#either way interesting concept anon

[brotherslayer]

Fic idea... where derrick makes a deal with the lelia posing as Yvonne that he would help her if he could og Penelope all to himself

Hm..I wonder how Leila would uphold the deal while also realizing her goal of the destruction of the world. Would she leave the Eckart duchy untouched from the apocalypse? Would she trap Penelope and Derrick's soul in a dream (or from Penelope's point of view: nightmare) realm? Would she let the seconds right before she consumes their souls make last an eternity?

[pynkhues]

Poor Lestat laying in fetal position, looking so small and having dead eyes :( Armand saying he's come home was so creepy, wtf was he thinking. You know, this scene just doesn't make any sense to me, why would Lestat go out of his own will to a place that's the biggest ptsd trigger you can imagine. To punish himself I guess? Sometimes it feels like Rolin wants Lestat to have so much agency that he never allows him to be a victim. Kinda worried how they'll handle s3 wrt this. I hope they won't victim blame him for every bad thing that happened to him because 'he deserved it'.

Oh, anon, I'm sorry because this is probably not what you want to hear, but I love that Armand said that Lestat's come home by going back to the place he was turned and assaulted, because it feels really emotionally honest and true to these characters.

Claudia, Armand and Lestat are all victim-survivors, and I think the show's demonstrated that it's really curious as to what that means.

There's a school of thought that's currently becoming more understood in feminist circles that victim-survivors can often not believe each other, or diminish each other's experiences. The nature of the sort of abuse that Claudia, Armand and Lestat have all experienced is that they've had to process it to a point where they feel they are the expert of their story. They know what happeend to them, they've gone through a lot to know what happened to them, and it's a way for them to take control back of their own stories. An unfortunate side effect is that it can lead to these victim-survivors feeling they know more about your story than you.

They've survived it, so they feel they can tell who's the liar and who's the truthteller, who got off easy, who had it worse, who's stories are more than or less than, and that idea itself is a trauma response manifesting as something ugly, right? Abuse and assault are felt in so many different ways and manifest in so many diffferent forms, but this idea can take hold in victim-survivors as a means of taking control over what happened to them. If they can use - which Lestat does when he weaponises Claudia's rape against her in the train to force her to come home - undermine - which Claudia does against Lestat when she tells Louis not to take Lestat's truth as fact - or diminish - as Armand does against Lestat when he shrugs off Daniel's question about Magnus in 2.03 and talks about Lestat coming home in 2.08 - this subset of people will.

Armand is a character who has endured unimaginable sexual abuse. To divorce that from his understanding of Lestat's own trauma does both characters a huge disservice. How they navigate each other as two survivors of (very different!) forms of sexual violence is interesting, and it's unsurprising that Armand, having been groomed and assaulted by Marius, would view a maker's home as - - well, home.

And frankly regardless of that, if the show stays true to the book, Lestat will live there for a while after Magnus' death because he has no money, no one to call on, and no idea who he is now that he's been turned. Gabrielle lives with him for a while there! Magnus' tower is, in the books, a very complicated place for Lestat.

[hunterisnearme]

I just thought of something rn. If the toons represent childhood and the cogs represent adulthood. would a cog who would much rather defect and joins the toons would be an analogy to age-regression? (the coping mechanism where you unapologetically indulge in things that are viewed as childish)

In a way, you could say that! I believe that the grayed toons play a role of "forced aging", or rather the concept of those who never had a proper childhood. When you think about it, you have those who had never properly healed their inner child but we never perceive the side of how an improper childhood even occurs. More often than not, the biggest offenders of this concept of child abuse links to of course the parents but also the environment they were raised in.

Of course, this is all up to the viewer's perspective on things. It is worth noting that the Grayed Toons are young adults, but of course steep into a pit of depression and later on fueled into hatred and resentment to those around them who failed to see their struggles in the first place.

The idea of Toonbots can give a broader idea to age regression, as well as an act of showing that adult life doesn't have to be constant doom and gloom. Every person has SOME bit of whimsy in their heart, regardless of age.

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[h2llish]

i've been following your blog for a while and absolutely adore your writing!

if its okay i'd love to see something with either leona or jamil (up to you!) and a reader who falls asleep on their shoulder during some sort of nrc road trip.. i'm not sure if nrc would have buses per say considering all the magic and stuff but the concept of an nrc school trip seems super interesting to me so if you're up for the request by all means just have fun with it!! i do notice that your requests are semi open so feel free to decline ofc !

— ☁️

⁀➷ ˖ ROAD TRIP DROWSINESS

notes ─── hi anon! i’m so happy you like my writing! i don't think they'd have buses at nrc because of the mirror, but crowley would probably spring a sudden road trip on them which would just confuse the students, because why? (i also imagine their bus would probably be a bit fancier? idk how to explain it but nothing like the busses i'm used to.)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR ─── a wave of drowsiness leads you to find comfort on his shoulder ♡ fluff, gender neutral, can be read platonic or romantic, not proofread

transportation for students at nrc was not hard, all they had to do was enter the dark mirror and then they found themselves safely at their destination. so if it was that easy, why in the world was the headmage so adamant that they boarded this bus like they were kids back in middle school? ─ a road trip was his very (might many students say stupid) answer.

the only person who seemed to not have a problem with this sudden turn of events, was the magicless prefect from ramshackle. you didn't give any complaints or groan about using the easy way to get to the destination. you just nodded when the headmage announced the decision.

students were chosen at random, names drawn from a hat (a method the headmage seemed to rely on often).  and as the prefect, and the designated scapegoat for everything crowley did, you were of course among that group, with your dire beast other half. 

“i don't get it,” grim frowned, sitting on your shoulder as you approached the bus, where many familiar faces waited to board. “why can't we just use the mirror?”

ace was walking alongside you, being one of the people drawn to join the group. he had decided to met you at ramshackle, knowing you would inevitably have to board the bus as well. “i think the headmage called it some sort of bonding experience. don't know how a hours-long road will be a bonding experience.”

grim grumbled, turning his head to look at your face. you have yet to say anything to add to the conversation. “whaddya’ think, [name]?”

“what?” you blinked, sending a glance to the dire beast before looking ahead of you once more. “what do i think about what?”

“were you even listening to anything we just said?” ace sighed. 

you hummed, “i’ve learned to tune you guys out the moment you start speaking.” ─ and then you were wincing as the two of them shouted, leaning your head away from the monster as he and ace expressed how offended they were.

you sighed, this was going to be a long ride.

and right you were. 

things were okay (as okay as a group of irritable teenage boys with magic on a bus could be) during the first hour. but as the first hour turned to half, and you found yourself growing drowsy, you attempted to doze off, at least for a good twenty minutes. you were unsuccessful, as the moment you closed your eyes, you were quickly opening them to glance at a yelling grim.

epel and sebek, also being among the names drawn, were sitting next to you. epel and grim looked ready to pounce on an unnamed student who seemed to have picked a fight with them. ace didn't do much to stop the argument, in fact, he was actively encouraging it. and sebek, while he made an attempt to hold back a seething grim, was not of much help either. 

you sighed, but made no move to stop it ─ you expected something to happen eventually, and you weren't all that up to being the “reasonable” one of the group. you aren't sure what the argument was about, but neither did you care. if grim got in trouble for attacking a student, it would come back to bite you, but that was something for future you to worry about.

you glanced around the bus, before your attention landed on the savanaclaw housewarden sitting alone. ─ your friends continued to argue with the random guy, and you were sure they had no intention of ending the argument anytime soon. and you would rather sleep off some time on the road rather than listen to your friends go back and forth with someone you didn't even know the name of. you stood from your seat, uncaring of whether or not it was okay to do so as you approached the empty seat. 

leona had his head down, probably napping, the same thing you wanted to do. when you sat down beside him his ears twitched and he lifted his head to look at you, probably intending to scowl and scare off whoever had been stupid enough to sit beside him, until he realized it was you.

“what are you doing?” he frowned at you, but you went unfazed.

“sitting next to you, obviously.”

leona rolled his eyes, “why?”

instead of giving a verbal answer, you pointed at your friends, where sebek now had a grip on the scruff of grim’s neck, keeping him from jumping at the student. ace was laughing, offering no help to the half-fae. epel was no better than grim, with sebek’s arm held out in front of him, keeping him from doing anything.

"so you came to bother me instead?" he asked, and you looked at him straight-faced.

"yup."

leona sighed, but he didn't tell you to scram (not like you would if he did). he didn't say anything else, only close his eyes again and turning away, likely to try and nap. you weren't offended by his lack of reply, leaning your head back against the seat and trailing your eyes over the bus and your peers.

the longer you sat in somewhat silence ─ save for the incoherent yelling from your friends, you had for the most part zoned out, and the chatter of those on board ─ you found yourself falling to the drowsiness that have been interrupted before. you closed your eyes and let the movement of the bus guide you to sleep.

leona was awake, annoyed by the bus and those on the bus. his ears twitched when he heard your breathing slow beside him and he lifted his head, just as your head lolled to the side and you leaned against his shoulder.

he sighed, but made no move to push you off, glancing around you at the rest of the students of nrc, who were all either sleeping themselves, or chatting with friends. he leaned his head back, eyeing you as you shifted for a moment before relaxing again.

"where'd [name] go?" leona could hear your friends ask, no longer distracted by the argument that they were having with the random student.

he looked back at them, just in time to catch ace's eye, who was the first to see you sleeping against leona. he looked ready to say something, but leona narrowed his eyes on the first year. ace immediately shut his mouth, grinning awkwardly as he turned back to his friends.

leona huffed, looking back down at you to make sure you didn't stir. he adjusted in more comfortable position, an arm resting behind you on the seat, allowing you to lean closer, and hopefully, be more comfortable than leaning against his shoulder the way you had. and then he closed his eyes and joined you in a nap for the rest of the ride. (at least until they stopped for a break.)

this wasn't proofread so there will be probably be mistakes, i'll try to come back to edit later!

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai

[gutterfuuck]

ok all i can think of is super pervy & creepy incel mark w a reader who lowk knows he’s super weird and creepy with her but is like…into it. like he steals her underwear and gets off on the smell of her and she knows and is just like 🤷‍♀️😊 like maybe she finds a fucking box of her underwear under his bed while they’re hanging out and he’s like oh fuck i swear it’s not what it looks like and she’s like :0 okay but do you want another pair? 😊😊

“ and in addition to my other ask; what would be even better is a reader who is so like fucked up mentally over being into it (bc uhhh she doesn't think she should be so into her best friend being a fucking creep) and mark can tell and he's like ok so ur just a little pervert like me!— ☆ “

this is so good anon omggg—- it would also be an interesting idea to have a reader who’s kind of a bully/mean girl towards mark + he retaliates (😉) but that is a whole other concept that i am not focusing on rn haha 😅

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

you were accustomed to it by now; mark’s calloused finger tips brushing past your neck, hands wrapping around your waist or pulling you almost into his lap at times. he was just a touchy guy, you were his best friend, he’d never look at you like that!! mark just loved playing with your hair, he was just affectionate!

you knew why his hugs would linger just for a bit too long, you weren’t stupid. that’s why you weren’t the least bit shocked when you had found out where your underwear had ran off to. you weren’t shocked, weren’t exactly disappointed either. you knew what had been going on, you damn near set him up by just leaving your clothes thrown onto his bathroom floor after you would use his shower and purposely wearing short skirts and low tops whenever you would hang out with him. you’d picked up on his behaviour for a while now, so had everyone else. everyone around you could see how often mark would touch and let you walk up the stairs first so he could see up your skirt, “well i’m not gonna look up there, you know that.” “if you fall or slip, i’ll be there to catch you, y’know?” “c’mon y/n, don’t you trust me? wouldn’t you rather me accidentally see up there?” “you already walk around my house basically naked sometimes.” he justified, eventually winning you over and getting the chance to pull out his phone while distracting you with talk, taking a video from underneath your skirt.

you’d found them when you had dropped your phone down the side of his bed, going to get it before mark could protest and offer himself to grab it, he hadn’t moved that one pair of cotton white panties, the ones he had pressed up to his nose the night before, getting off to the scent of your pussy still on them. mark almost died when his fear came to fruition, you holding up your own pair of underwear that you had left your phone for.

mark’s face turned red, hand shooting forward to grab at the pair of underwear; you snatching your hand away. “i-it isn’t what you think it is!” he shouted, your eyes locked onto his. the corners of your lips turned upwards, glancing at the panties and then back to mark, “i think these are my panties. no, i’m sure.” you spoke, mark’s hands flew to your shoulders. “they must’ve g-gotten there by accident…-you’re always here, you never know, you might’ve left them here-” he stuttered, fingers digging into your skin gently, moving up to hold your face so he could give you a look of sincerity, hoping that you would believe his lies.

“d’you want more?”

he swear he heard ringing in his ears. the world seemed to slow down, his vision blurry. did you really just say that or was he actually going crazy this time? a beat, two. “what?” he breathed out, voice quiet and getting lost somewhere on the way out. “i’m wearing pink. white polkadots, lace i think.” you wondered, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt, inching it towards your upper thighs. further, further. “wanna see?” and mark feels like he’s going to explode. he was already nodding before you had even asked him if he wanted to look at your underwear, you got off of the bed, standing in front of him and lifted your skirt up. lace, just like you had promised. crimson red trickled out of mark’s nose, dick throbbing in his pants.

he looked so disheveled, half lidded puppy eyes focused on your clothed cunt, blood slowly dripping down his nose and past his chin, red staining his shirt. “can.. c-can i…” he almost drooled, hand reaching towards your thigh, needing to hold you, needing to confirm that this was real and happening. “you’re gonna let me touch you here, yeah?” his hands stuck to your waist, pulling you closer as he moved to kneel in front of you, pressing his face into your cunt and sniffing feverishly, tongue lolling out to lick you through the cloth.

“s’good… smell so f-fuckin’ good, y/n..” he groaned, you giggled. you were so perfect for him, so fucking perfect. he slid one of his hands into his pants, wasting no time in stroking his cock, jerking himself off while he sniffed around under your skirt and put his mouth around your still covered pussy, wetting the fabric and licking up your juices as soon as they secreted from your heat and soaked into your panties that mark would definitely be keeping. your hands stroked through his hair, gasping lightly when he pulled your panties to the side and instantly began sucking harshly on your clit, rubbing circles into it with his hot tongue.

this was sooo fucked up. were you taking advantage of him? would it even matter seeing as he’s obviously been taking advantage of you, stealing your underwear while you weren’t looking? you didn’t care, neither did mark. you especially didn’t care when his fingers found their way into your warm cunt, pumping in and out while he gently grazed your sensitive bud with his teeth, your fingers tightening in his hair and your chest heaving, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he held you still with both hands now, teeth biting down just right enough for it to make you almost jump backwards, a light squeal leaving your lips.

“taste so good… so wet f’me, getting my fingers all sticky..” he talked into your clit, tongue flicking back and forth. mark pulled away, looking up at you with lust glazed eyes, putting his fingers into his mouth and sucking your slick off of his digits. he turned you around, mouth open while he panted, hands spreading your asscheeks as his tongue began licking circles around your asshole, making you almost jump at the unexpected action. “j-just wanna touch you everywhere…” mark told you, tongue pushing past your tight little back opening, your ass clenching around his tongue as you nearly fell over onto your knees, mark steadying you.

you were always teasing him, always. he pulled his tongue out, pulling you down onto the floor with him, positioning you onto your back, hands attacking your zipped up jacket and almost tearing the clean off. no shirt. no bra. fuck, you’d done this on purpose. “so fucking hot…” he said before sucking on your now exposed nipples, other hand squeezing as if he had no idea on how to handle tits gently. oh, that was because he didn’t. he was inexperienced, but it wasn’t something that made you upset. no, quite the opposite, you liked it; the hungriness of it. the greediness, selfishness.

“no bra… practically naked under there…-“ he huffed tapping your leg so you would wrap your legs around his waist. he bent down to lick your cheek, smiling when you gave him a look of confusion, “p-perv..!” you joked, laughing at him. his cock strained, his cheeks went pink. “again… fuck, call me that again.” mark muttered, humping against you on the floor, trapping you in with his teeth tight on your shoulder. you complied, gasping and nodding, “pervert..”

he lost it, getting to his feet and keeping his hand on your head so you knew not to stand up along with him, his hand anchored in the back of your hair, using it to pull you forward so he could rub your face in his bulge, throwing his head back when you opened your mouth, sliding your lips up and down the side of his cock through his pants.

in reality, maybe you were the pervert. you couldn’t care less, your hot best friend was trying to force his fat cock all the way down your throat with his gorgeous face all ruined and flustered with your lacey-pink-and-white panties held up to his nose, your scent drove him fucking crazy, your own face streaking of mascara and your lipstick smudged around the corners of your lips. you were beautiful to him, his hips unrelenting with his messy thrusts. “nghh aaaahh.. so warm… ‘s this what pussy feels like too?” he asked, gripping your hair even tighter. “b-bet you’re tighter in there… in your cunt-“ he continued to let his tip bully the back of your neck, your throat bulging ever so slightly with each harsh thrust, catching a rhythm that made his balls slap against your chin. “c-callin’ me the perv… you’re all soaked and sicky down there…” your eyes watered, nails digging into the meat of this thighs, your cunt gushing. this was so wrong, you should know better than to let your best friend throat fuck you after finding out that he had been getting away with stealing your items of clothing for so long. “you’re the real pervert, hah..- you look so messy, f-fuck, i-i’m gonna cumdownyourthroat—“ he choked out, dick pulsing as his head rolled back, his vision blanking and hips stuttering, thick ropes of cum filling your mouth.

he was right, you were the perv. only a perv would swallow their best friend’s load and beg him to shoot the next one into your guts.

[sparrowlucero]

Hello sorry I am being shy and anon but do you have any advice for someone who wants to get into Doctor Who again after briefly dabbling (and enjoying it very much) in like the early, early 2010s? I know this is mostly your art blog but you were the only person I could think of to ask you're like the Doctor Who authority of blogs I follow

Oh yeah of course! People can be really confusing about this so I'll try not to be.

So first, the majority of doctor who episodes are self contained stories that you could just watch and understand perfectly without any further context. even when there is some overarching context it's usually written in a way that's either pretty easy to glean and/or just doesn't impact your understanding of the story. 99% of the episodes don't even care if you know the premise and are just like "what if some people were on a spaceship and the devil was there? wouldn't that be fucked up or what??". Don't feel like you have to binge a 60 years long show to watch it. Some standalone episodes I think are fun if you (or anyone else) just want to check out one or two:

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances (A supposed-to-be-dead boy in a gas mask haunts a young woman in world war 2)

Blink (A woman gets wrapped up in a mystery involving statues that make people disappear. This one is especially good if you flat out know nothing about the show. Has some really great time travel stuff.)

A Christmas Carol (A christmas carol pastiche (of course) where the doctor tries to rewrite the past of a cruel man who's going to let a lot of people die. very sad and sweet. I love the "wintery planet with sky fish" setting of this one)

Vincent and the Doctor (The famous Vincent Van Gogh Episode™)

The Rings of Akhatan (A pretty lowkey little adventure story about an alien festival. has supreme autumn vibes)

Flatline (A species from a 2 dimensional world tries to break into our 3 dimensional one. really fun special effects)

Midnight (A tour bus breaks down on a diamond planet where nothing can survive. Something knocks at the door.)

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead (The Doctor and friend go to a library that covers an entire planet and finds that everyone has disappeared. Has a lot of really great, interesting concepts baked into it that I won't spoil)

It Takes You Away (A girl is left alone in a cabin in the woods when her dad disappears through the mirror. Has a famously goofy ending that I really love)

73 Yards (A character is steps on a fairy circle and is followed by an old woman who always stands exactly 73 yards away)

The Devil's Chord (This doesn't really have, you know, a plot, but it does have jinkx monsoon as an evil music god)

Boom (The doctor steps on a landmine on an alien planet and cannot move)

Wild Blue Yonder (A two hander where the Doctor and co are trapped on a dilapidated spaceship at the edge of the universe. really atmospheric with some fun/strange visuals.)

That being said, it does add a lot to watch it in order; there's a lot of plot twists, character dynamics, and general payoff you get if you marathon it. I would personally recommend starting with either the first episode of the 2005 show ("Rose") or the first episode of the 2010 season ("The Eleventh Hour") and just watching in order from there. I think you could also start with "The Snowmen", "The Pilot", or "The Woman Who Fell To Earth" if you wanted, but the first two (especially rose) are the better jumping on points.

some other little notes of advice I don't often see people mention:

it's stupid sometimes just roll with it

once in a while the show sort of "reboots" with different writers, actors, directors, and a new tone. it's much more like watching several small shows than one long show, so don't be too put off by the length!

IMPORTANT: pretty much all streaming services will separate holiday/anniversary specials from the show proper and you have to deliberately search them up on the same service to find them. It's really necessary to be aware of this because many of these specials are the first or last episodes for characters/whole eras of the show and are genuinely unskippable. I strongly recommend looking up a list of the episodes and checking it after finales just to make sure you don't skip anything on accident.

there's two spin offs (Torchwood, a more adult (read: gay sex) show about a mysterious agency that solves sci fi crimes, and the Sarah Jane Adventures, a pretty good monster of the week kids show) that ran concurrently with season 1-4. You don't have to watch them to understand anything happening in doctor who, but sometimes they cross over with the show in fun ways, Ex. the first season finale of Torchwood continues directly into season 3 of Doctor Who. My friend and I got a kick out of watching them at the same time so maybe you will too. (either way I recommend watching "Children of Earth", the torchwood miniseries, if you want to see a weird dark sci fi show about the government making contact with aliens. It's a bit like arrival (2016) if it was way nastier.)

alternatively, you can inject fast acting brain poison into yourself with this

anyways I hope this all reads as, you know, more approachable than the way dudes on quora recommend this show:

[userlando]

fill her veins — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [3.5k] summary: your friend’d had you in all the different ways. fast and hard, deep and bone rattling but this was his favourite. lazy, slow and deep. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, friends with benefits, porn without plot, lazy sex, unprotected (piv) a/n: to the anon that dropped this concept in my ask box, I hope you don’t mind that I took the idea and ran with it. I have so many drafts to finish but this just wouldn’t leave my mind. consider this as a thank you for all the amazing love you’ve poured me with lately, I love you guys so much!! lmk what you think of this!

Lando has an odd taste for trashy reality tv shows. He claims that he doesn’t, that he usually puts them on for background noise but he always ends up settling down on the nearest flattest surface; Eyes glued to the screen. It’s funny, it’s not something you’d expect and most of all, you don’t really mind it. Because he doesn’t care if you don’t pay any attention to it, as long as you’re either in his lap or spooning him.

He’d texted you earlier tonight and you hadn’t expected it, not really. You figured that after the long weekend in Belgium, he’d be ready to travel where the wind took him without any worry about the next weekend where he’d have to show off his best side and bring home a win for his team. Lando had talked about the Maldives and even Singapore, hinting at you coming with him but you’d been quick to shut him down, claiming that your life couldn’t be put on hold. Because it couldn’t.

But he’d gone home, spending exactly three hours with Max before the fucker abandoned him to hang out with his girlfriend and Lando was bored out of his mind when the flat got too quiet, so quiet that he could hear the neighbours flushing their toilets. Then you’d sent him a funny video of cats and Lando had responded with an ‘are you home?’ after laughing himself silly to the video.

That was three hours ago, he’d pressed a smacking kiss to your cheek when you’d opened the door for him, sniffing the air because he could clearly smell the bolognese that you’d made, giving you a look that you recognised so intimately. You’d seen the pleading look plenty of times in various situations, and now it was saying ‘can I please have whatever’s cooking in the kitchen?’ And who were you to deny him?

Lando had shovelled a plate and a half of spaghetti, moaning over how good it was and completely ignoring your rolling eyes of fond exasperation and a little shyness, and then the both of you had settled on your sofa on top of each other with Love Island playing in the background.

You were dozing, half conscious and absolutely not interested in what was going on, but Lando? Lando was enraptured, eyes shining with interest in the dark when you tilted your head up to look at him. The glow of the television cast pretty shadows on his face, the long eyelashes and the beard he’d decided to grow out on his upper lip and chin. It looked good on him. And better yet, it felt good on your sensitive skin. There had been too many times to count where he’d rub it raw and sore, between your legs so you couldn’t wear dresses and skirts in fear of your thighs rubbing together, or your face when he kissed you as deeply as he did.

You still remembered the time when you’d put on an excessive amount of lipbalm after a night of heavy petting, catching Max’s raised eyebrows across the table. He didn’t say anything, but he might as well could have with how expressive his eyes and face were. It was unnerving.

Lando sensed you shifting on his chest, peering down at you with his bushy eyebrows pulled together. It was dark, the television the only provider of light but you saw the confusion clear as day in his eyes as they flitted across your face, trying to gauge your facial expression.

“What?” He asked, hands halting where they’d been stroking up and down your back subconsciously. You immediately missed the soothing motion of them, having gotten quite used to the impromptu back massage.

“Nothin’.” You murmured, laying your head back down with your ear pressed to his chest.

The steady beat of his heart was like music to your ears, lulling you to a slow sleep that you could almost see on the horizon and Lando wasn’t making it any easier to stay awake with the way his hands were gently scratching your back with his blunt fingernails over your shirt. He knew you loved it, did it as often as he could.

You let out a pleased little hum when his hands found their way under your shirt, fingertips mapping out the bumps of your spine. Up, up, up, and then he stopped with a small noise in his throat.

It made you hide a smile into his hoodie, knowing exactly where his mind was going when his fingers travelled to either side of your back; Right where your bra strap would’ve went, if you were wearing one.

Lando clearly seemed pleased with his new discovery, heart thudding just a little harder under your ear as he shifted beneath you. You sucked in a quiet breath, looking up at him just in time for him to stare back.

“No bra, eh?” His lips pulled into a slow, playful smile that had you smiling, tongue in cheek. “Cheeky.”

“I never wear one around the house, twat.” You pointed out.

“Fair enough.” He nodded, tightening his arms around you to force you upwards on his chest, putting you face to face. “Hi.”

He blinked up at you, slowly, like sleep was on the doorstep and knocking. Lando looked tired but there was an underlying layer of lust in his eyes that you’d come to recognise. It never failed to send a thrill up your spine and it was what prompted you to close the small distance between the two of you, noses brushing against each other as he exhaled teasingly.

“Lando…” You frowned as you went to kiss him, only for him to pull away.

It didn’t escape you how whiny you sounded, but you hadn’t gotten laid in almost two weeks and he’d been sending you very suggestive photos and texts when he was away.

Never mind that you’d started it, firing off a photo with no additional text of your tits, knowing that he was most likely in a briefing with his team and there was a major chance that someone nearby would see the photo over his shoulder if he’d open it up without any warning.

But you didn’t care. It’s what made it fun, after all. Especially when he’d sent a series of exclamation and question marks, cursing you out for doing it so publicly.

“You’re so impatient, darling.” He tsked you, nipping your lower lip when you pushed forward in hopes of him kissing you.

You pouted until his face broke out into a smile, bringing a hand up to the back of your head; Fingers sliding into your hair for a grip as he finally pushed his lips against yours.

It was slow and chaste at first, a kiss to your upper lip before he sucked on the lower one, relishing in the stuttered exhale you released into his mouth. There was no denying that Lando was a good fucking kisser, ever so patient and passionate and it was only made evident when he pried your lips apart to taste your tongue. His hand spanned against your cheek, thumbing your chin to keep your mouth open as he licked into it. You could taste the faint spices of the food he’d had earlier, along with the sweetness of the bag of Squashies you kept in your pantry, only because he liked them. It was a heady mix.

You couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t erotic, that it didn’t make your toes curl and your spine tingle with all kinds of emotions when his tongue slid against yours so sensually. He truly took his time, loving on your lip and kissing you so thoroughly that you were out of breath and a little dazed by the time he pulled away. He thumbed your lower lip, his own smiling and pink, bitten raw.

Lando allowed the both of you a few seconds to catch your breaths, immediately going for another round but this time he dove straight in, kissing you deeply. It was when the both of you started to let out these breathy little moans against each other’s mouths and grinding slowly that Lando took action, sliding his other hand that had been idle on your back, down your spine and slipping into your shorts.

He felt the curve of your ass, his palm swallowing up your cheek as he grabbed it in a painfully delicious grip that had you grinding down against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your lips dropped open, moaning into his mouth when you felt his hardness press against your crotch. It relieved a little pressure off of you, but there was no denying that you were soaking and in need of more. More of Lando, more of his touch.

“Fuck, I love this arse.” He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth when his hand tightened on the flesh of your cheek, fingers no doubt bruising the skin. It felt amazing. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

You made a noise of protest against his cheek, where you’d been pressing your face against it, hands cupping his cheek.

“No,” you murmured against his mouth before kissing him. “No tasting, just need you inside me.”

Lando nodded gently, reaching a hand down to your shorts in a practiced motion to run his fingers gently between your folds. His eyes left yours to look at your crotch, jaw going slack at the wetness he found there and you whimpered when his wet finger touched your clit, circling it until you were squirming.

“Need you.” You murmured against his ear, pressing your face to the side of his and nudging your nose against his cheek.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to because he was already slipping a finger into you; a second one joining him soon after. Lando stretched you out, feeling your warm breath against his cheek and hearing your poorly concealed moans of pleasure as he worked you, sounding a lot like heaven to his ears. He crooked his fingers and fucked you gently, thumb notching against your swollen bud just to hear your breathing pick up.

It was a telltale sign that you were close, hands clutching at his hoodie, right over his chest and it made his head dizzy how your legs were locking up around his hips the closer you got. He turned his head to find your lips, messily slotting them over your mouth and swallowing your high pitched groans as you came around his fingers.

Your body shook, hands flexing in their tight grip of his hoodie and Lando marvelled at the sighs and sounds you were making, letting you trap his bottom lip to suck on it. That one gesture made every ounce of blood rush to his cock, so fast that he almost went dizzy with it and he hurriedly pulled his fingers out of your tight clench, sliding his fingers into his mouth for a quick taste of your juices.

You made a small sound of protest, feeling boneless and too tired to chastise him for making such a show of it. He loved making you come on his fingers, loved it even more when he could suck the slick off of his digits because you’d always squeak in embarrassment and swat at him with your hands.

It took a lot of effort to adjust yourself on top of him, reaching your weak arms down between the two of you to pull at his shorts. Lando wasn’t much of a help, watching silently as you yanked his shorts down far enough to get his cock out. It was rigid, sticking up so lewdly and flushed pink and you licked your lips; craving to get your mouth on it.

But you were too tired, and Lando was clearly way too impatient to wait any longer as he pulled your shorts and underwear to the side, grabbing himself by the base to guide himself to your centre. You bit your lip, anticipating the burning stretch but he didn’t push in, sliding his length between your lips to slick himself up instead.

You opened your mouth to tell him to get on with it but the words died on your tongue along with your last brain cell when the head of his cock nudged your clit, making you shudder at the unexpected sensitivity.

“Fucking hell,” Lando cursed in a murmur, sounding dazed and not at all there.

Your eyes flickered up to him just in time to witness as he brought his other hand to his mouth, dribbling saliva onto the length of his fingers and bringing it back down to stroke his cock. It was lewd, so disgustingly hot and you had to have him right now.

Lando must’ve felt the same because he was finally moving, notching himself against your hole and waiting for your wordless consent that contained of a quick nod and a needy sound, before he raised his hips and pushed himself into you.

You responded with a keening sound, pushing your hips down and taking way more of him in the process than you were ready for. It burned, stretched to the limit with only spit and slick to help you take him, but you both had worked with less before.

And Lando knew how to read your body, knew that your fisted hands meant for him to pause, to breathe and let you get used to his size. It never got easier, there was so much thickness to him that could simultaneously bring so much pleasure, but also pain if you weren’t too careful.

A sadistic part of you loved it though. You loved feeling him for days after a good lay, would often rile him up to the point that he’d bend you over and fuck you silly.

Your skin still tingled when you thought of the early days of your arrangement, where you’d been at his place late at night. You’d played Call of Duty and gotten him so worked up that he shoved you down on the sofa, ass up and face down, pulling a bone shattering orgasm from you with the help of his sinful mouth before he fucked you so hard that you were drooling and muffling your moans into the cushions. It was a worthless effort though, Max had heard you and he’d made it clear during breakfast the next day.

“You good?” He asked, touching your chin with his thumb and you blinked, realising that you’d drifted someplace else completely.

You nodded slowly, holding his gaze as he pulled back and thrust forward, rattling your bones and pulling a moan from your lips. Your fingers ran through the hairs on the back of his head, pulling his face close to yours as he started fucking you slowly, reaching so deeply inside of you that the sensations made your eyes flutter and roll.

Lando had a hard time keeping his eyes open and on you, watching your mouth gap open and closed in unintelligible words and sharp gasps, eyelids fluttering shut. He kissed you when you started moving your hips against his, adjusting your positions so you were fully straddling him. It must’ve done something for you because you were suddenly pulling at his hair, his head going back with it and mouth going slack around a groan.

It put your mouth in level with his throat, thick and exposed, so pretty that you couldn’t help but suck bruises into the vulnerable skin.

You moved against each other, fucking slowly like you had all the time in the world, kissing and bruising each other up with the help of your hands and mouths.

Your friend’d had you in all different ways. Fast and hard, deep and bone rattling but this was his favourite. Lazy, slow and deep. Where he could feel every tight and warm crevice of you, feel you slicking him up the wetter you got.

Lando’s breaths grew deeper, groans becoming more guttural and you knew he was close to his climax; riding him just a bit harder to help him get there.

He slid both hands around your hips, slipping into your shorts and grabbing your cheeks in bruising handfuls with a moan; Needy and whimpering against your mouth and you kissed him harder in response.

His fingers slipped between your ass cheeks, and the slight touch to your hole took you by surprise, your body suddenly seizing up as you cried out your sudden climax. It was like the breath had been punched out of you, coming so hard on his cock that Lando had to stop the movements of his hips because the tightness became too restrictive.

The both of you grabbed at each other, mouth to mouth, stealing each others breath as Lando fucked up once, twice before he released a guttural moan; shooting off into you.

You could feel him inside, feeling all too sensitive and absolutely exhausted from your orgasm to do anything but take it. Lando was giving off these small moans, gasping like he couldn’t breathe properly and it was only when he started shuddering from oversensitivity that you attempted to get off of him.

He slid out easily, cock wet as you dripped with him and it was such a filthy sight that you couldn’t help but flush warmth all over.

You knew that you’d have to get up eventually and shower, feeling disgusting and entirely too warm to stay wrapped in each other. But Lando wasn’t ready to let you go yet, and neither were you, to be honest. You let him wrap you up in his arms, nuzzling his face into your throat and exhaling tiredly.

“That was exactly what I needed.” He murmured hoarsely into your throat.

You hid a smile into his damp curls, cupping the side of his face and bringing his head up to face you. He blinked, squinting eyes and blown out pupils, and you thought that he’d never looked as good as he did now. So relaxed with no worry in the world.

It was hard to refrain from kissing him, pushing small kisses to his cheeks and one to his lips that he tiredly responded too. It was like it took way too much energy to move his lips, and it made you smile when he whined.

“Can you carry me to bed?” He asked and you reached your fingers up to pinch the tip of his nose.

“Absolutely not.” You wiggled on top of him, pulling a strangled sigh from his lips. “We need a wash first, and you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

That made him crack an eye open to stare at you in confusion.

“Work?” He frowned.

“You came in me, you’ll get it out.” You said, like it was obvious.

Lando’s eyes narrowed, “You’re the one who likes it.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

His hand came down on your ass cheek, the slap hard enough to make you jump with a yelp. You glared at him with no real malice, ignoring the spike of heat that the unexpected pain sent up your spine because now was not the time to delve deeper into your interests of pain.

“You didn’t have to.” He said, matching your defiant tone of voice now. “Your body said it all, baby.”

You faked a gag, moving to roll off of him and he let you go without any fight.

“You’re gross. Get out of my flat.”

Lando cackled, making a poor attempt at sitting up on the sofa. You watched him struggle for moment, trying not to smile in amusement at the way his hair was all messy, curls wild and unruly.

“I’ll help you out,” He said and you knew there was a catch coming, judging by the tone of his voice. “If I can go down on you.”

You grimaced, as if the thought of him licking you clean didn’t make you clench. It wasn’t really a normal occurrence, but it did happen on rare occasions. Lando was a lot filthier in bed than you’d originally thought, and discovering his kinks had been an adventure so far.

“Oh, fine.” You sighed with a flourish, like you were doing him a favour rather than the opposite. “But you have to wash my hair first.”

You had your back turned to him now, walking in the direction of your bathroom but you could almost hear Lando’s exasperated eye roll, making you a hide a smile as you pushed the bathroom door open.

“Blow me.” He muttered.

“Maybe I will.” You teased.

Lando gave you no time to turn around, crowding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso to bring you flush against him. The sharpness of his teeth on your shoulder made you squeal with a giggle, squirming in his hold but he was too strong.

“Come on then,” He pressed his face to the side of your neck and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Get your ass in there, I want to get my mouth on you before you start dripping.”

You’d never moved faster than you did.

[kurokawaia]

❛ NEW START ❜

PostWar!Uchiha Sasuke X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.6k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW;

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) hi again!! im the one who requested for the domestic sasuke fic! so for the domestic fic i was thinking either marriage domestic fic or a post-war fic like hospital visits or catching up?? 💗 - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

You and Sasuke were kids, perhaps six or seven, fooling around the training grounds that bordered the Uchiha compound. Both of you were panting and panting it out after playing tag for a couple of hours or so, on occasion with Itachi showing up to give you both something to drink. Every match you did, Sasuke won them all. Always faster, always a step in front of you, but you never minded that. It was fun being around him, catching the rare smiles and hearing the carefree laughs. You plopped yourself down in the grass, small chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Sasuke sat beside you, his face flushed from running, but his expression calm as always. The two of you stared up at the sky, watching as the first stars started to appear. "I'm going to be the strongest shinobi," Sasuke told you with confident delicacy, as if he had decided upon it long ago. You nodded, smiling softly. "I'll be strong too… and I'll always be with you." Sasuke looked at you, his dark eyes gleaming with a rare softness. "Always?" he repeated. You nodded again this time more determinate. "Always." Then out of nowhere, you blurted, "When we grow up, we are going to get married." Sasuke blinked, clearly taken aback. "Married?" he repeated as if to wrap his head around such a concept, not truly knowing of the meaning, but he liked the notion, being with you all of the time! "Yeah," you replied though you have absolutely no idea what marriage entails. You just knew that you wanted to remain by his side, whatever it took. "That way, we'll always be together, whatever happens." Sasuke was quiet a moment longer, before giving you the barest of smiles, one that was over so fast if you had blinked, you would have missed it. "Alright," he said low enough so that his voice was barely audible above a whisper. "We're getting married." By that time, you didn't realise it, but that harmless promise promised became something you would cling to for so many years later. The only thing that brought you to believe that Sasuke will come back to the village was that he kept his promise, to be with you for all time, to marry you.

Years went by, and that innocent childhood promise was dulled when Sasuke never came back, but then, the war happened. The war had torn so much apart, but Sasuke did come back.  It had leapt in your chest when you first heard Sasuke had been brought back, injured but alive. Running to the hospital, the hope of seeing him overwhelmed your sense of caution. But getting there, he'd been asleep, unconscious from the toll the battle had taken from his body. You look at his left arm, which was now gone. What an idiot. His face was pale, his dark hair fanned out on the pillow, his arm bandaged heavily. A sight of him like that vulnerable, worn down made your heart ache. You stood at the edge of his bed, unsure what to say, your hand reaching out and stopping just shy of touching him. "I'm here, Sasuke," you whispered, even though you knew he couldn't hear you. "I never stopped waiting for you." There wasn't an answer, just the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. You watched him for what felt like hours, hoping maybe, just maybe, he would wake up and you could tell him everything

He didn't.

The next time you see him, the situation is quite interesting, you had asked Kakashi were Sasuke was as he wasn't in the hospital and you were told he was... elsewhere. Sasuke has been taken into custody by the Interrogation and Torture Division due to his crimes. 

They were dealing with his fate, and though they had villagers both within his support, against him, and everywhere in between, you know it wasn't going to go easy on him. You wished to see him, and with some reluctance, they allowed you to have a small visitation with him. Down the corridors of highly guarded cells, they took you, stopping at the one that housed Sasuke. 

There was that loud creaking of the opening door, and there he sat, hands bound in chakra-suppressing restraints, his head turned away from the door, he could feel it was you, it was obvious even if his eyes and arm were bound. "Sasuke." Your voice was weak, almost quivering, as you took a step closer toward him.  At first, he said nothing, hi head was angled to the ground, not waiting to face you. Then softly, almost to himself inaudibly, he added, "I'm so sorry." It took you a moment to process the words coming from his lips, as Sasuke rarely, if ever, apologized, let alone something huge as what he had pulled. You swallowed, kneeling down in front of him as your hand reached out to touch his despite the restraints. "Sasuke..." you started, your voice on the verge of breaking. "I am," he cut in, his voice now grating but still with that edge of emotion. "I need to apologize. For everything. For leaving, for hurting you, for what I've done… You could read in his posture, the weight of what he was doing and what he had done, he had hurt you so much, that he tried to kill you three times. It wasn't about the war, nor the village, literally everything, every decision he made that further distanced him from the promise you made as children. "I don't care about anything else," you said, steadiness, with the well of tears brimming in your eyes. "I care about you. You came back, Sasuke. That's all that matters." "I don't deserve it," he muttered incoherently. "That's not for you to decide," you said, your hand clenching hard around his. "We were supposed to be together, remember? No matter what. You can't just decide you don't deserve that." Then Sasuke exhaled the softest of sighs, his head bowing slightly. "I'm sorry," he said again, yet it sounded different this time, less for his guilt, more for what he had lost, for what he yet could keep.

You reached up and carefully lifted his chin so he'd look up at you, though his eyes were covered, at least his face was angled towards your own now. "I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, your thumb brushing against his cheek. "We'll figure this out. Together."

Sasukes head fell to your shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered so quietly you would have missed it if there was sound in the room.

when you two are married >.<

The sun peeks through the thin curtains of your shared bedroom. You stir slightly, your body wrapped up in the cocoon of blankets and tangled up in Sasuke. You turn your head slightly, your eyes barely open, to see him beside you. His face is relaxed in sleep, the furrow in his brow smoothed out. Sasuke peaceful, unruffled-in the home you've built together. You'd never imagined living like this, not back then, not when things were still so tenuous. His breathing evens out into a rhythm and you spend several more minutes doing nothing except staring at him. He is forever unreachable, even when he is right beside you, yet here with just the two of you, it's not quite so much the case. With you, Sasuke can be himself. You reach out, your fingertips brushing against his cheek gently, and he stirs. His eyes flicker open, revealing those eyes you've grown so accustomed to-only now, of course, with that new rinnegan you're still getting used to. For a moment, he looks disoriented-like he doesn't remember where he is-but then his gaze reaches yours and mellows out. A giggle almost slipped past your lips at the sigh as he was so cute. "Morning," you whisper, barely heard. He grunts in return-the sort of sound that makes one smile. So like him. After all this time, together, he still manages to remain the same in small ways. Sasuke isn't a morning person, at least, not when words are involved. You prop yourself up on your elbow, the blankets pooling around your waist as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips. Are you hungry?" you ask, your fingers brushing through his dark hair, still slightly tousled from sleep. He grunts again, but you can see the ghost of a smile tugging on one corner of his lips. "I'll make something," you say softly, though a part of you wants to stay in bed with him a little while longer. Before you can pull away, Sasuke's fingers wrap around your wrist in a light but firm grasp. "Stay," he mutters, his tone husky with residual sleep. You can't help but smile at the uncharacteristic plea as you settle back into the bed beside him, tucking your body close to his as he pulls you near. His arm wraps around your waist as his forehead presses against yours and the two of you are still, tangled up in one another. The silence between you is comfortable; neither of you has to say anything. Sasuke's hand moves in a languid pattern up and down your back. "I was thinking." you start off softly, breaking the silence, "perhaps we could go visit Naruto and Hinata later. It's been some time since we've seen them." Sasuke is silent for several moments, his body showing only the barest hint of tension at mention of his old comrade. Things have eased some since the war was over, but there is still a distance between them-something faint and lingering and awkward, which neither of them can quite chase away. "Maybe," he says at last, his voice low and small, not unkind. You smile, knowing that's as close to a yes as you're going to get. Progress, you tell yourself silently as you feel a surge of gratitude that Sasuke's at least willing to make the effort. It's more than you could've hoped for a few years ago. His hand resting on your back stops moving, and he shifts slightly, his lips coming into contact with your forehead. "I'll go," he says softly, which takes you a bit by surprise. You lean back just a bit to look up at him, the ghost of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Is this Sasuke Uchiha actually agreeing to willingly spend time with Naruto? He rolls his eyes at the teasing, but the barest hint of a smile tugs at his lips. "Don't push it," he mutters, the words devoid of any real bite. You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Sasuke doesn't respond to your laugh, but the way his hand tightens around your waist says enough.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

[kit-williams]

An interesting idea recently came to my mind… and I just can’t keep quiet about it.

Imagine Horus suddenly realizing he's falling in love with a remembrancer/serf who's… pregnant.

Who the father is unknown. Either he died or abandoned you. And yes, this whole situation really pisses Horus off. He is delighted with the way you look, the way you smell and understands that he wants you to bear his child, give him blood sons.

You are cared for, you are cherished. Even too much. But he hates this child from some mortal. And then… heresy comes. After giving birth you are informed that your child, what a horror, has died. Horus consoles you, as if it was not he who crushed your son.

You will definitely become a mother. Do just let the primarch take care of you, okay?And please stop crying for your child, it's annoying. Oh, do you have any milk left? Well… :)

Yes, this whole plot and details are simply replete with horror, manipulation and perverted breeding kink. But Horus Heretic is supposed to be scary.

I don’t know if you will write a post about this or not. It would be a great pleasure to read. Unfortunately, I am not strong in Luna Wolves and Horus. Anyway, I hope all of you liked my absolutely disturbing idea.

So Momrad normally avoids stuff about hurting babehs... BUT this hit me like an Iron Warrior with a trenching shovel. Probably gonna do serf because obligatory momrad is in love with horrific power imbalances

Also ya'll have a lot more faith in me than I do myself about how I'm writing the primarchs and the legions so thank you!

tw: manipulation, breeding kink, discussion about a pregnant womans body, talks about miscarriage, child death (PLEASE someone let me know if I miss a tag)

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

You had such a glow to your skin when he first saw you. He was told that pregnant women had a glow to them and you certainly glowed. It was more of a passing interest in his serfs he was always a nosy and gregarious one and you had mentioned how you'd have to be transferred to lighter labor soon not realizing the primarch was listening to your conversations.

The hesitation upon your dark lips when the other serfs, in their gossip, had asked about the father. The tight line that your lips had become... "I'm having this child by immaculate conception." You said causing the others to laugh but Horus could tell... he could tell that you were on your own not by your own choice. And that thought caused him to roil. All of his sons were someone else's son at some point and then they were made to be his... sometimes there was a choice to be made into an Astartes... and sometimes there was no choice. Perhaps it was his inhumanity or perhaps hyper-humanity that caused him to be confused as to why you continued on... and why it sounded like you had been abandoned.

Perhaps Horus was glad in some sense that you had been abandoned by the uncaring father as you made something itch in the back of his skull and eventually even he could no longer ignore it. You wilted in his presence under his gaze, like all mortals did at first, to be in the presence of a demigod... the hand pressed over your slightly swollen stomach to protect it. But Horus simply played innocent in his intentions asking about the child... what it was like as he had been handmade by the Emperor and so this aspect of being human was lost upon him and his brothers.

The glow to your skin returned with each visit he made, his fingers caressing your stomach and eventually the poisoned thought latched like a newborn to the teat... what if you could bear his sons? You try your best to not be a burden to the Primarch, your request to transfer denied, he simply says its all from curiosity... but that lie dies quickly as your body goes through more changes... once you enter your second trimester.

Your breasts leak, he can smell it... the slow dribbling from your engorged breasts. The grunts from you as you press your hand against your rounding stomach... the fascination from other serfs and even his sons and the sparkle in your eyes as a tiny foot kicks against the hand. You had other side effects and had tried to run from him during one of them... spikes in arousal and sensitivity. You once more wilted under his gaze when you realized the Primarch could smell you... and the lie for why he kept you around died.

You were far too fearful to take his cock, far too sensitive... his fingers were almost too much and yet you rode his hand... riding his digit deep inside of your fluttering cunt with the vigor of a sex starved woman. Horus' mouth latched to your breast suckling on the tasteless discharge and he could feel the way your cunt gripped around his finger with each suckle. He could feel the tiny foreign body inside of you when he pressed against your swollen stomach. And he wanted it gone. He felt kinship in the way that certain males in animals will commit infanticide to try to get the mother fertile again as it was slowly becoming clear that simply hoping you would miscarry wasn't going to happen. But still... he should have warned you to not partake in his food... you didn't know what things he could ingest.

He loved seeing you like this, his hands supporting your weight as his cock slowly pushed in and out of you as tears were rolling down your face as it was too much yet not enough. You cried out his name in weak whimpers trying to close your legs one moment and the next trying to open them wider. He could pretend for a moment that your swollen belly was full of a child that was his. He wanted an actual son of Horus from you. He wanted to create the human chimera that all humans were to be made of... that biological mashup of his DNA mixed with yours... he wanted that. He was reminded once the haze of lust had passed, and as he stole succor from your breasts that the life inside of you wasn't his. It was from a man who abandoned you without a second thought... it confused the Primarch as to why you would raise the offspring of a man who did not care about the life you were bearing? Why reward him for his genetic duty of passing on his genes? Why would he have to wait up to a year before you would be ready to have his son?

It was doubtful that he would be there... be there to snuff out the life that came from you but he told the midwife what he wanted... and who was she to disobey? And he was right as he had been called away to bring the heel of the crusade onto the neck of some fool who thinks they could withstand the might of the Emperor. When he came back you were withdrawn... having to be ordered to come to him as the depression had claimed you. He did his best to sooth you and not revel in satisfaction that seemed that the child upon leaving your womb was far too weak... you did not hear that triumphant cry of life and that was the last you saw of your babe.

Your breasts were swollen with milk for a dead child... you still cried for the life you had grown to love... cooing lovingly to the thing inside of you. Horus soothes his anger with the fact that if this had been your child with him you would have still wept so greatly. You hardly notice your back in his bed as the Primarch pulled open your front and latched onto your breast feeling the liquid dribble out as your hand instinctively went to the back of his head as he nursed. He would say it was to relieve the pain your breasts were in... but he wanted to distract you. He drained one breast dry before moving to the other drinking up the meager amount of milk meant for a tiny stomach.

Sniffling weakly as your fingers move over his scalp as he kisses you soothing you asking you if you still want a baby. The tears that fall from your eyes as you answer your primarch truthfully... you still wanted to hold the tiny body that they wouldn't let you see... you never got to say goodbye... "Yes." You say so sadly as he kisses you with that charming look in his eyes.

"Then I will make it so my dear... recover and when you are better I swear that you shall have a healthy child by next solar year." Horus says kissing you softly... and soon enough he will replace his father and bring actual peace to the Imperium. And you will help bring about such change now that your womb is empty... and once it is ready... he is certain to fill it once again with his brood.

[mountainficss]

Any thoughts on stalker! Jeonghan? Idk if you do dark concepts , so it's on u ☺

!! mentions of: stalking, masturbation, sending sexual photos

hi, anon! and ooo i’ve never gotten a dark concept before, but i would love to try. thank you so much for sending me one!

stalker!jeonghan who you’d meet through a mutual friend, finding his long hair and smug expressions incredibly charming. he’d seem like an individual that exuded confidence, and he’d do well in playing the part when he first met you. you’d enjoy being around him, and he’d entertain you throughout the night. it seemed like there was never a dull moment with jeonghan, and you were starting to take an interest in him.

and of course, jeonghan would take an interest in you too :) he’d ask the mutual friend for all your socials, adding and following you on every platform you had an account for. thinking nothing of it, you’d follow and add him back on everything, smiling to yourself knowing the pretty boy went out of his way to find your socials. but of course it wouldn’t stop there.

jeonghan would go through all of your posts in his free time, studying all of your photos and videos. he’d look at posts dated back to as long as a few years ago, and would also stare at the stories you’d post on each platform. he’d even like them occasionally, and you’d sometimes get notifications of jeonghan liking your old posts. you’d snicker at his social media stalking, but little do you know he isn’t stopping there.

jeonghan would begin checking your location often, since you openly shared it with all followers and friends on your accounts. he’d check every time you’d cross his mind (which was often), and he’d constantly find himself missing you. so since he missed you so much, how great would it be for him to see you in person?

he’d watch you from afar at first, finding your exact whereabouts from your public location. he’d keep his distance, but he’d be so entranced watching you in public. whether you were chatting with your friends at a restaurant, plucking clothing items off the racks at the mall, or ordering your favorite drink at your favorite coffee place (an iced caramel macchiato with light caramel drizzle…interesting), he’d be watching. he’d think you’re too cute doing regular daily tasks.

after a while though, he’d grow tired of watching you from a distance. he wanted to be close to you. so naturally, that’s what jeonghan would do! he’d find any possible excuses to run into you in public. he’d casually pass by your table when you’re eating out with your friends, telling you that he just finished dinner with his. you’d be delighted to see him, finding it refreshing to see a familiar pretty face. he’d act surprised when he finds you in the same store as him, telling you that he’s just browsing and passing you a shirt he knows you’d like. and of course you don’t like it, you love it, just as jeonghan knew you would. he knows your taste. he’d even find you doing your daily coffee shop stop, already standing in line as you walk in. you’d greet him with a huge grin, completely unaware of how many coincidental meetings you’ve had with jeonghan this week. you can’t complain though; he’s too likable to not enjoy seeing him all the time. he’d even offer to pay for your drink!

he’d order for the both of you, getting your order exact without you even having to tell him. you’d stare at him with shock, mouth slightly agape as he hands you your drink with a smile. “how did you know i like a light drizzle on my caramel macchiato?” you’d question, astonished by his accuracy. “was a lucky guess,” he’d respond, trying to bite back his smug grin. “you seem like the type.” you’d just beam at him and he’d swoon internally, tilting his cup to his lips to hide his impish smirk.

and he wouldn’t stop at public places either. he’d even find your address, stopping by every once and a while to peek through your windows. you conveniently leave all your blinds open and curtains pulled back, so he took it as a sign. he’d mean no harm of course, he just wanted to see you more! your presence was so addicting, and he just wouldn’t be able to help himself. he was just harmlessly studying you in your natural state, that’s all! he wouldn’t be able to look away when he sees you undressing in the comfort of your room, wouldn’t even want to blink when he sees your hands traveling over your nude form. he’d witness you plop down onto your plush mattress and spread your legs, trailing a hand down to touch yourself while the other traces up and down your skin. you’d look so pretty to him, so desperate as you play with yourself, and he couldn’t stop himself from snaking a hand down his pants. he’d offer himself the bare minimum of pleasure, mostly caught up in the way you pleased yourself. he wanted to know everything. what turned you on, what made you squirm, what made you make all those pretty faces. he’d study every movement of your fingers from outside your window, convincing himself that he can do it better. he can fuck you better, can make you cum harder than any of your fingers stuffed inside you could. he’d palm himself harder, getting worked up at the sight of you nestled so tranquilly in your bedroom and trying your hardest to make yourself cum. everything about you was so gentle, so perfect, and jeonghan had to see it closer. he had to have you to himself. he’d fish out his phone from his pocket with his free hand, still palming himself as he shoots you a text.

jeonghan: hey 👋 what are you up to rn? <3

he’d watch you through the glass, noticing your hands stop their movements as you heard your phone ping. you’d grab for it with a free hand, resuming your lewd actions with your occupied hand. he’d take in your expression when you read who texted you, and he swore he could see your face become redder.

you: hi jeonghan! not much right now :)

you’d stuff two fingers deeper inside of your hole, eyes rolling back a bit as you hit a spot that seemed to set you off. jeonghan could feel sweat beading at his hairline, and he’d answer as fast as he could with one free hand.

jeonghan: i feel like you’re lying hehe. you busy?

you: fineee. i am kind of busy 👀

jeonghan would laugh breathily at the message, his head slightly lolling to the side as he stroked himself a few times.

jeonghan: oh yeah? doing what, might i ask?

you: it’s a bit personalll…don’t know if you’d wanna know ;(

jeonghan would tug his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing through your window again to see a fucked-out you, hair tousled and splayed over your pillows.

jeonghan: i always wanna know ;)

instead of a response, you’d reluctantly pull your fingers from your heat, spreading the soaked digits and snapping a picture. jeonghan wouldn’t even notice the action from being too consumed in the texts, and he’d be met with an image of your glistening fingers coated with your arousal. his breath would hitch, letting out a quiet groan as he stares at the photo.

you: too much? :(

you: i’m so sorry, forget i sent it k?

jeonghan: please let me come over. i can make you feel so much better i swear

he wouldn’t receive a response for a little, peering into your bedroom and waiting for you to type an answer.

you: yes please :(

as soon as you give him the green light, he’s turning off his phone and yanking his hand from underneath his pants, practically speed walking to your front door. he doesn’t care how suspicious it makes him look that he’s here minutes after you answer him, knocking three times at your door and eagerly waiting. you’d swing open your front door timidly, having thrown on an oversized t-shirt before you answered the door. your face would be flushed and pouty as you stare up at him hungrily. “h-how’d you know where to go?” you’d gaze at him distractedly, lips slightly parted. “saw your location. you’re sharing it with your friends,” he’d respond automatically, taking in your disheveled state up close and attempting not to cum in his boxers at the sight. “you—you were so fast,” you’d mumble absently, pupils dilating in lust as you notice the bulge in his sweats. “just happened to be in the neighborhood,” he’d flirt shamelessly, smirking as you let him inside.

you’d be too oblivious to ever question any of jeonghan’s “coincidences,” and you couldn’t seem to care when he pleasured you so well <3

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part Two

Welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books. 

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Part One Link.

Disclaimer for all readers of this series: 

I’m going to sound very confident in my posts where I work under the assumption I’m a better writer than JKR; because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You’re simply witnessing the culmination of over two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn’t just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

I’m not a perfect writer. No one is. I’m not a talented writer either. I’m experienced and skilled through years of study and practice.

I don’t care about J.K. Rowling. At all.

If you’re triggered by the concept and fact that JKR is a terrible crafter of writing, then you might want to take a step back and self reflect on that personal issue.

I still very much love and adore Harry Potter; you’re still allowed to love Harry Potter.

This is not a series to bitch or bash. This isn’t a shitpost. This isn’t an attack on JKR, no matter the disgusting bullshit she spews forth on Twitter. However, my hope is people awaken to the fact that JKR isn’t the goddess of writing we’ve all been led to believe.

This is a place of study and learning, where the purpose is to help students gain critical thinking skills and writing analysis tools to become better in their craft.

And, sorry, one more disclaimer for this specific post: 

Fanfiction is written for fun and is posted for free. I put most of my effort into my main fanfic, Terrible, But Great. (Yes, I intend to update Moon Rite soon, too) However, I also have two fanfics that are cowritten with another author; thus, the style of Shall I Stay and Badger Prey are understandably different. I spend three to four times the hours to edit a chapter versus drafting it. My process for fanfiction: I draft. I do one expansion edit. I do one proofread edit. I post.

However, if I were to publish a novel where people are expected to drop money on said book, my work flow would be vastly more extensive. To be clear, I’d do all of the following myself. I would not outsource. My process for published novels: I would draft. I would do three to four expansion edits. I would do two to three cutting edits. I would do three proofread edits. 

See the difference?

Because I don’t go through a cutting edit for my fanfiction, I’ll often come back later and see things I think are weak. I’m constantly seeing where I can tighten my work. There’s always room for improvement.

Remember: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is a paperback book that costs $10. My fanfics are free. If I, someone who writes for free and puts what she considers the bare minimum of effort into them, have a higher standard in the quality of my writing than a paid traditionally published novelist, there’s a problem here. 

All right, with that nonsense out of the way, buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. Let’s begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we’re going to discuss these five pages from HP5 and dissect one paragraph and a line from page 731. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

(My favorite book in the series, btw. I fucking love fifth year the most. JKR did a damn good job with Umbridge.)

Since a certain anon lacked the skill to comprehend the difference between too much dialogue and stories driven by a high saturation of dialogue, let's go into further depth about dialogue.

What did I mean last week when I said: "Too much fucking dialogue!"

Today’s lesson will focus on the overall issue in JKR’s dialogue and in the prose surrounding those dialogue lines.

And since, apparently, I “lack the self awareness” to know most of my fics are “oversaturated with dialogue,” I’m going to use weaker examples of my own writing. Chapter 24 of TBG is heavily driven by dialogue with twenty-one named characters to juggle, something that's very difficult for me to manage. Though the chapter is lovely, I do feel it's some of my weaker work. In the end, I just didn’t have the energy to edit it a second time nor go through cutting edit.

Here are three different pages (some connected, some not) from Chapter 24 of Terrible, But Great. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

You can already see the difference, I'm sure.

So, what’s the difference between a scene that has 'too much fucking dialogue' versus a scene that is highly saturated with dialogue?

Because there is one.

Let's set the scene for HP5. In the middle of an OWL exam, Harry received a vision from Voldemort, showing him that Sirius has been captured. He's being tortured to get something from a shelf, but Sirius refuses. Harry believes the vision is real. He tells Ron and Hermione, then asks for their advice on how to rescue Sirius. Ron and Hermione are both like, pardon, wtf, sir? (As they should be.)

We have five pages of this fight between them. These five pages are mostly dialogue with very little else surrounding it.

Also, note the final page where it has the worst sins of adverb usage. That page is what triggered me to begin writing this series in the first place, btw.

There's too much dialogue here. There's no description. I'm being told stuff, but I'm not being shown anything. There are no emotional anchors to Harry either. The more I reread this scene, the more I realized what was wrong.

There’s an emotional disconnect from Harry in the prose.

Do not misunderstand me: it is NOT to say that Harry isn’t emotional here. It's that the prose doesn’t grip me, the reader, by the chest and twist my heart with his overwhelming emotions. The prose doesn't prove anything, doesn't show me anything. This is an intense, terrifying moment for Harry. It should feel visceral. It should feel tangible. I should be able to taste his fear.

We also don’t get too much information about the emotional states of Ron and Hermione. We have hints, of course. But we can’t feel them. The emotions of the scene are dampened, muffled, dull even.

With an untrained eye, you might disagree. It's okay. You'll see what I mean soon.

Page 731 exact quote:

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven...He's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there....He's torturing him....Says he'll end by killing him..." Harry found his voice shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master himself.

(Btw, punctuation issue: you do not use an ellipsis and a period together and there should be a space after the ellipsis.)

This is the only instance in the five pages where we get any information about Harry's physical state.

And it's written in such a weak 'telling' instead of 'showing' way, too.

How and where was his voice shaking? How are his knees shaking? Are they knocking together in a weird way that's kind of physically improbable? Or was it actually his legs were shaking? Isn't he leaning against the door? If his weight was resting against the door, then there'd be less shaking in his knees or legs because his knees would be locked to brace his body against the door. His arms and hands would be shaking, though.

How does Harry master himself? What does that look like? Slow breaths? Running a hand through his hair? Rubbing his face and eyes? How is Harry mastering himself? Is it mentally? Then, where are those mastering thoughts? What are they and why do those thoughts in particular help Harry 'master' himself?

What's Harry's tone as he talking about Voldemort threatening to kill Sirius? How is Harry feeling about this? Give me MORE!

The dialogue is presented to the reader in a bland, empty fashion. Harry is relating something to Ron and Hermione. I could switch the dialogue out with anything and it'd still make sense.

There is little surrounding the dialogue to anchor it.

So, let's rewrite this, shall we?

"I dunno how," said Harry, letting out a shaky breath. His hands clenched into fists against the door of the classroom. "But I know where—they're in a room in the Department of Mysteries that's filled with rows of shelves holding these... weird little glass balls. They're in row ninety-seven. Voldemort, he's—" Harry's voice broke. His breath caught in his throat. The memory of the vision returned full force into his mind, the image of Sirius on the floor at Voldemort's feet stark in his mind. He ducked his chin; his chest inhaled in a desperate breath and the edges of his eyes burned. He's torturing Sirius—I can't just wait around. I can't lose him. Harry looked up at Ron, whose face had grown pale, while Hermione stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. The strength in Harry's legs weakened. "He needs Sirius to get whatever it is he wants and he's—" Harry sucked in a gasp, his voice trembling like an autumn leaf in a thunderstorm. "—he's torturing Sirius... says he'll kill him in the end." His knees buckled. Harry stumbled to the nearest desk; Ron reached out with a steadying hand on Harry's upper arm and silent gratitude filled Harry's heart. With shaky arms, Harry lifted himself onto the desk to sit and twisted around to face Ron and Hermione. He licked his dry lips, rubbed his eyes with a hand, and took slow, deep breaths to master his fraying emotions.

The original canon text has 57 words of dialogue with a total of 83 words.

My rewritten version uses 56 words of dialogue with a total of 247 words.

I'm going to drill this concept into your heads, my lovely students: this is what I mean when I keep saying JKR's writing is both bloated and underwritten.

I only rewrote a single paragraph and its following line. The five pages I've provided are filled with this kind of empty dialogue.

So, what have I done here? Can you see the difference? Can you feel the difference?

Let's analyze what I focused on in this scene to show Harry's body language and his thoughts. I upped the physical effects on Harry's body. His fear causes his voice to break in the middle of explaining what's going on. He's terrified of losing Sirius, the only father figure he's ever known. Voldemort might take another parental figure from him. 

And now the prose reflects these feelings, not just in his thoughts, but also in how he speaks and reacts to what is around him. He is not just speaking at the reader.

Harry exists in his world. 

And you can feel it.

When he stumbles to the desk, Ron is there for him. Hermione reacting could also be added here. There is a lot that can be added to this scene, if one wanted to expand this further. 

Yes, what I've done has increased the word count, yet it strengthens this short moment—and I'd do this for the entire scene.

What I did to the scene is merely one version of its potential. It could be rewritten in a multitude of ways and go in various directions. I spent 10mins to 20mins on it. I haven't edited it or refined it.

Can you finally see what I mean now?

If you compare the highlighted pages of HP5 to the highlighted pages of Chp 24 of TBG, you can visually see the difference in the density of the dialogue. JKR is the one whose writing is oversaturated with dialogue. My writing will always be highly saturated with dialogue because my stories are character driven. I prefer stories like that. But I also need the dialogue to be interesting and engaging, where the character feels alive in their world.

When I say there's too much dialogue, this scene is such a good example of this because Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all over the place in their interactions with each other. Yes, you want your characters to sound realistic, but you're also the author curating an experience for the reader.

There's a balancing tightrope act between having realistic dialogue and unnecessary dialogue.

There's a thin line between showing too much and telling too little.

Lastly, if I were to improve the overall scene, I would center the focus on Harry's desperation to rescue Sirius. As Ron and Hermione try to talk him out of it, where Hermione delivers that iconic line of 'you have a people saving thing,' I'd have Harry explode with something like this:

"You don't know what's it like! You both have your parents—I-I don't... You'd feel the same as me if it were either of your parents being tortured by Voldemort, yeah? I can't lose him—I can't lose Sirius."

I'm not bothering with description around it right now. I just wanted to give the baseline dialogue to show you the theme I'd carry through this scene. It's all about Sirius. It's all about the fear of losing him. It's about showing the emotion of the character and making the reader feel that deeply.

And that's what matters the most.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part Two in this series. We have discussed fives pages in JKR's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The pages in question are 731 - 735 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

[yellowjackets96]

the way you do the things you do / angus tully x reader — part one

summary / chaos is only natural when barton's resident misfit strikes up a bond with the middle child of the school's most despised instructor.

warnings / none

word count / 1,300+

hii! this one goes out to the very wise anon who suggested a plot revolving around angus and mr. hunham's kid, which, i must say, is an utterly brilliant concept. however, it turned out to be a lot longer than just a mere one-shot like my first one had been, so it'll probably end up being two or three parts. i hope that's okay, lovely anon. thank you for sharing your brilliance with me!

Moreso than anything else, the relationship between the two of you started as an agreement. Well, an unspoken one, but an agreement nonetheless. Somebody had to look out for the two of you, on equal footing as outliers, as social rejects, as the odd men out. No one could be better for that role than you yourselves. 

To your utter dismay, ever since your parents made the decision to ship you off to Barton Academy in order to get you “the best education available” for high school (which was made possible by your father’s half-off tuition staff discount), you found yourself under a level of scrutiny that you never once faced at your old public junior high. It was not your intention to be perceived as the offspring of the most hated man there, either, but word travels quicker than a deer crossing the road at Barton. A concept introduced to the dean on a Sunday morning ends up widely-understood knowledge by a Monday evening. You’d already been written off as the ‘spawn of Satan’ before you even started your first class. Tough fuckin’ luck.

On the other hand, Angus’s isolation was entirely self-imposed. Following several years of what his mother had promised would be a “short-lived maintenance phase,” he became fed up with the entire process — the constant shifting and forced socialization and paperwork and meetings with headmasters. Lather, rinse, repeat, over and over until he felt utterly insane. He grew to resist society’s forced conditioning of him, lashing out the only way he knew how, through acts of adolescent rebellion. Due to how much you contrast from your stickler father, you eventually saw eye to eye with Angus on this. Once you had finally worn him down to the point of dragging a tragic backstory out of him, you understood why, because, of course no teenager could possibly be interested in the art of befriending their peers and engrossing themselves in a community at their third consecutive school. 

But it didn’t start off too swimmingly.

He entered your life on the strangest day of the week, during the least-interesting possible time of year — a Thursday in late February. You learned of his arrival through the grapevine, mere hours before you first saw him. Perched at a seat towards the very corner of the dining hall, you had become increasingly intrigued by the nearby nonstop chatter from a group populated by Georgie Jackson, Philip McNamara, Billy Wolfe, and Teddy Kountze, a rare sight in the seven o’clock breakfast setting, which was typically chock full of half-dead, completely exhausted teenagers.

“You wanna bet it’s gonna be another freak?” Teddy had grumbled, shaking his head dismissively at something optimistic Georgie must have said. “They’re half the school, at this point.”

He not-so-transparently nodded towards you, earning him in-sync laughs from the more agreeable Philip and Billy, and a halfhearted head shake from Georgie. “Christ, dude. And you wonder why we’re the only kids who tolerate you.”

Teddy threw his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just sayin’! We could benefit from someone actually cool and fun.”

“God, could you imagine how cool a girl would be?” Billy daydreamed, practically drooling.

The shaggy-haired blonde smirked. “You’re telling me. That’s all I wanted since I first enrolled here. Would be nice if old man Woodrup would do what the student body actually wants, for once.”

“Instead,” Philip piped up, wearing a dejected pouty frown. “I’m hearing this guy got kicked outta three different schools.”

Your curiosity piqued, you finally jumped in, against your better judgment. “What could possibly get a teenage boy tossed from not one, not two, but three schools? That sounds utterly ridiculous.”

The energy sufficiently changed as Teddy shot you a poisonous glare, you watched the trio of his small-time henchmen sink into their seats, seemingly anxious at how angry you were about to make him. His scrunched-up face twisted into a confident smirk, like he was one-thousand percent confident he could ensure you would never speak to him again. “What’s it to you, Walleye Jr.? You think I’d lie about some shit like that? Would you tell your daddy if I did?”

A scoff escaping your throat, you leaned back into your seat, slightly dejected. “Well, no, but-”

“That’s what I thought,” Teddy said, his lackeys chuckling in unison, practically on cue. “And you wonder why you don’t have any friends, loser.”

Just like that, enforced unnecessary social hierarchy had left you right back where you were before, with more questions than you could ever get proper answers for.

Once lunch period rolled around, you figured you may as well not try your luck again. 

Wrapping a gentle fist against the surface of your father’s door, you barely had to stand by for more than a few moments before he greeted you, the smile that he saved for you and the rest of your family plastered across his cheeks as he slung an arm across your shoulder, pulling you into a casual hug. Due to the academy’s policy of teacher’s children not being allowed to take their parent’s classes to avoid favoritism, you no longer spent time with him every day as you typically did with your mother back home. The reunion was definitely something you had been yearning for since you last saw him, even though it must have been no less than a week ago last Sunday. For the first time in far too long, something at Barton brought joy back to you. 

“How have you been, sweetheart?” your father asked, his reading glasses bouncing slightly on the bridge of his nose as he sat back down at his desk. He pointed to the chair on the other end of it, offering it to you. You gladly accepted, tugging the seat out and sliding into it.

You shrugged at the question, trying not to pay Kountze and his gang of blockheads too much mind. “Fine. Haven’t really done anything too notable or special.”

“Well, hey,” he offered, sliding a sheet labeled roll call across the desk to you. “Maybe this’ll brighten your spirits, despite how much the prospect of it annoys me.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, you instantly know what he was referring to, your eyes catching on the highlighted name sandwiched between Neil Sweeney and Todd Wedderling, bearing an emboldened word next to it — Angus Tully (NEW). And then, like it were on cue, the door behind the two of you swung open, revealing the sight of an instantly-enrapturing bearer of deeply brown eyes.

“Ah, Mr. Tully,” your father remarked, rising from the desk to greet him. “What a coincidence. I was just introducing them to you.”

Angus snorted. “All good things, I hope.”

“You’ve yet to prove us otherwise,” the older man quipped, before quickly turning toward you. “This is my middle child, the one Dr. Woodrup told you about. They’re a sophomore like you, so even though you won’t be in my class together, I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Picking up on the hint, you offer the other teenager a hand, which he casually shakes. “Pleasure to meet you, Angus.”

The brunette offered a crooked half-smile, enough to draw one out of you, too. “Nice to meet you as well.” Everything about him seemed natural — the way he didn’t force his grin, the warmth of his palm, the distinct waviness of his mud-shaded curls. This school left you perpetually surrounded by well-off jackasses, standing where they were currently placed via generational wealth, rather than strength and perseverance, working off of their own merits as your father had. Not to say that Tully was dissimilar in that manner, but he just felt so distinctly different, like he was not even trying to cultivate a phony persona in the effort of impressing others. If only everyone were like him. Maybe Barton would be bearable after all.

[kociamieta]

Out of the scale of 1 to 10 which version/interpretations of angels look horrifying or majestic?

1. Bayonetta Angels

2. Evangelion Angels

3. Diablo Angels

4. Legion Angels

5. Classic Bible Accurate Angels

6. Angelerium Angels

8. DOOM angels

7. Ultrakill Angels

8. The Woodsprite and Death from Guillermo Del Toro's Pinnochio

9. Dark Souls Angels

10. Shin Megamei Tensei Angels

anon i'm afraid i'm unfamiliar with like, 70% of these. so i can't "rate" them other than based on their looks. instead of a scale of 1 to 10 you're getting my thoughts on their designs as i am notoriously bad at Ranking Things. and some babbling overall. enjoy

starting off with Bayonetta angels. Holy shit. the range.... monster-looking ones? humanoids? ships??? cars????? the flesh inside those gold and marble shells??? love them, quite horrifying and majestic at once.

Evangelion! cool stuff. always love some strange organic shapes for angels, and the very geometric ones are pretty interesting as well

Diablo. i like the tendril-like wings. the lack of a visible face is pretty cool as well..

i... i'm assuming you're talking about the 2010 movie "Legion". no comment on this one.

i'm not really sure what "Classic Bible Accurate Angels" would entail. if you're pedantic enough, you can argue that the cherubim and ophanim in Ezekiel's vision aren't exactly "angels" in the literal sense of the word. malakim/messengers/angels could appear as pretty much human. either way, the celestial being category is quite fascinating

my jaw dropped when i saw the Angelarium website. the designs?? the drawings themselves???? the writing as well. obsessed with this???? hello....... Definitely quite majestic

DOOM. huh. that's a pretty interesting looking alien behind that armor. i'm assuming the angel comparison works in the game's context

ULTRAKILL! yay! Gabriel and the Council's armor are pretty cool, and i like the virtues too (their concept art is so good!!!). hope we get to see more angels in the future.

ahhhhg they're both so cool. love how Death is a sphynx. i can't tell if they're exactly supposed to be angels (saw the Woodsprite called a "fairy" somewhere?), but the motifs are so good regardless

Dark Souls. ojh wow. i think these are the most disturbing on this list, i love them. taking organic shapes to another level.... they remind me of mycelia.... huge win for horrifying angel nation

i wasn't really sure what to focus on with Shin Megami Tensei. the angel enemy itself (poor thing went through a lot, design wise)? the divine demon class as a whole (a... lot of characters to look at)? so i went with the archangels. their SMT IV versions are great, the ornate and quite organic-looking shapes put them on the majestic end of the spectrum for me

[ndjournal]

How’s your dream going?

it’s been a while since i’ve heard about you!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Dearest anon, my dream is well and peaceful although I am indifferent to it either way now which is what makes it peaceful and effortless :)

I considered writing a post on my learnings but was a bit hesitant because it's just another version of an experience that's already been spoken/written about many times before and there's nothing particularly special about this one. However, since you've asked, I will share some things about my journey and what has helped me personally which might help other Vanessas/versions of me out there. Please only take what resonates, my journey is not a blueprint for all journeys however I have noticed some commonalities in truth seekers.

The biggest thing was quite literally giving up entirely. I actually wrote a post on giving up about 3 months ago when I was earlier into this 'journey' and I still agree of course with what I wrote however I would write it differently if I were to write it now (it would be a more expanded version); perhaps I will write a part 2 although this answer here can sort of be taken as a part 2. You see, this Vanessa's life was quite comfortable in general so when she started on the ND path, while she was very determined to "get it", I wasn't motivated or entirely willing to give her up. We spent a lot of time letting go of concepts and limitations (and that definitely helped later on so I'm not saying it's not helpful, do what resonates for you!) and Vanessa/the ego was becoming subtler and subtler but it was still something I held onto. There was still identification with not much motivation to give it up entirely - sure there had been desire and interest to 'materialize' things but when we gave that up too, there wasn't anything. I was still lost in Maya despite the dream not being all that captivating or enjoyable.

Then quite literally life circumstances all of a sudden threw some major curveballs and Vanessa was terrified despite all that she had learned - it felt like all knowledge had suddenly disappeared and she had absolutely nothing to hold onto. After trying various things and going round in circles trying to keep everything at bay, the only thing left that really resonated was to quite literally give up on everything - it felt like there was no other option for peace but to do so because she was so mentally exhausted and drained from caring about every single thing that it was so much more appealing to be nothing and no one, to just BE… oh just the thought of being nothing and no one was freeing.

4dbarbie's words here gave Vanessa a lot of strength and direction (although her answer there was for a new identity, I did not use it for that as it was exhausting to even think of a new identity. I just wanted to be nothing and no one, that was most peaceful)

Give UP: It is what it is and 'you' can't do anything about it. Just let it all happen, we all die one day and it's over anyway. Worrying, fearing, doubting, striving, searching, desiring - how tiring, you would much rather sleep a hundred years. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Expect nothing from your body or mind. Let them do whatever they want, cease caring. Literally dgaf, if life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. (Ever had a bully? They get bored when you stop reacting and they leave you alone. They may increase the strength of their punches at first, but so what? You're already getting bullied... you can do nothing about it but cease caring and let it happen.)

And also this from 4dbarbie helped me understand the indifference that I had to embody:

I did not fake a lack of disturbance, I just let things happen to 'me' painful or not, I did not try not to react, I just didn't get involved emotionally with what was going on because I was tired, completely, of both desiring and being scared. The emotions didn't interest me anymore, I became indifferent to whatever was happening, neutral. If 'I' got what I wanted, whatever, if I didn't whatever again. I didn't try to change anything, the events just passed without leaving a 'footprint', all the bad/unwanted things had no reverberations anymore, it was like they never existed. Then there comes the idea of: what if they never actually did? And you fiddle and play with that a little. It's just play because you don't really care anymore, it's a real feeling of being unaffected, it's not manufactured because you aren't trying to get anything, not even 'realization', you want nothing anymore. This detached feeling, of needing nothing - it brings a lot of power, try to at least reach that and worry about the rest later.

She knew she had to stop trying to fight life but she was afraid of what would happen if she did stop trying. Eventually she got exhausted and had nothing left. Then no longer wanting/searching/trying to make happen any particular outcome or caring anymore, just pure indifference being in the present moment with no conditions/labels/problems is what gave her peace and then things just starting to ease up on their own. Things even happening on their own with just a random thought without any particular input.

I realized all the practices that Vanessa did before the curveballs had a 'doing' intention, a 'purpose' behind them (quieting the mind, self-realization, dropping beliefs etc) while afterwards, the same 'practices' were engaged again but with the intention of just being with no labels, no agenda, just being nothing and no one and this made all the difference - when you are no longer doing anything - you are not the doer/body/ego/mind; you're just being with no identification and no longer care about anything. And the indifference here is not forced or pretend like she used to have before as a defense mechanism, its genuine true indifference and full acceptance of everything (see the second 4dbarbie excerpt above - understanding and experiencing this subtle difference will help a lot).

The reality only comes when you give up yourself, when you give up your ego, when you give up your needs, your wants, trying to make something happen, desires, when you give up trying to become self-realized, when you just give up. - Robert Adams

Life is just a giant mirror of your Self. When you stop fighting it, it will stop too. But you have to be the one to initiate it. It takes courage and faith for sure to take that leap.

It has no choice but to die. What you take to be reality is the same, take away your identification and it soon ceases to be. - 4dbarbie

It can be easy to get lost in the dream again if you get caught up in the 'materialization' aspect - it's all still a dream even if forms change. Lester also talked about this in No Attachments, No Aversions:

I knew these things were not to be latched on to. I knew that if I got interested in them, I'd stop progressing. I had seen by this time that this world is a mentation - a dream. So to get interested in the dream again through interest in powers would trap me back into what I was wanting to get out of. - Lester Levenson

Also remember these things happen on their own, it's not the ego that's doing any of this and Self doesn't 'do' - Self is just effortlessly being. There's no 'doing' involved. If there's effort, it's ego as Lester said.

Now when I read my past blog posts or read Lester or Robert, there's an entirely new level of understanding and resonance with their words from before. This excerpt from Silence of the Hearts speaks more on what I was experiencing as well.

Let go of everything. Do not hold on. Stand naked before God, without any crutches, without anything to hold on to. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to stand naked before God. By standing naked I mean no scripture, no fancy words, no preconceived ideas, no spiritual intellectual knowledge. - Robert Adams

Perhaps without those curveballs, Vanessa would have continued to live in the illusion like an NPC in a Sims game until something like that happened to her and forced her to completely give up on everything and stand naked before God (her Self).

A day will come when you will long for the ending of the dream with all your heart and mind, and be willing to pay any price; the price will be dispassion and detachment and the loss of interest in the dream itself. Once you have seen that you are dreaming, you shall wake up. - Nisargadatta Maharaj

Now I know all happens by itself and I am just witness to it all. To all Vanessas out there, I know you got this. Follow your heart and trust in what resonates! And remember not to compare yourself to others, we are all One. Everything will be okay 💜💜💜

[alpydk]

You want angst? I’ll give you angst!

How do you think the companions would react to finding out Tav was divorced? That they were able to fall in love so deeply, only to have it ripped away. Perhaps the phrase “there’s nothing quite like handing someone the knife they use to carve out your heart.” is said.

Hello my dear anon, thank you for this prompt <3 This ended up largely as angst/comfort. I'm yet to write a real Gale proposal, so took this chance. It has a considerable amount of angst to begin with, though, so hopefully that satisfies your need.

Word Count - 3277 words - CW - Angst/Comfort (Happy ending!) - Divorce, Abusive relationship

“Being tied down to someone? No, thank you.”

Pale fingers spun the wedding ring mindlessly on the wooden table of the tavern as the now owner of the band spoke. Tav suspected it had been stolen from the graveyard when they had all taken a moment with Karlach to hear of her upbringing, seeing as Astarion had grown quickly bored and had resorted to pulling the petals from lying flowers. He loves me; he loves me not was the mumble they’d heard as he had kicked the dirt up with little respect for the sleeper beneath.

“But you got to agree it’s romantic,” argued Karlach in response. “Waking up each day with the one you love, riding them until you’re both hungry.”

Astarion scoffed. “You don’t need to be married for that, darling, just… turned on enough.” His eyes glanced over at Tav, and a devilish smirk crept upon his cold lips.

She knew he wasn’t interested. She’d known since the first evening where he’d tried to lure her from the party with promises of a night to remember, one where she had turned down the idea of losing herself to him. But this was the game of cat and mouse the two of them liked to play, shameless flirting, the hint of jealousy that meant nothing. At least he says it’s nothing.

Sipping from a glass of Portal Sherry, Gale spoke with a hint of conviction in his voice. The night was still young and the alcohol flowing between the group was not yet enough to loosen his practiced tongue in full. “I’m of the opinion that if you love someone, then you should devote yourself to them in full. Marriage is an important part of that commitment.”

“Gods, you could ride them and not be married.”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point, Karlach. We were discussing the concept of til death do you part, which, as Astarion was keen to point out, did not apply to him.”

Tav watched the banter with enjoyment. It had started out as an innocent conversation, the grave of the two lovers they’d noticed giving details of a marriage lasting over eighty years. The consensus had been that marriage was a pointless endeavour, either ending when one partner died, or when the couple inevitably decided they were bored with the regular sexual escapades and decided to seek out fresh meat. None of the party, of course, had been married before and all but one would probably remain that way.

She watched the ring spin between Astarion’s fingertips, the solid gold band nothing remarkable in its shine, but clearly priceless to someone at some point. She thought about the future of the item. What would happen with it tomorrow as they took on their final battle with the Netherbrain? Would it be kept and eventually sold to fund their separate travels home, or would it lie upon one of their corpses, soon to be collected by another rogue with little patience for stories of trinkets once loved?

“Well, it does not apply to me, does it?” Astarion said, running a hand through his hair. His voice lilted with a hint of smugness at the fact he would outlive any romantic partner, but Tav could see the way he averted his gaze from them with the statement. He would outlive us, yes…all of us…

“But marriage, as a concept, is very archaic, isn’t it? The idea of two people being meant for one another. Surely, it’s there just to control people,” he continued.

She wanted to agree with him there. In a way, it was about control, or at least it used to be. Each would belong to one another, a possession, ownership and rules. If she looked at it cynically, all she saw was a socially acceptable form of slavery: people signing themselves over to others in the hope of serving them and receiving ‘love’ as payment. Tonight, though, she would not be cynical. Tav would be open to the arguments and see if her unspoken opinion could be swayed.

“I still think it’s romantic. Riding or not,” spoke up Karlach, a pint of ale being brought to her lips. “So, I’m with you, Gale.” The mug was placed on the table with a slight thud, spatters of foam hitting the wood and staining instantly. “We should do one of those agreements. If we’re not married by a set date, then we marry each other.”

Gale let out a chuckle. “That may prove a tad troublesome, my dear. Astarion, as we’ve heard, is not interested in the concept of marriage in the slightest, and me and Tav are already in a partnership of sorts.”

Of sorts… Of course, he’s said it like that. He loved her; she loved him, but with the end in sight, there was little point in calling it a relationship. Tomorrow, either of them could die, or he could be taken by the goddess. There was also the matter of the crown that they’d discussed at great length. He’d still not provided a proper answer about what he wanted to do once he had reforged it: hand it back as requested, or claim it for his own, ascending to godhood. Of sorts…Maybe he’s right.

“We still haven’t heard little miss fireball’s view on marriage. She might be like me and long for the life of freedom.”

Tav glared at Astarion as he dragged her into the conversation. He knew full well what her opinion was after one drunken night and an in-depth rambling about previous partners, of which he’d had too many to recount. Her list had been rather limited, one of which she had made the mistake of marrying, and he had greedily lapped up every little detail.

---

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

It should have been the happiest day of her life; her friends, as limited as they were, his friends and family gathered around them to celebrate their love. The butterflies in her stomach felt as if they were great Gloomwing moths, batting their oversized wings, creating waves that would break out should she move too quickly, but she fought through them to stand upon the altar with him. Tav had been with the soldier Thomas for only a short while, but it had been a whirlwind of lust and romance which had swept her off her feet. Within six months she had left her hometown to live with him in Cormyr, leaving behind all she had known with nothing but the meagre belongings on her back. He promised her the world, to protect her and love her as she deserved, and she believed him. Yet as the cleric uttered those last words, and Thomas’ icy palm came to her face, pulling her into the firm embrace of his kiss, the doubts screamed within her mind that she was making a mistake.

She wasn’t sure when or how things changed between them, only noticing the creeping feeling of loneliness and isolation as she watched a couple from the bedroom window. They appeared to be so happy and in love. Her gaze moved to that of her husband, who slept naked beside her. The scent of Arkhen’s Hoard clung to his skin just like that of the pale bite marks on his shoulder. She knew full well they weren’t bruises, but questioning him always led to the same outcome, doubting herself, or if she wasn’t careful, feeling guilty for insinuating something he would never do…

Weeks passed, the icy hands closed around her throat, and still she blamed herself. Why had she accused him of sleeping with the barmaid? Why had she not backed down when he promised he was loyal to only her? Why had she been such a terrible wife to the man who loved her?

It was not until a friend of his appeared one day concerned for her safety. Over the months, he had observed the change in her, how she went from being someone filled with a zest for life to withdrawing into herself, reacting with a flinch whenever a hand was suddenly raised. He spoke of his worries, asked her of her relationship, and with each interaction she had said was normal, he’d been quick to tell her it was not. ‘He controls your money? You can’t see your friends without his permission? You deserve to be called that?’

The doubts of her wedding day reappeared with vengeance; the whisper turned to shout, reminding her she needed to get away before something terrible happened. But she loved him, didn’t she? Love meant sacrifices. He was protecting her, looking after her. It was them versus the world, Thomas has said.

20. Eleint, her eye blackened and swollen, Tav left their marital home with the same few belongings she had arrived with, now with the addition of her heart shadowed by abuse. What was marriage if not chains to bind? What was love if not a drug to manipulate with?

---

“...She might be like me and long for the life of freedom.”

Tav brought her glass of wine to her lips thinking over how to navigate the conversation without 1, giving too much away of what had occurred 2, drawing them into a discussion of her past and 3, not breaking Gale’s heart as he looked at her with the hopeful brown eyes she had fallen for. He’d been the complete opposite of Thomas. There was no ill intention in Gale’s words or touch, only the devotion he spoke of, as if she were a goddess and he a loyal follower. But to marry him? To wrap those cuffs around her wrists again and become his property? That would not happen. The same sacrifices would not be made again.

“I suppose that marriage is…” She let the words play on her tongue. “…a serious commitment and if two people are willing, then they should be able to do it.”

Astarion’s lips curled into a smirk. “A little ironic that you speak of commitment with no genuine commitment of your own to your answer.”

“Yeah, Soldier. Tomorrow, we save the day and you and Gale go off into the sunset. There’s going to be wedding invites, right?”

Tav felt as if the spotlight were the sun burning brightly down upon her, all eyes waiting for the answer she would give. She was standing upon the altar as they waited for the ‘I do’ that stuck in her throat, as if it knew what was to come. “Oh, well, I don’t know if things will come to that.” It had only been a few months between them all. She would not make the same mistake again.

“Okay, well say in a year.” Karlach was being persistent. It was understandable knowing her fate. Maybe this was a future she wanted to imagine she could see, a future she knew may never happen for her. Her father never walking her down an aisle.

Tav had already glimpsed the disappointment on Gale’s face, the hopeless romantic most likely already planning the proposal from the very first day they met. He spoke, his voice less certain than before, and she knew he would sacrifice marriage just so long as it meant being with her. “My love, would you possibly like to be wed one day, if the right person were to enter your life?”

“I don’t think so.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group, eyes falling onto drinks as if that answer had caused all humour to be drawn from the room. Karlach looked between Tav and Gale, waiting for one of them to speak, unsure if it would be safer to just retire to bed for the night.

Astarion eyed up Tav before he spoke, knowing the drama that was to come but savouring the entertainment for the night. “But you’ve done it once before. What’s the harm in going through it again?”

She scowled at him, angry at how he had shared this secret between them with little regard, at how he was drawing out her past so openly. Before she could react, Gale spoke, and she felt her heart sink, hearing the betrayal in his voice.

“Is it true? That you have been married before? Why didn’t you tell me?”

This was not a conversation she wanted in front of the others; one she was afraid would turn into an argument, an interrogation of who she was and all she had been through. “I wouldn’t call it a marriage, a more short-lived romance, maybe.” She tried to brush it all aside, hoping the answer would be satisfactory, but even with the drop in the conversation, she knew that would not be the last of the questions.

“There’s just nothing quite like handing someone the knife they used to carve out your heart.” She whispered, hoping the words would be forgotten.

---

“…become a member of…”

Freeing themselves of their tadpoles had meant a future none had really counted on. Astarion had retreated to the Underdark to raise seven thousand vampire spawn, Karlach had returned to Avernus with Wyll in a hope of finding a permanent solution to her own survival, and Gale and Tav had remained in Baldur’s Gate for a short time, recovering the crown, but more importantly, enjoying the hours of bodies entwined in unbound pleasure.

His proposal that morning had not gone as expected. She had declined marriage but agreed to continue to Waterdeep with him. Though he accepted this and would not pressure her further, he had felt rather disappointed at the outcome. There was no doubt in his mind that he would spend the rest of his life with her, so why not be married, too? She’d told him later of all that had happened in her previous marriage and rage had filled him with the idea someone would treat her that way, but this rage had also come with an idea. He would convince her he was better, that he would worship her and give her all, that marrying him would be a blessing, not a curse.

It started with a blue rose lying upon his pillowcase after he left for the academy, the petals delicate between her fingertips, the small piece of parchment with the words “Marry me” lying beneath it on the cotton. Again Tav had said no, the rose held loosely between her fingers as he had come home. He kissed her and simply replied, “As you wish.”

Each day lay a fresh rose upon his pillow, always in one of the various colours of the rainbow he had conjured over the docks for her to wake to. Each day a new note with the simple words “Marry me” and each day the reply of “As you wish.” But Gale did not give up, and Tav did not stop him from asking. Each rose was savoured until the petals fell, and each note kept hidden away in a glass jar, much like the words she held within her own heart.

One hundred days passed in the same manner, but on that day, she woke to a small garden of roses at the foot of the tower in Waterdeep. A spectrum of colour for all to see from the window, and upon the door, a single note with the all too familiar handwriting. “Marry me.” She spent the day in the comfort of the blooms, watching the bees flutter amongst the multicoloured petals, smelling the scent of the flowers as it drifted with the sea breeze, seeing as people passed by speaking of the romance in the air and wishing it was them to have met someone that loved them so. Thinking over her past, she remembered how marriage had almost destroyed her. She knew it would be different with Gale, but the fear still lay with her, a blackened thread binding her heart shut to the love he constantly showered her with.

Again another “As you wish.”

---

Rain poured outside the tower during the autumn evening, the two lovers lying together naked under a soft blanket in front of the fireplace. Roses of red, pink, and orange lay in a vase, the light bouncing off them, making them seem as if they were aflame themselves. Tav had still not answered this morning’s note, instead placing it within her pocket as a comfort as the day had gone on. 20. Eleint: the day of new beginnings.

“My love, should I stop asking?”

Gale’s voice was quiet, a resignation she had only heard once before when he was truly giving up. She felt her emotions stir, the disappointment in herself that she had made him feel this way. They’d discussed the proposals often as the days had passed, but to her it had become less about the commitment and more about the love between them. Each rose had been cherished; each note, the words she needed to know she was wanted and loved.

She sighed, not knowing how to answer. To say yes was to raise the question of their relationship in full, to say no would be open the discussion of marriage again. “I…don’t know.”

“Tav...” Gale gave a deep sigh. “Marriage to me is a union of the souls. Though some may say it as until death, I believe it goes further than that.” He stroked her hair gently, letting his fingers weave between the locks. “I think that when we eventually pass on, the vows spoken whisper to us and comfort our spirit as the light fades from our eyes. The rings exchanged help us find the one we have lost in the Fugue Plane. Marriage binds us, yes, but we are not prisoners to it.”

“You truly believe that?” she replied, her fingers tracing small circles into his chest.

“I do. I know the day you say yes may never come, but I hope at least that I can continue to ask you. That one day I might sway your heart in such a way.”

She considered his words, listening to the sound of his heart beating as her head rested upon his chest. “If I were to say yes one day, would you still give me roses?”

“I would give you everything you deserve and more, but especially roses.”

Tav turned over the thought, the memories of the last few months, of roses and parchment. The words trickled out quietly from her lips, almost merging with the rainfall outside. “Marry me.”

For a moment Gale was not sure if he had heard her correctly. Surely there must have been a part of the sentence gone amiss from him. Shifting himself, he lifted his shoulder from underneath her, positioning himself to look down at her. He saw himself reflected in her eyes, felt the way his hair swept down, hanging between them. His hand was brought to her cheek, brushing the skin lightly with his fingertips as if to make sure she was real beneath him. “Could you repeat that?” he spoke quietly so as not to break the spell.

She smiled up at him, a rebellious tear running from the corner of her eye, which he caught with the pad of his thumb. “Marry me, Gale.”

His lips caught hers in an intense show of his love for her, his body moving as if to hold her as close as was physically possible. He felt the way her soft palm moved behind his neck, how her tongue danced with his, and welcomed the embrace. Tentatively pulling his head back, he gazed down at her, love and devotion in his words as he spoke.

“As you wish.”