#entirely worth the two knowledge points.

[theminecraftbee]

i can't express enough how freeing it feels that i have a storage mod now and NEVER AGAIN have to be organized i'm gonna make. SO MANY cables. and connect every chest on this island. and NEVER HAVE TO WORRY AGAIN. and it will be BEAUTIFUL

[carnival-core]

Hey not to make a political post but does it ever feel like we can just never win and the suffering will be forever and we're always going to have to fight with moments of peace being fleeting and not worth looking forward to

[ssahotchnerr]

public displays of affection - aaron hotchner x reader

the aaron take on the derek/penelope workplace seminar (episode of reference: 9x12)

cw; bau!reader, established relationship, suggestiveness, small allusions to sex, fluff <3, bau family banter, aaron being mortified😭, references to the episode wc; 1.4k

"penny," you shut one of your files, placing it in your desktop organizer. "you're creating a draft."

"this is bad. oh so very very bad." she stammered, continuing to pace back and forth, "i'm just mentally preparing myself to be humiliated in front of the entire unit. for the second time, may i add. god, who blabbed this time?

"what did you even do?" spencer chimed in, his head lifting from his current read.

"i don't know." she exclaimed, an exasperated breath leaving her. "nothing out of the ordinary, so that means anything is possible. you," she pointed at morgan, who casually was making his way over to the rest of you. "we're in big trouble."

"this could be totally unrelated." jj reassured her. you agreed, giving penelope a nod and a hopeful smile. "there was no footnote on what this meeting consisted of."

"well, there was no footnote last time. and to this day, i still get asked what flarpy blunderguff means." she huffed, crossing her arms and turning towards derek. "i love you my hunk of a man, but this. this is a nightmare."

as two began rolling around, the bullpen filled in anticipation for the seminar, a light hum in the room as conversations were exchanged back and forth in waiting.

in addition, a presence soon stilled beside you. one always familiar, but surprising under the current circumstances.

"what are you doing here?" you looked up to find aaron's gentle eyes. he took a seat on the edge of your desk, just behind your chair.

meetings like these - usually below aaron's pay grade. he hadn't needed to attend the last, infamous meeting for instance, HR meetings were normally things he had prior knowledge of, or simply not worth his valuable time as unit chief.

"i got the email as well." aaron's hand found the back of your neck, his fingers comfortably kneading into your always-tense muscles. every so often, his hand would brush to your shoulder, and then back again.

"oh no," penelope slapped onto derek's arm, the smack covered up by slim buzz within the vicinity. "what did we do?"

"looks like we're about to find out." dave stated, his eyes following the woman who had just entered the bullpen, moving to the front.

the notorious HR lady of the bureau, nancy, sauntered over to the large presentation screen set before the clusters of desks. not wasting a second to get down to business, she turned toward the crowd of eager agents.

"thank you all for your attendance and time, this shouldn't take too long." she started, poised and head held high.

penelope took a deep breath.

"this afternoon's presentation," nancy clicked a button on her remote, displaying the title page. "public displays of affection."

oh no.

aaron's hand, which had continued to smooth out the stiffness in your neck, halted immediately.

"as you all- most are well and should be aware, keeping conduct professional in the workplace is a must to prevent disruptions within the environment. displays of affection - examples upcoming - can cause extreme feelings of uncomfortableness amongst your colleagues, and can be distracting nonetheless. all of which, creates a...."

just as last time, she clicked her remote. and adjacent to penelope and derek's presentation, in big letters across the top:

"hostile work environment."

derek immediately snorted under his breath, inviting others to openly laugh as well. despite the urge to shoot daggers at him, you were utterly incapable of pulling your attention away from the front.

it wasn't a top secret ordeal - everyone could infer the pair this presentation was centered around, and be correct.

"and so," nancy exhaled a breath, her eyes darting in your and aaron's shared direction for a smidge second, causing the heat to grow in your face and body. "i urge everyone to refrain from the following,"

similar to yours, aaron's face burned, comparable in color to his tie. he let out a nearly inaudible, nervous cough from above you.

"sitting on one's lap, while working on caseloads - not appropriate."

more laughter rippled through the division.

"oh god." you mumbled under your breath, uncomfortably crossing a leg over the other as your palm covered the bottom half of your face.

contrary to the present belief, aaron was a stickler on pda.

for the first few months of your relationship, he hadn't dared to touch your arm, back, anything in order to maintain such affection within the field; it was reserved for closed doors at home only. he loved you, but he wanted to uphold his reputable professional nature.

but as time moved forward and your relationship progressed, he hadn't gotten sloppy, per se, but more relaxed or lenient was a better way to put it.

some displays were accidental by habit. if he wanted to give you a quick peck, depending on the situation and setting, he would. seated beside each other, he would lovingly squeeze your thigh under the table, if you needed the encouragement or if you made him proud in some regard. if he were feeling frisky one day - sure he would do something, just to rile you up for later, to each of your benefit. so on and so forth.

and if he was initiating affection, you took that as the all-clear to do the same. in variation, of course.

so more often than not, it was in private. just not... always. and the lock on aaron's office door often came in handy for that.

"prolonged kisses in the bullpen, elevator, not appropriate."

once. you were caught once in a (very) heated kiss in the elevator.

as you and aaron cowered in embarrassment, both dave and morgan looked far too amused for their own good. the rest of the team - raised, entertained eyebrows, tossing glances to one another while trying to constrain their laughter.

nancy swallowed, as if she needed strength to deliver the next point, "grabbing one's behind when going up the stairs, not appropriate."

another mortified cough exited aaron.

she went on, giving more examples of affection aaron and you were completely guilty of. and if just one singular time wasn't enough, she went-forth on the explanation that such displays can cause a barrier within the workplace.

when you thought it would never cease, nancy finally delivered her ending statement, "save it for home people, thank you."

and with that, as well as the screen darkening, everyone disbanded, low murmurs and chuckles filling the room as each went about their usual routine.

you looked up at aaron in absolute horror, whose face was currently in his hand. but even that didn't hide the blush brewing within his face, his ears flushed wildly as well.

you reached up, grabbing his wrist to pry his hand away.

"nuh uh uh," derek grinned as he wiggled his index finger at the two of you, imitating nancy to a tee. "not appropriate."

"you hush." you got to your feet, allowing you to remove his hand more easily. you cautiously prolonged your hold, brushing your thumb across his knuckles before letting it drop. "aaron?"

his brown eyes found yours, full of embarrassment. "that was..."

"humiliating?"

he nodded, his head accelerating in speed with each nod, "yeah. that's the term i would use."

"oh you poor dears." penelope breathed out, the one compassionate member of the team.

"damn." emily chuckled.

derek cackled again, clearly not ready to let this go. honestly, he probably never would. "thought we didn't notice when you pulled the blinds in the office, did ya?"

aaron gave him a pointed glare, putting a very quick end to the conversation. just as the rest, the team carried on with their remaining work for the day - you and aaron remaining frozen in place.

but surprisingly enough, a laugh did escape him, shaking through his chest. "guess i have to tone it down a little, huh?"

"oh thank god," you blurted out and exhaled in relief, a small smile forming on your lips. "i thought this would cause an avoidance arrangement or something." you teased - partially.

"of course not. some reservation, maybe, but not avoidance." aaron laughed quietly again, a sigh escaping him.

"that was bad, wasn't it?" a slightly pinched expression took form on your face, your cheeks tinting once more.

"it wasn't... good." aaron admitted with some hesitation, but his brown eyes still glowed despite the lines of troublesome. his hand found yours - after scanning that no one was paying attention to the two of you - giving it a squeeze. "but hey, out of problems to have, i'd take showing my love for you any day."

[toxycodone]

The way i need kabru to teach me the anatomy of the human body by using himself as a model and he’s explaining how all the vital points are laid out but he’s struggling because my hands are dipping a little too low below his belt and squeezing his neck a bit too firmly

vital points (kabru of utaya x reader)

wc. 1.5k

cw. romantic/sexual tension, nothing explicit

No one in Kabru's party is a particularly skilled dungeon crawler. Despite all efforts it seems his party is always taken out before they can do any true exploring of the dungeon's secrets.

Therefore, being the excellent leader that he is, Kabru has decided to take it upon himself to give out combat lessons. And it's only logical he starts with you first. Mickbell has his own specialties--poison darts and all. Kabru's not sure if he'd even be interested in lessons. And even if he was, would he even pay attention? It's probably not worth the trouble. Kuro is well, Kuro. What part of that demihuman's body isn't a weapon? His sharp senses make him one of, if not the most well-equipped members of his team. It's the main reason Kabru keeps a demi-human, one partly monster, like him around. Aside from the fact he's a package deal with the half-foot. Kabru's sure Kuro could make it throigh the dungeon on his own.

Daya is the second best. Strong. Capable. A weapons expert. She can take a hit and throw it back with ease. Rin and Holm are the magic users. Combat would likely be wasted on them. Rin's frail, but she already has similar knowledge to Kabru as she grew up with the same foster mom. And Holm...likely wouldn't agree to lessons. He's maintained a commitment to do no harm to others unless absolutely necessary. Kabru's not going to try to convince him to learn his way around a weapon and how to maim unless it's completely critical.

However. That leaves you.

You're different. Not entirely useless, but not entirely skilled on the other hand. Kabru's still trying to figure you out. Quite the enigma you are to him. He's come to the conclusion you're a jack-of-all-trades type of figure. For now, at least. You don't exactly take away from the party. But you're not hindering their descent, either. It's intriguing from an anthropological standpoint, yet infuriating from his stance as leader of his party.

But again, he wonders what skills you do possess, exactly. Everyone has their specialties, be it what it may. He wonders if combat might be something he can help you succeed--no, excel--in. He'll bring out the best in you via this method, and come to learn more about you in the process. Two birds with one stone. In the back of Kabru's mind, his own desire rears its head. The desire to be close to you. He's not exactly sure why or where this desire stems from. However...it can be satiated via a combat lesson. Three birds, he muses. You pique his interest in a variety of ways.

When it first comes to combat, jumping right in is never ideal. The first means of success comes from mapping out vital points. The human anatomy is a good start. Dungeons are full of demi-human and human adversaries alike. It's important to know them for one to defend themselves, unarmed or not. And these vitals seem to remain uniform among all creatures.

Head. Neck. Abdomen. Groin.

The four major sensitive groups one should know. He's starting small for now. Too much information could be overwhelming. It wouldn't be worth to teach you so much at once that

You're in front of him now, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not in a literal sense. A metaphorical one. Well, your eyes are bright. He's always liked them. Not that it matters. Why is he thinking of this?

Kabru shakes his head a little, trying to steady his thoughts. Back to business.

"The first lesson in defense is understanding anatomy." Kabru muses, looking through his notes. There's no real time to fetch a book at this point. Or a model. Kabru's not necessarily gifted at art either. Not that a simple drawing would do.

He can serve in its place, as an example. A physical specimen would be the most insightful. You're probably a hands on learner, he decides. It's definitely not as an excuse to have you close to him. Definitely not. Not that he's entirely against that, though.

"Starting with the head. There's plenty of areas you can exploit there," Kabru points to his eyes. You follow suit. They're such a striking blue. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.

"Eyes are the easiest to access. They're the first thing humans notice. You can predict someone's movements by figuring out where they're looking towards. It'll likely show you where they intend to attack." Kabru leans forward absentmindedly. "They're also sensitive. Even a simple move can distract or blind an opponent. Don't be afraid to strike there. Even though Mickbell might tease you for fighting dirty. All's fair in dungeon combat."

You chuckle and agree. Kabru's pleased his attempt at humor landed. It seems to lighten the air around you two.

"Next, the neck. There's two main points here you want to recognize." Kabru takes your hand, offering a reassuring smile as he does so, then presses it to the underside of his neck. They're a little cold, you note. And almost dainty. His hands aren't particularly calloused. He must take good care of them.

He guides your index finger to the skin on the outside of his neck. His skin carries a hint of heat to it.

"This is where the external jugular is located. It's one of the most important veins in the body. It carries blood to the head and neck area. Just a simple cut can slice through it. A simple turn of the head is enough to expose it."

He moves your hand more inward, now pressing slightly into the divot close to his trachea. His chest rises slowly, then falls. There's a faint beating under the skin now. Kabru's pulse.

"The internal jugular is here. If you can land a hit here, do it. You'll have to go deep and make sure you slice clean through the skin. It can disable a foe in seconds."

You try to keep your mind on the lesson. But his skin is remarkably soft. And smooth. You're close enough now to count his stubble. Well, you would if there was any to count. How does Kabru manage to keep himself so well groomed on dungeon excursions. Maybe you could count those thick, lovely eyelashes inste--

A simple call of your name breaks your thoughts. Not only were you not paying attention, but your fingerpads dig slightly into his skin. You struggle to find an explanation for your absentmindedness, then decide to pin it on you being hyperfocused.

Kabru, ever so forgiving, decides to move on without further question. Internally, you thank him for preserving your dignity. What's left of it. You're almost certain he's caught onto the fact your no longer solely doing this for the sake of combat knowledge.

"The abdomen hosts a majority of the body's necessary organs. The lung's can be pierced easily through the ribcage." Deft fingers lead you across the expanse of his chest. You're a bit shocked. Without his armor, Kabru's a lot smaller. Being revived time and time again has left its mark on his body. There's still power to him though. His muscle isn't all gone. You can surmise your leader has quite the lithe build.

Kabru continues to go on, despite you not listening. He likes to talk about anatomy, for one. But he's also trying to hide his own amusement at your reaction to touching him. You're admiring him in your own way. Which means you may harbor similar feelings towards him that he has towards you. Interesting. He takes note of this as your hands are guided lower.

Stomach. Liver. Kidneys.

And last is the groin.

Kabru's puzzled. He didn't really consider how this would play out in his hands-on anatomy lesson. Desire clouded his mind earlier, but now that he can peek through it...the realization of the situation sets in. How should he proceed? He can tell by your reactions you're fascinated by the lesson at the least. Kabru's sure you need this lesson. The groin is probably the most effective place to punch, kick, or slice in a pinch. As inappropriate as it is, in general and a workplace sense, he still wants you to keep touching him.

His hands leave yours. He's leaving it up to you, now. Whether you choose to continue or not will tell him what he wants to know--if he's been going too far or not.

"The groin is the last area you should become familiar with. I'm sure you're aware, but it's particularly sensitive." Kabru's not sure whether to look at you or your hands. He goes for the latter when your fingers trail over his belt, threatening to move towards the linen of his pants below.

"The genital area, more specifically. No matter the sex. A swift punch, kick. Even just grasping it. You can get an advantage in combat. Either as a distraction, or...."

Your fingers keep going lower. He's sure you aren't paying attention, now far too invested in your personal lesson on anatomy. There's a slight bulge in his pants. It's stiffens when you ghost over it.

Kabru's breath stifles. He swallows his spit like it's cement.

"A-and that's the gist of it."

Kabru stutters for the first time ever, you think. Your curious hands flee his body as a result, now returning to your sides. That was...exhilirating. So simple, yet...you can tell the two of you are craving more.

"Uh," You're first to break the awkward tension. "Thank you, Kabru. For the lesson. It was very informative." A certain tone lingers on the last word. Kabru can practically see the air quotations around it. His dark skin deepens with color. For once in your span of knowing him, Kabru's eyes don't tear into you.

"Right. It's my duty as your leader, after all. Thank you for listening. We can go back to the others now."

Kabru is known for his penchant for understanding others. Almost being able to predict their next moves with ease. However, your next move is wildly unpredictable, tossing out everything he once assumed about your attitude and demeanor.

You ask when the next lesson is. You'd like to study anatomy-perhaps his anatomy, more thoroughly.

And what he also doesn't expect is his eagerness to respond. The next lesson can't come soon enough.

[nothorses]

hi sorry to bother u about this, i searched around transmasc subreddits for an answer to this and while i saw a few people joking about getting dry cramps, nobody seems to know what this is. and i vaguely remember seeing a post by you mentioning "mystery cramps" in a post also about vaginal atrophy, but I didnt pay attention to the post much at the time bc at that point i wasnt experiencing atrophy or mystery cramps.

but now I'm a bit over a year on T, (my periods stopped only about 4 months ago though, because i was on a much lower dose than most for a lot longer time than most. that ~4 months ago time frame lines up with upping my dose from 0.2 to 0.3ml. i'm on 0.4ml tho now as of about 3 weeks ago) and suddenly i'm getting "mystery cramps" sometimes, it seems to happen especially the night before my T-shot day, (but i cant say that with certainty—i know i'm having them right now and my shot day is tomorrow morning, and i think thats been the case, but i dont know for sure) and they feel exactly like period cramps. to the point where i feel super paranoid that maybe i've been injecting improperly and the testosterone isnt absorbing right and my period is actually coming back. (something i often have nightmares about)

i searched your blog again for that post and did find it, (the one about estradiol cream treating it) but the wording of it is a little unclear and i wanted to just clarify that this is the same thing youre talking about? or if what im experiencing is different than the "mystery cramps" you meant and i should see a doctor

I am for sure not a doctor, and I think you should see one either way!

My personal understanding of the "mystery cramps" is that it's a part of "vaginal atrophy" that some, but not all trans folks who go on T experience, and it usually doesn't start until a couple of years on T ( which is also, to my knowledge, based on more standard doses as opposed to "low-dose" T).

Mine started about two years in, and was happening occasionally at first- always at night, and often the day before my T shot- then progressed to several nights a week over time. Nowadays I tend to experience cramping almost every time I so much as miss one dose of estradiol. Ibuprofen and Midol are the only OTC pain relievers that seem to do the trick, and the cramping will keep me up through the entire night untreated. It also tends to come in fairly predictable waves (spaced maybe 15-30 minutes apart) and right before I started estradiol, I remember getting some light spotting as well.

iirc, I talked to my PCP when it was just starting up, and their response was along the lines of "that's weird, let's keep an eye on it". I moved and didn't have a PCP for a while, so when the spotting started, I went to a walk-in urgent care clinic and talked to them. They gave me a referral for an ultrasound, and encouraged me to go to a "women's health" clinic that had long history of specializing in trans care as well. When I talked to the folks at that clinic, they encouraged me to go through with the ultrasound (I didn't), and prescribed estradiol cream because I asked them to and they didn't see a reason not to try it.

If you think it's possible this is what's going on with you, I would really encourage you to talk to a doctor, specifically bring up research around this issue and estradiol cream as a treatment option, and ask them if there's a reason not to try it just to see if it does anything for you. If nothing else, estradiol cream also treats vaginal dryness, tightness, and inflammation (other symptoms of "vaginal atrophy"), so it might be worth a shot for those reasons anyway!

And don't do what I did; if they want you to do an ultrasound or whatever else, go with it, and rule out other possibilities. Listen to medical advice from medical professionals who know your medical history and who you trust are listening to you & know what they're talking about.

[cjrae]

Rank And Responsibility. Or: The Hairpin Scene from Jinshi's POV.

Be warned now about the consequences of choosing to do an English Lit degree - you end up doing lit crit for fun. With that in mind, let's break down the hairpin scene at the end of Covert Operations (Episode 5). Mild spoilers for Jinshi's arc are below.

While this moment does kick off the romantic subplot, with all the implications that giving Maomao the hairpin out of his own hair has, I would argue that this is not the moment Jinshi realizes he's in love with Maomao. Instead, from his point of view, this scene demonstrates how Jinshi handles failure.

Holding Power In An Open Palm

This is still very early in the story. Our first hint to Jinshi's true rank does come in this scene, but for now we know him as the manager of the Rear Palace. For the three thousand people who live and work there, for all intents and purposes, Jinshi is the highest authority they will encounter. He literally has the power of life and death over them, either directly in the case of the servants and eunuchs, or in the case of the consorts, his word to the Emperor directly can serve the same purpose. We also see Jinshi use this power early on - he's not just there to keep order, but also to test the consorts' loyalties and virtue. We never see what happens to the lower-ranked consort who attempted to invite Jinshi back to her room, but at the very least that report ensures that her already small chance of the Emperor choosing her as a potential mother of the nation is utterly cut off - and if she doesn't bear children, she will be discarded.

We also know that Jinshi will not hesitate to order corporal punishment if he views it necessary - for example, when Maomao discovers that the toxic face powder is still being used by Consort Lihua's ladies in waiting, she mentions in the aftermath that the eunuch who failed to recover the powder was flogged, while the lady in waiting who hid the powder is put in solitary confinement. These are brutal punishments - and if we consider the historical inspirations, these are also very restrained consequences. For hiding an item that caused the death of the prince (unfortunately, the more valuable child) and has put the life of one of the Emperor's favored High Consorts in danger, Jinshi would be utterly within his rights to order executions. If ignorance is a sin, ignorance in the face of knowledge is a greater one.

Microcosm of Li

For all that Jinshi holds his power lightly, he also takes the responsibility that power bestows upon him quite seriously. It's worth noting that Jinshi takes over governing the Rear Palace shortly after Maomao's service contract is purchased. (Remember, Xiaolan talks about the "beautiful, new eunuch that's been posted to the central courtyard," which tells us that Jinshi has not been in the Rear Palace long enough to become a fixture - he's an object of speculation and admiration from episode 1).

In context it's clear that, with the birth of two Imperial children, his job is to ensure the survival of the Imperial line and investigate why children of the Emperor are dying consistently in one of the wealthiest and safest places in the entire empire. We're shown him running in between Lady Lihua and Lady Gyokuyou to ensure that their very sick children are being seen to properly, investigating what could be causing it, while also managing tensions as rumors about the Emperor's children being cursed begin to spread and outright accusations of sorcery are being thrown between consorts. While the audience might immediately scoff along with Maomao at the idea of one consort cursing another, if Maomao hadn't found the cause of death, those types of accusations followed by Lady Lihua's and Princess Lingli's inevitable deaths could have ended with Lady Gyokuyou's execution.

The Rear Palace is a reflection of the nation as a whole. No Imperial heirs plus the deaths of two High Consorts with various foreign and domestic political ties had the potential to thrust the entire nation into chaos. Jinshi's choices have very real consequences, so when Maomao discovers what the true cause of death is and sends her warning, Jinshi looks at Maomao and doesn't see a person. He sees a "perfect pawn." A tool, one with talents that have ensured that at least one Imperial child has survived and providing a rational explanation why these children have died so that it can be prevented from happening again - and a skill set that can be turned to preventing any more shenanigans in the Rear Palace that could threaten the empire's foundation.

And, as Gaoshun points out, in the beginning of the hairpin scene, she is a toy. Maomao amuses Jinshi up until this point.

For all that Jinshi is shown wielding power with a light hand and a responsible mindset, it literally doesn't occur to him that the people working in the rear palace have stories - some tragic - about how they came to be there. They are resources to be used as befits the Emperor's (and therefore the nation's) need.

Hidden Beauty

When Maomao turns around and Jinshi doesn't recognize her until she speaks, he's shocked. He thought he knew exactly who and what this girl was - ugly and unremarkable, except for her intellectual brilliance and the challenge in managing her by other means than empty compliments and smiles. He attempts to recover and assumes that she is enhancing her looks - and is shocked again when he realizes that the face Maomao has presented to him so far is a protective mask against attracting attention. In a world where beauty is both a currency and a tool that others covet, Jinshi doesn't understand why Maomao would deliberately devalue herself like that. So she tells him.

This is the moment Maomao becomes a person to Jinshi.

Not a toy, not a pawn. Someone who has been ripped from her home and her life illegally and sold off. It's in this moment that Jinshi is forced to confront the ugly side of the society he lives in, people who would rape Maomao out of pure convenience or just take a "borderline marketable" girl off the street in order to get extra drinking money.

Worse, Jinshi is complicit in Maomao's captivity. The Rear Palace has bought her contract - and as the manager of the Rear Palace, Jinshi is responsible for everything that happens within its' walls. The fact that Jinshi does not personally oversee service contracts is irrelevant. The buck stops with him. If the Matron of the Serving Women or whoever is below her is buying these contracts without checking their sources, that is Jinshi's fault because he has allowed a lax enough system to flourish. He has failed to govern this microcosm of the nation wisely, with thought for the welfare of the least powerful among his people. Worse, he has failed to even notice the problem - Maomao may say she's angry about having been kidnapped and sold, but she doesn't react in a way that indicates anger. Instead, she's resigned. Yes, what happened to her was wrong and she's angry about it, but there's literally nothing she or Jinshi can do.

Or Is There?

Jinshi offers Maomao two apologies, the first of which is our first hint to his true status. "I'm sorry we couldn't police them better." Maomao immediately blows off this apology - she points out that there's no way Jinshi should have known and has a very "all's well that ends well" attitude about her situation - her contract will be up eventually and in the meantime she's managed to land in a fulfilling role. Essentially Maomao is telling Jinshi that this apology is not his to make - he's overstepping his responsibility. And, if Jinshi were simply the manager of the Rear Palace, she would be right. It's his job to ensure that the Rear Palace is properly staffed, not to regulate that all contracts comply with the law.

Jinshi apologizes again. This time, he offers no other context. He doesn't accept Maomao's absolution of responsibility - because he knows (even if we, the audience, don't) otherwise. It can certainly be read as Jinshi refusing to accept easy absolution, and the rest of those witnessing the scene, apart from Gaoshun, certainly take it that way.

Instead, he takes the hair stick from his own hair and places it in Maomao's. Their entire relationship has just been upended; Maomao is a person who has been gravely wronged and it is Jinshi's responsibility to begin to make it right. Aside from the personal implications of giving her the hairpin (and the faint blush on his face makes it clear that he's aware of them), it is a form of restitution. There is an unspoken social contract Jinshi is offering that Maomao does not understand in the slightest. It never occurs to her that Jinshi would do something for her with no thought of what he would receive in return, because of the difference in their social ranks. But, from Jinshi's perspective, that social difference is the point. He has failed her and, as the person of higher rank, it is his responsibility to do what is within his power to begin to remedy the situation in front of him.

And, of course, in that moment he sees Maomao in a new light, the other meaning of gifting her his hairpin has fertile ground to take root in Jinshi's mind.

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part four

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: satoru has an announcement to make to the royal court. you don't think you could've ever prepare yourself for what it could be. the two of you see each other after months of no contact and the result is bitter sweet. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive flirting, heated make out, cussing, depression symptoms, misguided anger, jealousy.

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 4,323

𝜗𝜚 an: there is a surprise guest from the jjk cast being introduced.. heh. dw he is just for the story and holds no interest in reader.

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊p4┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 ���𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p5┊

“How do you like kitchen duty, my dear?” the Queen asks, the royal blue wallpaper of her study behind her head seems to shift like the ocean waves; rising and falling - dancing in the reflection of your pupils as your tea is poured for you. With a wave of her hand the Queen’s servant is dismissed and it’s just the two of you alone. The silence is unsettling as much as it is intoxicating. The kitchen is noisy - pots and pans clanging together, the repeated motion of knife hitting cutting board, and the bubbling sounds of a roiling boil. But then there is your room at night; the bed you climb into is decently soft and the covers keep you warm enough but you’re missing the noise of Satoru’s words. Before everything changed you would lay awake and replay every conversation with the Prince; your heart would pound remembering every brush of his hand or intense gaze he didn’t bother to hide. Instead now even your own thoughts have quieted, leaving your night void of any stimulation. 

“It’s been pleasant,” you respond, blowing on the hot tea you’ve brought to your lips. You don’t try very hard to sound convincing but if the Queen notices she doesn’t comment on it. 

“I’ve heard you have been getting pretty close to one of the men in the kitchen,” she wiggles her eyebrows, like you’re her girl friend and she’s genuinely interested in your potential love life. You’re not entirely sure where she got such information from; but it’s been clear to you for a while now. She has eyes and ears everywhere. 

“Forgive me, I’m not quite sure who you are referring to,” the tea is hot as you sip it, burning the taste buds you’ve barely been using these days. 

“Well, Nanami, of course,” she takes a moment to sip her own tea. “He’s handsome… quite burly too for working in a kitchen,” she’s smirking describing the man like it's the most entertaining gossip in the whole world. You guess it's not the worst thing she could potentially hear about you. All though, the worst had already been said. 

“He’s knowledgeable,” you tell her, stoic and devoid of any real emotion, “I enjoy learning what I can from him,” it’s a boring answer but your life is boring now. She frowns, almost a little disappointed that you won’t bite and indulge in ‘boy talk’ with her, but she continues on anyway. 

“That’s how your parents met, you know,” another long sip of her tea, “your father used to volunteer in the kitchens just to see your mother,” she’s obnoxiously giddy again and you can’t fight the sour taste of disgust. It feels more like she’s describing a silly little romance novel and not real people’s lives. It’s almost amusing knowing that as soon as your ‘silly little romance’ got too close to her son it was no longer exciting to her. You kept silent - having nothing worth commenting aloud as you waited for her to get to her point. She didn’t invite you here to gossip, your life had hardly been entertaining since 3 months ago when you were banished from Satoru’s presence. Her lips purse for a moment before she talks, “Well that’s not why I invited you here anyways,”

No shit. 

“I wanted to say thank you. I’m sure you’ve heard of our upcoming event in which Satoru will announce who he is courting,” you could have choked on air if you were not incredibly aware of yourself around the Queen. Instead you sucked in a quick breath. You had obviously been preparing for the event seeing as it was tomorrow and everyone in the kitchens scrambled around to get everything set for it - but you missed the part where it involved Satoru and his new potential partner. “I was incredibly worried for the future of our kingdom, and I appreciate your diligent work in securing that,” her words danced around the true meaning - but you weren’t a dunce. She was thanking you for hurting Satoru - and yourself in the process. A truly noble sacrifice indeed. You had to fight the desire to strangle yourself in front of her.  

“Of course,” is all you muster, not bothering to put on a brave face. 

“Remember the blonde Princess I talked about all those years ago?” she says, observing her pristine nails, “I knew Satoru would warm up to her if he tried,” your tea was gone by the end of her sentence and you lacked the stimulation now required for this conversation; your uneasiness eating away at your insides. 

“I’ve heard she’s lovely,” your throat is dry despite downing an entire cup of tea. 

“Oh more than lovely, if you could even imagine. I’ve never seen Satoru more at peace than when he’s listening to her playing piano. She’s quite the pianist!” 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru did indeed enjoy the times she played for him. The melody left no room for chatter. It was the only moment the two of them were together that he could close his eyes and rest; shutting down after hours of struggling to be present. He didn’t need to pretend to listen to how her day went or care about her childhood. He didn’t need to make up details about his day or share stories of his own youth that he struggled to edit you out of. He could just be. And that’s how Satoru preferred it. 

You would never know about it because ‘how could you?’ - but Satoru was a new man. Gone were the days of acting out or scoffing at his lessons. Gone were the days he preferred fencing to etiquette lessons. He now spent his time indoors because that’s where his bed was closest. His new favorite activity was painting. It was quiet and kept his mind occupied. He enjoyed painting with the new Princess the most - she would play while he would paint and as her hands created beautiful melodies Satoru’s created melancholy works of art

She peers a glance at his canvas over the piano, eyebrows furrowing as she notices the brooding blues, “You do realize this song is meant to elicit joy?” she inquires playfully, and Satoru apologizes. 

“Forgive me, I don’t have much experience with music theory,” his brush dips into the blue oil paint before dabbing it onto the course fabric. 

“Blue seems to be your favorite color,” she comments, her hands walking over each other as the keys come alive from her touch. 

Satoru nods, “I do enjoy reds too. Deep reds,” he murmurs. 

The color of his bleeding heart. 

𝜗𝜚

When the King and Queen announce a new ball, Satoru already understands the reason without being told. He had to fix his blunder - the one where he abandoned his duties and prioritized the pleasure your presence gave him. He hadn’t seen you since that day - but he was sure your face would bring him anything but pleasure nowadays. He was agreeing to the expectations of this new event without listening. It didn’t matter to him anyways. His life wasn’t his - this was a fact he could no longer be gullible about. 

That’s why he stood there in the center of the ballroom, fingers interlaced with the Princess as he smiled down at her like she meant something to him. Because his life wasn’t his and there were worse women in the world to be arranged to. The Princess really wasn’t all that bad. She was intelligent, respectful, charitable and incredibly humble. She knew there was more to life than her appearance all while being a sight for sore eyes. Satoru couldn’t have expected anyone more perfect for the role of his wife. With his heart now out of the picture - there was no better option than her. He could see that clearly now.

She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, hiding her blush as Satoru talked about the first day they met to an inquiring older man and that is when you finally see the two of them together. Surprisingly, you’re allowed out of your metaphorical cage - the King and Queen now fully entrusting you in the same room as Satoru after you successfully stomped out his light. You’re with the kitchen boy, Nanami, who was the Queen’s new show pony she liked to trot around; insisting he was there to describe the new hors d'oeuvre he created himself. Neither of you were entirely convinced the Queen thought that highly of the dish - rather than the idea of having such an esteemed cook now residing in her royal kitchen. Your jaw drops seeing the two of them next to each other. You had only seen paintings of the Princess, and even those did not prepare you for the intensity of her eyes and the silkiness of her hair. You were right all those years ago; next to Satoru wearing his family’s signature blue - she fit perfectly. 

And Satoru. Your Satoru. He looked so sorrowfully beautiful. His jaw was sharper and his eyes were darker but he was still Satoru and that fact alone made it impossible to look away. You had no right - but your watery eyes threatened to spill over watching the Prince hold hands with the Princess. A pitiful feeling fell over you once you realized you couldn’t read his expression. There had never been a day that you couldn’t skim his face like the pages of a book and pinpoint exactly what he was thinking - but now being in the same room with him after so long - you realized you were no longer privy to his thoughts like you used to be. Perhaps that ability was now reserved for the woman who held his hand. If it wasn’t so devastating you might have considered thanking the Queen for what she made you do. You had to have looked so silly beside him seeing the Princess in front of you now - appearing to be a piece of the same puzzle by his side. 

“Are you doing okay?” a deep voice prods your ear and you turn to see Nanami, standing by your side with a look of worry. The Queen wasn’t entirely wrong when she spoke of rumors that the two of you were close - you were in a lot of ways. Just not in the way she found most interesting. Nanami taught you a lot of skills in the kitchen. He showed you the best ways to cut vegetables and the importance of never looking away from milk boiling on a stove top. He told you stories of his travels in search of the best ingredients and his experience being raised on the country-side of a faraway nation whose people were dying of hunger. How his life as a child shaped him into who he was to this day: a seasoned cook who the highest of society paid a pretty penny to grace their kitchens. For some time you spared him the details of your life and he took it well - waiting for the moment you decided he was someone you could trust - and once you did it seemed to flow out of you and never stop. He knew all about your childhood with Satoru and how things became the way they are now. He didn’t scoff at you for daring to imagine yourself next to a Prince or gawk at the audacity it must take to delude yourself into believing your life could possibly be different than those before you. He just listened while he prepared a snack for the two of you. It was cathartic being around someone who carried as much baggage as you. The two of you were stronger than ever by each other’s side, and that is why you stood with him while he talked to the snobs he couldn’t stand and he stood with you while you watched the Prince make his love interest known to everyone. “Go take a moment for yourself, I’ll cover for you,” he offered and you shook your head.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone with these assholes,” you say, earning a chuckle from the blond man next to you. You look up at him and all though he’s laughing his eyes don’t contain humor - more concerned for you while witnessing the same display you had to. He knew it couldn’t be easy.

He leaned in once more, “Well if you change your mind, I won’t be mad,” you smile at him, grateful that you weren’t entirely alone in your new reality. 

𝜗𝜚

Just like the two of you could see the royal couple they could see you too - if they knew what to look for. You caught the Prince’s eye while he took a sip of his champagne, using it as a moment to take in the scene around him until he spotted you. He didn’t know what to expect when he first considered the possibility of running into you again; you two inhabited the same estate and though it was big you had your whole lives to bump into each other. Originally he thought his anger would get the better of him once he finally laid eyes on you. Or he considered that given enough time had passed, looking into your eyes wouldn’t elicit any kind of emotion in him - completely indifferent to your role in his life, like all other servants. What he didn’t expect was for his heart to fail him, the once slow pace now jump started with adrenaline. His heart rate was wild and his pupils dilated. The bubbly drink that usually burned on the way down had effortlessly passed his throat and entered his stomach that grew weak with just one look at you. If he wasn’t careful the Princess beside him would take note of how he completely removed himself from their conversation - but careful he could not be. He wanted to curse his cheeks for warming up at the mere thought of breathing the same air as you… how could he be present? Satoru wouldn’t have even noticed the man standing next to you if not for the way his tall form towered over you, blocking you from the Prince’s view. That’s when Satoru began to grow just a little more aware of his surroundings - or more so your surroundings. While he repeated the words you said to him that day like it was a prayer he couldn’t help but retell before bed - lest he forget - he still fought the logical side of him begging him to accept your words as fact. But he couldn’t because he couldn’t accept your own interpretation of your feelings while you shook and sniffled in the stables. He believed you wanted nothing more to do with him - but he thought the pressure of fighting for your rightful place in his life was one you could no longer stomach. That was what caused him the pain he felt each passing moment. That you lost your fight because Satoru wasn’t worth it. But how could he believe you lost your fight when you had no one in your life pressuring you to move on like he did - yet there you stood seemingly cozy next to the tall man beside you. Perhaps the thought of you giving up on Satoru hurt his heart less and that was why he settled on that thought, instead of the earth-shattering possibility that you could have actually wanted nothing to do with him.

So why would you have kissed him?

𝜗𝜚

It was a quiet afternoon when the two of you decided to stroll through the garden’s after Satoru’s tea break. You often found it beneficial to have Satoru spend time outside inbetween his lessons - he would have a new found focus when given the chance to allow his mind to wander in the cool air that the spring time offered. His fingers would busy themselves with the petals of a flower and you would walk in silence beside him, listening to him ramble or letting him bask in the tranquility nature offered. 

That day was one of those times Satoru pondered silently and you let him, enjoying the unique flowers the Gojo’s had planted from all across the globe while you walked by his side. His face was scrunched in thought and his hands were busy with the stem of a lily, using his thumbs to pry the plant open to feel around its sticky insides. You two were deep in your walk, the garden trail extending surprisingly far on the Gojo’s lawn. The estate was now hidden by the yards of thick bushes that separated the trail from other parts of their extensive property. Satoru let out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and you turned to look at him. 

He seemed anxious, the tips of his ears were deep red and his face was scrunched with worry. “Did you get a sunburn, Satoru?” you ask him, stopping him in his tracks to get a better look at his ears. They were hot to the touch as you inspected them but he was antsy rather than in pain from the grip you had on his cartilage.

“What do you think about kissing?” he asked, his cheeks turning as red as his ears. You giggle at him, not because it was random - no that was normal for Satoru - but the topic was a bit suspicious.

“Why do you ask?” you all but flirt - finding the confidence to since you had the upper hand.

“I don’t know… it just kept coming up in the book I’ve been reading,” he puts simply, trying to end the conversation he brought up. It was rare for Satoru to embarrass himself like such, and it was going to be hard for him to get you to ignore it. 

“You've been thinking a lot about kissing, haven't you?” you continue to tease, and he scratches the back of his neck. 

“No!” he scoffs, “Just.. nevermind,” the flower he was dissecting was discarded for a new one - his fingers plucking the petals before tearing into the ovule roughly. 

“I don’t know what I think about kissing, I’ve never kissed,” you answer his original question, engaging him back into the conversation. 

“Me neither,” he responded, defiling the poor flower a little less since you had his attention. ‘What do you think it’s like?” It’s your turn to blush and he definitely realizes his newfound control over the conversation - turning the tables on you as he begins to poke you about it. “It’s probably wet, right? Well if you used tongue,” you’re a blushing mess listening to your best friend describe something such as tongue-kissing and he’s smiling at you. His pearly white teeth sparkle under the sun while he continues his torture, “I’d imagine it’s warm too - and soft. Your lips look soft,” he comments and you could feel yourself struggling to hold back your bashful reaction. He knew how to work you up just like you knew how to work him up. Unfortunately he was a little bit better at it than you - or you were just more susceptible under his gaze. He comes in closer to you - you think just to tease you further and get your heart to racket against your chest and you’re not entirely wrong. It’s hard to focus when his broad shoulders contrast yours and when you feel the palm of his hand touch your sternum to feel the pounding of your heart - you can’t fathom how you’re still standing on your own. “Your heart rate is fast,” he comments, pretending he has no concept as to why that could be. 

“You flirt too much, Satoru,” you grumble at him, trying and failing to steady your heart beats with him so close. His breath smells sweet like the candies he eats and you can’t protect your nose from the pleasant musk that clings to his skin. 

“I’m not flirting. I’m just asking you a question,” he’s somehow closer and his hand won’t leave the spot between your breasts. 

“Yeah. Kissing is probably warm and wet and whatever else you said,” you mumble, desperate to crawl away from him while simultaneously scared of losing physical contact with him. 

“Maybe we should test our hypothesis,” he’s still smiling but his eyes don’t match; half lidded while he observes the twitch of your lips at his words. You gulp, unable to keep yourself from looking at his own pair of lips. You note that they look soft too, even when he bites at them upon noticing you’re doing the same as him. “It can just be a quick one,” he says, almost like he’s trying to convince you now like he’s already convinced himself years ago. Unbeknownst to him you needed very little convincing. 

“Just a quick one,” you all but breathe out, and the two of you are leaning in without realizing it until your lips meet. Your lips feel plump against his, soft like the pillow he lays his head on at night and he doesn’t want it to end. His hand meets your jaw, holding you still while his lips get used to the feeling of yours against them. Your hands come up to grip his shirt, bracing yourself while he slowly deepens it, testing the waters by slowly poking his tongue inside your mouth. You pull back, yelping at the unexpected intrusion. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice sultry and deep and you nod at him, going back in for more. He starts slowly again, pecking your lips softly before working his way up to prodding his tongue cautiously against your sweet lips. You let him in and he all but groans, gripping your waist with his other hands so he can feel you pressed up against him. You both have no idea what you’re doing, teeth and tongues hesitantly clashing as you explore each other’s mouths. His pulse quickens when you let out a weak moan muffled by his mouth hot against yours. His hand on your jaw slowly works its way down your neck, across your collarbone, before hesitantly stopping at the start of your breast. You’re both clouded by the haze created between the two of you, unaware of your surroundings until you hear the scurry of an animal. You both pull away - scanning the area with no luck of finding the creature that caused it. You clear your throat and try your best to pull yourself together - but it’s hard when his eyes are so dark and his lips are so red and glossy from your spit.

“Let’s get back, Satoru. Your teacher will be expecting you soon,” and off you go, with Satoru trailing behind you.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru had never felt the foreign concept of competition in regards to you. It must be the reason he felt such vitriolic jealousy seeing you next to another man. He had no time to consider himself a fool. He wanted nothing more than to see his nose smashed in and your eyes on him again. 

But Satoru had to remind himself he was different. He was no longer the old Satoru whose emotions reigned over his logic. While the new Satoru was born through pain, it would do him good to act on the new things he learned; like patience. 

And patience he needed when later that night he found himself wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water - expecting the room to be empty and overcome with shock when he saw you there. You’re not alone either. The man from earlier guided your hand as you two fileted a fish. And what an odd sight it was - seeing your back pressed up another man’s chest as he carefully guided your knife against the belly of a salmon. Nanami notices the Prince first, respectfully removing his guiding hands and you look up, mouth agape at the sight of the unimpressed Prince in front of you. “Prince Gojo,” you both say, bowing respectfully at him. “How can we be of service?” Nanami asks, still stuck in his bow to Satoru. For the first time in your life you see Satoru ponder his next words and it is almost as shocking as being in the same room as him for the second time after going no-contact all those months ago. You aren’t used to him thinking so long about what to say; you’d always known him to speak his mind unfiltered. It made you incredibly uneasy.

“Are they aware you two occupy the kitchens after they’re meant to be closed,” he asks and you’re even more confused. Satoru? Becoming a stickler for rules? Your jaw hung open just for a moment when you remembered to pick it back up. 

“We’re very sorry, your royal highness. We will be sure to clean up and head off to bed,” Nanami is nothing short of respectful but Satoru still can’t hold back a scoff, turning his head to glance your way. His eyes miss their softness you’ve always been used to and you cower under his eyes, keeping your gaze on the ground until he finally turns around and leaves. 

𝜗𝜚

That night is the first night you let yourself think about Satoru again, now having many things to think about as you lay awake in your bed. 

He looked… almost disappointed in you? You try to fight the idea of him caring what you chose to do, chalking it up to your hopeless wanting that he was as stuck on you as you were stuck on him. But you saw him tonight with the Princess; getting close to her like he only ever did with you and you know you can’t let yourself get caught up in misguided optimism - Satoru had moved on and did exactly what you needed him to do… So why did that realization have to be so unbelievable to you?

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┊p1┊p2┊p3┊p4┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p5┊

(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

→ Part 1

Masterlist

You're used to crude comments, truly. Living in the Outer Banks has proven nothing other than the fact that kooks will always be cruel, even if it's towards other kooks. As long as you're in a bathing suit, something is going to be said. Which is proven true as you lie on the beach, book in hand, and sunglasses hung low on your nose. It's your only day off and you were going to enjoy it. Soak up the sun as much as you can because summer would fade away before you knew it. You had only chosen the two piece bathing suit to get more of a tan, maybe a little extra sun. It's only twenty pages into your book you hear two boys snickering not far from your own set up.

"Look a beached whale, should we call the authorities?" your ears burn red only slightly, after all you were used to it. Honestly you could care less anymore.

"God, she has to know that's gross" the other responds after his bellowing laughs have calmed down. They truly can't be that stupid they don't realize how loud they're talking right?

"No decent looking, hell self respecting man would ever date a girl like that" this punches the air out of your lungs. You knew your body type wasn’t considered attractive. This was common knowledge, but to hear someone say you couldn’t possibly ever date an attractive man is something else entirely.

“I know I wouldn’t” the boys laugh again, hands clapping together as they stare you down like you were the most disgusting thing on this beach.

You’re not upset about what they were saying. You survived highschool after all. Your school had already been divided by kooks and pogues, add in the big girl and that’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve heard the most vile and mean things a person could say. Somehow you came out of it with still a little self respect, hell even some confidence, because if you were anything at all it was strong. You had dated here and there, never had anything stick though. Maybe that’s why this comment resonated so hard with you. No matter how decent a person you meet maybe you’re bound to end up ugly and alone because an attractive man belongs with an attractive girl.

Rafe has had to attend hundreds of useless business meetings since his Dad died. He had wanted this. When he was nineteen and trying to prove to his Dad that he was worth it, but now he was gone. He had no one to impress anymore and at twenty three he carried the burden of being the CEO of an entire company with his last name on it. So that’s how he finds himself inside of dark clubs at noon, sharing a scotch with guys willing to play dirty to get what they want. He often wonders why he had wanted this life so badly. Everything he had believed in for so long was now gone. His Dad, the treasure, and now even kooks and pogues. Ever since his sister had found that treasue social classes had been practically eliminated or at least weren't acknowledged like they were before. All of this had now left Rafe without a sense of self and he desperatley needed something to change.

"Man, why can't they hire pretty waitresses to look at anymore?" Levi, a coworker slurred as he watched their waitress walk away. Rafe noticed her shoulders stiffen because she had heard what he had said. He hated he felt guilty over it.

"It's a bar, not a strip club" Matt, another coworker teased and Rafe rolled his eyes. Four years ago these guys could've been his best friends, and he would've teased the waitress right along with them. Now things were different, he was different.

"I happen to think she's cute" Rafe told them before finishing the last sip of his scotch. He knew when he got back to the office people would give disapproving looks but he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was like he was just floating and letting the tide drag him along wherever it wanted to.

"Yeah right" Matt snorted out a laugh and Rafe gave him a confused look as Levi started to laugh along with him.

"Seriously Rafe, you’re way out of her league" Levi told him, his shoulder bumping with his own.

"No I'm not and there is no such thing as leagues" Rafe told them with a pointed look but the boys just continued to laugh anyway.

"Yes there is and the only one's in Rafe Cameron's league are tall hot blondes with legs for miles and tan skin smooth enough slide on" Matt said and Rafe felt his stomach clench as they spoke. Had he unintentionaly maintained a type, only taken someone for their looks? Flashes of ex girlfriends went through his mind and he had realized after all this time he had only taken women for surface things.

“That can’t be true” Rafe shook his head and the boys just chuckled.

“Admit dude, you’re an asshole and you like pretty little things. Nothing wrong with that” Levi said as he slapped his back, taking another sip of his own scotch. Rafe however realized there was everything wrong with that. Yeah he’s been a jerk his whole life but had he ever actually dated a girl he liked? Someone with substance?

“Hell would freeze over the day Rafe Cameron dated someone other than a supermodel” Matt pointed with the scotch in his hand and Rafe just shook his head, eyes scanning over the small crowd that littered the bar. For the first time he was seeing people he never would’ve noticed before.

He wondered if this was a side effect of his life before. Privileged kook, popularity, a need to impress everyone around him. Had women become a part of all of that too? A side effect of a need to please, to be the best. Had he been wasting years of actually meeting someone with a personality due to his natural self destructive ways? God he hoped not. Then again he couldn’t recall ever really liking the girls he dated, he usually just tuned them out and used them when he needed to make an appearance with a date. He had never actually dated someone for fun. Worst of all he hated that everyone knew this of him. That he dated for appearance instead of happiness. He wanted to change that.

You could only take so much of the harassment coming from the two boys on the beach, so after three hours you declared you’d had enough sun and started to pack your things. When the cover up slipped over your head you didn’t miss the applause coming from them. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your bag and started the hike up the beach. You needed a drink.

Rafe hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts over the girls he dated. After a very long recollection of every girl he had ever brought around he couldn’t think of one he actually enjoyed spending time with. With this in mind he dismissed Matt and Levi back to the office, claiming he’d find a way back on his own. He needed more time to think about this, and a stiff drink to go along with it. So that’s how he found himself now sitting directly at the bar and not inside the dark booth. The whiskey in his hand suggested he wasn’t making it back to the office anytime soon.

Normally he wouldn’t remove his focus from the drink in his hands but when a bag is slapped on the counter top beside him he finds himself lifting his head. The girl claiming the seat beside him is dressed in stark contrast to his own attire. He’s still in his work suit, tie loosened around his neck, but the girl beside him has clearly just come from the beach. Her hair is wild and wrapped in a bun a top her head. A red bikini strap peaks out the collar of the white coverup. Her breasts had left wet spots slightly see through to the red fabric of her top, like she had left the beach in a rush.

“Hit me with the usual Randy” she calls to the bar keep and Rafe can’t tear his eyes away from her. She’s bigger, sure, but the dip of her hips and small pouted lips have Rafe every bit of intrigued. He can’t help the thought of her being a girl he might’ve never noticed before escape him. He wanted to notice her now.

“Rough day?” Randy smirks at her when he’s back, a tall glass with a dark liquid set in front of her. She takes a sip before responding.

“Every day is a rough day” she mutters and Randy just chuckles before walking off to serve other customers. It’s only when your eyes lock with his own Rafe realizes he has been staring this entire time. “Let me guess, you got something to say just like everyone else today”

“I, what?” Rafe doesn’t expect the coldness from you and how strong willed you are with it too. You aren’t scared of him, he isn’t used to that.

“Listen I’ve had my fill of assholes today so if you don’t have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself” you told him before turning back forward and taking a large gulp from the drink in your hand.

“Got someone bothering you?” Rafe asked finding his cool. He finally got himself to tear his eyes away from you, eyes scanning over the liquor bottles behind the bar. You turn to look at him, eyes drawn together in confusion.

“Not one specific person, everyone for some reason thinks they have the right to comment on my appearance” your words get him to turn back at you. Normally men don’t make you nervous but when you watch him eye you up and down you can’t help the way your heart accelerates.

“I happen to think you look just fine” the scoff that falls from your lips shocks him.

“I’m not looking for your pity, I happened to over hear today that no decent self respecting man would date me so let’s not lie to each other” you tell him and Rafe now feels the air knocked from his lungs. He can’t believe anyone would say that to you. Let alone to your face.

“If it makes you feel better I was told today that I only date woman for surface things” now you were the one drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, looking to the mystery of a man beside you.

“Surface things?” you question the stranger and he chuckles, his rings clinking on his whiskey glass.

“Appearances, apparently I’ve never looked deeper” this has you chuckling right along with him, lifting your own drink to your lips.

“Look at us then, two sides of the same coin. Makes you wonder if there really is anyone out there actually happy with who they ended up with” you say mostly to yourself, knowing this perfect stranger on a normal day would never look your way but you also would never find yourself thinking you had a chance with him.

“I think there is, at least the people who weren’t chewed up and spit out by the world” the optimism is what shocks you the most when he speaks. A hope for something better down in there.

“I wish I was one of those people” you find yourself saying and the boy turns to look at you again, eyes scanning over each of your features.

“Maybe we should prove them wrong” now you’re laughing, looking bewildered towards the boy beside you.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” you ask and he smirks, clearly having some sort of plan.

“We date. I prove to my coworkers that I date someone for more than just their looks and you prove to all those assholes that you can date a guy as good looking as me” he gestures to himself, as if his body is some of God’s best work. You scoff at his clear cheekiness but actually find yourself considering.

“I don’t even know your name” you laugh, trying to remind yourself that this ideal is completely absurd.

“Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you” his hand reaches across the bar, you take notice of how long his fingers are. With the shake of your head you find yourself putting your hand in his own.

“It’s not that simple” you tell him and he just smiles, dimples forming around his pressed together lips.

“Isn’t it though?” he says, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes and you sigh, finally removing your hand from his own.

“Date? As in fake date?” you ask and he nods, his head tipping to the side.

“Exactly, an agreement of sorts. We both benefit from each other, everything to gain and nothing to lose” he tells you like he’s already worked out every way this could end.

“We just met” you inform him and he shrugs, implying this wasn’t an issue.

“I’ve seen people date over less” he tells you and you sigh, holding your hand out to him. He looks are your empty palm confused and you quickly roll your eyes.

“You can’t take me out ion a date without my number dream boy” you tell him and he smirks while grabbing his phone out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. He watched as you meticulously open his contacts and punch in your number. You’ve named your contact ‘baby ❤️’ but he doesn’t get your real name until you type it into other names.

“Y/N? I like that” he smiles at you and you chuckle, clicking on the profile photo to take a selfie.

“We’re already off to a bad start if you want to stop liking people for just their surface things” he likes how quick witted you are and you don’t allow him a response as you lean into his personal space. “Can’t be a real girlfriend if I don’t have a profile picture in your phone”

You smile so easily and he instantly notices how beautiful it is. He’s not looking at the camera anymore but leaning in and taking in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the sunscreen and salty skin. You were like a walking beach and he loved that more than anything. That is how he finds his lips pressing softly against your cheek as the camera shutter clicks on his phone. Your body has chills that you have to brush off quickly as you look at the entirely real looking photo on his screen.

“If I didn’t like what was on the surface you would never be my fake girlfriend” he finally says as he takes his phone back before you could text yourself his number.

“I don’t like how easy this is for you. Are you sure I’m your first fake girlfriend?” you ask and he laughs, eyes falling on your face again.

“The first and the only” and you decide that coming into an agreement like this with a stranger shouldn’t be this simple.

“Then we need to lay some ground rules” this has him raising his eyebrows as you grab a napkin from the bar. He watches as you leaned over, searching for a pen behind the bar. Unashamedly he took the opportunity to inspect your ass, admiring the curve and thanking the see through fabric for revealing the cheeky bikini bottoms that laid over your large curves. He had never openly allowed himself to be attracted to a bigger girl. but now he was briefly wondering what it would be like to be suffocated by one.

“So, what’s these rules?” he smirked at you once you were sat back upright in your seat. He watched as you popped the cap off the pen with your teeth and leaving it in your mouth.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll keep them simple” you tell him, dropping the cap from you lips into the bar. He felt himself flush slightly at the nickname, watching as your neat and loopy handwriting moved across the napkin.

1. Must actively text/call/interact for a week before first “official” date.

2. PDA must be limited

3. Don’t catch feelings, no matter what

4. Attend whatever event your fake significant other asks of you

5. Most of all, don’t tell anyone, ever, that this is fake

“PDA must be limited?” you roll your eyes at the fact this was the only rule he questioned but you sign at the bottom of the napkin anyway.

“I don’t want to waste all of romantic gestures on something that isn’t real” you explain to him and he nods, sliding the napkin in front of him.

“I have a lot of work dinners I would like you to attend” he says as he signs the napkin.

“I’ll try my best” you tell him and now he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“It’s your rule” he points at the napkin, more confused with you than when you first walked in here. “What could you possibly be busy with?”

“Work” you tell him and he still looks confused which you find adorable. Now rule number three only applies to you.

“Every night?” he questions and you chuckle as you return the pen to the other side of the bar.

“Usually, comes with the territory” and you laugh as he continues to try and process what you’re saying.

“What territory?” he asks and you smile, finishing the drink in front of you.

“My bar” and you gesture to the building around you. Rafe suddenly realizes why you know the names of the workers and why they know your usual drink order.

“You own this place?” and you nod, sliding off your seat and grabbing your bag. You also grab the napkin, now signed by you both.

“Don’t forget rule number one handsome” you tell him before heading towards the exit, determined to have a good rest of your day off. Rafe can only watch as you walk away, baffled any of what just happened actually occurred.

“Randy, I’m gonna need a refill”

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

[pandoa]

all i want for christmas is you!!

christmas & winter fluff headcanons with all of the twst characters!

~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

(not so) mandatory christmas/winter special from yours truly <3 merry christmas and happy holidays c:

♡— ace trappola pulls you into an ambush of snowballs along the sidewalks of the road as you two walk home on your way back from a days worth of work at nrc. the impact is sudden, leaving your cheeks turning cold the instant the sphere of softened ice hits your face. your eyes meet the twinkle in ace's eyes as he laughs mischievously and reaches his hand into the snow beneath him to conjure up another frozen weapon. he smirks with triumph as he grins a boyish grin that has your heart racing, excitement and challenge coursing through your veins as you turn to get your own snowball.

ace scoffs as you walk away, appalled that you decided to turn away rather than give him your attention, "what, can't handle that fact that i wo-?"

smack!

he spoke too soon.

♡— deuce spade has a surprise for you. and it's killing him not being able to tell you. the surprise consists of a neatly wrapped box his mother helped decorate and a very, very, very thought-out script he'd been rehearsing since november. only the best for you, right? deuce has worked hard to put together your present, going so far as to ask cater for an online link to "cute gifts to give the person you're confessing to during the holidays" on magicam to try and help him brainstorm the perfect gift for you. with that and the knowledge he's learned from you regarding human holidays, deuce has managed to put together something he hopes will show you the words "i. like. you." in more ways than one. he just... really wants you. to like him back, he means.

♡— cater diamond wears matching holiday pajamas with you. he sees it as it's trending all over the internet as cute couples with the same berry red plaid pajamas and matching black hoodies fool around on camera as they all dance playfully together, a memory he'd like to recreate with you. he ropes you into the silly tradition, stopping by your dorm to force coax you into the festive attire. you really have no say in this, and the ever-present phone camera pointed towards both you and cater prove it. you may not even be dating... but that doesn't stop him from persuading you to match with him in the name of you both being "cute for the holidays." in reality, though, he's having the time of his life right now as people in his comment section begin to assume that you two were truly a couple. it's not a crime if he doesn't correct them, right?

♡— trey clover hosts a gingerbread house contest with you. and only you. the idea springs up when you mention the tradition in your world, and trey being the observant man he is, decides that it wouldn't hurt if you two both did it, too. it was well in his element anyway. there was no harm in hosting it as along as you seemed to be enjoying it. designating an entire day to first make the gingerbread from scratch, trey then promptly invites you over to heartslabyul to finally decorate separate houses of sweets. he gives you one set of gingerbread and the other to himself before starting a timer which will signal the beginning of your contest. may the best house win~

oh... what do you win if you do end up creating the best house?

trey will let you decide that :)

♡— riddle rosehearts reads you sweet stories before you go to bed. it's after a long and chilling day as the weather outside prevents either of you from going out, making the both of you stuck to your own devices as you spend the day lazing around the dorm, cozying into your comfiest and warmest attire. you wrap yourselves into as many blankets as possible as you nuzzle into the plush cushions of the couch. riddle, whose face was a light shade of pink (whether that be due to the cold of the temperature or his a little closer proximity to you), then begins to recite a few stories he's memorized by heart as his voice lulls you into sleep. the evening grows darker and colder, yet you and riddle grow warmer and content as he finishes his story, realizing you'd fallen asleep, and softly smiles at you before making sure you were securely tucked into your blankets.

☼— jack howl takes you to go see the beautiful lights of the holidays. at first, he acts indifferent to the festivities of the lights, not really paying them any special mind as he goes on about his day. but when he found out that you personally do find enjoyment in seeing the lights, he makes it his unofficial duty of taking you to see this custom. he asks you in the most awkwardly endearing way; his in denial tendencies showing as he refuses to admit that he's bringing you because, well, he cares for you.

"you like... to see the lights, right?"

"oh- no, i don't really care if we go see these or not. i can live without them."

"but you want to see them, so i guess we coul-"

"wait! i mean- no, i did not say anything. just shut up and come with me."

give the boy a break. he just wants to see you happy~

☼— ruggie bucchi handmakes you a present. it's simple and adorable, although don't say that to him out loud. he knows it is, but... just don't admit it out loud, yeah? he begging you. ruggie works hard to make you this present, going so far as to start preparations weeks before he ever gives it to you. it wasn't too difficult to make, in actuality, it's just that he had made sure every detail was meticulously checked constantly for the best results. thinking of you that entire time making the gift, ruggie is eager to find out your reaction once you open the present. on the outside, he looks as if he really couldn't care less of what your reaction will be. but on the inside, the young man hopes that you'll come to like whatever his nimble hands have made for you.

☼— leona kingscholar is a lazy man. but, sometimes, maybe lazy works out in your favor? you think about this as you and leona lay together in the comforts of the warm cushions of the couch you both had squeezed yourselves on, both laying horizontally as you tightly squished yourselves on the couch as if it were bed. leona lays next to you, his breathing slow and steady as he naps with his arm draped over your waist like a blanket. usually, you'd be pushing this man to wake up and get on his nerves for being so "lazy." but now, you find yourself relaxing as your head rests against his chest—feeling the warmth of his body radiating onto yours. and with the freezing snow falling outside, it was hard to resist this moment of peacefully cuddling the typically more arrogant housewarden. it was comfortable, and that was all that mattered.

❋— floyd leech trades (purposefully) silly gifts with you. you both make a challenge for yourselves: whoever gives the most obscure gift wins. and both of you intend on beating the other. you really couldn't remember how the idea first started, though... all you remember is telling floyd of the traditions in your world and then bam. a brilliant idea struck both of your minds. the process is chaotic and strenuous, but the amount of "weird" items you and floyd find while searching is quite amusing. especially in sam's shop of wonders. but despite the laughs you share with him, this is still a competition. whoever out-sillies the other will win. the challenge is on.

❋— despite the winter festivities taking place, jade leech decides to take you to a more... tropical celebration during the holidays. he brings you along to see the seaside as he pulls you into the clear waters of the ocean for a swim, the heat of the sun contrasting the the cold your other friends were probably currently experiencing. a holiday in the heat isn't unheard of, actually; you just didn't expect for jade to invite you of all people to accompany him, let alone with the trip only consisting you and him. he guides you into the slightly deeper side of the waters as his merform is now seen with you grasping his hands in the ocean. the cold water and heat of the island is a nice change of pace for once as you let jade take both of you wherever he wished, with you keeping your hold on his hand the entire time.

❋— azul ashengrotto takes a day off from working to spend time with you, even if it was just for a day. with work constantly filling his mind, it's sometimes difficult for him to spend time with you outside of your visits to mostro lounge or the occasional spotting and waving in between classes at nrc. but! this time is different because today, azul makes it his goal to take work completely off of his mind as he makes his way to your dorm. mostro lounge should be perfectly fine without him for 24 hours... he left jade in charge, so he knows business is in capable hands. once he picks you up from your dorm, azul decides it would be more gentlemanly of him to let you choose a place for you two spend time at. anything. he needs to make up for all of those times he'd been so caught up in matters at octavinelle, of course.

✰— jamil viper holds your hand in his as he places your hands in his pocket while you walk together. it's another cold day as you're all bundled up in cozy winter jackets when jamil notices you trying to warm your hands up by huffing warm air into your palms. after watching you do this a few more times, the young man walking beside you wordlessly takes your hand in his and gently places both his hand and yours into the fabric of his own pocket. you see him do this as a small flush of your cheeks adds to the already red tint of your face due to the cold. jamil makes no effort in acknowledging his actions, however, as he nonchalantly continues facing forward, ignoring the way you seemed to be left a little embarrassed but smiling by this simple gesture. but that doesn't mean jamil isn't also as equally as giddy as you. he just knows how to hide it better.

✰— kalim al-asim shares a hoodie with you. and i mean, actually shares it. literally. as in, he climbs into your hoodie as you're still wearing it and innocently wraps himself around you, his face resting against the shirt you have underneath your hoodie as he uses you as some sort of blanket. the piece of clothing is oversized enough for both of you to fit in at the same time, so it was perfect. as kalim climbs in to join you, he cuddles himself against you as the warmth from both you and the hoodie engulf him, making him feel like a little woodland creature nuzzling itself into your pocket. it's just that... the pocket was much bigger, and much more closer against you. kalim finds comfort in this space with you, so you may be stuck there for a good while~

♪— epel felmier wakes you up to the letters "i ♡ u" written in the pristine snow outside as you look at him from the window, smiling at him as he grins back at you. it's a little early in the morning at epel's home as you wake up to the sound of small snowballs tapping against the window. getting up from out of your bed to see what, or who, was throwing them, you're then met with the sight of a distant epel on the ground, waving up at you as he points to whatever he's written in the snow. your heart melts unlike the snow as you chuckle at what he's written using his footprints in the white snow, the gesture sweet as you see how proud he was with your reaction.

♪— rook hunt sings and serenades you with holiday love songs outside of your dorm's doorway. they're love songs that you had taught him yourself, but that honestly just makes the moment much more romantic and lovely than it originally would have been. with only a guitar in his hands and a bouquet of flowers resting in the quiver strapped along his back with his arrows, rook begins to play you a few songs you taught him from your world, all of which centered around love and the holidays. what other things would make this moment more perfect? the young man also goes to write you his own song as he performs it for you, french both naturally and lyrically intertwined within the words of his song. once he finishes his serenade, he takes off his hat as he places it against his heart, lowering his head in a bow fit for a gentleman.

"my only christmas wish is you, mon ange."

this huntsman truly does know how to make a person swoon, doesn't he?

♪— vil schoenheit subtly gives you a wink from the stage as he performs. with the winter season brewing, vil was set to perform for an event along with many other celebrities in twisted wonderland. he invites you along with other pomefiore students like rook to come watch as he sings and dances on the stage like a star you just couldn't bring yourself to turn away from. so obviously in his element, vil continues performing before he catches your eye looking at him from the audience and flashes you a quick wink. the wink was fast and fleeting, one second he was there glancing at you too, and then gone off to the other side of the stage the next. no one else had caught the sight of his wink your way as you stood there, concealing a smile as you returned to cheering and singing along as the image of vil smiling at you filled you with a certain type of joy.

✤— idia shroud tries his best to keep you warm. walking through the chilly temperatures of the outside, idia notices how your body seems to shiver, causing the generally isolated housewarden to glance at you with a look of concern as you both continue to walk. he debates with himself whether or not he should offer his jacket to you, the idea itself just making him shrivel up in embarrassment. what was this? some cringey shoujo manga? his mind is in conflict with itself as you two walk side by side in silence with idia's expression growing more and more furrowed as he anxiously thinks to himself. minutes pass by with you still silently shivering until idia shakily places his jacket on you. welp, yolo, idia thinks as he avoids the way you look back at him from the corner of his eye, the embarrassment all too much for him.

yolo, indeed.

♛— sebek zigvolt thinks he'd be good at ice skating. for one reason or another, you manage to challenge the boy at ice skating. and he proudly accepts. even though you both know that he has zero experience in skating. zero. it's amazing how you even managed to get this boy out of the rink without any fatal wounds as all he does on the ice skating rink is fall down rambunctiously and yell because he claims that you had another student "curse" the ice, causing him to fall down almost every two minutes. in reality, though, sebek just lacks any semblance of grace when it comes to the ice. he won't accept defeat from a mere human, however! no, no, no... you both will be staying there until sebek can successfully skate through the entire rink without falling! onward, human!

♛— silver makes the true magic of the holidays happen as he uses his magic to make a reindeer fly, just like in the stories you'd always tell him about your world. he knows that, in your world, those stories are merely fictional, but he wishes to show you something beautiful during your time in twisted wonderland. so, he makes a few of his woodland friends fly as he guides you into the forest he typically spends his time in, showing you sights you'd never seen before as you both hop onto the back of the reindeer and see the world in an entirely different point of view with silver and the reindeer guiding you through the stratosphere.

♛— lilia vanrouge catches you in a mistletoe "trap." you're completely caught off-guard as you search for him all over nrc after getting an ominous message from him reading only the word "help", making you rush through the entire school in search for your precious fae lover. you're speeding through the halls until the frightening, but still adorable, face of lilia suddenly pops up in front of you with a playful grin before promptly placing a light kiss to your forehead... all while he hung upside down as he held... what looked like mistletoe above both of your heads???

"i must say, (y/n), your world has very fun traditions. we should do this next year as well~"

you look at him at first with confusion until it registers in your mind as you see the familiar red and green plant in his hand.

wait. how did he get that in the first place-?

♛— malleus draconia showers you with gifts. constantly. all throughout december, malleus manages to give you more gifts than you have ever gotten your whole life. and he doesn't stop either. you can't even comprehend how he found the time to find all of these for you... or how he hasn't run out of gift ideas just yet. your dorm is almost overflowing with gifts just from him as you sort through piles of items and wrapping paper, the dorm looking even more disheveled as you attempt to organize the chaos. the instant he found out about the "season of giving," malleus made all of the effort to do just that. give, and give, and give, and give... you get the point. and it's only for you, of course. who else would the fae prince use this much effort for? only you.

a/n: i will rise from the dead whenever it comes to christmas

[g3l3mb]

how to generate creative ideas:

(i need to get this out of my brain)

Make moodboards, playlists, keep a list of people who inspire you. Before starting a project think about the general vibe you want it to embody. Ask questions like “What would this concept sound like if it was a song?” ,“What would this concept be like if it was a person?”. Create a shirt that looks like a building you like, literally anything can be combined.

Take unrelated things or concepts and mix them together. Let’s take Addams Family as an example. “What if it was a story about a typical suburban family…but GOTH!”. It basically flips everything upside down. Or “What outfit would someone wear, who’s personality is the mix of the vibes of these two songs?” Random word generators are amazing for this if you don’t know where to start from.

Try making something truly BAD and then add a twist to it. It’s a great way for your brain to let go of expectations and then think outside of the box. But you can also use this to find out what you do not wanna do under any circumstances.

Think without worrying about the limits of what you can do and when it’s time for excecution, find a way around what’s impossible. It births more creativity and adds uniqueness.

Consider what your idea is NOT before considering what it is. Limits are the best way to avoid getting overwhelmed and giving up. Don’t ALWAYS do this though (unless you wanna…), it’s just something to try out when you feel like you’re seeing too many possibilities to the point that they’re contradicting each other. Unless your goal is to make something full of contradictions, you’re a Free Man, do whatever you want.

Keep a list of random ideas you have throughout the day in your notes app or something and then at some point actually review them. Keep what you think is worth exploring and then act on it.

Find out how something works very throughoutly so you know which aspect can be changed to create something new.

Take a concept and break it down into smaller concepts, ideas, questions, key elements and then also break those ideas down etc. This will naturally lead to associations, unique ideas you wouldn’t think of without doing this. I found that this is a great way of coming up with metaphors.

This one is similar to the last two: take a piece of art you really love and try to find out the thought process behind. What’s the story, where did the artist get inspiration from, how did they incorporate those ideas in their work. How did an artist combine their personal interests and knowledge into one big thing. For example: Tolkien was an erudite linguist, so much so that he created entire functional languages in his work, such as Elvish in Lord of the Rings. Hirohiko Araki loves 80’s music so much he named characters in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure after music references. This is why no knowledge is useless knowledge.

Think about the times you’ve been the most creative before. What were the specific circumstances? For me my best ideas always come when I have a strict deadline for something unrelated, like school (which I’m way too willing to sacrifice), or when I’m doing something mindless like walking and listening to music, or playing a game that requires no thinking. Most of the time after 10p.m. This doesn’t mean I can’t “force” myself to be creative (tips above), it just means these are the times ideas come most naturally. For some people this might be being out in nature or experiencing high emotions, maybe having their life on the line idk, to each their own.

You can’t just create. You also need to consume. The more information you absorb, the more possibilities you have with your ideas. So if you’re not feeling that creative, that’s fine, it’s the perfect opportunity to learn something new.

If you don’t already do these things and you’re looking to get more creative my advice is to ACTUALLY TRY THESE OUT. You’ll best understand them in action.

[sneezypeasy]

Why I Deliberately Avoided the "Colonizer" Argument in my Zutara Thesis - and Why I'll Continue to Avoid it Forever

This is a question that occasionally comes up under my Zutara video essay, because somehow in 2 hours worth of content I still didn't manage to address everything (lol.) But this argument specifically is one I made a point of avoiding entirely, and there are some slightly complicated reasons behind that. I figure I'll write them all out here.

From a surface-level perspective, Zuko's whole arc, his raison d'etre, is to be a de-colonizer. Zuko's redemption arc is kinda all about being a de-colonizer, and his redemption arc is probably like the most talked about plot point of ATLA, so from a basic media literacy standpoint, the whole argument is unsound in the first place, and on that basis alone I find it childish to even entertain as an argument worth engaging with, to be honest.

(At least one person in my comments pointed out that if any ship's "political implications" are problematic in some way, it really ought to be Maiko, as Mai herself is never shown or suggested to be a strong candidate for being a de-colonizing co-ruler alongside Zuko. If anything her attitudes towards lording over servants/underlings would make her… a less than suitable choice for this role, but I digress.)

But the reason I avoided rebutting this particular argument in my video goes deeper than that. From what I've observed of fandom discourse, I find that the colonizer argument is usually an attempt to smear the ship as "problematic" - i.e., this ship is an immoral dynamic, which would make it problematic to depict as canon (and by extension, if you ship it regardless, you're probably problematic yourself.)

And here is where I end up taking a stand that differentiates me from the more authoritarian sectors of fandom.

I'm not here to be the fandom morality police. When it comes to lit crit, I'm really just here to talk about good vs. bad writing. (And when I say "good", I mean structurally sound, thematically cohesive, etc; works that are well-written - I don't mean works that are morally virtuous. More on this in a minute.) So the whole colonizer angle isn't something I'm interested in discussing, for the same reason that I actually avoided discussing Katara "mothering" Aang or the "problematic" aspects of the Kataang ship (such as how he kissed her twice without her consent). My whole entire sections on "Kataang bad" or "Maiko bad" in my 2 hour video was specifically, "how are they written in a way that did a disservice to the story", and "how making them false leads would have created valuable meaning". I deliberately avoided making an argument that consisted purely of, "here's how Kataang/Maiko toxic and Zutara wholesome, hence Zutara superiority, the end".

Why am I not willing to be the fandom morality police? Two reasons:

I don't really have a refined take on these subjects anyway. Unless a piece of literature or art happens to touch on a particular issue that resonates with me personally, the moral value of art is something that doesn't usually spark my interest, so I rarely have much to say on it to begin with. On the whole "colonizer ship" subject specifically, other people who have more passion and knowledge than me on the topic can (and have) put their arguments into words far better than I ever could. I'm more than happy to defer to their take(s), because honestly, they can do these subjects justice in a way I can't. Passing the mic over to someone else is the most responsible thing I can do here, lol. But more importantly:

I reject the conflation of literary merit with moral virtue. It is my opinion that a good story well-told is not always, and does not have to be, a story free from moral vices/questionable themes. In my opinion, there are good problematic stories and bad "pure" stories and literally everything in between. To go one step further, I believe that there are ways that a romance can come off "icky", and then there are ways that it might actually be bad for the story, and meming/shitposting aside, the fact that these two things don't always neatly align is not only a truth I recognise about art but also one of those truths that makes art incredibly interesting to me! So on the one hand, I don't think it is either fair or accurate to conflate literary "goodness" with moral "goodness". On a more serious note, I not only find this type of conflation unfair/inaccurate, I also find it potentially dangerous - and this is why I am really critical of this mindset beyond just disagreeing with it factually. What I see is that people who espouse this rhetoric tend to encourage (or even personally engage in) wilful blindness one way or the other, because ultimately, viewing art through these lens ends up boxing all art into either "morally permissible" or "morally impermissible" categories, and shames anyone enjoying art in the "morally impermissible" box. Unfortunately, I see a lot of people responding to this by A) making excuses for art that they guiltily love despite its problematic elements and/or B) denying the value of any art that they are unable to defend as free from moral wickedness.

Now, I'm not saying that media shouldn't be critiqued on its moral virtue. I actually think morally critiquing art has its place, and assuming it's being done in good faith, it absolutely should be done, and probably even more often than it is now.

Because here's the truth: Sometimes, a story can be really good. Sometimes, you can have a genuinely amazing story with well developed characters and powerful themes that resonate deeply with anyone who reads it. Sometimes, a story can be all of these things - and still be problematic.*

(Or, sometimes a story can be all of those things, and still be written by a problematic author.)

That's why I say, when people conflate moral art with good art, they become blind to the possibility that the art they like being potentially immoral (or vice versa). If only "bad art" is immoral, how can the art that tells the story hitting all the right beats and with perfect rhythm and emotional depth, be ever problematic?

(And how can the art I love, be ever problematic?)

This is why I reject the idea that literary merit = moral virtue (or vice versa) - because I do care about holding art accountable. Even the art that is "good art". Actually, especially the art that is "good art". Especially the art that is well loved and respected and appreciated. The failure to distinguish literary critique from moral critique bothers me on a personal level because I think that conflating the two results in the detriment of both - the latter being the most concerning to me, actually.

So while I respect the inherent value of moral criticism, I'm really not a fan of any argument that presents moral criticism as equivalent to literary criticism, and I will call that out when I see it. And from what I've observed, a lot of the "but Zutara is a colonizer ship" tries to do exactly that, which is why I find it a dishonest and frankly harmful media analysis framework to begin with.

But even when it is done in good faith, moral criticism of art is also just something I personally am neither interested nor good at talking about, and I prefer to talk about the things that I am interested and good at talking about.

(And some people are genuinely good at tackling the moral side of things! I mean, I for one really enjoyed Lindsay Ellis's take on Rent contextualising it within the broader political landscape at the time to show how it's not the progressive queer story it might otherwise appear to be. Moral critique has value, and has its place, and there are definitely circumstances where it can lead to societal progress. Just because I'm not personally interested in addressing it doesn't mean nobody else can do it let alone that nobody else should do it, but also, just because it can and should be done, doesn't mean that it's the only "one true way" to approach lit crit by anyone ever. You know, sometimes... two things… can be true… at once?)

Anyway, if anyone reading this far has recognised that this is basically a variant of the proship vs. antiship debate, you're right, it is. And on that note, I'm just going to leave some links here. I've said about as much as I'm willing/able to say on this subject, but in case anyone is interested in delving deeper into the philosophy behind my convictions, including why I believe leftist authoritarian rhetoric is harmful, and why the whole "but it would be problematic in real life" is an anti-ship argument that doesn't always hold up to scrutiny, I highly recommend these posts/threads:

In general this blog is pretty solid; I agree with almost all of their takes - though they focus more specifically on fanfic/fanart than mainstream media, and I think quite a lot of their arguments are at least somewhat appropriate to extrapolate to mainstream media as well.

I also strongly recommend Bob Altemeyer's book "The Authoritarians" which the author, a verified giga chad, actually made free to download as a pdf, here. His work focuses primarily on right-wing authoritarians, but a lot of his research and conclusions are, you guessed it, applicable to left-wing authoritarians also.

And if you're an anti yourself, welp, you won't find support from me here. This is not an anti-ship safe space, sorrynotsorry 👆

In conclusion, honestly any "but Zutara is problematic" argument is one I'm likely to consider unsound to begin with, let alone the "Zutara is a colonizer ship" argument - but even if it wasn't, it's not something I'm interested in discussing, even if I recognise there are contexts where these discussions have value. I resent the idea that just because I have refined opinions on one aspect of a discussion means I must have (and be willing to preach) refined opinions on all aspects of said discussion. (I don't mean to sound reproachful here - actually the vast majority of the comments I get on my video/tumblr are really sweet and respectful, but I do get a handful of silly comments here and there and I'm at the point where I do feel like this is something worth saying.) Anyway, I'm quite happy to defer to other analysts who have the passion and knowledge to give complicated topics the justice they deserve. All I request is that care is taken not to conflate literary criticism with moral criticism to the detriment of both - and I think it's important to acknowledge when that is indeed happening. And respectfully, don't expect me to give my own take on the matter when other people are already willing and able to put their thoughts into words so much better than me. Peace ✌

*P.S. This works for real life too, by the way. There are people out there who are genuinely not only charming and likeable, but also generous, charitable and warm to the vast majority of the people they know. They may also be amazing at their work, and if they have a job that involves saving lives like firefighting or surgery or w.e, they may even be the reason dozens of people are still alive today. They may honestly do a lot of things you'd have to concede are "good" deeds.

They may be all of these things, and still be someone's abuser. 🙃

Two things can be true at once. It's important never to forget that.

[tremendously-crazy]

Ranting about ACD Johnlock because these Victorian husbands need to be happy for me

What the hell happened between Holmes and Watson in 1902 and 1903?

Context: 3GAR is described as happening in July 1902, and ILLU happened in 1902. CREE and BLAN happened in 1903.

In 1902, Holmes and Watson were inseparable.

I don't even need to elaborate when I mention 3GAR. "It was worth a wound" should be enough to remind you of why. I was so touched when I read Holmes seeing his Watson injured and rushing to his side. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. It was amazing to read this seemingly cold, distant, and unemotional man threatening to murder the man who almost killed his best friend. There was loyalty, there was love, and it was beautiful.

According to ILLU, in 1902, they're also frequenting Turkish baths together. (which, I might add, was a common place for homosexual men to gather, do with that knowledge what you may) They're lying side by side on two couches with nothing but a blanket on either of them as they dry off. Watson hears Holmes is injured and nearly passes out, and he rushes to Baker Street to see him as soon as possible. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. He gingerly sits at his bedside to ensure that Holmes is okay. These are all very intimate things to do between friends. Indeed, this even suggests the possibility of the two being lovers.

IMAGINE that. These two are inseparable. Clearly, these two stories help to build on the idea that they love each other (platonically or romantically. To me, they seem romantically involved, but even as friends, they do love each other. It's all up to personal preference.) Their relationship is so strong, more than anything we have seen before. These stories showcase their love for each other and how passionate they are for each other.

Now, flash forward to 1903, when CREE and BLAN take place, and we are given an entirely different narrative. Watson describes himself as one of Holmes's "habits" in CREE, saying he felt as though he was an accessory to Holmes. Their relationship is "peculiar," and he is only called over to Baker Street as some kind of tool Holmes can talk to or use on a case. Holmes can rely on Watson, and he is, in a way, taking advantage of his reliability. Throughout the entire story, we can feel the tension between these two (remember how Watson had to stress over his practice in order to join Holmes on the case, and Holmes seemingly did not care at all). It seems partially resolved by the end, but there is still a feeling of bitterness that was fully apparent to me while I was reading it. It seemed like their interactions were angsty and passive-aggressive.

In BLAN, Watson does not even live with Holmes anymore, around a year after 3GAR and ILLU. Holmes explains he has "deserted" him for a wife, which he described as "the most selfish action I can recall in our years of association." Holmes was alone. In the story, Holmes cannot stop talking about how much he misses "his" Watson.

These four stories have such a sharp contrast. They have been absolutely terrorizing my brain a lot as of late. I feel like them being so close in ILLU, and *the* moment in 3GAR are some of their strongest moments together. They are both so terrified to lose each other. How is it that a year later, according to the canon, they are barely on speaking terms? My question is, if we are to trust the canon dates, what happened during those months that caused them to drift apart so terribly? How could Watson leave his Holmes for a wife so recently after these frightening events?

Another point about this supposed second wife. I don't think she even existed. (I do think Mary was really Watson's wife, and I might've reblogged a post about it somewhere) But about the second wife. As far as I'm aware, she's mentioned one (1) time in one (1) story by Holmes, and it was likely just a ploy by ACD to separate them (oh well, I'll just give him a wife. That'll separate them good enough.) It's easily enough ignored for that reason. Watson was, in fact, away from Baker Stret, but the idea of a wife was, in all probability, just made up by Holmes as an excuse for his absence.

I'd like to add my personal headcanon because the continuity in Sherlock Holmes is actually so messed up. John is called James in one story (TWIS, if you want to see for yourself.) October 9, 1890, is called a Saturday when it was really a Thursday (REDH) There's a story set in 1892, when Holmes was supposedly dead... etc, etc. Given the known unreliability of dates in these stories, would it be so unreasonable to suggest that the dates of the four I have talked about were swapped? That, in fact, CREE and BLAN were a falling out in their relationship and that ILLU and 3GAR was their healing? That the former were set in 1902 and the latter, in 1903? I can understand that after knowing someone and living with them for so many years, you may start to take them for granted. But after you narrowly lose them, you would not do such a thing again. (Especially not only a year after such a traumatic experience!!) Therefore, I believe CREE and BLAN were examples of how their relationship was beginning to fail and were actually set in 1902 (or some other date in the latter days of their relationship), and ILLU and 3GAR were reminders of how much they meant to each other, and they happened in 1903 (or, more simply, a year after CREE and BLAN).

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. I know this is completely incorrigible and nobody's gonna read it but I just wanted to get it out there.

TL;DR: Late Sherlock Holmes canon sucks. No way that they had both near death experiences in 3GAR and ILLU, and less than a year latery they can barely stand each other in CREE and BLAN. My personal headcanon says CREE and BLAN were moments of stress in their relationship and that 3GAR and ILLU happened afterward to remind them of how much they appreciated each other and help reconcile them.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 23 - Forced choice, secrets revealed, (public display) - Warriors & Legend

Slipping some hdw au into this one heh heh heh

If you’re unfamiliar with it, all you really need to know is that hw Link is part dragon. Since this is lu, that’d be Warriors. Also unrelated to hdw, Legend’s mermaid tail works like it does in my other mermaid Legend fics. Hee.

Warnings: brief blood & injury, whipping (offscreen), brief/implied animal abuse.

Ao3 link

NEXT (day 29)

————————————————————

“All right boys, I have a deal for you.”

Warriors glared at the woman who’d spoken, her smile much too bright for the situation. Her boot pressed down harder on Legend’s chest, and the veteran wheezed, gills flaring as he tried to get in water that wasn’t there.

“The only deal I’m making is one that involves you letting him go,” Warriors snapped, and the woman let out a tsk, sending dark hair over her shoulder as she shook her head.

“That’s not an option. He’s just what my troupe needs, a new attraction, some extra spice. ‘The boy who can breathe both water and air! Watch as his legs twist into one, how he defies nature itself!’” she said excitedly. “Business will boom!”

The group of performers around her cheered, shaking their weapons in the air. Legend wheezed again, and Warriors looked down at him in a panic, his tail flapping weakly in the shallow water it rested in. It was just enough water to trigger Legend’s mermaid tail, but not nearly enough for him to breathe.

The whole situation was ridiculous honestly, the two of them swarmed by the group after Legend had tripped on a loose cobblestone and accidentally triggered his scales by falling into the gutter. It would be laughable if Legend wasn’t trapped and essentially drowning, and Warriors didn’t have a good dozen weapons pointed at his neck.

Legend’s face was starting to turn red from lack of air, and he was giving Warriors a look that begged him not to do anything stupid.

Unfortunately, Warriors already had a stupid plan forming.

“I’d hate to ruin such a pretty face, so here’s the deal,” the woman with her boot on Legend’s chest said. “You let us leave with your friend, no fighting, no following, and in return, we won’t kill you.”

“Pass,” Warriors said with a glare, sword clenched tightly in his palm. The woman made a pouting face.

“Aw, can’t we settle this like civilized people? We’ll be gentle, so long as you cooperate,” she smiled, and dug her heel into Legend’s ribs.

Legend grunted in pain, and Warriors swallowed, his thoughts whirling. His idea really was stupid, and the thought of using it made him cringe, but he was outnumbered and rapidly running out of time. Legend’s wheezes kept growing more frantic, and Warriors didn’t want to bet his safety on whether he could take on the entire crowd.

At least he wasn’t in his own Hyrule. Revealing the secret here would be awful, and he knew these people would exploit the knowledge, but at least it wouldn’t come with the political firestorm it would at home.

And if it got Legend free, it was worth it.

Warriors sighed.

“What if I have a better deal for you?” he asked, and the woman raised an eyebrow.

“What kind of a deal? If it involves you, I already have a fella,” she said mildly, and Warriors swallowed.

“Nothing like that. A trade. Me for my friend.”

Laughter went through the group, and the woman snorted. “You may have a pretty face, but you’re nothing compared to a merman, honey. Sorry.”

“Would it change things if I told you I’m half dragon?” he said quietly.

The woman’s ears flicked, her eyes widening. “Oh?”

“Yes. Much more exotic then a kid with a curse,” Warriors said, keeping his eyes off of Legend. He wished he could’ve told him about this on his own terms. Who knew what he was thinking at the moment. “If you let him go, I’ll come quietly.”

“And do everything I say?” the woman said with a raised eyebrow, and Warriors swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. He would escape. It wouldn’t be for long.

“Yes.”

She hummed consideringly, eyes trailing over Warriors. Legend wheezed again, and she glanced down at him, then back up again, crossing her arms.

“Well, I can’t really pass that up, can I?” she said, and snapped her fingers. Two burly men came up and grabbed Warriors’ arms, one twisting his sword out of his grip.

Warriors didn’t resist like he said he would, and happened to catch Legend’s eye, the other hero giving him an unreadable look. He was pretty sure he saw exasperation in his gaze though.

I don’t have a tail whenever I get wet, Legend, I’ll be able to escape better than you.

Warriors’ arms were tied behind his back, and he breathed out as the woman finally stepped off of Legend’s chest. A different bunch of people came forward as she snapped her fingers again, hauling Legend up out of the water, and they held him still while his tail split back into legs.

Legend began to struggle the moment he had his legs back, but the people held him tight, suddenly pulling ropes over his wrists and ankles. Warriors watched in shock as Legend was thrown back to the ground, a cloth tied over his mouth, and he snapped his gaze over to the woman.

“You said you’d let him go!” Warriors shouted, struggling wildly against the men’s hold. He shot an elbow out, trying to hit one in the face, but they only twisted his hands tighter behind his back, at an angle that felt like they were close to breaking.

The woman who was obviously in charge came over to him while he struggled, still smiling happily.

“We had a deal!” Warriors spat.

“We didn’t shake on it hon,” she said with a shrug, tapping his nose. “And there’s no way I’d pass up on a real mer. I happen to have a use for dragon blood at the moment, but even if you were lying about that, having another pretty face around is always good for business. I’m sure I’ll find a use for you somewhere.”

Warriors tried to lunge for her, but the men held him back, kicking his legs out from under him. Warriors dropped to his knees as she walked away with a laugh, and locked eyes with Legend, the veteran’s expression frantic as he was dragged away as well.

Oh Legend I’m sorry.

Then something hit him in the head, and with a burst of pain, Warriors knew no more.

(...)

A tapping noise woke him back up.

Warriors groaned, eyes flickering as he tried to figure out where the tapping was coming from. His head was throbbing, but it wasn’t too bad, and he pried his eyes open, a mostly dark room meeting him. The pounding kept up, more quickly now, and Warriors raised his head and looked to the side.

Two glowing eyes stared at him, and Warriors yelped, sitting up rather abruptly.

His head hit wood, and he made a pained noise, rubbing his forehead. He looked back over at the eyes, and Legend gave him a grim smile, the motion making the scales on his cheeks shine.

Oh. Right.

Warriors groaned, more in annoyance this time than anything, and glanced around, wrinkling his nose at the small cage he’d been dumped in. It was wood on the floor and ceiling, but metal bars blocked off everything else, the door firmly locked.

“Well. This is just lovely,” he sighed, and Legend let out a snort that shot out bubbles.

“Yeah, quite a nice predicament we’ve landed ourselves in. You okay, pretty boy?” Legend asked, his voice warbling a little strangely. Warriors was surprised he could hear him through the thick glass. “Or should I say dragon boy? Nice plan by the way.”

“Sorry, it was all I could think of,” Warriors apologized, leaning against the bars with a wince. The cage was so small he could only just barely sit up.

“Yeah, well it was a valiant effort,” Legend hummed, rubbing a dark bruise on his arm. He was silent for a moment. “Were you uh... were you serious?”

“About being half dragon?” Warriors asked, and Legend nodded. “...Yeah. It’s true. On my father’s side.”

Legend made a noise Warriors wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Huh. Well, I’ve heard weirder.”

Legend didn’t sound accusatory or disgusted or anything, mostly curious, and Warriors’ shoulders lost some tension he didn’t even know he’d been holding. It looked like Legend wasn’t weirded out much at all. Which was understandable since he was currently covered in blue scales and barely looked Hylian at the moment, but the reassurance was nice.

“...So how’d your mom get with a lizard exactly?”

Warriors’ goodwill towards Legend immediately disappeared. “Oh don’t even start, no, he has a hylian form! Don’t be weird!” he said in disgust, and Legend laughed, the sound oddly musical.

It broke into a bit of a wheeze, and Warriors’ exasperation turned into concern as Legend coughed a couple times.

“...Are you okay vet?” he asked worriedly, and Legend waved him off with a webbed hand.

“Yeah... yeah, ‘m good. Having a heel ground into my chest didn’t do me any favors,” he said with one last cough. “And all this going back and forth between lungs and gills isn’t much fun. But I’m alright.”

Warriors took a moment to study Legend, bruises painted across his skin, fins drooping. He didn’t look too bad, but he wasn’t in great shape.

“So how are we getting out of here?” Legend asked, breaking Warriors’ thoughts.

“We’ll think of something,” Warriors sighed, looking around his cage. “If I had something to pick the lock I could get out of this thing at least. Think you could get out on your end?”

“I already tried breaking the glass, it’s reinforced or something,” Legend grumbled. “And again with the lock, there’s bars over the top of the tank.”

“So we’re stuck for now, then.”

“Yep.”

Silence fell over them as they digested their situation, and Warriors sighed, looking around their prison. He was pretty sure there were in the back of a large wagon of some sort, based on the size and shape of the area. A few small beams of sunlight snuck through some cracks, lighting up more cages and equipment Warriors really hoped wasn’t for them.

He wondered what that woman was going to do with him. Legend was very obviously exotic—all she would really have to do was put him in a tank and the money would pour in—but Warriors looked rather normal. She said she had a use for him, for someone with dragon blood specifically, but what exactly was she thinking?

And how was he going to get him and Legend out of this mess?

A quiet chirping cry broke the silence, and Legend and Warriors both froze, pricking their ears.

“What on earth was that?” Legend asked in confusion, and Warriors shushed him, eyes narrowing. His night vision was a bit better than most Hylians, but he still couldn’t see very well in the shadowy room. And something about that sound...

He could just barely make out another cage, a spot of sunlight shining beside it, and another crying chirp came from its direction. Something about the sound struck Warriors right in the chest, and he kicked at the bars, peering through them and trying to see better.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you? Any clue what that is?” Legend asked, and Warriors growled, kicking at his cage again.

“I don’t know, but it sounds hurt. I don’t think it—”

“Ma!”

Warriors went silent again, listening as the tiny voice repeated its cry. Legend looked utterly confused as Warriors kicked at the bars again, another tiny cry ringing through the room, and he growled in frustration.

“Cap, seriously, why are you so wound up? It’s probably just an animal or something,” Legend said confusedly, and Warriors stared at him. “I don’t like that it’s trapped either, but we can’t get it out right now.”

“An animal? Can’t you hear it talking?” Warriors said in disbelief, and Legend slowly shook his head.

“All I hear is growling and chirping. ...How hard did they hit your head?”

Warriors opened his mouth to argue, but a door was suddenly opened, and the room flooded with light. Warriors and Legend both squinted against it, and the chirping cries faltered into a whimper.

Footsteps clicked against the wooden floor, and the woman who’d gotten them both in here stood above the two of them, flanked by two larger assistants.

“Oh great, you,” Legend grumbled.

“Me. You might want to fix that attitude there merman, or today isn’t going to be much fun for you,” she said with a tsk. “Time to learn some tricks.”

“I already know plenty of tricks, I don’t need more,” Legend shot back, his arms crossed.

“It’s always good to expand your repertoire. But first,” she said with a clap, turning back to Warriors. “Let’s see that supposed dragon blood put to some good use. Hope you weren’t lying, honey.”

One of the burly people she’d brought with her stepped away, and went over to where the frantic chirping had been coming from. He came back with a cage in hand that was only about as big across as a shield, then put on a hefty pair of gloves.

The cage was set down, and then opened, the man quickly grabbing something from inside. A terrified chirp came from the cage, and Warriors and Legend both watched in shock as a tiny pale green dragon was yanked out, its eyes wide with fear.

Outrage burned in Warriors’ chest, and he watched in distaste as the poor creature was manhandled, the man avoiding its attempts to bite and claw him. Warriors stiffened as the man approached his cage, but didn’t have time to attempt an escape as he unlocked the door and quickly tossed the dragon in.

It hit the ground with a small thump, then wailed, scrambling to its feet and immediately running for a corner. It cowered against the bars, spikes on its back raised threateningly, and bared its teeth as a squeaky growl came from its throat.

Then it froze, nostrils twitching.

It raised its nose in the air, and suddenly looked straight at Warriors, eyes wide.

Then it made a beeline for him, chirping in distress as it clawed its way up his leg. Warriors jumped and nearly kicked it away, but something stopped him, something that told him the tiny dragon wasn’t a threat. Sure enough it didn’t try to bite him, and quickly latched itself onto his shirt, body trembling. Warriors carefully touched its head, and it butted cautiously against him.

“Well then, looks like you might have been telling the truth after all,” the woman hummed in interest, tapping her chin as the dragon clung to Warriors’ shirt. “I need someone who it’ll listen to, I haven’t made any progress getting the thing to behave. But if you’re dragon like it is, then you should have no problem.”

“He,” Warriors said quietly, running a careful hand over the tiny scales. The dragon nuzzled into his hand. “It’s a he.”

“Good to know. Start training it,” she said, and put a hand on the whip at her belt. “Or else this will be unpleasant for all of us.”

“Are you kidding? Look how small he is, he’s only a hatchling. You can’t train a baby,” Legend snapped from his tank, and the woman gave him a look.

“I’ll do whatever the public wants to see. Now come along honey, you have tricks to learn.”

The burly people she’d brought with her unlocked the top of Legend’s cage, then dragged him out despite his best efforts, tossing him onto the floor. Legend grimaced as his tail turned to legs yet again, and before he could recover he’d been grabbed and was quickly dragged away.

“Hey!” Warriors shouted when one of them kicked Legend, and the veteran struggled viciously. “Get your hands off—!”

The door was slammed, cutting off the sound of Legend’s struggling. Warriors was plunged into darkness once again.

He let out a tense breath, and looked down, the dragon still shaking against his chest. He was trying to work his way under Warriors’ scarf at the moment, and Warriors lifted a fold out of the way so he could slide in.

The shaking eased a little finally, and Warriors studied the tiny dragon in quiet curiosity. It was less like dragons he’d seen in his world and more like Wild’s, a long body, small legs, no visible wings. Two tiny horns poked from his head, and his eyes were bright with a pure green that reminded Warriors of Faron woods.

He’d never seen a dragon that wasn’t full-grown before, and Warriors looked at every detail in quiet fascination. He grew more worried the longer he studied the creature though, noting how thin he was, his scales lacking some sparkle.

Warriors may never have seen a baby dragon before, but he knew what a healthy dragon should look like.

And this wasn’t it.

“Ma,” the dragon chirped again, breaking him from his thoughts. He whimpered as he hid in Warriors scarf, claws scratching him a little. “Ma.”

A little wail came from the dragon, and Warriors felt that sharp feeling in his chest again, a frantic urge to fix the problem, get rid of the threat, stop the crying.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he tried, wishing he could purr on command as the hatchling cried. Unfortunately that particular quirk only seemed to happen without his permission. “We’ll find your mom and get you out of here. Calm down.”

He scratched a careful hand over the dragon’s head, and his wails quieted a bit. He looked at Warriors with his bright eyes, and tilted his head.

“Ma?” he asked, and Warriors nodded.

“Exactly, we’ll get you back to your mom,” he assured, all while he was wondering how exactly he was going to do that.

The dragon made a small chirp, and nestled himself up next to Warriors’ neck, still shaking just a little. Warriors kept scratching near the base of his horns, and the dragon gradually relaxed, tiny claws flexing.

Warriors glanced at the empty tank beside them, worry clenching at his chest. He didn’t know what Legend was dealing with, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too bad.

Right. Like our luck is ever that good.

The dragon let out a sound Warriors thought was a sniffle, and he petted him again, letting him nuzzle deeper into his scarf. At least the little guy wasn’t attacking him. Can he tell I’m half dragon? Is that enough to label me not a threat?

...Or is it just a Hero thing?

Warriors sighed, and attempted to get in a more comfortable position as the dragon chirped again. It didn’t really matter much.

What really mattered was figuring out how they were going to get out of this.

(...)

Hours passed, Warriors attempting to talk to the dragon, and not getting very far. He gave up eventually, and tried to think of some semblance of a plan while he waited for Legend to come back.

But Legend was gone for a long time. Long enough that both Warriors and the dragon were asleep when the door finally reopened.

They both startled, and the dragon chirped in alarm as moonlight spilled into the room, tiny scales sticking up as he scurried under Warriors’ scarf. Warriors quickly sat up as the same two burly men came in, and sucked in a breath as Legend was dragged in behind them.

He wasn’t moving.

Legend was lifted up and tossed back in the tank without a word, and Warriors clenched the bars as he saw him jerk, blood floating through the water. A brief cry came from him as his legs merged back into a tail, and he went limp as it finished, breathing heavily.

“Legend?” Warriors asked frantically as the men left, leaving them in darkness again, “hey, Legend, talk to me. What did they do?”

Legend didn’t reply for a few long moments, floating silently except for his pained breathing. More blood wafted through the water, and Warriors caught a glimpse of red lines cut into his back.

“Oh Legend, did they whip you?” He whispered, and Legend finally opened his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Mm... yeah,” he mumbled, letting himself drift down to the bottom of the tank. He breathed out tiredly. “Kept talking back, refused to do what they wanted. Lady didn’t like it. Actually got loose once, gave her a black eye. Really didn’t like that.”

He chuckled, then grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Legend, why didn’t you just play along?” Warriors asked in dismay, and Legend huffed.

“Tried to at first. Didn’t work,” Legend grumbled, then hissed as he shifted around a little.

Warriors watched in alarm as a little more blood wafted into the water, and Legend grimaced as he tried to get himself into a comfortable position.

“‘M alright Wars,” Legend sighed when he fell still, his eyes closing again. “It’s not that bad. Won’t let ‘em win.”

“I know,” Warriors said quietly.

The dragon still in Warriors’ scarf finally poked his head out, and crept along Warriors’ arm, nose twitching as he stared at Legend. Legend opened his eyes again, and the two of them watched each other in silence.

“Made a friend?” Legend rasped, and Warriors hummed, reaching a few fingers through the bars to just barely brush Legend’s tank.

“Yeah. He mostly initiated it though. Poor little thing is terrified,” he replied, watching the dragon settle down on his arm. “And before you ask, I can understand him a little, but not everything.” Warriors had gotten as far as getting him to say something vaguely like his name, but that was really it.

“Any idea how he got here?” Legend asked, and Warriors shrugged, the dragon still watching Legend with his bright green eyes.

“He can’t talk that much. Probably the same way we did, more or less. But... I’m thinking he might actually help get us out of here, if I can figure out everything he can do,” Warriors said with a small smile. Legend hummed, and shakily moved forward a bit, resting his head against the side of the tank around where Warriors’ fingers brushed.

“I’ll let... you plan, then,” Legend murmured, and closed his eyes again.

“And you rest. Sounds good,” Warriors replied softly.

Legend didn’t say anything else, and Warriors kept his fingers on the glass until his breathing evened out, and he knew the younger hero was asleep. He drew back with a sigh, leaning his back against the bars again, and the little dragon moved to his lap, still watching Legend.

“You hear that little guy?” Warriors said softly, running a hand over his head. “I’m going to think of a plan to get us all out of here.”

“Ink,” the dragon chirped in agreement, nestling up to his shirt.

Warriors sighed again as the little dragon closed his eyes, and while the more scaly prisoners slept, Warriors thought and planned, all to the sound of tiny snores and raspy breathing.

[eskir]

false god - aventurine x reader

your love makes him feel as if he's been raised up to a pedestal the idea that it could crumble underneath him is truly frightening

when you look at him, with admiration and fever like a devotee to an aeon, he is reminded that he is mortal. he is undoubtedly mortal because aeons don't fall for their followers. he knows that he is mortal because of the fear that raises its head whenever he confronts the fact that he is attached to you.

it didn't start this way, with you looking at him with hidden yet so noticeable love for him. the first conversation between you two was nothing but a business formality, something between two partners who wouldn't talk again after a project. after all, the IPC was a large organization.

so for the first couple of days it was cold business talk. but, over the weeks, he managed to grow on you with his almost lazy smirk and extravagant tendencies. eventually you two could talk as if you were really friends, as if aventurine didn't treat 'friends' like transactions and things that would inevitably fall apart.

and one day, when you had opened up, you smiled and pointed at his eyes. aventurine moved away from your finger, ducking to the side, not expecting that sudden gesture, and your next words made him pause.

"honestly, when i first saw you all i could think about was how beautiful your eyes are."

it was genuine. you were being as truthful. and it wasn't out of a necessity to be cordial as business partners nor as a benefit for you; instead, those words were just a simple thought that you decided, on a whim, to reveal.

but he quickly shook off the shock that you could be so open to a mere business partner. he donned the smirk and pushed your hand away from his face. you were too close.

"are they still beautiful in your eyes? or, hm... am i beautiful in your eyes?"

aventurine brings your hand closer to his lips as he leans forward. there was that casual smirk, but when you looked into his eyes... it was an analytical gaze, yet it was also asking to know exactly how much he is worth in your eyes. you couldn't tell where this came from, but you could certainly guess.

it was out of a need to have a worth, to be in control and knowledgeable of all the pieces.

so you pulled away with a laugh, playing off this entire encounter as a joke. you ignored the emptiness in his eyes as you bid him good night. it would do no good to call him beautiful. after all, would he even take it seriously?

and then the project ended, cordially, without anything else.

so then how did the two of you get here, with you looking at him with such adoration?

your kisses are soft, and yet with each of them a deep sense of fear arises in his chest, taking his heart captive. he wants to lean into you and hold you close, but how could he when he is greeted with the memory of his past?

he longs to be emotionally distant enough from you so that he could give into the temptation of your touch: you'd be close enough, but far enough away so that he could control his emotions. he longs to be the only one in your eyes, but would you even stay when he isn't willing to open up in that way yet?

so keep him close then, with his hand wrapped around your waist and the other in your hair. he'll press chaste kisses, not out of politeness, but out of fear. if he gets too close, what'll happen?

what he doesn't see, and what you can see, is that he looks at you with the same desperate kind of love. you're both candles, chasing the flame that is the other's embrace.

[strangunddurm]

Mine

Masterlist

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader

Summary: Flip Zimmerman was a man that liked to eat his cake and have it, too.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving). 

A/N: It's been ages since I wrote something so I'm so proud of myself for finally finishing something.

It was common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was utterly and completely infatuated with you. You were it for him. The one he would marry, build a house for, have kids with. You would be his end, but you were not his beginning.

It was also common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was on an apparent path to sleep with everyone he could that wasn’t you. Fuck, finger, and fondle like he wasn’t an officer of the law and he wasn’t in a very public bar at that very moment. You could see his hand run along her leg, caressing it with the pads of his fingers before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She threw her head back, laughing like nobody was watching, but, of course, you were. Your eyes were always lingering on his figure, just as his were yours. He watched you as he traced the lace of her panties, as he dipped them under the fabric; he watched you as he guided her lips to his; he watched you as he shattered your heart, always knowing that the comfort of your arms would always be there to sooth him in the end.

You often found yourself wondering: why? Why weren’t you enough for him at this point? Flip had this ability where he could string you along enough so that you, yourself, would feel guilty thinking of another man. Your possible unwillingness weren’t the reason for Flip’s hesitancy to commit, it was his. The unwilling fool in love with the same person he had always loved. Or perhaps you were the fool? Two fools in love that could never let the other one go.

Your friends often wondered why you subjected yourself to the torture of witnessing his lips upon another’s. You didn’t know how to explain to them that you only existed because of him. However demeaning and desperate it sounded, it was true. Whilst others existed for bettering the world or something other, you were made just to be his.

You thought for a while that you could live without him. That you could break free from his hold and flee from the place where everything reminded you of him but it was impossible. It didn’t make sense, how a man could possess you so entirely with just a whisper of attention. You thought it to be your own fault; a bleeding consequence of hope that wrecked your heart beyond anyone else’s repair. All you could do was wait for him. For you would forever be missing him otherwise, regretting not taking the possibility of even the tiniest something.

So, you found yourself there, putting on a front of indifference as you tried not to watch every stupid move Flip made in the arms of another. She was smug. It was so obvious from the way her eyes would flicker over to you every now and then as his lips caressed her shoulder or her neck.

She knew of Flip’s fondness for you, having seen the way he had given you a sliver of attention by the bar, letting his hand ghost over your hip before she had successfully lured him away from you and into her arms.

You were zoned out, barely hearing your friends’ voices as you stared hard at them. Your lip was near bloody from your nervous chewing as you, almost ritualistically, dragged your teeth over it again and again.

“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” The words were spoken in your ear, your best friends arm coming to wrap around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“I…” She didn’t allow you to continue on the miserable spiel that she had heard so many times before.

“I don’t want to hear it. Not again. You need to realise that you’re worth more than whatever the hell this whole thing is,” She pleaded, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you sounded so fragile at that moment. Your voice wavered at the end, fading out as everything you felt became almost too much.

“Yes, you can. You just need to realise that you don’t owe him anything. Sitting here completely miserable isn’t going to make him change or do anything different.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been here with you! Every night we go out to have fun, he comes along and ruins it.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You turned to look at her as you forced the words out harshly. But the look in her eyes made the feigned anger falter.

“I love you. You deserve more. Try to enjoy your life before you realise it’s too late,” She said, squeezing your shoulder.

Did you really deserve more? You had been caught up in the web of Flip for so long that you truly did believe that staying completely devoted to him was the only way forward. You knew he would eventually tire and stop indulging himself in others. It was an unconventional relationship, unfavourable to you in every sense.

But who was to say that you weren’t allowed to enjoy others? Just the way he were? An innocent tryst with another that would scratch that itch not even your fingers could ease late at night.

You let your eyes trail over the inhabitants of the local watering hole. There were the usuals there, sitting at the bar, nursing their beers. A group of frat boys were in the corner, cheering over shots. It wasn’t until a pair of dark brown eyes met your own that your interested was piqued.

You probably wouldn’t have dared made a move if he hadn’t come sauntering over. He didn’t walk like Flip. Flip’s walk was self-assured, dominating in a subtle way. This guy walked in a cocky way, shoulders swaying with every step as he though himself holier than thou. It was off-putting, but you thought you owed it to yourself to at least try.

“Saw you watching me over there.” His attempt at flirting was just as cocky as his walk.

“Oh, hahah..” Your laugh was awkward as you fumble for a reply. “Do you come here often?”

“First time actually, I’m here visiting my brother.” He motioned toward some guy in the back that you couldn’t see.

“That’s nice,” You said awkwardly.

He introduced himself as he took perch on the barstool next to you, shaking your hand weakly.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, motioning for the bartender to refill both of your glasses at the same time.

“Ehm… Come here, I guess.” You waved your hand in the air, uncommittedly. Anxiety was flooding your nerves, practically inhibiting your ability to speak. You let your eyes trail over the room again quickly. Flip was still hands-deep in that woman’s skirt, your friends had slipped off somewhere else, getting lost in others.

The man, Chris, held a one-sided conversation without seeming to notice your less than keen interest. The thought of letting go and trying to flirt with somebody else was always easier in theory rather than practice.

It wasn’t his fault, if you were somebody else you might’ve enjoyed it. But all you could think about was the way his eyes were too dark, his hair too light, and his voice to high to remind you of Flip.

“Listen,” He placed his hand on your thigh. High up, bold, wanting. “I really like you, what do you say about getting out of here?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before a chest pressed against your back.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

You felt faint hearing Flip’s voice rumble through his chest as he pulled himself closer to you. His hand wrapped around Chris’s wrist, forcing it away from your leg.

“Hey, man, we were having a conversation here.” Chris was foolish. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t from here, after all. He didn’t know the perfectly concealed rage that could simmer under Flip’s skin when he felt like he was being disrespected.

“I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.”

“Flip, don’t-” Interjecting was pointless. Flip did whatever Flip wanted.

“You should take your drink, go back to whatever lowly corner you came from, and stay there. Get it through your thick skull that you’re not wanted here.” Flip roughly pushed the glas of beer Chris had been nursing on the bar, it’s content sloshing over the sides as it almost toppled over.

The silence that followed hung in the air, permeating it, polluting it. It didn’t take long for Chris to visibly crumble under Flip’s stare but it was almost as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to give in to the menacing man that had appeared out of nowhere. Reasonable, perhaps, but entirely futile. Flip would always get what he wanted in the end, no matter what.

Chris left without a word, sparing you a pitiful glance before he was gone and all that was Flip took over your senses as he rounded you, coming to a stop so you were chest to chest.

You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the way his chest would calmly breath in and out as he waited.

“Look at me,” His voice was low, steady. You wanted to, of course, but you were stubborn. Just when you were putting yourself first, there he was again. A forever keg in your wheels, keeping you in the same place.

His fingers were soft against your chin as he urged it upwards, making you look at him.

He was smiling. Not a full on grin, but that sweet, cheeky little smile that held so much mirth that you wanted to hit him. It’s like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you to act out and finally do something for yourself.

“Wipe that smile of your face,” you hissed out. “What could you possible have to smile about?”

“You.”

“Oh, yeah, because it is so funny ruining my fucking life.”

“Ruining it?”

“Yeah, ruining it.”

“You should’ve just said something if you felt that way.” You almost laughed at that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said something. It felt like all you did was talk, and all he did was not care.

“Cut me a fucking break, Flip. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. This- this game you’ve been playing, toying with my heart. One minute it feels like you might actually want me but then the next you go and fucksomebody else and I’m just suppose to pretend that it’s all fine?”

“It’s not?” He said, playfully.

“Fuck you.”

“Stop swearing, and keep your voice down.”

“What? So that your whore won’t hear us?”

“She means nothing,” He said

“So why do you keep doing this? Why keep stringing me along?” You were defeated. Your relationship with Flip was strange. Peculiar. Unexplainable in certain aspects as you yourself did not entirely know exactly what you two were.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes as all the hurt you had felt over the past however-long caught up to you. He was looking down at you, as if in wonder. Was it possible that Flip Zimmerman was naive to the way he had treated you? To the way he had made you suffer? Had you been imagining it all in your head?

He didn’t look sorry, he didn’t sound sorry, but when the apology tumbled out of his mouth, you accepted it. Perhaps it was you who were naive but you wanted a moment of happiness with him. Even if it was a moment entirely clouded by delusion.

You nodded your head, a small movement of acceptance that made Flip light up.

Flip would always shine brighter than any star you had ever seen. He took your breath away and filled you with a rush of serotonin every time you gazed into his eyes for even a brief second. His eyes were like molten gold, blinding you as they tinkled. Devotion to him and only him was inevitable.

“Will you come home with me?” The answer was obvious. The question had been what you had waited for. Taking his hand and slipping out through the door before any of your friends still caught in reason could stop you.

His hand dipped between your legs, fingers mapping out a path to your most sacred place the second he pushed you through the door of his home.

"Look at you, already so wet for me." Flip chuckled darkly. He knew you couldn't resist him. Your need for him was as deep as his need was for you.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. His tongue caressed yours as teeth clashed.

His fingers toyed with your panties, teasing you. He knew how desperate you were for anything he would give you.

He took his time, teasing your more and more before he finally was gracious enough to slide a finger inside of you. Just a single finger to test you. You walls clamped down around him tightly, gripping him, coaxing him to give you more. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, so slowly that you thought you might lose your mind if he didn't give you something more, and you voiced so much.

"Please, Flip." What you needed was clear. But that didn’t mean Flip would be so easy to give in.

"You’ll get more, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.” He said sweetly before withdrawing from you completely.

"Flip-"

"You're so impatient." He chided you, tutting teasingly with a lazy smile on his lips. “Go to the bedroom.” He commanded whilst motioning his head in its direction. You were quick to obey, of course, feet moving swiftly as you stumbled your way on shaky legs through the halls and onto his bed.

You flipped onto it in excitement, eager for his touch once again.

“Is this what you wanted? To be one of my whores?” He asked as he undressed slowly, unbuttoning his flannel and letting his jeans fall to the floor before he took a stand by the foot of the bed. He trailed his hands up your legs equally as slow before grabbing a hold of your panties and pulling them off you. You couldn’t get any words out to respond, whining with need.

The evidence of your excitement was clear to him, almost dripping and shining in the low light. A sane man wouldn’t be able to hold back having a women presented so willingly to him with her legs spread wide and skirt bunched up around her hip, chest heaving with excitement. And of course, Flip was a sane man, in some sense at least, for he was quick to crawl in between your legs and mouth attached to your clit.

Digging his fingers into your thighs, he hauled one of them onto his shoulder and connected his mouth to your sweet cunt.

The sounds of your breathless moans were intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.

Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart.” Flip praised in a panted breath before diving back in.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.

Your hand slid into Flip’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave after wave of moans finally made their way out of you.

Flip had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again.

Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was exquisite.

“Oh, oh, Flip. I’m gonna cum.” You whined desperately. “Oh, God.”

You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Your legs spasmed as you came with a cry.

Flip tried to hold you down as he never let up despite your half hearted please, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spured him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.

“You’re such a good girl.” Flip praised as he came up, hovering over you. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Flip.”

He tugged at his hard and weeping cock a few times as he admired you. You were breath taking like this, legs parted, eyes hazy from your orgasm, cunt dripping, ready for him.

"You’re gonna look so gorgeous, covered with my cum." Flip's voice was husky as he leaned down and pulled you closer to him by your face before planting a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips as he came to rest between your hips, a single arm keeping him up.

He dragged his thick and cum weeping cock through your folds a few times, thoroughly coating it in your slickness. The anticipation was killing you. His fingers and tongue weren't enough, you wanted more, needed it.

You grabbed a hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer even to you in desperation.

"Please, Flip." You whispered, ready for him.

The sigh the both of you let out when he finally slipped all the way into your cunt was one of relief. You had missed this, had missed him.

Flip didn't give you time to adjust to him before he started pounding into you at a pace that was brutal in nature, just the way he knew you liked it.

“You’re such a dirty fucking whore.” He spat at you and you clenched around him in response. "Look at you, so desperate for my dick you could almost cry." Being his whore and whatever he wanted was everything you had ever wanted since the moment you had laid eyes on him.

He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself. Flip's loud groans were bouncing around the walls of his room, blended in with your own gasps from every thrust into you.

Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.

"Fuck" You groaned. "Feels so- fucking good." You shakily breath out.

"This is what you wanted right? My cock so deep within you you’ll feel me for days" He cooed, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still as sharp, still as precise, and hard, and calculated.

A wailing yes! left your lips. You were sure you would be able to feel Flip's hands on your hips as you would nurse your hangover tomorrow, and most likely the day after that as well. You would feel him in every step you took. Forever.

"Harder." You pleaded.

He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.

"I love it when you do that." He praised, followed by another rut into you.

He continued pumping into yours sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy. The sound of skin slapping and noises of pleasure mixed together as they bounced on the walls and around the room.

His thrusts had picked up in pace one again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching, getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come,"

"No, you're not." Flip withdrew from you completely, flipping down on the bed beside you. You were drunk on the feeling of him, needy and desperate, ready to take everything he would give to you.

His legs were spread, cock standing on full attention, bobbing against his stomach, it's tip coloured an angry red, ready to be inside of you again.

"Come on then." He pulled you out of the short-lived trance you had been in over the sight of him. You though again of how there was something so ethereal about him, something other than just his looks, something that would always draw you back in and keep you on his hook.

You were quick in your movements, throwing a leg around his hips and hoisting yourself upright, causing him to chuckle over your desperation.

"Eager, are we?" He welcomed you with open arms, hands coming up to rest on your hips once again, as he gazed up at you with a smile on his face.

He helped you pull your wrinkled dress over your head, placing open mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips attached themselves to your perked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." He sounded as if he was in awe simply over the sight of you.

You sank down swiftly, engulfing him with your tight walls, stopping only when you were at the base, stuffed full of him.

"Oh, fuck, Flip!" The change in angle had you convinced that he was deeper in you than ever before, the tip of him nestling against your cervix.

"You feel so good like this." Flip moaned. He tapped two fingers against the side of your thigh, signalling you to move and you were more than happy to oblige. Your feet were securely rooted on the floor and you placed your hands on the walls to give yourself the leverage and support you needed to begin riding him.

He let you control every movement; let you set the pace as you slid up and down on his throbbing cock. Flip's hands were exploring every inch of you that they could reach, massaging your breasts, caressing your thighs, sliding across your back, and then, finally, they found their way to the apex of your thighs and started firmly circling your clit.

Flip let out a loud grunt every time you slammed yourself down onto him. It was a sound you wanted to hear every day, every waking moment and in every vivid dream.

The steady pace that you had managed to keep was slowly becoming nothing as you felt yourself loosing control over your limbs the closer you climbed to that high you were chasing. The muscles in your stomach were tightening rapidly over the coiling tension and your walls gripped him even tighter.

"Say my name."

"What?" You weren't lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.

"Say. My. Name." He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him.

His name spilled out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a moan.

"Who’s making you feel this good?" You weren't as quick to heed his words this time, the building pressure between your legs taking up all of your attention.

His hands were back on your hips, forcing you up, slipping out of you, and then guiding you dominantly into the position he wanted with your face pressed into the sheets and your ass high up in the ar. He was swift to enter you again, you had barely even had time to complain over the loss of him before he was drilling into you.

"Flip!" You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. He hadn't even faltered in his movements, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. He was panting loudly in between groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You." Another sharp thrust into you.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You, Flip. Oh, god, you, Flip!" Small droplets of tears were leaking from the corner of your eyes as Flip was steadily driving you to cum again as he fucked into you.

You hadn't felt this way before, you didn't even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right here, right now, forever.

"That's fucking right." Flip came with a deep jerk into you, pulling out to come all over your back before entering you again to give you a few last thrilling pumps.

You laid there on his bed in a heap, totally out of it as he calmly came to rest beside you. He coaxed you onto your back so that he could plant a sweet kiss on your lips. Uttering words that made your erratic heart pump even faster.

“All mine.”

Thank you for reading! Please check out my Masterlist if you want to read more.

Tags in reblog.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sin and Holy

Summary: Lorgar wants revenge on Guilliman, but ends up becoming obsessed with his lover, deifying her.

Lorgar Aurelian/fem!Reader (Roboute Guilliman/fem!Reader background)

Warnings: yandere, obsession, possessive behavior, kidnapping, religious kink, foot fetish, voyeurism

Author's note: Blame our mind worms of "lorgar foot worship plotline".

Word count: 2017

Song: Pet Shop Boys - It's a Sin

Everything I've ever done Everything I ever do Every place I've ever been Everywhere I'm going to It's a sin

The end of the perfect city marked the beginning of a new and better world. But not one world, city or even house is built in a short time. Everything requires time and human will. Lorgar Aurelian understood this while he was looking for answers to his questions.

And even with the acquisition of true faith in Chaos, he knew that victory would only come with time. He wouldn't be able to defeat the Emperor right away. Bring the gifts of the four gods to the Galaxy. Just like he won’t be able to get you right away.

You immediately caught his attention. Roboute Guilliman's personal remembrancer, whom he took with him everywhere. The sightless would say that the mortal girl is too talented. Envious people would laugh at the fact that the primarch of the Ultramarines turned arrogant. But Lorgar knew who you were. Chaos told him.

Lover of Roboute Guilliman. A secret that his brother kept from everyone. Even from the Emperor. If Lorgar had been quick to anger, he would have told the primarchs about you. Would separate two lonely souls. But he did not dare to do this. It wasn't time yet. But soon he would make his brother grieve and suffer. He would have destroyed what was dearest to his heart, as he did with the Monarchy.

“I read your poems,” you carefully strike up a conversation with the primarch, clasping your hands. Your look is innocent and full of sincere kindness. Not admiration or awe, no. You saw him. His soul. - “They are wonderful. In truth, your poems calmed me in hard times.”

You don't flatter or mock him. Lorgar doesn’t need to glance around the room to understand that you approached him yourself. Without Guilliman's knowledge. The bastard who dared to smile at Aurenlian when he was forced to kneel humiliatingly. Anger almost covers the man, but your embarrassed smile dispels the rage like wind blows away fog.

"Thank you." - The primarch smiles softly, fascinated by your gentle influence. “The next time we meet, I will bring you a new work that no one has seen yet. I'm sure it will change the entire Imperium."

Aurelian was above mortals, he was a primarch and the chosen one of Chaos. And yet he was wrong. He could never hurt you. Because he loved you. Stronger than Roboute. Tighter. More furious. Almost to the point of obsession, consuming his soul.

You were beautiful. Your smooth movements were like a soft wind, and your voice was like the whisper of leaves. A soft, gentle light emanated from your soul. Like a ray of sunshine on the water. Your kindness and sincerity of words were like music or scripture. How can he wish evil upon such a beautiful and divine being?

And how can someone not notice your beauty? Not to value and treat as if you are worth nothing? But his brother exceeded all expectations. Through the warp, Lorgar watched as Roboute spent time with you like ordinary mortals. You talked heart to heart, laughed and sometimes even argued. And on special evenings, the man would please you while you gave yourself to him without reserve.

Your body bent on the silk like a reed in the wind, your skin covered in hot sweat. You moaned muffledly, holding onto the headboard with force. Lorgar couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, absorbing your figure, desperately trying not to look at Guilliman’s head between your legs.

While you two indulged in sin, Aurelian, with the help of the forces of Chaos, watched over you. Insatiably and greedily, feeding the laughing Prince of Pleasure with his torments. It seemed to the man that he would make a sound as soon as you opened your mouth in a pre-orgasmic state... but the miracle ended when Guilliman decided to stop and looked at your irritated face with a smile.

“You did this again! I beg you, please, one day finish it!” - you giggle and throw a pillow at the primarch, unable to be angry with him for long. Roboute defends himself from the attack with his hand and shrugs. His eyes sparkle with merriment and his smile is self-confident.

“Can’t help it. I love teasing you too much.”

Roboute leans on you with his whole body, and you continue to laugh into his chest, hugging his warm body tightly. Not noticing Lorgar's bestial gaze, full of black rage. But he could do nothing but continue to watch as Guilliman began to enter your holy gates.

It wasn't enough! You deserved better. Real worship, not primitive sentimentality. And Lorgar was eager to show you this. Longed to touch. Inhale the smell of your hair, feel your sweat and tears on your tongue. Feel the warm skin under his palms. Hear quiet moans.

He wanted you to let him love you. Wanted you command him to praise you, deify you and worship you. And he wanted you to beg him for ascension until you both burned in the fire of desire.

But you don't. After all, you are a kind and beautiful girl, whose soul barely casts a shadow in the Immaterium. But bright as a ray of sunshine, which he want to touch. You are too innocent and pure to turn your attention to a primarch mired in the mud. And so he has to act on his own.

Horus's betrayal came like thunder from a clear sky. What a pity for Guilliman that it was at this time that you decided to visit your family and went to your home world on the ship of the Rogue Trader. Lorgar kindly provided you with protection, assuring you that you would be safe on Fidelitas Lex.

And it was true. You weren't in any danger. Lorgal had enough strength to protect and hide you from all the horrors of the Galaxy. And to his delight, he has enough time to spend time alone with you. This is still a relatively calm time for now. To know you. To feel. To open.

“I heard about what happened on Khur. - you stammer, your eyes turned to the floor, full of regret. - I'm sorry. It's horrible. What you went through and how the poor people suffered. Roba- Lord Guilliman did not want to do this, he was following orders.”

“Let what is past remain in the past. I hold no grudge against my father and brother. - the primarch whispered half-truths like an insidious snake. Still, he was grateful to the fall of the Monarchy for leading him to the real truth. - And I don’t want you to be sad. This is between me and Roboute. It has nothing to do with you.”

You look up at him and Lorgar can hardly contain a sigh of admiration. Surprisingly, you, unlike most mortals, were not amazed by his greatness. However, this had the opposite effect. It was Urizen who was amazed by you.

“You are very kind.” - you smile softly, like a mother, seeing the child’s face for the first time. - “Even in this dark time, I am grateful to meet you. I will never forget this moment.”

And although you may now shake with fear at the sight of the primarch and the Word Bearers, Lorgar knew that everything would change. He believed that you would rediscover your love for him. Unfortunately, he had to use... force after the Drop Site Massacre. You were not a prisoner, but you will still have to be kept locked up for some time. For your own good.

He can’t help but admire your beauty, your radiant soul. How you are in only a white nightgown (Lorgar got rid of all the clothes with Ultramarines colors) after walking around the room, run onto the red silk bed. How your pure image merges with sinful chambers.

The man smiles softly and approaches you, forcefully squeezing a basin of clean water in his hands. He has waited so long for this day when you can become his. When a primarch can touch the greatness of a mortal girl.

“Lorgar,” you say his name quietly, trying to calm him down. But the man just clenches his teeth, feeling like everything in his lower abdomen is filled with sinful lead. - “P-please, don’t do this. I’m sure Roboute will forgive you, you are brothers after all.”

You no longer call him Lord Guilliman. You're still in love with him. What a shame. It's making his teeth hurt. But Lorgar, with tenacity worthy of a primarch, continues to smile at you, kneeling. He doesn't want to scare you even more. You are tender and fragile, he must take care of your holiness.

“The floor is dirty, and you walk on it completely barefoot,” - he himself took the shoes from you. A sharp impulse that the primarch himself did not understand. - “Please, let me wash your beautiful feet with clean water.”

His voice gradually becomes lower from the dark secret desire and you, whining, sit down at the very edge, dangling your legs. And like a righteous soul, you try not to tremble or make sounds as the primarch lifts your skirt, all the way to your knees, which he kisses in turn.

Lorgar sighs heavily, fighting the temptation to lick your whole legs. But he still takes your foot and gently massages it in the water. Alas, this action only inflames the furious heat within him. Those little feet, dainty heels and tiny toes. An absolutely exquisite and elegant piece of art. He is so absorbed in what he is doing that he almost doesn’t hear your voice.

“Please let me go. F-For him, duty comes first. H-he will protect Terra.” - you sob from the way Lorgar squeezed your limb. - “Roboute will not look for me, Lorgar. He won’t.”

The world freezes and even the Immaterium trembles from the overabundance of the primarch’s feelings. How terrible agony and destructive rage gives way to peace. Calmness. By grace. And it's all because of you.

"Yes. He won't save you." - his gentle words, designed to calm you down, only make you more sad. And the primarch cannot help but admire your suffering as a righteous martyr. Which only plunges him deeper into sin. - “And this is his greatest mistake.”

Lorgar carefully brings your washed foot to his mouth and kisses the tip of your toe Before wrapping his mouth around it, sucking gently with moan. His mouth filled with saliva, and a shiver of excitement and awe ran through his body at the fact that he was able to touch you. To your wonderful feet that carried you through this mortal world. He was ready to kiss every piece of ground you walked on.

But instead, filled with your blessing, he gently kisses your foot, licking and biting. Every toe of yours, every vein line on your skin. Lorgar bites your ankle lightly and foreign blood seeps onto his tongue. Tastes like heaven.

The primarch looks up at you pleadingly, studying your face, wet with tears. Is this a vision of the future, a trick of the eye, or is your soul shining brighter than usual? He didn't know. But Lorgar was sure that he saw a halo above your head, which his brother stubbornly did not notice, treating you like an ordinary mortal woman. But Lorgar is different. He won't allow you to be treated like that.

He was and will be a sinner. He was always blamed for everything. But you gave him hope. And he will fully thank you for the healing that you brought to his soul. He will put you on a pedestal above the rest of the world. After all, this is exactly what you deserve. You just don't know yet.

The words fall from his bloodied lips so quietly that they are almost inaudible. But you hear. You can’t help but hear and you cry, choking with tears. Praying for help from all the saints from the books you have read, denying that you became one of them for the primarch who kidnapped you.

“Let me worship you.”