#how do I stop that? it’s never been an intentional thing

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[kavehscanvas]

Chat I'm gonna ramble

I have multiple hyperfixations that every once in a while I think "oh I'm getting normal about this now I think" and suddenly I'm BLASTED with the knowledge that I'm, in fact, not normal about it AT ALL

So this is a list of things I'm normal about until I'm not normal about, for fun

I spend like from a week to a month being EXACTLY the image above, to the point where even >I< get tired of hearing me talk about something

Danganronpa, unfortunately. Resurfaces at least once a year, and so far it's happened 3 times around my birthday. I don't think I can break the curse and I've stopped trying

Steven Universe, but specifically ALL the Ruby and Sapphire appearances. I can binge ONLY the episodes where they appear and sometimes the ones leading up to it for the full impact. That's why my Kavetham Rupphire crossover exists.

Genshin Impact hasn't gone anywhere since I got into it, I never had the chance to think I was normal about it. But every once in a while I might think I'm normal about Enkanomiya, The Chasm, Perilous Trail or Guizhong and I get SLAPPED by my own insanities

HSR but specifically the Xianzhou Luofu continuances from 2.4 and 2.5. I am ABNORMAL about the Yaoqing Trio, I am ABNORMAL about Lingsha, I am ABNORMAL about the transition from Dan Feng to Dan Heng in the shackling prison

Ordem Paranormal as a whole. Since Natal Macabro released I haven't been able to let go of it. I can't do anything without thinking "what if I inserted the NM cast into this". I binged the ending of Desconjuração this week. I watched two whole episodes in one day, and MIND YOU. THE EPISODES ARE 4 HOURS LONG.

Like two months ago I got beamed with Akame Ga Kill thoughts. Chat. It was so much worse than all the other times. I lost track of how many times I watched this anime since 2017. This time I only intended to watch a couple of the episodes, yk "the fun ones" (where my faves die) and ended up watching THE ENTIRE ANIME. In two days. I did not come out of it with my sanity intact. And this time I absorbed even more plot points that I had missed the other days and I was even more analytical of the characters and chat. Chat I don't think I can recover from this one. The Run thoughts come back to me every time I open my gallery. Ohhhhhh vaguely androgynous blonde man with good intentions but questionable actions who is the normalest person in his group and has angel imagery despite having a LOW ASS V NECK that shows a considerable amount of his chest save meeeee. Save me small pink girl with a gun double her size and trauma that turns into motivation. Save me lady who killed a guy with her bare fists with no power back up while she was dying from several gun wounds and also bit into a guy's blade with her teeth and it was literally so attractive I physically had to stop and gush over it because I'm attracted to beautiful and strong women.

This was not my intention but I think that last point is a very good example. I am, in fact, not normal about it. I literally thought a few hours ago "huh maybe I should delete some of these AGK skins, I don't use them a lot" past me I have news and I think you won't like them ...

[green-butterfly-writes]

Little Thief (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Batman is confused. Elsewhere, a fox has dinner with a social worker.

Trigger Warning for starvation and animal/child abuse. Read at your own risk.

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so spelling mistakes are likely to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have a question about the report you submitted last Tuesday.”

“What is it, father?” Damian stopped sharpening his blade and looked up at Bruce, still in his cowl from patrol.

“Could you please explain this… Fox… you wrote about?” He asked, carefully picking his words.

“What about it?”

The cave was filled with silence as they stared each other down. Bruce contemplated how to proceed. 

“Damian, foxes can’t do these things. They can’t understand human speech to the degree you described, they don’t exchange food for services, they can’t point you to the joker.”

“Are you calling me a liar father?” Damian snipped back.

Bruce didn’t answer.

“I didn’t lie,” Damian seethed through clenched teeth, “You can ask Grayson if you don’t believe me. But I did not lie.”

Bruce contemplated that reaction. Perhaps it wasn’t just a ploy to get a new pet. “Foxes can’t do those things,” he repeated, a silent question hanging in the air.

“I know.”

~~~~

Jason did not yelp. He did not jump and definitely did not scream like a 5 year old watching a horror movie. In fact he did not react at all when he walked into his safe house, turned on the light, and heard the gravelly voice of the 6 foot tall hell beast behind him calling his name. Nope. Not a single reaction. Not even a flinch. Totally. Definitely. 

Which is why Bruce’s current expression is completely unwarranted. It was the expression he made when Jason ate 5 plates of pancakes in one sitting two months into living with him. It was the expression he made when Jason lost his tooth naturally for the first time — rather than in a fight. It was the expression he made when Jason cried over a bruised knee when learning how to ride a bike. It was the expression he made when Cass fell asleep against him during a movie, close and comfortable. It was the expression he made when Stephanie would show off a new skill she learned or hobby she picked up. It was the expression he made when Tim would show off his photos, or when Babs would take a break to read a new book. It was the expression he made when Damian would ask for a play date, or Dick would show off new clothes. It was the expression he made when his kids, his family, acted like normal people, and not vigilantes burdened with a fight they could never win. And there was no reason for him to make that awful, soft, sappy, expression now because Jason did not scream.

“The fuck you want?” Jason snapped (because he was upset about being intruded upon, and definitely, totally not because he was embarrassed about squealing like a little girl. Which is something he did not do, by the way.)

“I wanted to ask you about something,” his voice was clear and stern, but still held concern and care.

Jason tilted his head toward Bruce, urging him to continue. “Damian wrote a report I found… odd. It was about your informant,” That idiotic fool “I was hoping you could clarify something.” 

Jason signed, he’d reem the little twerp later, and plopped himself down on the ratty once-beige couch. “Alright. Shoot.”

~~~~

The clothes were itchy. Unbelievably so. They were baggy, but the intentional kind. The kind that hid how malnourished you were, rather than highlighting it. They were new, unwashed, ugly, and would likely be returned the next day, if the tag digging into your back was any indication.

“How are things going dear?” Asked Ms.Kelsey, a naive younger woman with a brown bun and thin purple glasses, “are you liking your stay with Neels?”

“It’s not the worst home I’ve been in,” you answered smoothly. That wasn’t a lie. Despite the fact you could only shower on Wednesday mornings, they confiscated your phone two days in, and they seemingly despised the idea they had to feed you, it still wasn’t the worst home you’d been in. Not even top five. 

“That’s good to hear!” Ms.Kelsey, your current social worker, celebrated. She was new to the job, only a year in, and annoyingly cheerful, but she was visibly trying her best. You appreciated that. “How’s school been going?”

“We’re reading Shakespeare in my English class,” you offered.

“Oh! And how are you liking it?”

“It’s alright, but I really like my English teacher, he makes it fun.”

“That’s wonderful sweetie,” Ms.Kelsey grinned, “Let’s go join the family for dinner,” she directed, standing from the worn brown armchair in the living room and heading towards the dining room where the Mr. and Mrs. Neel were seated beside their son, George.

You took your seat at the stubby table, across from George. The table was dressed with a tacky floral tablecloth, and covered with various mismatched bowls of sides surrounding a rather large chicken. The food was, as typical for Mrs. Neel, simultaneously overcooked and raw. You plopped a spoonful of soggy broccoli on your plate, followed by a serving of (unintentionally chunky) mashed potatoes. No chicken, you weren’t willing to risk salmonella or the screaming fit that would follow. Only simple sides that they have plenty of, so they wouldn’t get mad at you. 

The mashed potatoes crunched when you took a bite, and you tried your best to ignore it. They tasted wet and sad, and far too salty. Chewing was both difficult and necessary as parts of the food slashed down your throat with little resistance, and others put up a fight when you tried to chew them. But this wasn’t the worst home you’ve been in. Far from it in fact. At least the food isn’t moldy! And there’s no— no, wait, yup that’s hair. You decided to risk the chunky potatoes swallowed down your mouthful with a glass of water.

Ms.Kelsey and the Neels exchanged pleasant conversation, while you picked at your food, taking small mouthfuls fast enough they wouldn’t ask questions, and slow enough you could carefully examine all the food. The evening passed in a swift haze, with no mistakes on your end. After Miss Kelsey left, you helped clear the table, pack the food away, and retreated to your rarely used bedroom.

The bedroom had bare white walls, an uncomfortable bed, and a small dresser you kept your clothes in. It was fine. Everything was fine, you kept repeating to yourself. It could be much, much worse. It has been much, much worse. Be thankful for what you have. At least tomorrow you’ll see your friends again! That’s gotta count for something, right?

~~~~

“They… didn’t come today…” Damian rarely allowed his emotions to breathe freely, so seeing him look so defeated was odd.

“It happens from time to time. ‘Bout once a month,” Jason clumsily tried to comfort, “they’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Do you think they’re ok?” Damian asked, almost pleading, and looked up at Jason.

“I— ummm — ya,” he awkwardly placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “I’m sure they’re fine.” He was not sure, actually, but he hoped it was true. “Let’s leave the food here, so they’ll have something if they drop by later.” 

Damien seemed pleased by the idea. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think 💚

Notes:

I put this elsewhere, but in case you haven't seen it: I'm having some technical difficulties with responding to comments, but I see them, and I appreciate them <3

[betweenstorms]

Ghost never used your callsign.

Not once outside of a mission.

Everyone else did, of course. On the comms, in the field, even in the rare moments of downtime. They called you Snaps, quick as the crack of a match, sharp as the sound of fingers breaking the quiet, edged with the understanding that some fires were meant to burn, not to warm. You were a role to fill, a name to answer to. You were your rank, your title, your purpose, stitched to your chest, something impersonal and replaceable.

But not to him.

Ghost used your name instead, your real name, the one buried beneath the weight of duty and protocol. It wasn’t obvious at first. Your lieutenant wasn’t careless. Not with his movements, not with his silences. Not with you.

The way he said it—it was different.

He never said it like Johnny’s name, thrown out with familiarity, with ease and sometimes with warning. No, when Simon Riley spoke your name, it was as if he was testing it. Like it didn’t belong to him, but he wanted to know how it felt in his mouth anyway. He said it like he wasn’t supposed to, like it was something personal lodged in his throat, heavy enough to keep there, dangerous enough to let slip.

“Why don’t you use my callsign, sir?”

A shift. Barely there.

Ghost kept his head forward, kept his hands steady as he checked the strap on his vest during your team's usual mission preparation. His balaclava hid everything, but you knew his eyes had gone sharp, calculating. Measuring the weight of your question before deciding what it was worth.

“Don’t see the point.”

Flat. Blunt. Dismissive in the way only he could be. But his voice was lower than usual. A fraction softer, like a thread had come loose in all that careful restraint.

“You do with everyone else.”

“You ain’t everyone else.”

The answer came too quickly. Too easily.

Like it had been there all along, waiting.

You opened your mouth to press further, but his eyes flicked to yours, cutting through the air like a warning. Not unkind, just final. Like a door being shut. You blinked, but he didn’t offer anything more. Just finished adjusting his gear and straightened, towering over you in the dim light. But then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders loosened. He tilted his head, his attention drifting to the entrance of the hangar, to the night outside. “I call people what they are,” he muttered, almost to himself. “And you’re not just that.”

That was all he gave you.

And yet, somehow, it was enough.

And the worst part? You didn’t know if he was talking about your name on his tongue or the fact that you liked it there.

Because you did.

He was never a man of many words, his intentions lived in the spaces between them, woven into subtle actions, in the careful precision with which he spoke. He never wasted breath on unnecessary sentiment, yet somehow, you always understood him. Whatever his reasons, you found yourself drawn to it, to him.

And you liked it—God, you liked it.

Just as much as you liked the weight of his stolen glances, the sharp edge of his wit, the quiet cruelty of his humor, dark as the depths that called to him. You liked the way his deep voice carried, low and steady, a storm before the crash. You liked his bravery, the way he walked through danger like it was nothing but an inconvenience.

And if you were honest, you liked everything about him, really.

More than you should. More than was safe.

Maybe that’s why you never corrected him.

Why you never asked him to stop.

Because you loved everything about him.

Even the things you shouldn’t.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[little-jana]

"A Little Bit of Mischief" (1)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x receptionist!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: playful teasing, flirting

Words: 1.4k

Summary: You flirt with the ever-serious Aaron Hotchner, teasing him until he finally drops his professional demeanor.

You're in a good mood, as usual. It's a Wednesday afternoon, the sun is shining through the office windows, and there's something about the quiet hum of the BAU that feels comforting. Even though you’ve just finished up a case, there’s always work to be done—papers to file, appointments to set up, that kind of thing. But you don’t mind. You love staying busy, and you love the people you work with.

But more than anything, you love teasing Aaron Hotchner.

It’s not that you go out of your way to make him uncomfortable. Well, maybe a little. He’s just so serious all the time, and you can’t help yourself. It’s like a game to you—seeing how far you can push him before he cracks. And honestly, he’s always so professional, so controlled, that you never expect him to respond in any way other than with the quiet politeness he reserves for everyone.

At least, that’s what you think.

“Hotch, do you need me to book you a meeting with the director?” you ask, leaning on his desk with a sweet smile plastered across your face. You know your voice comes out bubbly—it always does when you’re around him—but you don’t mind. You have a tendency to be a little more playful when he’s near.

He glances up from his paperwork, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he looks you over. He always does that, and it makes your stomach do a little flip. It’s as if he’s trying to figure you out, analyzing you the same way he does with cases. It’s both flattering and endearing, and it makes your heart beat a little faster.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” he replies, but his voice is a little more distant than usual. It’s his way of staying professional, but you notice how his lips twitch—just barely, as if he’s holding back a smile.

“So,” you start again, leaning closer to his desk just a little, “I was thinking we could go grab coffee after work. You know, just the two of us. I promise not to steal your files this time.”

His eyes flick up at you again, a brief glimmer of something unreadable in them before he returns to his work. He doesn’t seem to be taking you seriously, as usual. But you’re not giving up that easily.

“You know, I don’t understand why you’re always so serious,” you continue, your voice soft and teasing as you try to get him to react. “You’re like... a walking, talking textbook of boring.”

The words slip out before you can stop yourself, but you’re not worried. You’ve said worse to him before. And every time, he’s given you that same exasperated but slightly amused look—like he’s trying to act unaffected, but the small twitch of his lips always gives him away.

His expression softens, though, and you see him letting his guard down just a little. “I’m serious about the job,” he says with a small smirk. But you can tell he’s holding back the full force of his smile.

“Well, you’re lucky I don’t mind serious men,” you say, leaning in a little closer, your voice softer. “You’re still pretty cute, even if you’re all about ‘business’ all the time.”

You see the immediate flash of something in his eyes then, something like surprise mixed with hesitation. You almost think he’s going to respond with a typical Hotch answer—something neutral, something that would keep you firmly in the “professional” zone. But instead, he looks at you for a long moment, his gaze searching your face as if trying to decipher your intentions.

“How’s your day been?” he asks suddenly, his voice quieter than usual, as though the question itself signals a subtle shift in the conversation.

You smile brightly. “Oh, you know, the usual. I’ve been keeping myself busy with all the paperwork—making sure you don’t get buried under it all.” You shrug, glancing down at your own stack of work. “But it’s been fun. I like helping out. Plus, I get to see all of you guys every day.”

Hotch’s gaze softens again, and for the first time, there’s a touch of warmth in his eyes that you’re not used to. “I appreciate it,” he says quietly. “You’re a big help around here.”

His words aren’t anything extraordinary, but they make your heart flutter in a way you didn’t expect. You hadn’t thought he’d notice how much you enjoyed being around, how much you appreciated the little things he did, like staying late to make sure everything was wrapped up, or the way he always double-checks the details.

“You know, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease, the flirtatious energy flowing through your words without meaning to. “You should let me take you out for dinner sometime, Hotch. I think you could use a break from all the work.”

You’re not expecting him to say yes. After all, Hotch isn’t the kind of guy who jumps into social outings easily. But you can’t help yourself; you have to ask.

He glances at you again, his gaze softening even further, and this time, his lips do curl into a faint smile. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Maybe,” he says, and you almost think you see a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

That’s enough for you. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen that kind of warmth from him, the first time he didn’t immediately deflect your teasing.

“You’re adorable when you smile like that,” you say before you can stop yourself, your voice softer, more sincere than you intended. The words are out before you can take them back, and your face immediately flushes with embarrassment.

But instead of retreating, Hotch’s gaze softens even more, and he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sits there, watching you. And it’s in that moment that you realize—you’ve been teasing him for so long, but maybe there’s more there than you thought. Maybe, just maybe, he likes you too.

“Maybe dinner would be a good idea,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper now.

You beam, your heart racing. “I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, and this time, your flirtation is more playful than anything. “But don’t make me wait too long, okay?”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and genuine. And for once, you realize that maybe this game you’ve been playing isn’t just a game. Maybe there’s something more to it after all.

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

“It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this…

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”

[sammyluvr]

✶ no one else here — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, sort of dreamy!reader, fluff, sam calls reader pretty, unedited, 908 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : in the patch of sunlight cast through a window + “it is pretty. i think you’re very pretty, too.”

one might say that you’re easily enchanted. you beeline to the corner of the library with tall, southern facing windows that let the early afternoon sunlight stream over the study tables and sprawling shelves that practically overflowed with books. this small town’s library is an absolute gem. it’s clearly a historic town, full of victorian era and gothic revival architecture among more common styles. the library’s pinnacles and pointed windows make it clearly gothic revival, which is a complete aesthetic treat. most public libraries that you and sam visit for researching purposes tend to be visually unimpressive, but this is a gem. 

it feels like it could be a movie set, and the sharp shadows in the shape of stretched, intricate window panes have you enraptured as you sit across from sam. you’re now bathed in sunlight, and sam thinks you’re the prettiest thing in this library, especially as you smile and stretch your hand out in the bright patch of light. it’s not a warm day, but the sun through the window is strong and warms you where it beams down onto your left side.

when you grab a book from sam’s tall stack, you realize he’s looking at you with a small smile on his pretty, frustratingly kissable lips. you smile back because you’re in a helplessly good mood thanks to all the sunlight and windows and dreamy architecture. you open the book and look down quick enough that you miss his blush.

a thin line of defined shadow stretches across the book's slightly yellowed pages as you skim the table of contents, looking for anything that might be of use to you. content, you read for a long while, sharing tidbits of information with sam and discovering that you can’t stop smiling at him. he’s just so very easy to smile at, with that gorgeous face of his, boyish dimples, and impossibly mesmerizing eyes. 

the fact that he doesn’t do much reading, and instead spends most of his time staring at you somehow flies right over your head. simple delight and a sense of ease is your best look, and it sends his sensibility spilling away from him.

“anything else?” you murmur, looking up at him from your current book, which has yielded nothing new thus far. the light has shifted and the shadows have begun to soften. you’re now illuminated by the sunlight coming through a different window than when you first arrived, after being swathed in gentle shadow for a while as the sun moved through the sky.

“nothing else,” he replies, sighing softly, but not feeling tired at all.

you close your book and stretch your arms up above your head with a reactionary yawn. then you lean forward, prop your elbow up on the table, and rest your chin on the palm of your hand. your eyes flick up to his face after scanning the upside down title of a book near his elbow.

“i wish all the libraries we visited looked like this,” you say, voice a bit wistful, “it’s so pretty here. i had no idea there were places like this in such small towns.” sam wants to tell you all about it. bits of history about small towns in the new england states and what he read on the plaque by the front door. he’s sure you’d love to hear it, but it all slips from his mind as he looks at you.

“it is pretty,” he agrees, “i think you’re very pretty, too.” and he says that with such sincerity that it can’t have been an accident. he must really mean it, and he must have the intention for you to know it. you look at him almost blankly. he’s complimented you before, but never with such spontaneity or intensity. sam thinks you’re pretty, in the way that he’s attracted to you. he’s just confessed to being attracted to you, and you have no idea how to react. all you know is that you’re far more delighted than you have been all day.

it takes you so long to respond that he begins to worry. then, softly tumbling out of your lips and accompanied by a pleased smile, comes the echo of his own words, “really? i think you’re very pretty, too.”

it’s his turn to feel shy. sam feels like he’s constantly blushing when he’s around you. frankly, he is. he nods lightly to your ‘really?’ because he wants you to know how much he means it. then, he wants to repeat that question to be sure that you mean it, but that would make this conversation sound a bit like an echo chamber, so he puts his hand over yours and grins because he can’t help it.

“do you think there’s anyone else in this library?” he asks as a murmur, his voice a bit sly and playful.

you grin back. “you mean besides the funny old lady at the front desk who told us that the corner with the windows is the most private place in here? and that she can’t hear patrons that far back, so she’s trusting us not to cause any trouble?” he lets out a soft laugh and blushes all over again the way he had when she told them that. he’s pretty sure you missed the wink she threw at him, too. you give a little shake of your head. “no. no i don’t think there’s anyone else here.”

[cherrysolo]

u and lu spending a summer in italy meeting for the first time as neighbors then going back to college (nyu & upenn) as lovers kinda reminds me of cmbyn😭🙏🏼

mystery of love

anon I love you. I love cmbyn (I’m a timothee stan hello) he’s fr my loml other than lu bc he speaks fluent french like myself! this fic is kinda self-indulgent for me too bc my irl best friend is having her wedding in italy next year!

warnings: smut

your best friend was finally tying the knot, and you were staying in a small villa outside of Rome. villa auriela was a beautiful 17th-century villa with a renaissance style garden surrounded by beautiful flowers. this serene spot was the perfect place to celebrate your bestie’s special day, away from the hustle and bustle of New York City. while away on this trip, you’d had become familiar with the groom’s group of friends, one of them happens to be a guy named luigi. you had never been the one to be interested in your mutual friends, but you two had hit it off. there was something so familiar and homey to him. there was some kind of electricity between you two, you’d never felt anything like it before. smiles from across the room, quick-witted flirty comments, and grazing hands. you’d felt like celebrating romance only made you two want it more.

the night before the wedding is when everything changed. after a few too many drinks and far too many dances, luigis lips were on yours. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while,” he’d mumble between kisses. your teeth almost clashing his because you guys are so giggly and happy. you’d both stumble into his room grasping onto another. his shirt is the first to go, and next you stumble into the bed. as he kisses down your neck to your chest, you feel like you could burst. the tension is so intense and has built up for the past week.

“isn’t this like a normal wedding thing?”

“hmm?” luigi groans out,

“you know, the bridesmaid and groomsmen hooking up? oh-“ you whimper as he sucks a purple mark onto your collarbone.

“I think this is more than that,” luigi remarks as he moves lower down your body to scrunch up your dress around your stomach. his fingers quickly reaching for your panties to remove them. wasting no time, the cool air hits you, sending shivers all over your body.

“spread your legs, baby, that’s it… wider… good girl.” praising you, as your legs spread to fit luigi in between them. the sight in front of you is orgasm worthy, his head directly in between your legs. his mouth begins peppering kisses across your thighs, slowly moving to where you need him most.

“luigi. please,” you beg, not wanting to waste time. he immediately attaches his mouth to your clit, making you both moan out in pleasure. his tongue laps around you, collecting your wetness on his tongue. “I have dreamed of this, but this is so much better,” he groans into your core. your hands were pulling at his curls, letting him know he was doing such a good job. just as you felt a familiar feeling in your stomach, he stopped. “I want to cum with you,” he looks up at you, “is this okay?” rubbing the side of your hip intently.

you start nodding intensely, he genuinely leaves you speechless. as he releases himself from his pants, you are now left breathless. he was huge, his tip leaking with precum. he began rubbing his cock against your folds, “can you feel how much I want you?” he groans before pushing in and bottoming out. you had never felt so full and turned on, “oh, lu-“ you moaned out, grabbing onto his bicep. his hips started moving in a fast rhythm, hitting every spot inside of you. “oh, you feel so much better than I imagined,” his hips snapping forward as he groaned into your ear. your legs were practically wrapped around his torso, locking him in until you both reached your peak. “luigi, I’m so close,” you whimper out, not remembering if you’ve ever come this fast. “mhm hold on for me baby,” his thumb reaches down to ferociously rub your clit, you both wanting to get there together.

“you’re so tight around me, ah, I’m close too,” he groans out, the sounds of wetness and your bodies colliding all become too much. you start to get butterflies and the coil in your stomach bursts, the same happens for luigi. you both reach your orgasm in unison, grasping onto one another. his hands still sprawled across your waist, the sudden realization hits you.

“didn’t we go to upenn together?” you say, suddenly remembering luigi from one of your physics classes. you’d gone to upenn for a year before transferring to nyu, it had been your dream school but you’d been rejected in the first applications. no wonder he was here, your best friend and her fiancée both just graduated from upenn.

“it took you this long to remember y/n?” he shakes his head laughing,

“when I saw you last month at […]’s bridal lunch I almost lost it. I was obsessed with you in freshman year,” he confesses, leaving you dumbfounded for a couple of seconds.

“I remembered you because you asked me to your frat’s formal, but I got an informal transfer to nyu so I left philly” you explain.

“that makes a lot more sense, I thought you just bailed on me completely,” you nuzzle your head into his chest. “well I guess we’re making up for lost time,” you say as he kisses your forehead.

after the wedding, you two had spent the rest of the summer in italy. making up for lost time of what could’ve been the last two years, falling in love in the summer heat. going from rome to florence, milan, with your final stop in naples. making love in the moonlight, reading books by the beach, and falling even more in love. you both had begun to plan how you’d make time to see each other, a two-hour drive wasn’t bad right? going back to college would be a hard decision after spending the summer falling in love, but it was worth it to figure out your mystery of love.

[hanamukes]

Uika in Ave Mujica episode 4

For episodes 1-3 of the Ave Mujica anime, I felt like while there was definitely stuff going on with Uika that's worth unpacking, the scenes were straightforward enough in what they wished to convey that I didn't feel like they warranted explanation. Episode 4 has completely turned my view of this character on its head though. It feels as if her every word and action in this episode completely contradicts what we knew of her prior. What is going on with her?

I wanted to talk about her in a longform post, so here I am. This is maybe half analysis, half just me rambling my thoughts on what's happening on screen.

DISCLAIMER: If you're not familiar with the way I discuss this character, let me make it clear now that I absolutely love her! This post is essentially a love poem dedicated to how fantastic I think her writing is. That said my tone here might come off a bit sharp, because of how contradictory she is (which I say as a compliment) and how I want to grab her by the scruff and shake her until she tells me what's going on inside that head of hers. Just wanted to mention something before anyone gets the impression I'm criticizing her or the writing when I'm doing nothing of the sort.

Her first moment happens and immediately a lot stands out to me

First: the models in this anime fall under two specifications, girls who always have a blush programmed in and girls who don't. For instance, Sakiko has one so she's always blushing no matter her mood. Uika doesn't. But throughout this entire episode, she does. Why? Why is she so... eerily happy, in a way we have never seen her before?

Secondly, what is her aim here? Sakiko expressed her discomfort with everyone's attitudes, and rather than just being "Sakiko's second voice" as she has been up until now (take the episode 3 fight as an example), she's taking everyone else's side. Her actions are already in total contradiction with the Uika we've seen up until now, who didn't care about anything except easing Sakiko's feelings

Then this happens. Uika is basically in la-la land daydreaming about having her destiny tied to Sakiko's forever (especially because Nyamu points out that sounds like something Sakiko would say), yet she's ignoring her beloved who sits on the other side of the table

Uika, do you really love Mujica as it is when Sakiko's expressing to you directly that she's unhappy?

Ironically, when she does acknowledge Sakiko directly, it only leads to further frustration for Sakiko

Because she's focusing on the wrong thing. She's more worried about Sakiko's exhaustion from writing songs (which is something she can physically see, thus easily pick up on) rather than Sakiko's concerns with the band (which is something she'd have to actually stop to think about). It really feels like she doesn't understand Sakiko at all. How much does she actually stop to think about her feelings? How surface leveled, rose-colored lens does she view her?

Her actions here scream, "well, so long as I get to stay with Sakiko, I don't actually care if she's happy," regardless of if that's her intent. Sometimes your inner feelings aren't enough, Uika. Sakiko is actively looking miserable in front of you and what are you doing about it?

Are you really just going to leave without saying anything to her? You express concern when halfway out the door, yet when face to face with Sakiko, you act like nothing is wrong?

Again, yes, Sakiko is exhausted, but that's not all there is to it Uika. And she hasn't exactly been subtle about what she's worried about!

Mortis keeps the focus of the conversation to Sakiko having to write all the scripts (thus prompting Uika to point out that she's been pulling all-nighters and maybe that's the problem), but I quite like this line, as there's a lot to unpack here

前はそういうの絶対見せなかったのに

The translation gets the idea across fine to be clear, but in Japanese, there's an emphasis on the "never" part. It feels unthinkable to Uika that Sakiko would perhaps lash out, or show her exhaustion to the others. Kind of putting a mental pin in this because that's not the impression we, the viewers, have seen from prior episodes (Sakiko in this episode was acting incredibly in line with what we've seen of her already in this anime), so I wonder where Uika got this idea from. It makes you wonder just what Uika's impression of "normal" or "prior" Sakiko is

This line is genuinely sweet of her, if not a bit ironic because Uika's already absolutely overworking herself for Sakiko, which Sakiko pointed out in episode 1 (a lot of the officially published interviews have been pointing this out over and over too, just as a side note). They really want to ease each other's burdens...

Yeah, we're not even being subtle about Uika having to "borrow" ways to cheer people up anymore

I actually noticed this about her even back in It's MyGO. When Uika comforted Tomori in episode 10, it was eerily close to what Sakiko did in episode 3. Tomori even associated Uika's actions as being reminiscent of Sakiko's behavior. I had no evidence about Uika copying what Sakiko did then (I don't... think? know? that Uika saw Sakiko's meeting with Tomori and thus could copy it), but now? There's evidence that perhaps her acts of generosity are in fact just things she's imitating from others. If you're curious about the It's MyGO example of this, I highly recommend watching this for yourself

Oh, I'll also mention that in my pre-anime analysis post for Uika, I mentioned she probably doesn't "shine" at all as an idol without Mana, and she more or less just confirmed that for us

Again there's a lot to unpack with this part

Hoo boy. Let's go back an episode. In episode 3, Uika was feeling insecure about the fact Sakiko "knew" Mutsumi "very well since they were kids." She looked visibly bothered by it before changing the topic. So hearing from "Mutsumi" herself that "Actually, you're the one closest to Sakiko, not me" must be making her day. Mortis is actively using Uika's affection for Sakiko against her (well, for the sake of the band, but she's still manipulating (for lack of a better word) her regardless). It's a bit harrowing when you realize that Uika's happy that her "competition" for being close with Sakiko is dead, despite her not realizing Mutsumi more or less is dead at this point...

Moving on to the scene in her apartment, my only addition here is... well, it sure is something how the only things she said to Sakiko were what Mortis told her to say. She has no lines here that weren't just parroting advice. Is that really all you have to say to your beloved?

This is an interesting comment from her

Because there's a couple ways you could interpret this. Is Uika referring to the "stiff" expression, or the close proximity? We know for Sumimi, she views herself as having a "terrible expression" (when Mana's not around to change her energy), but it's also not lost on me that it could also be referring to "my image of Sumimi [where we take photos together in close proximity]"

Sakiko's reaction to this is what makes it so meaningful to me

Nyamu and the photographers are saying "this doesn't look like Mujica at all, but that's a good thing," which Sakiko is obviously displeased about. Why would going against Mujica's worldview be a good thing? And yet... even Uika, who founded the band with her and who writes all their songs, is saying she likes the photo. Once again, Uika is completely disregarding Sakiko's feelings despite how close she is to her. Physically, they're almost close enough to brush shoulders, but emotionally, I don't think Sakiko's ever felt further from her. The betrayal in her face and voice feels so obvious, yet Uika's still in la-la land like she was earlier in the episode and doesn't acknowledge it at all... we really can put ourselves in Sakiko's shoes throughout the whole episode, because truly, what is going through Uika's head?

Uika doing sweet gestures for Sakiko. This is the character I recognize!

It's not lost on me that 1. she has two umbrellas like she does in her apartment, and 2. there's this almost eerie focus on Uika making coffee for people. I say this because the opening itself has a shot of her mugs, there's that weirdly placed clip of coffee dripping in episode 2 (it's also in one of the trailers), the donut scene in episode 3, and now this. I'll be interested in seeing why this is so important to her

I do wish we had gotten to see the conversation Uika and Sakiko had here. Sakiko has a habit of brushing Uika off, but she was finally able to open up to her about something. They finally talked together amidst all of this miscommunication and not understanding one another, but we didn't get to see it... (which may be a sign they didn't really talk about much, but hey, I like my Uisaki crumbs where I can get them)

Thank you for the confirmation that Uika would be the first victim in a slasher film. Moving on

I love the way this comment is framed. If Sakiko left the band, who would be most hurt? Sakiko or Uika?

Uh oh. She's having her words used against her

What she said in episode 3 was honestly a bit careless* (she said it in front of Sakiko, who famously broke up Crychic by leaving it)... but she did have a point. She just wanted to articulate that Ave Mujica should be the 5 of them, and that surely they have a strong enough bond that if one of them left, they wouldn't be able to carry on and just "find a replacement," right? She's our kindhearted front of the band who loves everyone equally, right?

Well

(To clarify the translation, it's not super clear whether Uika said this directly to her, or if Mortis just hit the nail on the head)

Oops! Now that's an awkward position to be in, especially in front of Sakiko herself! Zero denial either...

(*I'll just tack this thought on here, but there's potential Uika's "Please don't hate me" line from the trailer could be because she feels guilt for having said the "if one member quits it's over" line (and thus bringing about the downfall of the band))

Last thing for this episode...

Same, Mortis. What? Why does she have no fight in her? Why doesn't she care? Why is she not saying anything? Are her feelings of guilt, embarrassment and self-hatred actually overpowering her drive to be with Sakiko? Is it over for her, now that the cat's out of the bag regarding the fact she only ever cared about the band to be with Sakiko?

I noticed she acted like a kicked puppy in episode 3 as well. When someone points out how selfish she actually is, she loses all her edge and goes quiet. She wants to escape the situation. She can't fight against what's true about her (the ugliness in her heart), after all, lest she drives herself into a corner as a hypocrite even more than she already has. But her reactions are fascinating to me, because you'd think the front of the band, and someone who swore her life to Sakiko out of profound love for her, would put up more of a fight to keep the band together so she can stay with her. She's not doing damage control at all, she's just taking the hits and all the impact that comes with it. Maybe it's some form of self harm...

(I'm also incredibly curious to know what Sakiko thought of all of this, but maybe that was the least of her concerns...)

Anyway, we'll see what happens next week. I wonder if and when we'll get closure on why she's been so apathetic to Sakiko, despite her claimed devotion for her. I get the impression Sakiko will be moving out (next episode?), so we'll have to see how she reacts to that...

[butterfly-ribbon]

i was thinking about mizuki's gender being listed as unknown again and how everyone else has an explicit mention. people tried to point at that to say she's either not trans OR that she isn't a tgirl (instead a different kind of trans) at some point, but i think that… actively misunderstands the internal intent of the game. like this was done so people wouldn't assume she's a cis girl and i also think there's an active intent in noting that, but not wanting to say "gender = male" bc this would be misgendering (duh) and for a character who's burying so much of her gender struggles bc of how others deny it, i think it makes sense. there's a struggle, i think, in writing and exploring trans narratives that engage with that… question? idk. maybe it would be better if she was just noted as female from the start and i think she's overdue for that especially after ena5, but i also think there's so much nuance in how she's portrayed that i see saying her gender is "?" isn't meant to actually be a declaration of her gender or meant for the reader to question what her gender is.

in many cases, trans girls are already automatically shunted into that expectation of either a fetish or wish fulfillment (which in many ways are the same thing at a certain point) and that's the conceit of her introduction in the main story in terms of how everyone treats her as an exhibition at school - she's fetishistically mythologized and vilified as an Other type of girl, which is something she tries to reclaim by hiding behind the facade of the Mysterious Manic Pixie Dream (Cis) Girl when she's around niigo bc it's the only way she feels like she can be with them without imposing on them or getting close enough to them to the point of having to reveal her secret due to her desire to avoid being hurt. it's wild to me that the consensus in the past about her was that she's anything but a trans girl when the treatment she's subjected to at the school is textbook transmisogyny and this is something we see immediately in the main story.

people are constantly fetishizing her and treating her like an object to be ogled at. she's constantly under the threat of violence. even when she puts so much work into pushing back just through being full of energy and looking "past" it all, they never stop. there's nothing she can do about a society that refuses to recognize her as a person, much like mafuyu can't do anything to change her own mother.

at most she gets told by others that this person is "just not used to her yet". terrible implications all around bc she's made to feel as though people are just putting up with her existence instead of making the effort to understand something that should be simple about who she is, which makes her feel terrible after she's put so much effort into both explaining herself and making herself as palatable as possible?

i think there are some valid criticism to be raised about how marking mizuki as "unknown" and how it might've contributed to people writing her off as "neither a girl nor boy" and the unfortunate parallels with degendering/third sexing therein. if i were to engage in good faith, i'd say the intent is draw attention to mizuki's gender struggles and make the reader interrogate that (and then ideally arriving at the answer being that she's a trans girl), but i still stand by my take that ena5 should've had her refer to herself as a girl explicitly to reclaim the way she was outed previously. it also always felt like the equivalent of mafumom being 'hidden' due to mafuyu's perception of her as a figure of authority rather than a person until kanade saw her for the awful person she is. in this case mizuki's "unknown" is also meant to tie into her own internalized transmisogyny (e.g. referring to herself as an artificial flower in many songs). mizuki herself plays into the degendering she's been subjected to for her entire life in many ways … we know that in the beginning of high school she actually made effort to explain herself to others and they didn't get it? she presumably said that she's a trans girl but she wasn't taken seriously. now she just finds it exhausting to explain anything and she doesn't want to feel like she constantly has to prove that a trans girl is just a type of girl so she's just like "that's me. i do this bc i wanna be me. this is the person i am, why the hell do you think i would do this, why would i dress this way, why would I put up with people like you if it wasn't obvious." i think there's also a lot we can engage with in terms of the presentation of mizuki which is wholly under her own control vs that which is outside of her control... mizuki finds comfort in niigo and connecting with girls over discord bc she can rewrite her life in such a way to as to obscure her own transness like when she narrates her backstory. the fact that the details of her trauma are so carefully hidden carries a strong intent bc it reads as mizuki's renarrativization due to not wanting to get too much into detail about her own trauma? it feels very meta considering mizuki's genre saviness and the fact that most transfeminine narratives tend to indulge in transmisogynistic violence in really voyeuristic ways... we know mizuki had numerous traumatic coming out moments and i think there's so much to read into the ambiguity around this... she's frankly constantly under the treat of SA as well as a trans girl, but i just appreciate that this is something the writing treats respectfully and affords her so much dignity. to be trans in many contexts is to be expected to give over so much of yourself to people who frequently won't care, won't actually understand how much of yourself you're giving over, and will actively rewrite your narrative to define who you are for you based on their own prejudices… and mizuki communicates that well bc she's allowed to be almost wholly in control of her presentation and her narrative.

[genderqueerdykes]

Another weird thing about the TME/TMA thing is that the people who push it often believe that any suffering or bigotry we face for being transmasc is by nature lesser. When like I can list on and on the social alienation and violence we face and have faced myself as a transmasc person.

And also it doesn’t fucking matter what intent a bigot has behind their violence, if they’re pointing their violence at me I’m still a victim of that violence! I had a friend almost got attacked while walking down the street cause he’s a trans dude who was wearing drag. Like aw man sorry you got attacked by violent bigots, it seems however your labels don’t match up with that bigots intent. Guess what happened to u doesn’t mean anything!!!! What a weird concept.

i'm sorry you experience it as well. it sucks ass, i'm so tired of people trying to weigh transmasculine oppression vs. transfeminine oppression on a scale to see which one's heavier. like stop that, why are we trying to compare situations to see who has it worse? why are we telling people who are also oppressed that their struggle is "lesser"? what does that accomplish? all it does is hurt the person being downplayed. it doesn't uplift trans women to put other people down. that's not how this works.

i really don't fucking understand this current mindset of "person who has it The Worst gets to talk all the time forever for as long as they want and be as rude as they want and everyone who has it Less Bad has to shut the fuck up and sit with rapt attention and listen and never speak or comment or have an independent thought of their own on what they got lectured on." those people still have problems even if they're ""less"" bad, why do only certain groups of people get to talk about them? everyone in the queer community has problems, it doesn't matter the "severity," they all deserve to be discussed. and yet.

i'm really sorry that happened to your friend, holy shit. that is terrifying. but it happens. you're dead on the money. it doesn't matter what their intent is. they committed an act of violence. it does NOT matter what was going through the attacker's mind. they chose to commit an act of violence. sitting there on your petty ass high horse going "well akshually, i have a transfem friend who got attacked by TWO bigots and it was way worse so be grateful and shut up," isn't helping a goddamn soul. please stop shutting people up when they talk about their pain and trauma.

i don't know how else to tell every other transfem and trans woman on this website that we are not the only trans people who suffer. like i really need every single one of us to step down off the damn horse already and admit that we aren't the only fucking queers that suffer because we're not. we can't keep controlling the narrative like this. that's what we're doing at this stage. we are COMPLETELY controlling the narrative, making it ENTIRELY about us and our suffering and how we have it bad. we DO have it bad. but other people do, too. y'all GOTTA accept that other people suffer. y'all GOTTA accept that trans men are assaulted and killed every single day for being trans men. y'all GOTTA accept that most trans men don't and will never benefit from patriarchy. y'all GOTTA accept that transmascs and trans men have it really, really damn bad too.

i am honestly just so sick of the victim complex already. can we finally discuss how these currently emerging transfeminine and trans woman victim complexes are just out of fucking control at this point. i've wanted to talk about this forever and it's just getting worse right in front of my damn eyes. i've been in transfeminine spaces for a long time, but lately i just don't have a single desire to spend time in them. way too much arguing. way too much hostility. way too much anger directed at the wrong people. yes we are miserable, yes we suffer, yes we are heavily oppressed, yes we ARE very much victims. but so many transfems and trans women make that their entire ass personality and it's gotta stop.

womanhood isn't about being a victim. i don't know if i like the idea of making "woman" and "victim" synonymous. that's not empowering. that's not feminist. if you only see yourself as a victim, that's what you'll be. you will never progress to being a survivor if you keep thinking like that. you can't turn being a victim into a personality. it's a state of being, but it's not an identity. you are relinquishing power when you voluntarily identify as a victim. you are surrendering your control voluntarily if you keep throwing your hands up in the air and giving up like this.

someone else talking about their suffering doesn't diminish ours. someone else talking about their pain is not somehow an attack on you. trans men and transmascs talking is not an attack on you or transfemininity or trans womanhood. trans men existing are not an attack on you! stop with the victim complex already! it's not empowering! not everything is an attack! the world sucks but not everything is an attack on trans women and transfems!!!

i don't fucking care how much it offends you that people other than you suffer, but they're not talking about their suffering to make you feel like yours is lesser.

so why are you doing it to them?

[ashes-writing-corner]

And we are back, literally on time for Nosferatu to come out! Yall gifmakers are gifts from the gods I swear! Thank you for all you do! And to those who read my story and enjoy it, yall are gifts too and I love all of you ^^

Taglist: @exactlyelegantwizard, @xenoanamorph, @hoeia-strigoi, @arwenkenobi48, @xanth420, @serpentdeath, and @landlockedmermaid77

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know ^^

On to chapter 3!

Exile: A Nosferatu Fanfic

Chapter 3

You're not my homeland anymore. So what am I defending now?

Ellen was at a loss. She honestly had no idea what to do. How could this have happened? How could she have been so blind? Ever eternally…and the Beast had seriously meant it. Even in death they couldn't be parted. There had to be a way…something…anything. This was not how she wanted to spend her eternal rest, lying next to the monster who made her life a living hell.

Not just her life. Thomas’ too for the brief time he knew of the situation. Her beloved Thomas…she couldn’t help but wonder about him now. Where was he? Was he even alive? Ellen didn’t take him for the sort to take his own life, and she would be devastated if that were the case. He had been her everything after the Beast abandoned her initially.

Oh yes, he left her. He left her alone when she needed him most. Left her with nothing but trauma and a severely scarred soul and a heart to match. It had hurt, even if Ellen wouldn’t admit it aloud. She didn’t understand why he had pulled away so harshly, so suddenly. But he stopped answering her, stopped visiting her, leaving her with this numbing sadness. She had waited, and waited, weeks turning to months, before she met Thomas.

He had been one of the few suitors her father had found for her. He wasn’t rich, nor did he have a well known name, but Thomas was hard working, honest, and decent. All were qualities her dear papa had liked and respected about him. Despite her oddities, he was so kind to her, so warm, courteous, and gentle. A better suitor couldn’t be asked for. So no surprise they courted and finally Thomas asked her to marry him, which Ellen was quick to accept.

With her acceptance, she thought that was the end of it. The Demon was gone, she was happy, and had all she wanted. Ellen didn’t need wealth or a nice house or material things. She just wanted a peaceful, happy life with her sweetheart. That was all.

But of course, the dead can never stay dead for long…

Furie whined softly next to her on the bed, his ears flattened as if sensing her emotions. For a hound literally named Rage, he seemed to have very little of it. The wolfhound had literally stayed by her side for the past two days, keeping watch over her for his master. The Beast hadn’t come back, just as Ellen commanded, and it made her wonder: Was he bound still by her power? Did she still hold some sort of sway over him, even in death?

Ellen had tried to be kind in a sense. She had to kill him, there was no doubt in her mind about that. He needed to die. But she had tried to be kind as it happened, for the sake of what they once were to each other. That was only fair wasn’t it? Ellen had tried to give him one last kiss, one last small gesture of love before they were both gone. It was only meant to be kind, as a way to let go of what once was.

She gently pet Furie. “It’s okay. I’m alright. I promise. I just…have a lot on my mind”.

The wolfhound looked at her, his ears perked as if he were listening intently. Ellen chuckled, her first laugh since her death.

“I don’t know if you’d be able to understand. But…I don’t really have anyone else to talk to I suppose-”.

Furie whined, as if attempting to remind her there was someone she could talk to. Ellen shook her head.

“Trust me, I would rather much talk to you more than him. At least you don’t try to tell me I did the right thing for the wrong reason” Ellen paused, “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. I know what the covenant said but I thought with death it would be done. I could be free. But I’m not and I don’t know why”.

She knew why. It said Ever Eternally…but she didn’t understand why that meant even after death. Ellen got up and looked out the window, peering out the expansive, glistening surroundings. For a second she thought she heard a voice, a soft collective of voices, on the wind calling her name somewhere in the distance. It sounded like the whispers of every person she ever knew: Thomas, Papa, Freidrich and Anna and their children, even the Demon’s voice could be heard among them. Ellen felt her mind go blank a moment, her eyes going a strange milky white color as though she had died again. Furie rose from the bed and growled, followed by a sharp bark, pulling Ellen back to herself.

She took a deep breath and blinked several times to recollect herself. Ellen turned to the dog, calming herself a little as he came to her side and whined, nuzzling her hand. She pet him, breathing deeply as her mind and spirit settled back into her body. What in the world was that, that strange call?

Ellen kept a hand on Furie’s head. “Good boy. Thank you…thank you so much. I think I might’ve been in a little bit of trouble had I somehow answered that”.

Furie whined, wagging his tail at her praise. He had sensed something was amiss and had been quick to pull his mistress back from what he thought was something that could and would seriously harm her. He was entrusted with her safety after all, and the wolfhound clearly took that job to heart.

“It’s always snowing here” Ellen looked outside again thoughtfully, “How about we go outside and do something fun?”

The wolfhound cocked his head curiously and Ellen smiled as she got up to change. She wasn’t sure if she really needed to dress warmly in this world, but she figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The wardrobe was shockingly full of clothes she remembered wearing in the other world…and there were others in there she had never seen. Older dresses, some furs that looked like they hadn’t been touched in ages. These weren’t hers. But yet, somehow, they felt familiar. The texture, the smell hiding beneath years of unuse…she knew these older articles of clothing somewhere. Again, it was like a memory from a dream she had a long time ago…

“Let go” she heard a voice sound in her head, one that was eerily similar to her own, but not quite hers, “Please…you have to let go…for me…”

In her mind’s eye, Ellen could see the image of a woman with a face like hers, but her hair was a shining copper color, and her eyes a deep blue tinged with green. She looked pale, deathly so, laying in bed looking at her dead in the eye. Her pale blue-purple lips trembled as she reached a quivering hand out to her.

“Please…love…I’m afraid…”

Ellen dropped the fur coat immediately, frightened by the dream. It was like looking at her own pale, dying face in a mirror. Only the reflection had spoken to her. She set the coat back in the wardrobe and grabbed one of her own warmer outfits for her outside activities, which Ellen wasn’t even sure if she wanted to do anymore.

No, no, she did want to. She needed to get out of this castle, out of this room, even for a short while. Even if it was to do something silly and childish with a large wolfhound at her side. Ellen redressed herself and motioned for Furie to follow her, something akin to excitement blooming in her chest. She hadn’t done this particular activity since she was little and she always loved doing it.

She made her way outside, surprisingly avoiding the Demon. Ellen glanced around, rendered breathless by the glistening snow around her. It was as though the grounds of the castle were being purified under a blanket of white. Ellen stepped out, the soft snow giving out a satisfying crunch under her booted feet. Furie followed behind her, his tail wagging in excitement. He liked being outside, but liked it even more with her it seemed.

Ellen found a nice, clear spot to begin her work. She made a ball, small enough to fit in her gloved hand and slowly started to roll it around to increase its size. Her troubles seemed far away as she worked, her mind drifting to happier times. Furie moved the ball too with his head and Ellen laughed.

“Trying to help me now?” She asked and gave him a pet, “such a good, sweet boy. I don't get why he called you Furie. You're anything but” Ellen stopped in her work to give the wolfhound pets along his chin and chest. All the while his tail kept wagging in delight.

“You are the sweetest thing I swear” she put her nose to his and giggled, feeling very much like a little girl again.

Ellen turned back to her task, and Furie joined her in pushing the ball around. Little did they know, the third hound, Durere, had spotted them outside and ran back in to tell his sister and master about it.

He let out several barks to Orlok, as if trying to articulate what he saw. The vampire glared.

“She's outside?” He got up and glanced out a nearby window.

Lo and behold, there was his Little Soul, rolling a large ball of snow around with Furie, before finally settling it somewhere. What in the world was she doing out there? Chaos still called for her, and she was still susceptible to its call. It wasn't safe to be out there alone. Orlok turned from the window, grabbing his enormous coat to go out and keep an eye on her…

“I think we can start on the body now, hm Furie?” Ellen asked, to which the wolfhound barked and wagged his tail.

She turned to start a new ball, this one to be slightly smaller than the other, when Ellen felt her blood run cold. An all too familiar shadow fell over her, and she knew it was the Beast. She sighed and stopped rolling the ball as Furie barked a greeting to his master. Ellen stood, facing him fully for the first time since they found themselves here to see him petting all three wolfhounds.

“You’ve named him poorly” she dared to say, “There’s not an ounce of rage in him”.

“Because you haven’t seen him angry…yet” Orlok replied, looking over at the large ball of snow, “What is it you’re doing, Micul Suflet?”.

Ellen stifled the urge to glare at the nickname. “I would appreciate it if you used my name…And what does it look like I’m doing? I’m making a…a snowman”.

He raised a brow. “A what?”

“A snowman. Have you never…” she stopped when he just looked contemplative, as if the concept of such a winter activity was foreign to him, “You’ve never made one before, have you?”

“Such things were considered a waste of time back in my youth. I spent the winters studying, learning and preparing for my role” He told her, almost avoiding her eyes.

“You never even got to do such things? Just…do childish things like this?”.

Ellen didn’t need an answer. His silence and avoidance were more than enough of an answer. Honestly it hurt something in her to know that. Maybe that was a part of the problem, why he turned out like this. Ellen took a single step toward him, a hand reaching for his.

“Come…join me. Help me with this” she requested, “Please?”

He pulled his long clawed hand away from her, shaking his head. “It’s a childish waste of-”.

“Stop. Right now. Time doesn’t mean anything anymore. It’s okay. We can do things like this. No one’s here to stop us or judge us or anything. Who cares if it’s childish? A time spent in merriment isn’t wasted time, even if time was still relevant to us” Ellen looked in his eyes, “A passionate hour is never a wasted one. Help me with this…Just once”.

Orlok narrowed his eyes at her and then the huge ball of snow. He sighed in annoyance and shook his head.

“Fine…Once, and that’s it” he conceded.

“Once is all I ask” she smiled coyly, like a cat who had just caught her prey. Her first genuine smile since they appeared here.

But even that was enough to make something in his chest feel awfully warm…

If you guys enjoyed this please feel free to like, reblog, and comment! If you wanna read more of my work, feel free to follow! Thank you all so much for reading and I'll see you in the next one ^^ <3

[red-takami]

HII NORTH ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) do you know a lot about manifestation/how to practice it? if so what has ur experience been with it? i have a follow up question but i dont want to sound like im interrogating you 😭 ill probably ask it after this question/in the comments of this question

Honestly I'm not good at it all that much 😭 besides shifting and actively experiencing a change, I almost never try any other methods of it because of how weird/complicated I make it on accident while trying.

In my personal experience, manifesting is like boomerang, you throw out your intention and you receive it back physically. It's sort of unpredictable, like sometimes you experience results immediately, or not for a long time. Sometimes it's not exactly what you envisioned, or maybe it's EXACTLY what you envisioned - but it's not what you needed in that instance yk?

I don't do it a lot, because unfortunately I get demotivated extremely easily. If I don't see results immediately then the doubts make it almost impossible to keep faith in my own intentions. Which is why whenever I shift, I make sure to have whatever I desire in mind so that way I don't need to go through all of this trouble for it.

When I was a younger kid, I would listen to subliminal messaging RELIGIOUSLY. Like every single day for at least a few hours at a time. I did this for probably around 3 years, starting when I first found out about subliminals and not stopping until I experienced something that had kinda made me realize the gravity of doing so like I did.

Nothing bad, at least not this first experience anyway. I remember back then, I was obsessed with werewolves specifically from twilight. It crossed my mind every single day so of course I was willing to jump into anything that could promise my own experience in such a life as a twilight werewolf 😭. I looked and explored all over the internet for different subliminals made by different sources and different affirmations, and no results at all. Eventually though, I just found I grew extremely patient with the results I was waiting for, I found that I genuinely just enjoyed the couple 3 or 4 main subliminals I had found enough to listen to them without the anticipation in my belly making it hard to be in the moment. Of course, back then I didn't realize this, nor did I realize what happened because of this newfound relaxation until one morning I woke up and the teeth in my mouth had all changed shape entirely. I looked in the mirror getting ready for school and vividly remember just standing there with my mouth open and frozen in my spot. My teeth were absolutely a different shape before this morning. I had fallen asleep that night to a subliminal and coincidentally, one of the affirmations were fangs and sharp k9's. This took the relaxation and turned it into slight intimidation. Made me realize that whatever I was doing, was working somehow. It was intimidating.

Second experience, years later in 2020 I had picked up subliminals once again after a year or two break from it, and instead of wolf subliminals - it was shifting subliminals. I won't name the account because honestly I can't remember but they're extremely problematic. I'm not the only bad experience with this account and their subliminals. I had fallen into the same routine, falling asleep to the subliminals daily, everything was fine enough at first that I didn't realize anything was wrong. Just chalked it up to my brain being an asshole.

Over time, and continuing to listen to those affirmations religiously, I started to experience some scary shit back to back, more than normal. Nightmares that weren't lucid but felt more vivid than reality, where the contents were nothing but darkness and pure malicious invasion of my mind and dream state. It was disgusting. I stopped after I realized what the reasoning for these things was, and eventually even heard the same exact stories from other shifters who used that accounts subliminals.

I don't use subliminals at all anymore, but only because I know I don't need them. However, if I did, I now know for a fact that this shit is serious, manifestation is real and you need to take caution with what you're trying to make your reality. This was my second time being shown this, and now my main form of manifesting is just shifting, so I'm sorry if that's not helpful. Feel free to ask anything else!!!

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"EXTRAORDINARY"

A short fic with Friedrich Harding (Aaron's character in Nosferatu)

I hope you like it!

The first time Friedrich saw you, you were covered in blood.

You were a nurse at the city hospital, and you had just performed surgery on one of your patients to cure him of the evil that was taking over his body.

You were heading to the room next to the medical procedures to change your clothes, when he saw you.

Friedrich didn't know why he was more surprised, whether by the blood, or by the fact that you were wearing pants and dress shoes like a man.

He had never seen a woman in that outfit, so when he saw you he stopped to look at you closely.

The shirt you were wearing, which had previously been white, was now stained with blood and other things, which Harding had no intention of knowing what they were.

You both looked at each other for a moment without saying anything, until you broke the silence with a question:

-Can I help you with something, sir? - you asked pleasantly-

He cleared his throat, looking away slightly, as if he had realized that he was scrutinizing you too much.

-You are very kind, miss, but I do not need your help at this moment - he answered politely - however, I would like to know the condition of the patient whose operation you have carried out

-He cannot speak at the moment - you answered, you paused for a moment - excuse me, but I would like to get all this off my chest - you pointed to your clothes - we can continue this conversation in the bathrooms, if it is not inconvenient for you

-Of course not - he answered, gesturing with his head for you to lead the way - please - he indicated pointing to the hallway where you were -

You opened the bathroom door and he entered after you. He stayed there covering your back.

From time to time your eyes connected again through the mirror.

You took the bar of soap that was on the sink and rubbed your hands and arms up to the elbows with hot water.

-The patient I was talking about came in with convulsions at six o'clock this evening," you said as you wiped the blood from under your nails. "I had to operate on him urgently, as he was suffering from cardio-respiratory arrest due to the amount of blood accumulated in his lungs," you said, remembering how the procedure had been. "So I emptied his lungs so he could breathe." You dried yourself with the paper next to the faucet. "I've given him several opiates so he can get some sleep."

-Will he be okay? Friedrich asked, stunned after hearing your story

He couldn't have done it, he would have fainted on the spot.

His blue eyes landed on yours, making you suddenly nervous.

-I reckon he'll be able to return home to his family in a couple of weeks -you replied-

-Extraordinary -he murmured, looking at you curiously- It's been a real pleasure meeting you, Miss - he replied, touching the brim of his top hat in a sign of respect. But I'm afraid there are matters that require my immediate attention-

-Of course, sir. I wouldn't like to bother you or interrupt your chores, --you said- -You haven't - he reassured you, smiling kindly - maybe we'll see each other again someday

-I hope not - you replied quickly, and you hastened to add - if you do, it would mean that you're ill

-Then it will be a relief to know that, if that happens, I'll be in good hands - he smiled, leaving the room.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

See. You are what I like to refer to as, "willingly stupid" Academia is a class of people in the world. That's a fact. It's a decently large group mind you, but it's real. And they do control a lot of the general information that gets validated as, "true". Like how waking your male dogs at a dog park reinforces sexism. Or the lie most people have been sold about "97% of climate scientists agree".

Also of note. Yes kids are in fact bring transitioned socially and even some medically. Up to and including a TikTok doctor who got her jollies cutting of 13-16 year olds healthy breasts off. Also also that's the fun part. Hormone blockers have been used for a long time for a lot of reasons. But when used for the FULL SCALE INTENT to block puberty outright, it's being misused. Because that was never it's intended purpose. It was meant as a suppressant for other conditions. Never for the purpose of stopping puberty.

What's more, stopping it stops body development. Including brain, immune health, bones, etc. You are young and you are stupid. And I can promise I've looked far deeper into this than you have.

Also I'll accuse predators of being predators. Because they are. If you are using THIS kind of terminology, you ARE a predator. Because people, like yourself, have told me no one is using this language. Except they are. It's always, "it's not happening", "don't worry about it". Until I show that it is, then it's, "it's actually a good thing it's happening". Do yourself a favor. Sit this one out.

If you have trans friends, I feel sorry for them. Why? Because of shit like this.

Leave.

Kids.

Alone.

Also if you are using language like, "cracking eggs" you're grooming children. Children are not fundamentally stupid. But I promise they don't understand what it means to transition. I will always stand by this. Because dissenting research is effectively taboo and is pushed out by the academic class. I'm sorry if you can't end up "passing" after puberty. But you should at least go through puberty given that up to 96% of people dissist. Because even a 1% regret is too much especially when chemicals and surgery.

Because that is harm that can't be taken back. Alternatively, after puberty if you still see yourself trans, them by all means, you do you. I have ZERO beef. Do what you want. Full support from me. But leave kids the fuck out of it.

[someheartsaretrue]

I honestly don’t get it. I do things.

I run. I cook. I am in community theatre. I have multiple creative outlets. I have great friends who I love and love me. I have a wonderful pet who is happy and healthy. I have hobbies. My life is full.

So why the fuck do I feel so worthless and empty because I don’t have a partner? And yeah, society pushes that on us as the ultimate goal, I get that. But I still want that for what feels like self-motivated reasoning. And yeah, it’s perfectly fine to be single, I get that too I’m not saying it isn’t. But I sure feel like shit about it.

Is it even about any of that? It feels like either I am at place, or the world is at a place where what I want is no longer available to me. I’ve hurt people. Recently. My therapist would probably tell me I haven’t hurt them as much as I think. But it still feels awful to know that I’m just one more shitty fucking guy in the world.

I always want to be better. And to recognise things in myself that can improve. It just feels like the goal posts are constantly moving and I’m two steps behind all the time.