jude’s maid….)

[Flash Back Begins]

Jude: If yer gonna follow me ‘round, ya gotta ditch all the niceties ’n goodwill.

Jude: Or if ya don’t wanna get tossed aside, then forget the damn mission ‘n go back to sleep in yer castle, princess.

[Flash Back Ends]

(Even though I was warned…..my goodwill was taken advantage of.)

If Jude saw me, he’d laugh and say, “See, toldja.”

(…..Ugh. If that’s the case, I’d rather not be criticized.)

(There’s a chance I may be told not to tag along anymore because he’s fed up with me.)

I still don’t know a lot about Jude, I haven’t recorded enough.

(In order to stay by Jude’s side, I need to make it through this situation….!)

Just as the man turned his back to me, I picked up a nearby piece of wood.

I don’t have a firm grip because I’m tied with a rope, but it’s enough to swing down.

(…..Okay, now!)

I hit the man on the back of his knee, to get him to lose balance. At that time —

Jude: —You were late, so I came to collect you, my lady.

Man: Huh…..Jude Jazza?!

Jude appeared from the shadows and immediately closed the distance between him and the man,

Man: Urgh!

Jude’s brilliant roundhouse kick sent the man flying, and then fell to the ground.

Kate: ……Thank you for the help.

On the way back home, Jude stopped walking to listen as I began to speak.

Kate: But I …..I still want to know more about you, Jude.

Kate: Going forward, I’ll be more careful. So……

—So, please let me stay by your side. Before I could say anything Jude spoke.

Jude: ….Today you’re a young lady, and I am your butler.

Jude: Because of this, of course I’d help you.

(So my stupidity will be overlooked today…?)

Jude: Besides, you were swinging a piece of wood before I could even get in.

Kate: I was just completely absorbed in the moment….

Jude: …..It’s far better to beat someone to death with a piece of wood, than to be tortured.

While saying that, Jude lit a cigarette.

The long trailing smoke rises thinly into the sky and disappears.

For some reason, the lonely look on his face was burned into my heart.

Jude: ….Well, yer unfit as a young lady. Where d’ya find a young lady swingin’  wood ‘round.

Kate: You say that…., but Jude you’re also unfit as a butler!

Kate: You stopped speaking politely, and you started smoking without asking…..

Jude: If ya ain’t a young lady, then I ain’t a butler. This setup was rubbish from the start.

Jude: ….Or what, didja want me to wait on ya longer? Ya got good taste.

Kate: T-that’s not it! I….like the usual Jude best!

Jude: ……

Kate: Ah! T-that’s not right? Not like in that way, what I meant was

Jude: Ya rather be teased than waited on, right? ….Yer a woman with bad tastes.

I was frustrated that he laughed while mocking me.

But, it’s true that Jude’s ridiculing side fits better…..

(…..Maybe I do have bad tastes.)

While I felt a tinge of uneasiness about my preference in tastes…my strange day spent with Jude as my butler ended.

Jude really struggled to not say mean things lmao. So cute watching him correct himself. Let's give the fairy an A+ for effort.

And HELLO - are we not going to talk about how he couldn't resist Liam's and Ellis sparkly eyes?? ......or about how he lit a cigarette after that one line.

[Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles Tag List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka