#i have nothing else to add to this ToT this is so good.

[suusoh]

look ure doing some wicked things to my brain that might change its chemistry for good (and i cant be the only one suffering)

——— cw. smut, sub!johan, dom!reader, power dynamics

ok now that we're onto this Pathetic Johan Agenda i cant help but think how it'd be if you were to corner him the way corners you, albeit in a different manner. well he doubts his sweet little darling could actually be of the same caliber, but youre specifically there—like you have let him devour you and all—to prove him wrong. you're not just his little darling, you quite in fact a spiteful one. and little by little you'll try to conquer and devour him too!

you'd go along his advances and hell be damned that you noticed how johan actually got so lost in the pleasure of kissing you. indeed it felt gross but the satisfaction to have him finally wrapped around your fingers was ecstatic, to say the least. if johan the devourer (or so he believes) lets you have your way only during intimate moments then intimacy it is.

like what a wonder that he fell for your trap when he agreed to let you explore a little bit during sex, because this immensely feared monster actually became a babbling mess when you started pegging him, inch by inch with the strawberry lube you bought for him. he could not believe the first time he'd believe he's actually an existent human being exists is when he felt the toy hit a spot inside him.

all that and you look at him with those expectant, submissive looking eyes—seeking for approval, carefully rutting under the guise of making him feel like he still has the upper hand (pathetic). you are well aware that a few moments from now he'll be moving his hips on his own, begging and crying things so unlikely of his character. he is drowned. what a mistake of letting you pave your way thinking it's all but a harmless exchange.

in light of me not being able to write top/dom readers... please eat up with miss riri serving us <333 Everyone say thank you <33

[spoopyblues214]

Can I have the Rise boys with a reader that yaps constantly and dosent do a lot of touching other than small acts of hand holding, poking, and just being physically close-? Like can and will talk about anything under the sun, like cats, space, their toaster they named Bermuta whilst being next to Donnie while he’s working, or holding Leo’s hand whilst Helen he’s reading a comic, poking Raphs arms or cheek when he’s doing something, and their head on Mikey’s shoulder while he cooks/draws.

But on the rare occasion they’re silent, like dead silent, not even a hello or good evening just nothing. And they’ll sit down on the ground next to said turtle and lean their head on the turtles legs slash thighs and wrap their arms around them, looking really zoned out or just not there because they had been yelled at or got into an argument with someone else or their parents for being so animated and talking so much.

Also I really love your writing!! Small reminder to rest up and take care of your needs, have some roses for the road :333💐

I'm gonna take this as a headcanon request, and tysm for the request(s) and reminder! You're greatly appreciated. Yapper hcs here we go!

°•.•°

Raph

He doesn't mind one bit, your constant commentary reminding him of when he and his brothers were turtle tots

He finds it really cute, and is sure to listen just enough to keep up with what you're saying

Eventually he starts to prefer listening to you yap about your day over his music when he's working out

When you start poking him it makes him laugh, opting to lift you instead of the weights, which gets you squealing

The fact it brings him so much joy makes it all the more heart wrenching when you end up sitting on the floor in his room, quiet with distant eyes

When you grab his leg, his eyebrows knit together, confused even as he finds it a little endearing

He'd press for an explanation on what had you so quiet, voice quiet and gentle, and your answer would make him sad

If it was your parents, he'd offer a sleepover, preferring you stay at the lair then at home when things were turbulent

Leo

You and Leo could go on and on and on if other things didn't get in the way, he was just as talkative

That also meant he was especially attentive laughing and nodding and giving input

Even when he was reading or trying a new trick on his skateboard, he'd still have something to add when there was a pause for him to

He also rather enjoyed the little bits of affection youd offer, sitting right next to him when he'd read or on movie nights

The first time you're silent his beak wrinkles, as the quiet is the most unwelcome thing in the world

He's much more aggressive in asking what's wrong, refusing to drop it until you told him what happened

Once you would, he'd go off immediately, saying the person who told you to shut your trap was a loser and boring and all sorts of other things

Then, after getting through his own rant, he'd raise an eyebrow considering you're still attached to his leg, mischievous mind working before he'd start walking with you hanging on, trying to make you laugh

Donnie

He likely struggles with it the most, but the fact you speak so much means he doesn't have to worry about small talk

Even so, he mentally catalogues every topic of conversation, able to keep up with anything and everything you spew

He feels a little bit of accomplishment everytime he can add input based on things you've mentioned before

As for your less typical signs of affection, they matched him perfectly; he greatly appreciated being able to focus on his projects while you're nearby

But then one day you're not saying anything after a surprising amount of time

When he swivels in his chair, you're on the floor, and immediately he's set into a panic, asking what happened

He'd be pretty similar to Leo, insisting you tell him, and then scoffing and bad mouthing the plebeians who dared to raise their voice at you

As for your clinging to his leg, it's a little odd, but he never comments on it, just standing in place until you're done, maybe ruffling your hair

Mikey

Mikey loves talking to you, listening to anything and everything that comes from your mind

It makes him laugh, why wouldn't he enjoy it, especially when you hold his hands or sit in the kitchen while he cooks

Even when he's feeling creative, you still choose to sit with your side against his, more intent on whatevers caught your attention that day then what he's working on

When you started poking him, though, he'd do it right back, which would end in a tickle fight that he'd never lose

When you're quiet, it's a different story, and he's sensitive to your feelings

You hug his leg, eyes unfocused, making him frown and meet you on the floor, sitting with his knee up so you can keep hugging him

He wouldn't push on what's wrong, instead asking if you wanted to talk about it, and if you did he'd listen and offer his sympathies

If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd sigh but nod, and rub a hand over your back, talking himself to fill the quiet when you had nothing to say

[graciegoeskrazy]

Instead of living in your head

ross Macdonald + daughter!r

warnings: angst, lil bit of yelling, crying, r has dyslexia, uncle matty lolz, r is 11, tall ross with lil y/n oh my hearttttttt, barely proof read, idk what else

a/n: told ya i’d get this done tnt! Thank you tot he anon who requested this i ran right to the computer after getting the request.

“Why must the parent-teacher conference be tonight? And why are you so stubborn about going to all of them? You already know I’m doing fine in school.” You groaned from the back seat.

Ross kept his eyes on the road, not giving into your antics, as cute as they might be. “Oh, how terrible. God forbid I care for my daughter and help her during her school years.”

You smiled. “You really don’t have to go, you see my grades, they’re good.” You told him you just wanted to spend a quiet night with your father, which wasn’t a lie technically, but there was a bigger part that you didn’t want to tell your father.

You knew you were struggling. You knew this ‘issue’ was getting worse. For years, you were able to get by in school. Your grade wasn’t the best compared to your other stellar grades, but you kept it up. Until now. It wasn’t that you weren’t trying. If anything you were trying your hardest. It’s just as time went on and you got older, the harder it got. But you were determined to continue on as if nothing was wrong.

“I’ll only be gone for a few hours. Plus you don’t have to go with me, you get to stay with your uncle.” You smiled only a little bit. You figured that there could be a chance the topic won’t come up.

In complete honesty, Ross forgot this parent teacher conference was happening, which led him to texting Matty last minute.

ross | What are you doing tonight?

matty | getting drunk and crunk and making love to my wife

ross | Do you think you could add watching y/n for a few hours somewhere in between all that?

matty | oh for sure

matty | of course she calls upon her favorite uncle in her time of need

ross | George was unavailable…

matty | ffs

ross | Be there at 5.

The front door opened with a whirl as soon as you stepped out of the car door. Matty stepped out with his arms opened wide. You ran to him. “Uncle Matty!”

He scooped you up and lifted you in his arms. “Hey, angel! There’s my favorite niece!”

You looked at him with a pointed look. “I’m your only niece.”

His smile never faltered, “Which means you’re my favorite!”

Ross walked up by this time. “Thanks for doing this last minute. I should only be a couple of hours.”

“No worries. Say bye to your father.” Matty said, then gentured to you.

“Bye Daddy.” You said hugging his legs.

He kissed your head. “Bye, my love. Be good for your uncle.”

“Always.” You said with a smirk. Making both men smile.

—-------

Ross truly thought he had nothing to worry about. You were a well rounded girl all things considered. And not a single teacher had a complaint in the past. Sure, he was completely biased, but you were a great student. Not every kid can be perfect, but he was convinced you were the closest any girl could get. But again - he’s biased.

Someone had called his name from a hallway that was filled to the brim with anxious parents. They led him into a classroom. He was met with a woman, y/n’s teacher he heard about, standing over a table organizing files and papers. She was younger than he expected, but seemed nicer than the other teachers you’ve had, gentler.

“Mr. Macdonald! Please, come have a seat.”

She introduced herself, told her about the class, what they learned, etc. It all seemed very normal yet, there was still something that didn’t make sense.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the grades she brings home are phenomenal.” He nodded, a small smile gracing his face. “It’s no surprise to me or any other teachers here that you have a very bright child. She’s the first to raise her hand, the first to help others, she has every quality of a great leader.”

He kept nodding, obviously agreeing but too shy to verbally admit it. Too proud to admit you were smarter than he ever was at this age.

Suddenly she took a pause. She read over her notes. When she looked back up her eyes wandered, looking anywhere else but Ross. “I have noticed a few grades have been dropping in the reading area?”

His head tilted. “Really?”

“Well, her last few grades have I’ve noticed have been getting lower and lower. Now her overall grade, although lower than the rest, I’m confident we can bring it back up to where it was.” She shifted, and Ross took notice. “When preparing for this meeting I discussed this pattern with our principal, and she thinks it’s possible that y/n has Dyslexia or another learning disability.”

Ross didn’t expect it.

“We have many resources right here in our school. If you want to get her officially tested we can help with that. That’s what we’re here for.”

He finally regained his thoughts, “To be honest, I haven’t even noticed. In her quiz grades? The ones she brings home?”

She let out a soft, sad sigh. “Yes. At first we thought it was some form of test anxiety? But, it’s mainly happening in the reading subject.”

Ross felt a tightness in his chest, the weight of guilt settling in as the teacher's words lingered in the air. He replayed the moments when y/n had shrugged off his questions about school, offering vague reassurances that everything was fine. He had wanted to believe her, and in his busyness, he’d let himself. But now, hearing this, it became clear—she hadn’t been fine at all. She had been drowning in silence, hiding the truth about her grades, her struggles, and maybe even her feelings. He hadn’t seen the signs. The late nights, the way she’d avoid reading out loud, her tendency to brush off doing her homework with a fleeting excuse, but then catching her doing it in silence in the confines of her room. It all added up now, and the realization hit him hard.

He felt a deep pang of regret, mixed with anger—anger at himself for not seeing it sooner, anger at the school for not catching it earlier. Dyslexia. It was a word he wasn’t familiar with in a personal way, but he knew enough to understand that you must have been feeling overwhelmed. He couldn’t help but imagine the frustration she must’ve experienced in class, surrounded by kids who seemed to grasp what was on the page while she struggled to make sense of it. It pained him to think of y/n, his only child. someone so bright and full of potential, being weighed down by something out of her control. 

His mind raced with questions. How long had she been struggling like this? Why hadn’t she come to him? And how was he going to help her now? He realized this wasn’t just about grades; this was about understanding her on a deeper level, about being the kind of father who didn’t miss the subtle cries for help. He nodded to the teacher, forcing himself to stay composed, but inside, he felt a swirl of emotions. This was just one layer of what you had been dealing with on her own. 

—-------

You ran out the door to your dad’s car, but not before giving Matty a big hug and telling him bye.

You greeted your dad with a kiss to the cheek, like you always did, as you got in the car. “Matty got me Mcdonalds.” You said, tone cheeky.

“Nice. What’d you buy me?” He said, only for a second forgetting the news he just learned.

You gave him a look. “Funny.” He smiled and you continued. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged, “Went alright.”

You mentally sighed, maybe they didn’t talk about it after all?

When you got home you told your dad you were going to shower. He nodded and let you be. It was getting late for you after all. He thought to himself as he watched you walk up the stairs. How am I going to ask her? He hadn’t a clue how he was going to address this.

—-------

He heard the water running from the bathroom that was connected to your room. Once he slowly and quietly opened the door, he made his way to your desk.

Compared to other kids your age, your room was pretty tidy for an 11 year old - another point that Ross made when bragging to others about how great you were. The bottom side drawer of your desk was filled with old test papers and worksheets that you brought home. You had always kept them in there, but not before proudly showing them off to your dad first.

It wasn’t the most organized, but the marking in red at the top of certain pages led him to the ones he needed. The first couple of papers weren’t awful, but definitely concerning knowing your usual grades. The more pages he picked up the lower the number at the top of the page. They were littered with correction marks and notes in red ink. His heart sank knowing the truth. The truth was you lied to him. He tried to stop himself from getting too angry but admittedly it was hard. You told him everything, and he was proud of that fact. He knew that as you got older there might be a day where you held some secrets to yourself, but never did he think it would happen now or at this age.

To entranced in the papers and the grades staring back at him, he didn’t notice the water stop or you walking out of the bathroom, towel in hand drying your hair, dressed in your pj shorts and one of your dad’s old t-shirts that, although large on your small frame, always seemed to look just right. “What are you doing?” You said, your voice small, curious. That curiosity only grew when you noticed the pile of papers on the desk and the ones you never wanted your father to see lying in his hands. “Why are you going through my stuff?” You said, stepping forward, only a hint of anger seeping through.

He looked at the papers in his hand, then back at you. “What’s this?” He asked.

You crossed your arms. “Answer my question first.”

He just continued. “Why haven’t you shown me any of your English class grades?”

“So that’s not answering my question actually.”

God, she can be like her mother sometimes. “y/n Macdonald, answer me.” He said, sternly. A sight you can’t recall the last time you saw.

You immediately got shy, shrinking in on yourself once you heard your fathers tone. “...I have-”

“No, you have not.” He said. He took a few steps forward. “I’ve never seen these papers or grades in my life. Why didn’t you show me? You show me everything like this.”

Your stomach flips as he holds up the stack of wrinkled papers, his face twisted with a mix of confusion and hurt. The sight of them makes your heart race faster. You never meant for him to find those, but here they are, crumpled in his hands.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, eyes darting down to the floor as your hands start picking at the edge of your shirt. “I forgot.”

“Forgot?” Ross’s voice sharpens, and you hear the disbelief clear in his words. He kneels down so he’s closer to your height, his face stern but not unkind. “These grades, y/n…why would you keep these from me?” His voice softens toward the end, almost like he’s afraid of the answer.

You stay silent, fighting the tears that sting behind your eyes. You’re not sure how to explain it, how to make him understand why the sight of those red marks on the papers made your chest feel heavy, why handing them over felt like admitting you were broken in some way. “I didn’t want you to be mad,” you whisper, feeling small under the weight of it all.

He lets out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not mad. I just—” He stops himself, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I’m not mad, Y/N. I’m just… sad that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. That you thought you had to hide this.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could disappear, wishing you could take it all back. “I didn’t want you to think I was dumb,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ross’s face softens at your words, and he gets down on one knee on the floor in front of you, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not dumb,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re so smart, Y/N. Way smarter than I was at your age. You just… you need a little extra help with this, that’s all. And that’s okay.”

He grabbed the sides of your arms, shifting the tone of the conversation as he spoke.

“Baby, do you know what Dyslexia is?”

You slowly lifted your head to meet his eyes. Softly shaking your head and letting out a meak “No.”

He swallowed and moved some of the pieces stuck to your face from crying away and behind your ear. “It’s a learning disorder that people have. All kinds of people, kids, adults. It could be anyone.”

He saw your eyes look up at him with curiosity. “Is it bad?”

“No, no. No, It’s not bad. Not at all.” He took your hands in his, “It just means some people need more help than others. Sometimes they need to be taught in a different way.” You looked down again, “Honey, some of your teachers at school think you have Dyslexia. They think that’s why you’re getting these grades.” You were trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. “Do things sometimes look different than what the other kids are saying they see? Or are you slow at reading? Are things like that getting harder?” He tried to search your eyes for something. A feeling or an answer, but all he was met with were tears.

His words make something crack inside you, and before you can stop it, the tears are spilling down your cheeks. You’re not sure if it’s from the relief or the guilt or the sheer exhaustion of trying to hide everything for so long, but you can’t hold it in anymore. Ross reaches out, pulling you into a hug, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into it, into the warmth and safety of his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you manage through your sobs, clutching his shirt.

“I know, kiddo,” he murmurs into your hair, holding you tighter.  “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”

You continued to sob, “I didn’t want you to get mad at my grades. I didn’t understand what was happening. I just thought I was dumb and if I kept trying it would get better, but it didn’t.” You said, pulling away slightly.

“Y/n.” He said, semi-sternly. “You should never be afraid to tell me something. I could’ve helped you-”

“How?!” You said, anger seeping through, knowing that the truth was he wouldn’t know how to help you.

He sighed, “I-...i don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

“We would’ve figured it out, we would’ve gotten the help sooner.” He took your head in his hands, “I’m not angry about your grades, baby. I’m angry you lied.”

You shrugged through your sniffles. “Can you blame me?”

He gave you a weak somber smile, “No. I can’t.” You fell into his arms again, cries continuing to wet his shirt but settling down with the comfort of your Dad. “But you don’t ever have to be scared to tell me. No matter what. We’ll figure this out together, okay?” 

You nod against his chest, the weight of the secret you’ve been carrying finally starting to lift. 

You were still angry—not at your father, of course—but at the situation, at how unfair it all felt. You'd spent so long believing you were just slower than everyone else, that something about you was fundamentally wrong, and now, suddenly, you had a name for it. However it didn’t erase the years of frustration or the moments when you felt completely lost, watching your classmates breeze through what felt impossible to you. But at least it was something—a reason. You weren’t broken, and knowing that eased a small part of the heaviness in your chest. 

Still, the anger lingered, mixing with relief in a confusing knot of emotions. Maybe you could get the help you needed and not have to hide behind excuses or crumpled papers anymore. And maybe, for the first time in what felt like forever, you could let yourself believe that it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t alone in this, and though the road ahead looked uncertain, at least you weren’t walking it by yourself.

You glanced up at your dad, who was still holding you close, and a small, tired smile tugged at your lips. Whatever came next, he was ready to help you through it all, and you were ready to face it together.

[draken-rotzi]

Tarnished Lore?

From my draconic girl Emma?

Yes she got it!

Though it's mostly a set of points in her story, I do need to write them down in a google doc ToT

I usually just throw my characters into the world, not really thinking in a deep backstory until later when I've defined their personality and relationships, they just fall into place and I add into that !

I'll try to make it as short as possible, since its not that much of a linear story I think? It happens paralel to "the chosen" tarnished's journey (the game's canon), so world events can progress without much issue!

Her name is Emmlyn! Emma for short

• Tarnished from the warrior/hero category, draconic mom and blood noble dad who mysteriously left so she basically never met him (Ansbach lol)

• Arrived at the coast in Limgrave, following the grace, led her to Agheel Lake where she met Yura and learnt about dragon communion

• Unable to beat Agheel, made her way east to Caelid, at Redmane Castle she trained (painfully) with the Leonine and Crucible Knight there, managing to defeat the smaller drakes around and crafting her (altered) drake knight armor

• Back in Limgrave convinced Yura to help her defeat Agheel and kept the heart, not doing communion (yet)

• Heard of a dragon at Stormveil, got to defeat Morgott with the help of Rogier. Didn't fight Godrick after she learned that the dragon was a corpse, proceeded to Liurnia following word of glintstone dragon Samarag.

• At Liurnia she met Bogart and Rya, she offered Emma a future visit to the Volcano manor, seeing her interest in dragon hunting the two wyrms around the place might interest her.

• Went to fight Samarag and failed, wounded she had to retreat, deciding to rest against the walls of the Rose Church where she met Varre, who made fun and dismissed her for being so weak.

• Back at the roundtable she notices Rogier's situation and decides to find a way to help him. (Basically what kickstarts her main story)

• Still following grace, she needs to be stronger to explore more dungeons and reach farther for any means to help her friend, she takes Agheel's heart to Caelid where her first step in dragon communion happens, she takes on more dragons around the area to further her goal.

(Not defined yet other than her draconic heritage but for the sake of convenience instead of the dragon eyes she can use a dragon form for a short while now, gives a boost in stats for combat but clouds the mind)

• Hunting dragons leads her back to Liurnia where she beats Samarag, on her way back she finds Varre again who is now interested in her strenght and offers his usual deal, she reluctanctly agrees bc that's another medium for her goal if needed.

(Pretty much Fia's quest minus "enter Ranni's service" happens here)

• Rogier's condition worsens, things get desperate, so she reaches out to Varre and his bloody finger offer.

In the end nothing can help Rogier from dying of deathblight, Emma is left with two curses and the lost of her beloved, she lost the ability to see grace as well.

• Varre takes advantage of her grief and makes her get attached to him (whats better than a knight elevated by toxic love?)

• Some time passes and Emma makes the trip to the Volcano Manor, now with the craving of more dragon hearts. Meets the recusants, specifically Diallos who is the kindest of them, but she keeps him at arms' distance.

(You can insert the DLC here)

• More time passes and they have become friends with benefits, though it distracts her from her duty at Mohgwyns (not good)

• In this story its Varre who sends the poachers to kill Diallos

• Now that again Emma's got no one else she fully throws herself into being a bloody finger (with a side of dragon hunting). It gets to a point where she's almost always in her dragon form, unable to turn back on her own.

(Next bit subject to change tbh lol)

• Her mind and heart broken, in the end funny enough Varre slips speaking about her past lovers' gruesome deaths and thats what does it, the floodgates open and both curses take away her remaining humanity, turning her into a violent mindless beast of blood and fire.

And there it is! I play around a lot in scenarios with my friends but this is basically her canon lore/ending ^^; hardly anything complex but I've been having a lot of fun with it ♡

[spooniechef]

Slow Cooker Beef Pot Roast (0-1 spoon)

I know it's been about half-past forever. Between work and some home issues, I haven't really had the spoons for much. But that's kind of perfect because it means that I do have things to say in this particular bit of journal. Yes, mostly I was doing my tried-and-true regular recipes, but this month I decided to further explore the possibilities of my multicooker (Instant Pot kind of thing but without the brand name recognition). The pressure cooker function is great if you want soup or stew, but this month, I tried the slow cooking function. Honestly, this was a bit of a revelation for me, for reasons I'll go into in a bit more detail once I'm done with the recipe. It's all going to be approximates, mind you - but the best recipes generally are.

So, here's what you'll need

1 good-sized chunk of beef (see notes; somewhere in the 2-3lb range)

1 onion, quartered

3 cups of chopped root vegetables (carrots, parsnips, turnips)

Whole garlic cloves (to taste)

2-3 cups beef stock

1 cup red wine

2 bay leaves

Other herbs and spices to taste (see notes)

Here's what you do:

Sear the outside of the beef - you can use the browning function on your multicooker to do that, but doing it on the stove is quicker

Add the onion, root vegetables, garlic, bay leaves, and other herbs to the multicooker

Place the beef on top of the vegetables; add liquid

Cover and cook on low setting for 6-8 hours

Take out the beef to let it rest for 20 minutes

If you want gravy, strain the remaining liquid into a small saucepan, simmer on medium heat to reduce and gradually stir in maybe 1 tbsp cornstarch to thicken.

FEAST

A few notes:

The best thing about the slow cooker is that you can put everything together the night before. While you're putting together one night's dinner, you can just chop a couple of extra veg, spend another five minutes or so searing the meat, then put everything together in the inner pot of your multicooker and leave it covered in the fridge overnight. Just take it out of the fridge 20 minutes or so before you start cooking it.

The other good thing is that this literally needs nothing else done with it. No watching, no stirring, no nothing. You can switch on your multicooker or even set it to switch itself on at the appropriate time, go to work or whatever, and not only come home with dinner sorted, but you will come home with your whole home smelling wonderful. Then, all you have to do is make gravy if you want to.

Yet another good thing about the slow cooker is that it encourages use of the tougher, and generally cheaper, cuts of meat. The slow cooking breaks it down very well - as an example, I used silverside in mine (nearest to the rump, generally known as a drier and tougher cut) and when it was done and properly rested, it was so tender it fell apart when I so much as tried to get the binding string off. So you get several days' worth of lovely meals at a halfway reasonable price.

As to the beef stock and red wine, looking over several slow cooker beef recipes has led me to believe that as long as there's a certain amount of liquid in there for your beef to soak up, you're good. So experiment with whatever liquids, herbs and spices you want. Honestly, next time I'm going for less beef stock and a half-cup of A1.

I'm going to be doing other things with the slow cooker, so I promise there will be more to watch on this space. If nothing else, I'm having a vegetarian friend of mine over to dinner next month and I figure I should share recipes for things like the planned butternut squash risotto and the no-bake gingerbread cheesecake. Also, Sunday will see me take delivery of a small air fryer, which I feel like will very much improve my quality of life and certainly inspire me to new heights of cookery. And hey, running one of those is cheaper than heating up a single portion of tater tots in the oven.

So ... not dead, just reeeeeeeeeally lacking in spoons. But now I've found some ways to save a few, and this is as good a place as any to spend them.

[ad-hawkeye]

You can tag this under 50 Shades, but after I read this post from Hoyolab, hoyolab (.) com/#/article/19978642/, if this is true, I am very disappointed about this direction, though it is one I've seen coming. That being said, you've given your thoughts on the writing. In your ideal world, where would the cards post 2nd anniversary have gone, if you had to keep the general situation/environment, but could change up everything else about it?

holy fuck, the way i actually agree with everything in this post. here is the link for those curious, it's a fantastic read tbh.

a few of us in our tot discord have discussed this as well. here are a few brief snippets below.

sorry for the incoherent mess of thoughts below, words are Not coming easy HAHA.

but yeah... like the post said, barbie is a very good way of putting it.

i used to have the same issue with luke. i'm not a huge fan of characters being good at Too Many Things, especially when there's no flaws to balance it out. it really pulls me out of the story. so like. the more you try to impress me with a character, the less impressed i'll be. which. is why i haaaate artem's newer cards.

see, the thing is, the whole reason why i liked artem in the first place is because of how he felt like the down to earth option. he wasn't the childhood friend/undercover agent/detective/stem genius, he wasn't a ceo and son of the richest family in stellis, and he wasn't literal royalty. he was just a lawyer who worked with rosa. he was bad at talking to people. he was a bit of a homebody. he was LAME. completely inexperienced in romance. he was good at his job, but it was obvious he put all of his skill points into being a lawyer and no where else. his abilities with shooting and cooking were both important aspects to his character, but the skills hoyoverse added beyond that just baffle me.

he wasn't cool, but he was kind and genuine.

ever since second anniversary, there has been absolutely no consistency to artem's character whatsoever.

neil gets mentioned less and less even though he was a major part of artem's life AND character. neil was his father figure, since his parents were rarely, if ever, around. and yet, in recent cards, tot constantly goes out of its way to try and convince us artem's parents did nothing wrong. to add to that, we're lucky if neil is even mentioned.

in earlier cards, it was very clear artem was grieving neil's disappearance (see: entwined fate). it was also clear artem's childhood circumstances were extremely lonely and caused him to try and brush off the neglect because he didn't want to stress out his already busy parents (see: loving memories and his dreams of childhood sr)! earlier cards also hinted at traumatic events and a fear of firearms due to how dangerous neil's job as a lawyer was (see: focus fire).

but for god knows what reason, newer cards said well! fuck all of this! artem no longer gives one single shit about neil! also? honestly? the writers seem confused and disoriented by artem downplaying his childhood issues and just made it so he truly Had no issues with his childhood. which. ok. i guess.

in recent months, we have not had one single card where rosa and artem sit down to talk about how artem feels about neil's disappearance. one single card where artem even openly addresses any traumatic experiences. or emotional neglect in childhood.

remember when focus fire mentioned that a disgruntled mafia member held him and neil at gunpoint because he was pissed neil put everyone else in the gang behind bars?? no?? yeah, me neither! because it's never mentioned again! old tot content implies it was incidents like these, the general emotional neglect from his parents, and neil's disappearance that contributed to artem's closed off personality. but man, fuck that! for some reason!

this doesn't even touch upon artem's romantic and sexual inexperience, which has also been entirely undone. he's a sex god now, i guess.

and let us not forget how artem has learned and forgot the same lessons like, several times. artem did we not learn why jealousy and possessiveness are bullshit in atmospherics, por una cabeza, etc...??? are we really back at this again? and it's not even being addressed as a character flaw anymore? okay! okay. fine! whatever.

but okay. i'm getting off track. you asked me an entirely different question! where would i have liked to have seen the cards go? i think the cards following second anniversary are so... well, nothing that you could probably swap out the plots and avoid losing anything of importance.

honestly, i think artem's cards would have shined the best if they stuck to his original character. so when considering the confines we have now:

artem is extremely emotionally repressed. it'd take time for him to come out of his shell. and his early dating cards do begin like this! it's very endearing! several cards could focus on this progression as he becomes more comfortable and relaxed with rosa. progression into being engaged. living with someone for the first time. please.

rosa and artem's dynamic has like, vanished in recent cards. which is a goddamn shame, because their more comfortable dynamics in his railroad, revisiting youth, and snowfallen secrets cards are so charming! they joke around! artem's sense of humor pokes out! they act like real PEOPLE! they're silly! they're nerds! they're equals! i'd keep this dynamic instead of it just being artem flipping back and forth between sex god and "yes i will do whatever you want [insert player name here]"

neil. please, can we focus on neil. what being a lawyer means to artem. how neil influenced that. how artem feels about neil being gone, how artem feels about neil's possible betrayal of the nxx?? he could always have an arc of going through the stages of grief, or learning to look at things through a new lens. being sad neil won't be around for milestones. etc.

the incidents implied in focus fire. okay, being held at gunpoint is pretty uhhh fucking traumatic. did any other events happen bc of neil's status? his parents' statuses? is this why he is so emotionally repressed? is this why he takes the law so seriously?

his parents. can we stop acting like his parents did nothing wrong. please. his parents used to be portrayed under the "well meaning but ultimately very flawed" light, which i adored. it was grey. it was human. maybe artem could learn that it wasnt right of his parents to be so nonexistent in his life. his parents can still love him and make mistakes. maybe he could rebuild his relationship w his parents? maybe once he realizes what he went through wasn't normal, he can be angry, and work through it. idk! anything! please!

more focus on rosa. her studies. her exams. anything. her family. her past. her hobbies. her teaching artem something. rosa talking about her issues. pelase. Please.

it truly feels like his original writers got swapped out, and the new ones have no idea what artem's charm was in the first place. they have no idea how his character even works, so they're just desperately trying to attach Cool Hobbies to him bc they think he's more boring than the other boys when like. that's the fucking point, that IS his charm.

gosh this was so long and i'm sorry if it's like. UNREADABLE or if i totally missed the point but this was like. Freeing to type out. thank you for reaching out anon, it turns out i had more thoughts than i expected!! hope you're having a lovely day! : )

[catsrightnow]

hi mourn do you have any western recommendations? i have not watched one in a hot minute but my sibling + i are doing a movie night soon + we desperately need to stop rewatching the same few westerns haha

Oooh Dodge City is a good one !! It stars Errol Flynn so its automatically high on my list (theres not a ton to warn about but do keep in mind its from 1939 so some scenes dont age well). Its a pretty classic Western plot, sheriff vs cowboys and a romantic sideplot, etc etc

San Antonio is also one I enjoy !!! Again starring Errol Flynn and again a standardish plot. The MC finds out some1 is unlawfully selling cows and bevomes a target bcs of it.

The dollars trilogy from Sergio Leone is good !! ive only seen the first movie tho ToT

If u want a more. unique? ig? one Sukiyaki Western Django is rlly good- it's got western themes but its also abt a war between the Genji and Heike clans. It also has references to both historical Japanese And American wars. If nothing else the lighting is SO pretty sl u shld watch it.

Smth interesting abt Sukiyaki Western Django is that despite it being entirely in english, many of the actors spoke it as a second language, poorly, or not at all. I think it adds to the atmosphere and theme of mixing american and japanese history tho. Watch it with subtitles tho bcs the accents can be really think in come of the characters.

OOH one if my favs if ur more into comedy is The Frisco Kid. It's abt a Polish rabbi who comes to america to be the rabbi for a community on San Francisco, but runs into a tonnnnnn of problems en route and ends up getting the help of a cowboy to get there. Its rlly funny but also rlly sweet. I highly recommend it if u dont want one more of thr classic westerns (some ppl find them boring which. yeah I get that)

Without my rambling heres the list:

Dodge City (classic western )

San Antonio (classic western)

Dollars Triology (classic westerns)

Sukiyaki Western Django (Classic western. kinda.)

The Frisco Kid (comedy western)

[churchofthesluttyknee]

A Series of Firsts

Author(s): A collaboration amongst smutty parishioners of The Church of the Slutty Knee

Pairing(s): Pedro x Oscar

Rating: E18+ MDNI

Word Count: pending

Series Warnings: explicit sexual content, including, but not limited to BDSM, choking, anal, oral, masturbation (self/mutual), toys, public sex

Chapter Summary: Pedro and Oscar discuss consensual power dynamics and safety. Oscar gives Pedro his first lesson.Takes place the day after chapter 3 concludes.

Notes: I know “cool slutty daddy” didn’t happen until 2023, and that Ash Crossan didn’t become an entertainment correspondent until 2022, so I’m taking some liberties (as if this whole story isn’t full of them 🤣)

Tag line: “Have you ever craved it? Craved it so badly… that it hurts?”

Chapter 4 - First Lesson

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

[Pedro narrates]: Al descubrirme totalmente entregado de cuerpo y alma a esta conexión, surge un nivel de confianza y complicidad que nunca habíamos experimentado. Nuestras miradas se encuentran, comunicando el ardiente deseo de olvidarse del mundo afuera, y solamente sumergirme en tus ojos inebriantes. Tus besos sellan este momento. No quiero que te vayas.

Upon discovering that my body and soul are totally devoted to this connection, there’s a level of trust and complicity that we never experienced before. Our gazes meet, communicating the burning desire to forget the world outside, and only dive into your inebriating eyes. Your kisses seal this moment. I don’t want you to leave.

 

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

ACT I: Toast and Coffee

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

Oscar stands in Pedro’s kitchen cooking lunch. Several pans are on hot burners and a delicious aroma fills the kitchen/living room area.

Oscar hums ‘Tuyo’ as he stirs boiling noodles in one pot and adds spices to a sauce in another. Just as he starts to strain the noodles Pedro pads into the living room wearing a pair of black boxer briefs and nothing else. His bed hair points in all directions. He yawns loudly and stretches his arms above his head.

Checking his watch, Oscar sees it’s a few minutes before noon.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all day,” Oscar says cheerfully.

“How long have I been asleep?” Pedro asks as he stretches again.

“About ten hours, give or take. I guess I finally tired you out,” Oscar says with a sly grin as he begins to plate their lunch. “Did you want to eat inside or outside? It’s late enough that the sun is out and it's another beautiful LA day.”

“Let’s eat outside. I’ll show you the castle I told you about the other night.”

They take their plates, laden with a robust spaghetti in red sauce, out to the balcony.

A soft breeze blows and birds chirp cheerfully. As promised, Pedro points out the castle down the hill. They eat in a comfortable silence, savoring their meals, sipping on Casillero del Diablo. When they do speak the conversation is light and casual.

“About yesterday…" Oscar begins softly. "I’m so incredibly sorry if I hurt or scared you. That was not my intention at all,” he says, maintaining steady eye contact.

“My neck is still a little sore, but you didn’t hurt me. You just caught me off guard. Up to that second, everything had been so… sweet. When I found myself… pinned… to the shower wall, it was… well, it was hot, don't get me wrong. I love your passion. But it was also a bit sudden. I know I should have said something, but…”

“Mi Pedrito, mi tigre, mi amor… I dropped the ball on this, and I’m sorry. I should have been paying closer attention. The second you got on your knees, those sexy, slutty knees, I knew the dynamic of our relationship was changing. It was my responsibility to help you navigate that, and make sure I knew your limits. I know we said we were gonna talk about it when I got back last night, but seeing you lying naked in bed… I couldn’t help myself. But today this conversation is a top priority."

"Oh I know, I have been totally wrapped up in you myself. I don't blame you for getting carried away. I just want to try to do this right. It's all so new."

"It's something I've explored before, so let me guide you. Have you given any more thought to your safe words? I believe we decided that three would be a good starting point. Green, yellow and red.”

“I have! I know it’ll probably sound silly, but…” he laughs, then continues, “since we’ve both been dubbed ‘Space Daddies’, what if our words were astronomy related?” he asks enthusiastically.

“I like that. Did you have anything in particular in mind?”

“For green I think ‘moonlight’ would be good, because I’ve always felt safe in the moonlight. For yellow, I was thinking ‘starlight’, because sometimes stars look like they’re blinking, like caution lights. And for red, I was thinking ‘nova’, because it sounds like ‘no veh’, you know, no-go? But also because it’s an explosion, and things tend to stop pretty fast when they’ve exploded." Pedro laughs joyfully at his own joke.

“That they do, Pedrito, that they do,” Oscar says, his heart full and happy seeing Pedro back to his usual, goofy self. “I think those are excellent, mi vida. Let’s keep talking inside while I clean up the mess I’ve made in your kitchen,” he says, kissing Pedro tenderly on the forehead.

Collecting their empty dishes they go inside to clean up the kitchen. Pedro collects the cookware from the stove and stacks it neatly beside the sink. Oscar runs hot water and begins rinsing. Pedro wipes down the stove and surrounding countertops. Once he’s done all he can do, Pedro sits on a bar stool, facing Oscar, who is still rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher.

“So… you mentioned yesterday wanting to do ‘truly depraved and brutal things with me…" Pedro begins, watching Oscar intently. “What sort of things do you imagine doing with me… to me?” he asks, his voice equal parts excited and timid.

Oscar smiles at Pedro and flicks water at him as he rinses the final dish.

“Well, since we’ve only just begun to explore our desires, let’s start off slow. What do you think about only being able to cum when I say you can?”

Pedro tilts his head slightly, considering what Oscar is asking him.

“You mean, like we did earlier, where you tell me to touch myself and to slow down so I don’t cum too fast?”

“Hmm, something like that. But let’s take it a step further. You can only touch yourself when I say you can, whether I'm here or not. And when I say you can touch yourself, know that I’m not giving you permission to cum. I might let you get close, so very close…” Oscar licks his lips at the thought of Pedro being desperate for release. “But until I give you permission, you’re not allowed to cum. And if you do… well, disobedience comes with punishment.”

“What… what sort of punishment?” Pedro asks, his eyebrows arching in fascinated curiosity.

“That’s something we’ll have to figure out together. What sort of punishment do you think you’d deserve for disobeying me, mi tigre?” he asks with a salacious grin.

Pedro bites his lip. “Well… since you’re talking about permissions, I suppose a fitting punishment for disobedience in this case would be not letting me cum at all?” he responds softly, looking at Oscar with a sad puppy expression, brows knitted together.

“If the disobedience continues, yes, that does seem a fitting punishment. Or perhaps I’ll overstimulate you, make you beg me to stop. You’ll be begging either way. Both sound equally delicious,” Oscar says, his smile devious.

Pedro’s eyes widen in shock. He’d never considered overstimulation before.

“But before it gets that far, you’ll be given warnings. The first warning may be verbal, but could also be something light, like a slap. I know you don’t really like harsh physical pain, so I’d never strike you hard… unless you wanted me to. But I think an open palm slap across the face, or on your ass, would be within your tolerance?”

“I think that would be ok. I definitely enjoyed it when you slapped my ass last night. As for my tolerance, I guess we’ll just have to discover it together.” A mischievous smirk tugs at his lips. “What other things did you want to do with me? Would these things be restricted to certain areas, like our homes? Or would we do stuff in public? Like… with the chance of being caught? The possibility of being caught… that… that actually sounds kind of exciting.”

“Oh, that turns you on, does it?” Oscar rubs his chin, contemplating the delightfully devious things he could make Pedro do while in the company of others.

“Yeah. My adrenaline always surges when the stakes are higher.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Speaking of public places, you’re going to the premier at the Dolby this evening, right?”

“Yeah, gotta support our fellow Space Sister, Diego!” Pedro replies enthusiastically.

“Space Sisters! I don’t know exactly where that name came from, but I love it! Did you want to go together in a ‘strictly platonic friends’ kind of way?”

“Yeah, that’s probably best. But maybe… we can fool around in the theater once the lights go down?” Pedro asks, winking playfully.

“Mi Pedrito travieso! What’s gotten into you? Have I awoken some sort of dormant beast in you?”

Pedro dismounts his stool as Oscar wipes down the counter a final time. Putting his arms around Oscar’s waist, Pedro nibbles Oscar’s earlobe.

“Si, papi,” Pedro purrs softly in Oscar’s ear.

Oscar shivers as the heat of Pedro’s breath causes a chill to run down his spine.

“Speaking of Space Sisters… Moon Knight and Din Djarin, who do you think would win in a fight?” Pedro asks cheerfully, resting his head on Oscar’s shoulder.

“Moon Knight, hands down! He’s got the power of Khonshu when he’s in his suit. No way Mando’s gonna beat that!”

“Excuse me, but Mando has a full suit of beskar! It’s impervious to everything. What’s Steven got? A mummy suit?” Pedro scoffs, laughing loudly and slaps Oscar’s shoulder.

Turning to face Pedro, Oscar says “Oh, you cheeky little minx. We’ve not even fully laid out the rules of play and you’re already begging for punishment. And I know just the thing. While you were sleeping I went into town and did a little shopping. Bring me the bag by the sofa and I’ll show you what I got,” Oscar says excitedly.

Pedro spots the bag by the sofa and brings it to the bar, handing it to Oscar, who is now sitting on a stool.

“It’s heavy. What’s in it?” Pedro asks, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Oscar rummages around in the bag, placing miscellaneous articles of clothing, rope and some industrial looking straps, onto the bar before finally pulling out a thin box. Pedro sits on the next stool, watching as the pile of mysteries grows. Pedro’s eyebrow arches as he tries to figure out exactly what he’s looking at on the bar and in Oscar’s hand. Oscar opens the box and pulls out a sleek black device with a ring attached. He also palms a small remote control.

“Uh… what the fuck is that Oscar?” Pedro asks, eyes wide, voice slightly raised.

“This, mi tigre, this is going to be your undoing. It’s a prostate massager with flexible teasers and internal warming. It’s remote controlled. That way, when you need… behavior modification, I can make adjustments discreetly. Let’s go try it on.”

 

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

ACT II: The Test

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

A few hours later Pedro and Oscar are in Pedro’s bedroom getting ready to head to the Dolby Theatre. Pedro stands in front of a full length mirror wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt and black boxer briefs. Oscar is dressed in a similar dress shirt and dress pants. Oscar buttons Pedro’s shirt while Pedro works on Oscar’s bow tie.

“Are you sure it feels ok? It’s not uncomfortable or poking anywhere it shouldn’t?” Oscar asks, his tone caring, full of concern.

“No, it’s fine. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as you do, but it’s still a pleasant sensation.”

“Want to test it out real quick, make sure everything is where it needs to be? Wouldn’t want to find out something’s wrong on the carpet.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Just keep it on low. I don’t want to become a Lonely Island song cliché,” Pedro quips with a smirk.

Oscar stifles a laugh and presses the power button. A Cheshire Cat grin manifests as Pedro’s breath catches and he moans softly. When Oscar doesn’t immediately turn the device off Pedro looks at him expectantly.

“Really? You’re gonna keep it turned on?” Pedro responds in a bratty tone, arching his eyebrow.

“Let’s test the range. I need to see how far away I can be and still have this thing function,” Oscar responds, ignoring Pedro’s sass for the time being.

Oscar steps out of Pedro’s bedroom and walks down the hallway. Every few feet he hits the up button and grins when he hears Pedro moan loudly. On his way back to the bedroom he can hear that Pedro’s moaning has softened, but comes in ragged gasps.

“I guess it’s got a pretty decent range, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to have to change, you need to turn that off, right now. I’m seriously going to cum any second,” Pedro pants, his tone a bit more commanding than he’d intended.

Oscar glares at Pedro for several seconds, maintaining unwavering eye contact, letting Pedro know that he overstepped by making demands. He finally switches the toy off, and Pedro sighs in relief when the silicone inside him stops vibrating.

"Did you just tell me what I NEED to do?" he says with a soft, menacing tone, eyes dark.

"Yep. And you did it, didn't you?" Pedro replies in a casually triumphant way, pursing his lips in a smirk.

"Testing me already? Tsk tsk tsk," Oscar clicks his tongue in disapproval, his harsh glare turning into a smirk of his own, which somehow makes him look even more threatening.

Stepping closer, invading Pedro’s personal space, Oscar wraps his right hand possessively around Pedro's straining erection. Oscar's other hand moves behind Pedro's hips to find the base of the toy, placed perfectly between his cheeks. Oscar pushes the toy into him in tiny pulses, each micro-movement causing Pedro to gasp. Oscar's right hand moves down to cup his balls firmly but not painfully.

"WHEN are you going to cum?" Oscar growls in his ear.

Pedro whimpers, "Please… I… oh my god," he barely manages between gasps.

"When?" Oscar demands, the grip of his right hand tightening slightly, just on the verge of becoming painful.

All trace of sass gone now, Pedro feels every part of his body electrified and aching with tension and excitement.

"When... when you give me permission, Daddy," Pedro pants.

"That’s my good boy. Don't forget," he warns, releasing Pedro from his grip. Pedro slumps in a combination of relief and longing for more. He can tell he’s in for a long evening.

 

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

ACT III: The Denial

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

Thirty minutes later they’re getting out of the studios private car in front of the Dolby Theater. A flurry of flashes momentarily blind them as they start walking towards the staging area near the start of the famous red carpet. They find Diego, exchange hugs, then get in line to walk down the long line of press. At each of the press stations, just as the interviewer is asking Pedro about his upcoming projects, Oscar hits the button on the remote nestled in his pocket. As the line progresses the intensity of the vibrations changes, up, down, never remaining consistent. Oscar delights when Pedro gasps just as he’s about to answer each reporter. The last reporter in line, their favorite, is Ash. Ash, the reporter who would eventually help birth Pedro’s title of “Cool Slutty Daddy” into the world. Oscar knows Pedro absolutely relishes the playful title and casual flirtation, but tries to play it down on Disney red carpets. That just isn’t a very Disney thing to talk about at one of the House of Mouse events.

Ash: “So Pedro, are you excited to see Diego in a Star Wars role?”

“Absolutely! I’m always happy to support a fellow…” He’s cut short as Oscar hits the button, increasing the frequency of vibrations of their new toy. Pedro coughs to cover the gasp. “Latino Space Sister!” he finishes quickly. Ash raises her eyebrow, silently asking if he’s ok. Pedro shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, urging her to continue.

Pedro answers a few more of Ash’s questions before being led off by Oscar into the venue. As other attendees are taking their seats Pedro notices that Oscar keeps glancing over his shoulder.

“What are you looking for, Oscar?” Pedro asks, trying to find where Oscar’s gaze keeps being drawn.

“I’m keeping an eye on the balcony. It looks like it’s closed off for the event. Once the lights go down I’m going to go up there and make sure it’s empty. I’ll text you when it’s all clear.”

Pedro nods and they both chit chat with other celebrities sitting around them as they wait. After about fifteen minutes the lights begin to dim and the theater goes dark. Another five minutes later Oscar taps Pedro’s hand and points up, indicating he’s going to check on the balcony situation. A few minutes later Pedro’s phone buzzes.

Pedro exits the auditorium, turns right, enters the first door on the right and mounts the stairs to the balcony. The path is lit by tiny running lights on either side of the steps. After a few moments Pedro finally sees light from the screen below. Oscar is sitting at the edge of the balcony, arms hanging over the rails, watching Diego tower over the audience on the projection screen.

“Hey,” Pedro says softly as he takes a seat next to Oscar.

Oscar turns to face him, cups Pedro’s face in his hands, and kisses him greedily. During the kiss Oscar presses the power button on the remote. Pedro moans into Oscar’s mouth as the sensation rocks him. Oscar gets up from his chair and stands before Pedro, his silhouette blocking the screen. Oscar places his left foot against the inside of Pedro’s right foot, and with his right he forces Pedro’s legs apart.

Oscar gazes into Pedro’s eyes as he works to undo Pedro’s belt buckle. Oscar can see Pedro’s eyes grow dark with desire as he works on the button and zipper. Pedro lifts his hips as Oscar moves to pull his pants and boxers down. A devilish grin spreading across his face, Oscar presses the up button on the remote in his pocket. Pedro gasps audibly. Crouching before him, Oscar grips Pedro’s shaft possessively and begins to stroke him slowly. After a few moments Pedro is gripping the arms of his seat, breathing heavily. With each moan Oscar changes his pace. Faster, slower, faster. He presses another button on the remote and Pedro groans in delight as the device he’s been fitted with begins to get warm.

“Fuck…” Pedro grunts hoarsely.

“Are you close, mi tigre?” Oscar asks.

“Yes, Daddy, I’m so fucking close. Can I cum, Daddy? Daddy, please?

“No, mi tigre, you cannot,” Oscar purrs.

Oscar gets up off his haunches, sits down beside Pedro, and turns off the device. His demeanor edging on boredom. Pedro whimpers at the loss of Oscar’s hand on his now throbbing, aching cock, and the loss of heat and vibration from the device embedded inside him. Pedro moves his hand to stroke himself to finish. Oscar slaps it away.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear before,” Oscar says in a velvety tone. “I said you CANNOT touch yourself without my permission. And I do NOT give you permission to touch yourself, nor do I give you permission to cum, mi osito.” Oscar smiles sweetly at his pet.

Pedro whimpers again and moves to pull up his pants. Oscar reaches a gentle hand out to stop him. Pedro looks at him with glistening, sad eyes, which glint in the light from the screen below. Oscar just shakes his head, not looking at Pedro for more than a few seconds. When Pedro puts his hands on the armrests again he starts stroking them absentmindedly. Oscar places his left hand over Pedro’s right and gently strokes his fingers, letting his own trace over and move between Pedro’s restless fingers. Several minutes later, when he sees that Pedro has calmed down, and is no longer breathing heavily, Oscar reaches over and begins to stroke Pedro again. He’s almost instantly hard at Oscar’s touch. Moving deliriously slow, Oscar brings Pedro to the brink again, then stops, occasionally employing the prostate massager. This continues in 30 minute increments for the duration of the premier. Luckily for Pedro the screening is not longer than two hours. As the credits start to roll Oscar tells Pedro to make himself presentable because they have to be social before he can take Pedro home.

Pedro inhales sharply. “Please, Daddy. I’ve never been so desperate…” he moans, “as I am right now.”

Oscar moans softly in response. “You don’t know desperate yet, darling,” Oscar purrs softly.

“I’m so fucking horny, Daddy. Will you please let me cum when we get home?” Pedro asks softly. “Please?” he begs, barely above a whisper, desperation evident in his voice.

“Yes, mi osito, I’ll let you cum when we get home. If you behave.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

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

ACT IV: The Release

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

Oscar stands in front of the glass walls in Pedro’s bedroom, staring out over the twinkling city, as he removes his clothes. He turns around to face Pedro, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, awaiting instruction, looking a little nervous. Oscar crosses the room, takes Pedro’s hands, and pulls him to his feet. He begins to slowly undress Pedro.

“Do you remember the words, mi tigre?” Oscar asks, making direct eye contact with Pedro, his expression serious. He unbuttons Pedro’s shirt, shrugs it over his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor with his own. Pedro’s pants and boxer briefs soon join the pile.

“Yeah, I remember,” he nods and looks away, slightly embarrassed.

“Look at me. Say them. Tell me what they are. I want to be absolutely certain you understand before we start.” Oscar cups Pedro’s chin and gently turns his head so that Pedro has to look at him.

“Green is ‘moonlight’, yellow is ‘starlight’ and red is ‘nova’,” he responds, maintaining eye contact this time.

“Good. I don’t want you to forget once we get started. Use them if you need them, but don’t feel like you have to say them just to say them. Now, lie down in the middle of the bed and get comfortable… we’re gonna be here for a while,” he says, a mischievous smile slowly emerging.

Pedro does as instructed, propping himself up with a stack of pillows so that he’s reclining slightly. Oscar climbs onto the bed and straddles Pedro’s hips, sitting on his thighs.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Not quite like this, no. I’ve changed pace before, but never prolonged it more than a few minutes. How… how long do you plan to stretch it out?” he asks, his brows knitting with concern.

“Until I feel like you’ve earned it. I’m going to stroke this beautiful cock of yours until you’re begging me to let you cum, mi Pedrito travieso (my naughty Pedrito). And when I feel you’re sufficiently desperate for it… that’s when I’ll let you cum for me. There are only three very simple rules you have to follow once we start. One, you can only refer to me as “Daddy”. Two, no touching. This means no touching me, and absolutely no touching yourself. I don’t want to have to restrain you, mi tigre, but I will if necessary. Three, you’re going to have to show me, beg me, to let me know just how badly you want it. But, if I see you’re getting too eager, too close to disobeying me… I’ll have to stop until you’ve regained control over yourself. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Pedro responds obediently.

Oscar reaches down and firmly clasps Pedro in his fist, but doesn’t begin to stroke yet.

“Do you feel that? My hand on your delicious cock?”

Pedro nods and sighs heavily.

“Good. I want to hear you tell me how good it feels,” Oscar whispers as he begins pumping Pedro slowly.

“That...” Pedro moans. “that feels so good, Daddy,” Pedro says with a shiver.

Oscar doesn’t respond verbally; he just strokes languidly, agonizingly so. Pedro’s hips buck gently under Oscar’s weight, causing Oscar to stop, realizing Pedro is already so close to disobedience.

“Oh no, this just won’t do. I’ve barely touched you and you’ve already started to buck. You’ve still got to earn it baby. Now focus, or this will be agonizingly slow,” Oscar says.

Pedro nods and Oscar resumes his slow stroking. His free hand gently traces lines across Pedro’s chest, pinching his nipples. Pedro moans softly.

Pedro moans loudly, “Have you ever craved it? Craved it so badly…” he gasps, “that it hurts?”

“I just wanna hear you say it, Daddy. I wanna hear you say I have to”, he moans, “beg you,” his breath hitches and he gasps, “to let me cum.”

“If you want to cum… you’re gonna have to earn it, mi puta (my whore).”

“Please,” Pedro begs.

“Please. Please. Please.” Pedro sighs in frustration. “Daddy, please.”

“Daddy loves hearing you beg,” Oscar moans. “Hearing you sound sooo fucking DESPERATE to please me.”

“You promised,” Pedro responds in a soft voice.

“Please! Please! Please…” he begs desperately.

“No! Not yet,” Oscar responds, impatience creeping into his tone.

“Baby,” Pedro pleads plaintively.

Oscar slaps Pedro across the face. The sound reverberates in the quiet room.

“No me digas baby, mi pecadorcito. No recuerdo haber dicho que podías dejar de suplicar, (don’t call me baby, my little sinner. I don't remember saying that you could stop begging)” Oscar says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Perdóname, Papi (forgive me, Daddy),” Pedro apologizes.

“Parece que no lo quieres tanto, tampoco suenas desesperado (it seems that you don't want it so much, you don't sound desperate either).”

“Daddy, Please! I want… need… you to let me cum. You promised.”

“I said no.”

Pedro sighs again, his frustration growing. “Daddy, please. Fuck.”

“Oh my god…” Pedro gasps out of breath.

“Please, Daddy, you promised you’d let me cum this time,” Pedro laments.

“Fuck.”

“Let me cum, Daddy! I need it! I need it… so fucking badly,” Pedro pleads desperately.

“Fuck, please,” Pedro begs.

“Fuck… you promised. Ooooh…”

Oscar’s cock twitches at Pedro’s last gasp. Pedro stares at it with unbridled lust. Oscar moans and reaches for the lube. After quick, liberal application to himself and Pedro he slowly slides into Pedro’s tight ass. They both moan as he moves deeper. Oscar moves slowly, almost imperceptibly, while continuing to stroke Pedro’s cock.

“Please… baby,” he whispers softly.

Oscar smacks Pedro across the face again.

Pedro’s entire body shudders from the sudden, but expected, contact.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.”

“I’m gonna… oh fuck.”

“I said no,” Oscar says again, his tone more forceful.

“Fuck. I’m…” Pedro moans, “I’m—”

“We’re almost there baby, almost there…” Oscar says encouragingly.

Pedro moans desperately, barely able to breathe.

“You look sufficiently desperate now. Do you think you’ve earned it yet, mi puta?”

“Yes, yes, I’m…”

“Yes! Fuck yes… yes!” Pedro exclaims.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you beg,” Oscar says softly.

“Cum for me, Pedrito,” Oscar says, finally granting his pet the permission he’s been begging so long for.

“I’m…” Pedro begins, but as soon as his brain registers that he’s finally been given permission he’s been longing for, he cums hard, almost on demand. His body trembles from his orgasm and he moans loudly. The sheer force of his release expels the air from his lungs, rendering him unable to speak momentarily.

Oscar cums as Pedro rides the wave of his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” Pedro sighs.

His body still trembling, Pedro says, “God, that was… fucking… incredible, Daddy. Thank you.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

[nokingsonlyfooles]

It follows you...

Yep. There it is. Bound to happen. This is still not as bad as Arizona - which, my followers should know, I fled due primarily to the concentration camps for tots, but this BS was ramping up as I got out and continued after I left. And, yes, the "children are identifying as kitty-cats" lie, baby-talk and all, has made its way here too.

Do you want to know why there's cat litter in some US classrooms, Canada? Because I know, and I'll tell ya.

It's so they can make an emergency bucket toilet in the event of a lockdown during a shooting. Children in the States go to school every day knowing they may die in any number of fun ways, and being shot is just one of them. To make them - and the rest of us - feel a bit better about that, ha-ha, we tried to make an absorbent material available for them to pee in while they're waiting for an active shooter to break down their door and kill them.

Now, you have much less of a gun problem, Canada, but that's a goal you can shoot for if you so desire! Ha-ha! I don't know what it is about the disintegration of American conservativism and the Republican party and democracy itself you find so attractive, but if you feel like you need that in your culture, you can have it! Your system has similar vulnerabilities to exploit! Adopt, adapt and improve!

We knew that, probably, we weren't going to find a safe place to land, just a relatively safer one. It's been good for me. I am finally getting healthcare - though it took a shitton of luck and perseverance. And I'm gonna need even more of it to keep fighting for a space for myself and others like me.

Canada, you are repairing the broken body of an anarchist who is willing to burn property and politicians to the ground to protect people. I don't want to show up to a protest and take attention away from others who need it by having a health emergency, so I'm relatively quiet right now. That will change (if my luck holds!). And, by god, you couldn't resist giving me a reason to get back out there, couldja?

Nobody is bothering to attack these "no gender or sexuality in school" liars on the basis of language. Which, inasmuch is they're trying to pen legislation, is the only way to go. If they get what they say they want, cis and het need to go in the trash right next to everything queer. That's... most of the curriculum. Everything referring to boys and girls, moms and dads, even the concept of children (where do children come from, again?). If nothing else, that should be rejected on the basis of how expensive it is.

But everyone in politics and the media seems willing to accept the comfortable fiction that cisgender isn't a gender and heterosexuality isn't a sexuality. It's implicit that we're only having a conversation about whether or not to teach the weird ones, but that is not what these people are saying. The protest signs and the rules and laws they write do not make exceptions. Well, that would look like discrimination! Because IT IS, motherfuckers.

I'm not ready to get out there and start making noise yet. I still got medication woes. Increasing the estrogen dented the amount of thyroid I'm able to absorb - as expected. I'm doing a little Flowers-for-Algernon and monitoring my symptoms so I can give the thyroid guy more information, probably I'll get back to him next week.

May I add that my hormone specialist does not deal with estrogen at all because, although it is a hormone, estrogen is gendered? I have to go to the lady doctor to manage my lady hormone, and then run back to the other guy for the rest of me. Conservatives, I would support a little less gender in society, if that was really what you wanted. I have a vested self-interest here.

Gotta make at least one more lap - gynecologist to endocrinologist and back - and then we'll see. Fingers crossed for a new angry NB in the new year! In the meantime, Godspeed to everyone out there trying to make a difference for the better.

[actualbird]

Before the actual ask, i have a suggestion: maybe add some general non-tot asks/req rules? bc i'm writing this rn like "this may be uncomfortable but i don't want to make you uncomfortable but i don't know if it will make you uncomfortable but-" 😭😭😭

now um, my ask:

i'm currently getting struck by gender dysphoria at very random moments and i don't like it. thing is, i don't know what my gender might be since it goes both ways and I was wondering, if you wouldn't mind sharing: how did you figure out you're trans?

hi anon!!! lemme go thru this one by one but first, i wanna preface everything with: dont worry, none of this makes me uncomfortable and you said nothing wrong. theres nothing here that cause for panic on ur end, it's alright, ur alright :D

okay so

on general non-tot asks/req rules:

i do have these rules!! theyre just not as Many as my tot-specific ones, but on my rules page u'll find these in the 2nd section :D

theyre like, reaaaaally general but the overall rule for all other asks is basically "be nice, i cant read tone well, and dont spam" so no worries, ur all good. i dont wanna make these rules any more specific because everything else seems like a case to case basis yknow

and now to the bulk of my answer

on trans stuff:

short answer on how i found out i was trans: it made me happy. god, it made me so happy and it makes me happy to this day.

long answer: come with me, anon, through my gender journey through the years....JKSDHVFKJSDHVKFSD

ok so for the longest time i knew i wasnt completely woman aligned in the gender department. like, from ages 14-20 i had identified as a bunch of different genders. first i identified as bigender, then i backpedaled and went back to just having "she/her" in my bio because i had a Moment Of Panic wondering "no no the Genders are for people who Really Truly Identify (whatever that means) and i shouldnt co-opt these terms because im not even sure what i am!! im not allowed to identify as bigender until i really figure it out!!*", and then for a while i identified as nonbinary, and then the pandemic happened which i think hilariously due to the lockdowns had the cool side effect of many people figuring out Personal Things and at some point in 2021 i was like ".....hey im a guy, actually. it makes me happy to be a guy"

*sidenote 1: this "but am i allowed to?" worry is a common thing i see a lot from other people also going through their journey of questioning their gender, and i wanna talk about it specifically later on in this response, but bACK ON TOPIC FIRST---

sidenote 2: yes, like a pokemon trainer, i have collected the three starter pronouns. she, they, and he. KJHAVFLASVFALSJK

backtracking through the other genders i had identified as, i'd chosen them all at the time for similar reasons: joy. i identified as bigender because i felt recognized for the first time, an identity where i could be both feminine and masculine. i identified as nonbinary because i adored the comfort of that freedom and that fluidity. i identify as a trans guy now because i realized that i can find joy in being a guy and still enjoy expression of "non-guy" things because guys who like pink and frilly fashion and plushies is still a valid and real type of guy, it's the type of guy i am. and these are more on the positive markers of gender expression, the opposite of gender dysphoria: gender euphoria, the happiness when gender stuff feels just right

btw, you are indeed using the term gender dysphoria correctly. that simply pertains to any kind of distress or upsetness due to gender things Not feeling right. within that definition, theres no requirement for you Already Having To Identify to use it, because otherwise thatd mean anybody who found out they were trans only after experiencing gender dysphoria was using it incorrectly, which seems rather silly. and even if the definition Did have that requirement.......who cares? JKHDFVSKDJHFVKSD i mean that in the most genuine and sincere way ever, because so long as it is harming nobody, who cares what word you use? sure, a Bunch of people care actually, and a bunch of people will pitch a fit policing on being allowed to use certain gender words and whatnot. but in general ive taken to trying to remember that like.....gender stuff is a Personal thing. it is the business of the Person Themselves, as it is our identity. it is up to us to define it, to explore it, to make our own choices on it. and well....generally, people who think your expression is any of their business is, at best, nosy, or at worse, a bigot.

i went on a tangent there sorry VSDFLJBFL, but my point is dont worry, youre using the term right. if youre feeling Not Good because something about The Genders doesnt fit, yeah thats dysphoria. and im so so sorry youre experiencing this, because it sucks

i said before that my main marker for realizing gender stuffs was the presence of a positive emotion, instead of the presence of a negative one. but i also experienced gender dysphoria, it just wasnt as big of a thing in my own journey. for me, it was less of a wrongness and more of a vague...discomfort. like wearing shoes that dont fit. it's fine some days but other days i couldnt stand it but my legs still work and i was much more focused on the times i Did find figurative shoes that fit immensely well.

.....oh something i think that wld be important for me to mention is that i kinda....somehow always knew i was of Another Gender. but i kept hesitating and kept backtracking because, kinda like what you say, it went both ways for me

im a guy. but i also really liked things that are traditionally seen as feminine, i still do. ive got a closet full of lolita fashion dresses, mixed in with the ridiculous amounts of plaid shirts ive got. throughout my life, i was never really regarded as masculine by other people, more often i was seen by others as some kind of manic pixie androgynous being. and these things, they made me hesitate. how can i be a guy if so much of who i am is seen by others as Not-Guy stuff?

well, eventually it's cuz i figured that what others think should have nothing to do with who i am and who i choose to be. relating back to what i said about Genders being a personal thing yknow. why was i so worried about what other people thought of a thing that only concerned me?

yknow one of the most gender affirming experiences ive ever had in my life was back was i was in college. i was just going out and about for a group work thing, and the classmates along with me were rowdy manly cisguys and i was feeling low and it showed, i was all meek and sad and shit. and then this lady came up to me, and i didnt get to know if she was a transwoman or a femme presenting gay man, but she sat with me and chatted with me and eventually she asked

(this convo happened in filipino but roughly translated it went)

her: do you want to be a boy?

me: yes (i answered so instinctively. at the time, i was identifying as nonbinary, but she asked a question and i gave my honest answer. yes. yes i did.)

her: well, youre very handsome! youre more handsome than any of them //gestures at the cisguy classmates

and that stucks with me to this day. another queer person asking Me what I Wanted, and affirming that. didnt matter that i looked like how i looked, that i obviously wasnt as objectively or normatively masculine as the cismen around us. what mattered was what i wanted, and i was handsome for it, and that was that.

after that we just talked about pop music, but i felt so good the rest of the day

now...on the unwritten question here of "how do you (as in, anon, or any other reader out there) know you're trans (or any kind of other gender designation)?" or if you already know you are some other gender, how do you figure it out? who do you ask?:

im sorry for how cheesy or seemingly unhelpful what im going to say next is, but i cannot stress how crucial it is: the only person who can ever answer these is You. ask yourself what makes you happy, what would alleviate your discomfort, what would cause comfort, what youre drawn to, etc.

but if i can give any unsolicited advice on that....itd be to make sure that the person youre asking, the person who is giving the answer, is really You. not the thoughts or opinions of other people, not the rules of what is considered 'norm', not the fears or the worries circling around the question, dont ask those things dont find the answer in those things. the person to give the answers is You.

and btw!! You can change sometimes. and sometimes your answer can change too, and thats okay if ever that happens. all my prior answers to this question changed in through life, and it doesnt mean any of my prior answers were wrong (sans the time i backpedaled, because then i wasnt getting the answer from Me, i was getting the answer from Worries). it just meant that those were the answers for Me when i was at that stage of my life.

tldr: i figured out i was trans because it made me so damn happy to be and also because i stopped giving a shit about what other people thought

i hope this response makes sense and that theres something in here that can help you out. im wishing you the best, anon <3

[dragonjesterwrites]

could u maybe write how Sun and Moon would handle a best friend with depression having a bad ‘can’t get out of bed’ type of day? I know this is a bit heavy so it’s ok if u don’t wanna write it ❤️

No you're good! I've had a fair few of those days myself, no fun whatsoever, so it's nice to have a little hurt/comfort to write and read later. Also I'm so, so sorry this took so long Nonnie, as an apology I poured in all the cute I had in the writing kitchen

TW: Implied depression, err platonic cuddling? Technically no romance (although I'm gonna come clean and admit I originally missed the "best friend" bit sgshjs so sorry again Nonnie) it's supposed to be platonic, but you could read it as romance if ya fancy. Annnnd I think that's it!

Hey Moony :) For the most part, everything's going swell! Only… a couple of things going on. Javier had to go home early, he had a liiii-ttle bit too much Fizzy Faz and got sick (it's been all cleaned up now though, don't worry.)

The other thing is about our friend. I think they're upset. Can you check on them, Moony? They just kept saying they're fine, but I don't think they are :(

Moon let his gaze linger on the note in his hands a moment longer, a twinge of concern sparking through his wires and tightening his chest. 

He folded the note with nimble fingers and tucked it inside the hidden pocket of his pants, before reaching up and pulling the spare blanket he'd come for off the creaky shelving, gaze sweeping across the inventory for something that might help if something was wrong.

A glint of light caught Moon's attention from the floor as he padded sideways, and he stopped to consider it. Well… worth a try. Better than anything else in here.

After plucking the object off the floor, he exited the storage closet with rolled blankets pinned under his arms, silently nudging the disguised door shut behind him with a slippered foot.

Despite the bells, Moon had gotten good at being sneaky, and the children were not alerted to his presence, allowing him to add the new blankets to the nap area without interruption.

He snuck glances over at you from where you sat, surrounded by the little ones and with a large storybook open on your lap. Even with his night vision, he couldn't quite make out your face, but the abnormal lack of enthusiasm in your voice only made his worry grow. There was variation between characters, enough to keep the children enraptured, but it carried a distinct tiredness behind it, and Moon wanted nothing more than to swaddle you up and take you somewhere nice and cozy.

"Mr. Moon?"

A whisper in the dark and a tug at his pant leg caught his attention, and he peered down at the tot that had snuck up on him, starry fabric clutched in her hand.

"Hello, little Kiera. Is everything okay?" Moon crouched and tilted his faceplate, the girl's curious expression bathed in blue light.

Kiera nodded, then gave a toothy smile and pointed at the blanket he'd just set down. "Can I be a shoo-shi roll?"

Moon let out a quiet chuckle and booped her nose affectionately, pleased at the giggle it caused. "Of course you can." In Moon's experience, nothing quite put a smile on a human's face like watching other humans be silly. And fifty giggling human children wrapped up in blankets was certainly a very silly sight. Not to mention adorable.

Kiera laid down on the blanket, cheeks puffed out as a result of trying- and failing- to contain her laughter, and Moon began to roll her up, an amused noise of his own slipping out. 

"How's that? Not too tight?" Moon asked once he was finished, and Kiera shook her head quickly.

"It's perfect! I'm a swordfish!"

Moon's frame shook with nigh-silent laughter as he scooped her up under his arm, gently shushing her when she squealed in delight. "You certainly are. Now, shall we go get your brother?"

"Yea! He can be a tuna! And Lisa can be a crab, annnd Victor can be a salmon, and…"

Moon had timed it just right so that you had finished the story upon their arrival, and as he predicted, within seconds of spotting Kiera happily being toted around as a tuna roll, every last child had also wanted to be transformed into sushi.

It didn't take much longer than that to get the children to sleep- Moon could personally attest to how comfortable being rolled up into a blanket was, having tried it himself out of curiosity- and he was able to make his way over to you where you were sat in the beanbag, completely still apart from where your thumb softly stroked the gilded spine of the closed book you looked down upon.

Upon his approach, you blinked, then raised your head slowly. The lingering worry that had been ever-present jumped to a full on buzz of concern when he caught a glimpse of just how tired you looked before you smiled. But it didn't quite reach your eyes, the usual lively gleam gone.

"Hello, Starlight." Moon whispered, slipping his hand into his pocket to pull out the object he'd plucked from the storage closet. "Sunny said you seemed upset. Penny for your thoughts?"

Your attention flickered to the copper coin he held pinched between silicone fingers and thumb, and you huffed in quiet amusement after a moment.

"Ah, you know him. He's always worried." You offered him a small smile, then turned your gaze back to the book. Moon hesitated, then slipped the coin back in his pocket. That wasn't a denial, but you clearly didn't want to talk about it either. Hm.

"M-Moony?" Your eyes widened as Moon flopped down beside you and pulled you into his embrace, his front pressed to yours, faceplate gently nuzzling the top of your head while his arms cradled you close.

"Is this okay?" He murmured, long fingers woven in your hair pausing their slow scratching.

"I- yeah, but, the kids-"

"The little ones are fine, fast asleep. They all had a Moondrop before their nap."

You were silent, but you moved in closer, arms winding around him, and he resumed gently rubbing circles on the back of your head.

A muffled noise caught his attention, and he paused briefly to listen. It came again, slightly more audible this time, and again, now accompanied by your body beginning to tremble and shake in his arms. Oh, Starlight.

"It's okay. Let it out. I've got you." Moon murmured, shifting to let you in more as you squeezed at him.

"I-I'm sorry." Came the choked reply after a minute, and he shook his head above you.

"You've nothing to be sorry for."

"But I- I'm crying all over your ruffles." You whispered, fingers flexing where they clutched at his shoulder, and Moon let out an amused hum.

"Starlight. Do you have any idea how much drool, vomit, and snot the Daycare accumulates on a daily basis?"

"Gross." He felt your brow furrow against his shoulder, but heard the short giggle you let out.

"Mmhmm. Tears are sanitary, at least. And-" His voice softened. "I meant it when I said there's no need to be sorry. But, you know you don't have to be so strong all the time. It's okay to not be okay."

"...I know." Your voice was quiet, cracking again. "I just- I didn't want to burden you two with my problems. You already have so much to deal with."

If Moon had a heart, it would certainly have shattered. Even on your bad days, you still held such care for others. Even others like him and Sun, literal machines designed to handle fifty children and all their problems. Of course, they were more than machines, and they did get stressed, thank you very much Corporate, but-

"Starlight, we adore you, you're our best friend. As far as we're concerned, your problems are our problems. You can always come and talk to us, about anything. You are not a burden." Moon moved his hand to rub your trembling back as he spoke, music box clicking to life within him.

For awhile, the two of you lay together without speaking, only the soothing chimes of the music box, Moon's machinery, and the sound of your breathing as it deepened and slowed filled the air, and the lunar animatronic became vaguely aware of slipping into a restful trance of his own.

But the disappointing, telltale clicks and whirs of the generators powering up soon roused him, and he focused blearily on his internal clock. Thirty minutes already?

"Starlight?" He began as the two of you slowly untangled yourselves. You looked up at him- definitely still tired, but the mood scan indicated you were content, at least. "Would you like to stay over tonight, for a sleepover in our room?"

"Oh." You looked surprised for a moment, then smiled, looking a bit like yourself again. "Yeah, I'd love to. Are you… sure it's okay?"

"Yes. I apologize that we didn't allow you to visit sooner, we just had to ensure it was clean… and there would be no issues for you to navigate up there." The distinct, loud whirs of the dial around his and Sun's room balcony reminded him to hurry, and he helped you to your feet. "I'll send you the route via your Fazwatch. And, Stardust?"

"Mm?"

"I'm glad you're here."

~~~~~

Sun perked up as he picked up on the sound of footsteps outside the secret entrance to his and Moon's room. Well, perked up more than he already was- he'd been bouncing around excitedly ever since he'd read Moon's note.

He leapt off the edge of the bed and swung the door open, and you only got a split second to look surprised before he was picking you up, giggling and nuzzling against you as he carried you in.

"Hello to you too!" You laughed, and Sun twirled you around, letting out a boisterous laugh of his own.

"Dewdrop! Oh, I'm so happy to see you!" His rays fluttered and pulsed as he finally set you down on the bed, dropping to a crouch next to you and digging through a bag pre-placed at the foot of the bed. "Moony told me you weren't feeling well after all, so I got out my best sleepover supplies! I, ah, had to borrow some from the lost and found, but I'll return them tomorrow."

He pulled out a stack of dvds, placing them next to you and giving them a little pat, then turned back to the bag and pulled out some hot cocoa packets, a rolled up electric blanket- "no heating when the lights go out, but this should keep you warm until they come back on!" -and roughly thirty popcorn bags.

You slid off the bed and kneeled next to him, wrapping your arms as best you could around the large animatronic and burying your head in his chest, prompting him to let out a soft 'oh' and hug you back. "Thank you, Sunny."

"Of course." He whispered, squeezing you tight. "Can't have my Sunshine upset, hm? I'm prescribing allllll the cuddles."

"That sounds lovely." Sun heard you murmur, and he took that as his cue, easily scooping you up and carrying you onto to the bed.

"Then cuddles you shall have!" He declared, playfully growling as he wrapped his arms around you and rolled onto to the bed. It warmed every last part of him to hear you shriek with laughter, swatting at him and making him giggle too. You really were precious to him and Moon.

And he wanted you to know that, too, so even throughout the movie, and the second, and the third, even after you had fallen into what seemed to be a very peaceful, deep sleep halfway through, Sun made sure to hold you close under the warm blankets, periodically whispering quiet assurances and letting the sound of your heartbeat lull him to a rare rest.

[astaroth1357]

Ok but like, what if MC's fandom starts to make ships with MC and the guys. Just think about the ship wars, the fancams, the fanarts, the absolute CHAOS when the brothers find out. It would be even worse if they start shipping MC with the undatables, one day everything is normal and the next day there are ship wars fighting over MC x Barbatos vs MC x Solomon (who are both very smug about it)

The MC's Fanclub are… Shippers?!

Perhaps… The italics blurb has been fulfilling its greater purpose all along…? Perhaps in its state of existential angst, it has in fact developed a plot of its own… An arc of introspection and self-discovery in which its own longing for purpose has forged a meaningful identity… It now has… a story…

Lucifer

As if they couldn't get any MORE frustrating…

He's not an otaku. He's not a part of ship culture. He's not even sure why anyone would care about who dates who around this school, but apparently it's a big deal to some people...

He only became aware of their interest in him and the MC's relationship through some very… subtle clues…

Like the groups that would follow them around in the hallways with their phones out.

Or the multitude of fan rumors about their relationship that Satan spams him with from time to time just to irritate him.

"MC refused hug from Luci in halls today!! Are they bout breakup??? 🥺"

"Tots got pic of kiss today!! Relationship upgrade??"

"IS ARE MC+LUCIFER SECET LVRS?!? PLEASE RESPOND"

It only got worse after he found out the MC gets shipped out a loooooot….

If he had to pick his least favorite ship, it'd be MC x Mammon. He can kind of see it with any of his other brothers (admittedly, Levi is also a little mystifying) but the idea of them ending up with Mammon makes his skin crawl...

He once found a drawing of the MC and Mammon in an… explicit position in one of the classrooms and he was so disgusted that he wouldn’t even touch it. He just set fire to the paper outright. Disgusting...

Mammon

Shipping, eh…? More money making opportunities!

Has some passing idea of what shipping is from Levi and, from what he knows of it, shippers eat cutesy couples stuff right up!! If all he's got to do to make bank is to look all couple-y around the MC then sounds like a win-win to him!

He'll happily pose for a photo or two (paid in advance) of him throwing his arm around the MC or something. Want him to hold their hand? Sure thing!

But since this is still Mammon we're talking about, the second MC actually starts getting into any of it he'll still turn into a blushy, stuttery mess...

For WEEKS the headline picture on so many of their fans' blogs was an image of him turning beet red while the MC kissed him on the cheek. (A fan really got their money's worth there... 😏)

Though he doesn’t exactly like the MC getting shipped with other people, he'll still totally sell pictures of any of them together. He almost paid off an entire credit card with the money he got from the t-shirt sales of the MC and Satan!

If he had to point to one ship he doesn't like it's either MC x Asmo or MC x Levi. His opinion, but Asmo won't treat them right and they could do waaay better than a shut-in. Like him. Ship the MC with just the Great Mammon, got it?

Leviathan

… Lowkey super active in the MC shipping community but is a self-shipper to the extreme.

Like, he never uses his real name on anything (and would probably die from embarrassment if anyone ever found out) but a lot of their fans probably know a couple of his aliases.

He does everything from mod forums, runs a couple blogs, even anonymously posts his own work of him and MC that are totally not his secret fantasy dates or AU versions of themselves, shaddup.

It’s a lot easier for him to keep his involvement secret because he’s hardly at RAD, but the few times he does show up he tries to keep an eye out for anybody prowling for pictures so he can get in a good pose and save the image later.

Mind you, his version of a “good pose” rarely gets more spicy than linking pinkies, but even then he’s still lit up a Christmas Tree throughout.

Naturally, he’s also not a big fan of any ships that aren’t just him and MC and he can find a reason to be jealous at almost anything. But he keeps a special corner of hate for MC x Mammon and MC x Diavolo. Like, the first one doesn’t even need an explanation but MC x Diavolo?? Really??? Do those two even talk?? (please, please, please make sure they never actually talk because a guy like him versus literal royalty? He’d lose MC for sure….!! 😫)

Satan

He hates to actually agree with Lucifer on something, but their fans are starting to get out of hand...

Knows what shipping is in concept, he may have done it once or twice to characters in his books, but he was kind of surprised how it could evolve into such a… group activity?

He was pretty quick to pick up that the MC’s fans had a bit more interest in them together than they did when they both were apart…

I mean, those hideous shirts that Mammon was pedaling were kind of a dead giveaway…

Considering he finds their fanclub all rather annoying, even without their bizarre interest in his love life, when they started actively meddling with him and the MC he was ready to smash some heads.

No. He will not stop for pictures. No. What things they do together is none of your business. No. He has zero interest in seeing your explicit fanart and if you don’t start running that will be the last question you ever ask.

He DOES, however, appreciate the cringy “annoy Lucifer” ammo. They could keep that up for a lifetime... 😏

He doesn’t have a least favorite ship because he doesn’t care about any of this, leave him alone. (That’s a lie, it’s MC x Lucifer. He pokes fun at Lucifer, but he can’t stand it either. Big shock, I know 🙄).

Asmodeus 

Oh he is shamelessly a part of the community, are you kidding?? 

He could practically call “Shipping the MC” one of his favorite pastimes. He’ll openly gossip with their fanclub about who they’ve been with, who they’re seeing, who’s got a chance, etc… He lives for this shit!

He’s the only person who knows that Levi is also in the community and what his aliases are (not because he told him, but because Levi’s not as subtle as he thinks he is… Who else would call themselves “SupremeRuri666” and speak mostly in outdated chat lingo?) but he doesn’t out him because he thinks his very obvious crush is kind of cute. 

Plus, Levi needs the outlet waaaay more than him…

Doesn’t stop him from constantly trolling him and getting into arguments over who the MC would be better with though (the two are “virtual nemeses” as far as Levi is concerned).

Appreciates all forms of expression that comes out of the community (especially the saucy kind 😏) and will happily feed into his own shippers without a care in the world.

Truthfully, Asmo will say that there isn’t a ship he doesn’t like but if someone mentions one that he thinks is kind of “eh,” he’ll just add himself into the mix. “Oh, you like MC x Barbatos? Well how about Asmo x MC x Barbatos? That sounds loads more interesting doesn’t it??”

Beelzebub 

Oh, Beel… Sweet, sweet Beel… Beel doesn’t even know what their club is doing…

Because Beel has a reputation of being pretty protective of MC - and against the fanclub in general - the club keeps a healthy distance… but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to sneak in some picture or make a SHITLOAD of fanwork about them.

Between classes and practice Beel is a busy guy, so sometimes he just doesn’t notice that there’s people hiding behind trees when he’s out with MC. 

Honestly, his complete ignorance of it all makes it even cuter because when he acts sweet, it’s not just for the camera. That’s the real deal.

Mammon was the one who eventually let it slip that there was even shipping happening and Beel was… kind of creeped out because isn’t this stalking? But also kind of weirdly happy(?) that MC x Beel was so popular… Very conflicted boy here.

He never actually acknowledges the community, though, and just keeps on being Beel (which still gave the fans more than enough material so all’s well that ends well?)

Beel genuinely doesn’t have a least favorite ship (because he believes the best ship is whoever makes the MC happy) but his second favorite under himself is probably MC x Belphie. They look very cute together...  😊

Belphegor 

Ride or die, Beel x MC x Belphie. 

Just kidding (kind of), Belphie isn’t into the shipping but if asked he’d be pretty okay with that one.

His campaign against the MC’s fanclub and their attention stealing ways means that he found out about their shipping thing only slightly ahead of Beel when Mammon was trying to get pictures of them napping together…

Honestly, he couldn’t care less if a bunch of weirdos were weirdly invested in their relationship, but he’s not about to let Mammon just make a quick Grimm off of it. Belphie makes sure that he gives him NOTHING to work with. 

Since Mammon is the main dealer, the shippers in both the MC fanclub and Belphie fanclub aren’t nearly as well fed and pretty desperate for anything... You best believe he plays that to his advantage (because it’s okay if he does. He’s not Mammon).

Really helps that MC x Belphie is legitimately a very cute looking couple, carried by Belphie’s cuteness alone if nothing else. Add an adorable MC and you reach levels so cute it could actually melt people into puddles of goo... They could be a registered weapon.

Least favorite MC ships are any that don’t involve him or Beel. Any others may as well just not exist, he won’t even acknowledge them. MC x Who? Yeah, that’s what he thought.

[surely-galena]

NXX Investigation Team with vaguely sentient houses in Western literature

//some spoilers ahead? for ToT but also for the works I am going to reference

Also, with some hindsight it's mildly amusing how Luke gets the happier one today and everyone else gets some level of angst

WC: 1.8K

MC/Rosa: Great-Uncle William's house from House of Many Ways by Diana Wynne Jones

"Then she said, "Now or nothing."" ― Diana Wynne Jones, House of Many Ways

I wanted to start off fun with the house from House of Many Ways, because you never really know what to expect from this house

Sometimes it might grow a new room, and if you don't follow directions it's very easy to get lost

I mean, the house is not limited to space and time at all

And I am linking this to MC being always willing to try new things even if she fails: the birthday gloves, the disastrous fruit skewers, etc.

To add to that, the card stories essentially show her hanging out with each of the boys, who all have varying interests and skills and hobbies

I mean, one day Artem is teaching her how to use a gun, and then the next she's attending a pottery class with Vyn

This, I think, could reflect on the whimsical nature of the house and how MC's her schedule is so unpredictable

At this rate, she is very much becoming a jack of all trades (and good for her honestly, MC rocks)

But then we move on to less fun things

In the beginning of House of Many Ways, the protagonist arrives at the house because she needs to take care of it while her Great-Uncle is away

Which implies that this is a house that probably should not be left alone (for normal housekeeping purposes, but also potentially magical reasons as well)

And I am going to vaguely link this to MC's fear of people leaving her behind: her parents are still barely in contact with her due to confidential government things, and she completely lost contact with Luke for eight years

MC has very much learned to be self-sufficient, but I think she's still scared that the people she lets into her life will one day pack their bags and leave her again

Luke: Howl's Moving Castle (from Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones)

“I think we ought to live happily ever after.” ― Diana Wynne Jones, Howl’s Moving Castle

To show his childhood friendship link with MC, Luke also gets a Diana Wynne Jones book

But he gets the famous moving castle, firstly because of the link with Howl: breaking a curse -- or in Luke's case, figuring out how to live beyond 27

Also, the castle is actually not as complicated as it first seems

In the beginning of the book, the interior of the castle is really just Howl's house in Porthaven

It seems intimidating on the outside, but the inside is really just a small but comfortable home

Cozy, if you will

It's a simple house with a fireplace and a bedroom and a bathroom and a door that opens to four locations of your choice

It's small, but it'll take care of you if you let it

Later, after Howl and Sophie move, the castle interior becomes a house in the main town (with flower shop and back garden included separately)

It just strikes me as a very "humble but comfortable" type of home, the place you would definitely want to return to after a long day

Marius: The Hotel Deucalion from Nevermoor: the Trials of Morrigan Crow by Jessica Townsend OR Manderley from Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

“They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word." ― Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca

I propose the Hotel Deucalion for the genuinely fun, childlike side of Marius

Among other rooms, the hotel contains:

A fancy chandelier in the main lobby that grows back if it falls

Bedrooms that adjust to the guests' personal preferences the longer they stay there (and constantly changing size, shape, and furniture as well)

And a music parlor, art studio, and theater

But arguably, since it's a fairly recent publication, Nevermoor doesn't quite count as literature

So I present an alternative from popular literature: Manderley -- the Gothic manor, seemingly haunted by the memory of the late Rebecca de Winter

Because I argue that the von Hagens are also haunted by someone's memory: Mom von Hagen

I don't think Manderley itself is sentient, but the vibes are very Marius von Hagen

Manderley is a gorgeous manor, but it harbors dark secrets (e.g. how Rebecca died, what she meant to Maxim de Winter, who she really was as a person)

And that sort of reflects on how Marius' outward appearance and first impressions are generally very different to who he actually is as a person

I'm definitely not saying that the von Hagens are burying dark and scandalous secrets, but I am twisting the "house holds dark secrets" (de Winter) to "house still harbors a lot of grief" (von Hagen)

SSR 'All Through the Night' aside, we still haven't heard much about Marius and Giann's mom

But we do know that Marius holds himself guilty for her death (because, as he thinks, if he'd never been born she'd still be alive), and while unconfirmed, Austin and Giann are probably both still missing her in their own way

But you'd really have to get to know Marius in order to learn this

Marius is excellent at hiding behind a façade, so one has to take the time to know him in order to find out his fears and insecurities

And that is why he gets the beautiful manor that isn't quite what it seems at first glance

Vyn: The House of Usher (from "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Edgar Allan Poe)

"...my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder — there was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters �� and the deep and dank tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the “House of Usher.” " ― Edgar Allan Poe, "The Fall of the House of Usher"

Okay okay I'm going to get more excited about this because this is one of my favorite Poe stories

So essentially the House of Usher in the title actually has a double meaning: the very fancy family who go by the name of Usher (and who have been slowly dying out), and the actual house that they live in

So here we have Vyn, Vyn who is actual royalty

Vyn who has a very complicated relationship with Svart and the family and the home he left behind

Vyn who would, first of all, probably either feel frustrated, amused, or some combination of both over the last members of this long line of Ushers killing each other by accident (the brother thinks the sister is dead and unintentionally buries her alive, she comes back to get revenge on him but she falls on him and the fall kills them both)

But the part of the story I want to focus on is this: the house, this physical symbol of this family, collapsing over them once the line of Usher is completely erased

Essentially, the house and the family both die

And I think that Vyn would have mixed feelings about this

Because while I don’t think Vyn wishes death upon his family -- he’s not that kind of person -- he has, on some level, deliberately cut ties with them

And I think there is potentially some level of catharsis to be found from the finality of the house's collapse: reflecting not the end of his biological family, but the end of his life in Svart

It's the physical collapse of the house that does it, because Vyn has also left a physical home, and he chooses not to let that home completely define him any longer

Much like the narrator in the short story, Vyn stands a distance away, watching as the house collapses in on itself

He's not going back there anymore -- or at least, he doesn't plan to -- but it'll always be a part of him

and last but not least, Artem: the house from "There Will Come Soft Rains" by Ray Bradbury

"The house stood alone in a city of rubble and ashes. This was the one house left standing." ― Ray Bradbury, "There Will Come Soft Rains"

Okay okay okay

This house is peak Artem characterization if Artem was a house

The house is set up as this: the last standing smart home (it's set in the year 2026; the story was published around 1950), abandoned after the surrounding area was hit by a nuclear disaster

And even though the people who used to live in it are long gone, day by day, hour by hour, it continues doing what it is supposed to do

Each task is done at a specific time without fail: making meals, sending reminders, reading bedtime stories, etc. even when no one is there to eat, no one is there to listen, and no one is there to send to bed

The house never stops, it is always working working working

And this adds to the whole "Artem is a robot" comparison

The house is simply doing what it was made to do, it is trying its best, it doesn't know any better

When you read the short story, it's made clear how very methodical the house is; time is flowing by continuously and the house is always aware of it

To add to this, later in the story there is a fire, and the fire burns through the house, leaving behind only a single wall standing

But still, the house is trying:

"...a last voice said, over and over again and again... "Today is August 5, 2026, today is August 5, 2026, today is..." " (page 5)

Even when it is physically broken, it is still working, it must do its tasks, it must keep trying no matter what

And I think that sort of links back to Artem and purpose, where he thinks that he only has value because of his work and because of all the "perfect" things he's done

And how even though he thinks he has faults and struggles he's working through, he's still trying

Maybe he sees himself as broken, maybe he sees himself as malfunctional

But also, like the poem says:

"There will come soft rains"

Artem's got a character arc to go through and he is making excellent progress

Because he isn't a machine, he's human, with all the faults and flaws that come with being one

And to come back to the house comparison for a final moment: he is not an abandoned house (none of the five people in this list are!)

He has MC, Celestine and the law firm, and the rest of the NXX

And they will make sure that when a fire comes, he is left with more than just a single wall standing

Edited to include quotes :D

[thetravelerwrites]

Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine​​! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[lilikags]

Hey, Lili! If it’s alright, can I ask for some familial autumn h/cs where Jean, Diluc, and Kokomi help a younger sister reader make candy apples please? Thank you!

request !! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

‗ ❍ req open at @lilikags (hq, genshin, e7) & @arlitem (tot)

‗ ❍ jean, diluc, & kokomi w/ a younger sister!reader make candy apples

‗ ❍ fluff, hcs, platonic

‗ ❍ apologies for this being super late, I hope you don’t mind. :0 ive been super busy and i hope it hasn’t been too long >< pls enjoy !! also- I've never made candy apples so-

JEAN

-> Jean's really busy, but she hands off work to Kaeya for this occasion. She could never say no to you, and while she feels bad for making Kaeya do all the work, but you are more important.

-> She buys everything beforehand. She thinks of everything you could possibly add to the candy apples, and she buys them. Money is not an issue- she'll buy whatever you need to make you happy.

-> If you don't mind, she'll ask Barbara to come along! She loves her sisters and would love it if all three of you could make it.

-> Jean is the one making sure nothing goes wrong- go ham and have fun and don't worry about anything, she has it all under control.

-> Jean has procured a kamera, and she uses it for this special occasion. Pose with the candy apples and say cheese!

DILUC

-> He's also very busy, but he'll make time for you- probably an weekday afternoon when it's the quietest. He has someone buy the apples and the sugar if he doesn't have enough, and the two of you will talk until the ingredients arrive

-> He's really good at making candy apples; he'll help you if needed. He makes one but lets you mess around with the rest of them- he bought them for you, anyways.

-> It's really okay for you to be a little selfish around him, if he feels like you're holding back for any reason he'll start doubting himself.

-> The moment Kaeya walks in, the "violence-without-violence" mode turns on and the cavalry captain is swiftly turned away. End of story.

-> He'll eat them together with you, but if you don't finish, that's okay. He'll eat them himself later on, probably at night when he's working way past when he should be. It keeps him going a little longer.

KOKOMI

-> She's really happy! She'll take you around town to fetch some candy and apples and she'll talk with you all the way there. Though, when people crowd around her... she doesn't get visibly upset, but you could tell. She tells them to ask her later, but eventually, she'll get caught up in something she can't ignore and solves the problem quickly. She feels bad about it, please comfort her.

-> Once you're back home, the fun begins again! She makes jokes as you make the candy apples, but don't laugh too hard, else she'll get worried. Top priority is your health, as always.

-> She wants to eat it together! After dinner, of course- you can't forget to have a proper dinner. (She can't really really say anything though, for the amount of times she's straight up skipped) She'll take you to her favorite reading cave and you'll eat it there together under the tree right outside it, watching the stars at night.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : lili’s notes…

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

➽ please rb if you liked this! it would make me so happy <3

➽ masterlist

➽ taglist: @paradise-creator @fuhuashandholder @kazuqha

➽ please send an ask to join the taglist!

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 16

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

CW: this chapter delves a bit deeper into Alastair's head and can be a bit heavy

Previous Chapter: Chapter 15

Next Chapter: Chapter 17

I’d hoped some of you had more sense. I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. The words echoed in Alastair’s head, he should have known this was bound to happen. The Herondales thought he was a good person, capable, trustworthy, and they were wrong. They would have found out eventually, but it still stung. And he’d tried. He’d wanted so badly to be what Will and Tessa believed he could be, but he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t capable, he wasn’t like Jem. He was awful and worthless and undeserving of their kindness.

Before dr. Gray could have said anything else, Alastair had left, gone to his bedroom. Years of practice to keep his expression blank, to never show that they get to you, it was all coming apart. He couldn’t do this anymore. He was so tired of pretending to be something he was not.

He collapsed onto the bed and curled up as if to protect himself. He grabbed his stuffed hedgehog, tried to find comfort in it. He was often ashamed to keep his hedgehog when he was far too old to still be sleeping with stuffed animals, but he’d never had a childhood, he’d never felt safe and protected. When he held his hedgehog, he could at least pretend. It wasn’t working. He felt so helpless, like everything was spiraling out of his control and he didn’t know how to make it go away. He had always liked to pretend he was in control, by keeping everything neat and organized he was controlling what he could. But the truth was that nothing in his life was in his control and it never would be.

He was caught in a storm and there was nowhere he could find shelter, the only thing he could was endure. He wasn’t sure how to do that either. At times like this Alastair feared it would always be like this and he would never get better. He wasn’t even sure what was going on, there was just an overwhelming sense of helplessness, of perceived danger and being too small and weak to do anything to protect himself.

He heard someone knock on the door. Cordelia, perhaps. Or Thomas. They couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t see just how worthless and awful and broken he was. Even around them, he was pretending, acting like he was fine as long as people didn’t drink when he was around. Thomas deserved someone better than him, someone who could give him everything. Alastair was used to giving people he loved everything he could, and it had never been enough. He could not deny that he was the common factor there. Whatever love he had left was broken at its core, he could not love people enough and in return he did not deserve to be loved.

‘Alastair, are you in there!’ Cordelia yelled.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, Cordelia seeing him like this or Thomas. At least Cordelia had seen him break down before. Once upon a time, anger had been his defense. When things became too much and he couldn’t take it anymore, he would get angry. He’d yell at people, or else he’d turn stone cold and hateful. He’d hurt so many people with that, had so many regrets. He’d learnt to stop doing that. Lately he didn’t even know how to feel angry anymore. He often just felt empty inside, tired. Sometimes he didn’t feel anything anymore, as if he wasn’t even human. But that emptiness was still preferable to this, he thought, better than being overwhelmed by emotion, by a sudden sense of helplessness and a perceived danger he wasn’t even sure wasn’t there. Although perhaps when that helplessness went away and emptiness remained, he’d wish he could just feel something.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ Alastair yelled back, summoning the last bit of his old defensiveness.

‘Alastair, can we come in?’

Thomas, his voice gentle, but Alastair could hear some anxiety in there as well. Thomas might like him, find him attractive even, but he was bound to find out Alastair couldn’t be a good partner, couldn’t fulfill his needs.

‘Please don’t!’ Alastair said. His voice broke. ‘Just… leave me, alright? You don’t need me, you can find the selkie skin without me.’

‘Alastair, I’m going to sit out here, and when you’re ready, come open the door. I’ll wait all day if I have to.’

Alastair hadn’t expected his sister to respect his request, he’d expected her to barge in, Thomas in tow, and drag him out of bed. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He clutched his hedgehog against him. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He couldn’t save Thomas. He’d disappointed Tessa. His memory wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

Alastair had always thought he could accept that very few people loved him. He didn’t like most other people much and preferred the safety of his own shell anyway. But he did long to be loved, even if he did not deserve it. Thomas was bound to find out soon enough, if he even survived. Alastair knew it would be his fault if they lost Thomas, because instead of working on saving him, he was here, broken down and useless. He never knew what to make of Will and Tessa, he suspected they had this idea of him that was more about his cousin Jem than about who he was. But Jem was extraordinary, and Alastair could never live up tot that.

He gave in to the overwhelming emotion and started crying. He tried to silence the sobs in his pillow, he didn’t want anyone to know he was crying. It was pointless, he knew, but Alastair was still so ashamed of his emotions.

He wasn’t sure how long he kept going. He cried until he couldn’t anymore, and when he was finished he just felt empty. At least that sense of helplessness was away, even if what replaced it wasn’t much better. Alastair dried his eyes and got out of bed, gently stroking his hedgehog before making his bed and carefully placing the hedgehog underneath his blanket.

He figured he might as well come out. At least now he could pretend things were fine, even if his eyes were still puffy and red. When he opened the door, both Cordelia and Thomas were sitting there, relieved to see the door finally open. How long had they been there, waiting for him? Why would they do that? Tessa was there too, and Alastair immediately regretted his decision to come out of his room and wanted to retreat.

‘I truly am sorry, dr. Gray,’ Alastair said, his voice small. He couldn’t look her in the eye, but then Alastair had always struggled with eye contact. It had taken him years to figure out the appropriate times to make eye contact and force himself to do it. When he was too overwhelmed he just couldn’t do it.

‘No, I am sorry,’ Tessa said. ‘My husband confessed he encouraged you to go into the woods. But even if he hadn’t, I should not have singled you out like that.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of that apology. ‘We should not have lied,’ Alastair said.

He wanted to add an explanation of the selkies skin, but he felt he was still too overwhelmed to say more than a few words. He could pretend he still had this under control, that he still knew what he was doing and could save Thomas. He could pretend he wasn’t dead and empty inside. He would do the best he could, because Thomas deserved to live. And if it cost him his life, maybe that was for the best.

Alastair wasn’t suicidal, he’d never made concrete plans to end his own life, he only had the occasional thought of death. For some weird reason, that had gotten worse at first after leaving Father. Before, Alastair had no choice but to endure, because his mother and sister needed him. If he didn’t protect them, who would? But after leaving, he’d sometimes feel like he had no purpose anymore. He no longer had to protect his mother and Cordelia, and although he was safe now too he never felt that way. At times he did feel he might be better off dead. That had improved about a month after starting his medication though, he rarely had these thoughts anymore.

‘I trust you,’ Tessa said. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment? It’s alright if you prefer another time.’

Alastair nodded, still unable to meet Tessa’s eyes. He hoped he would be able to speak properly. On rare occasions, Alastair found himself unable to get the words through no matter how much he wanted to. It was something he hadn’t found an explanation for, but there were times he was too overwhelmed to speak. Usually when he was upset, he got angry and said cold, cruel things he didn’t mean. But when things got too bad and spiraled out of control sometimes he just couldn’t get words out, something he once concealed by giving people his most hostile glare and walking away.

Tessa sat down in one of the arm chairs in his room, and Alastair sat down in the other, hoping he’d be able to actually have a conversation.

‘I’m trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head,’ Tessa said. ‘I know what I said hurt you, and I should not have put that sort of responsibility on you. I admit I’d thought that since you were careful, you might keep Lucie and the others out of trouble. But that isn’t fair to you, and I want to make sure you’re alright.’

‘It’s fine,’ Alastair managed to say, glad to be able to get at least some words out. He didn’t understand it, and it was fortunately a rare enough occurrence that he hadn’t really tried to understand it. He figured it was just another thing that was broken about him, although this was something that had been present when he was a child as well.

‘You don’t have to parent my daughter, Alastair. Nor Cordelia,’ Tessa said. ‘That is my responsibility as Lucie’s mother.’

‘I’m not like Jem,’ Alastair said.

It was not exactly a logical response to what Tessa said. There was so much more he wanted to say, but those were the words he could get out of his mouth, the thing he wanted to make clear. Because he knew Will and Tessa thought he was like Jem, and they had impossible expectations of him because of that.

‘I know,’ Tessa said. ‘If anything, you’re more like Will. And Gideon. But most of all, you’re like you. And you’re enough, as you are. It is not weakness, that you are struggling, and we all want to do what we can to support you.’

Alastair could only nod in response.

‘And if you want to go back into the woods, I won’t stop you. I know you’ll make the right call, Alastair.’

She shouldn’t trust him, she really shouldn’t. But he knew he would only make this more difficult and uncomfortable if he said that, if he could even get the words past his lips. People often didn’t understand the way he thought, and explaining his reasoning sometimes made him feel like he was crazy. He went downstairs with Thomas and Cordelia, who were still waiting outside the room.

Tessa groaned when she only saw her husband in the living room, nose stuck in a book. ‘Where did Lucie go?’

‘She’s just in the garden,’ Will said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Alastair sat down on the couch next to Thomas and snuggled against him. He knew he didn’t deserve this, he knew it wouldn’t last, but he couldn’t help but indulge in the moment. At least Thomas was here now. At least it was something. At least he could feel something good now with Thomas so close to him. And Charles had never done anything like this, had never held him and comforted him. He wondered how soon Thomas would get tired of this.

Cordelia went outside to find Lucie, and Will and Tessa disappeared too, Alastair wasn’t sure where to. They’d be back soon enough, he guessed, and he was comfortable like this. Thomas was warm, and his strong arms were wrapped around him and kept him safe.

‘If there’s anything you need, just tell me,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m here for you, alright?’

Alastair just nodded, leaning into Thomas, placing Thomas’ arms in such a way that it was comforting and soothing. Lucie’s Lilo and Stitch blanket was next to him, and Alastair rubbed his hands over it, enjoying how soft it felt.

He didn’t dare voice his concerns about Thomas. He expected Thomas to deny it. People always lied, and sometimes they even believed their own lies. He suspected Thomas would. Thomas was so sweet and kind and saw good in people when there was nothing. He probably believed this would work out and he could love Alastair enough to fix what was broken. But Alastair had enough experience to know love didn’t fix anything.

‘I’m serious,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure yet, how all this works, what you need, but I want to figure it out.’

Alastair kept rubbing his hand on the blanket, stroking it in a repetitive motion. He was feeling a little better, but so tired.

‘I’m still figuring it out, too,’ Alastair said, feeling like he had calmed enough to speak again. ‘That’s why I’m seeing a therapist. She helped me identify triggers and find better ways to cope with sudden flashbacks and fear than anger outbursts. I used to have those all the time.’

‘I heard something from James,’ Thomas admitted. ‘About a year ago. How you burst out against him and then Cordelia broke up with him.’

‘He must have been very upset,’ Alastair said, guilt creeping over him.

‘He was,’ Thomas said. ‘I think at the time he didn’t understand why Cordelia had broken up with him. Lucie did though, she did the best she could to explain. But as James told it, you were so angry with him for no reason, and he was terrified. But I’m thinking, that must have been because of your disorder, right?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Please do not use my PTSD as an excuse for my behavior. I know I’ve said and done awful things, nothing excuses that. But yes, before I started therapy, I lashed out when I was upset. And that night, James and Cordelia were fighting over something. I’m not sure what it was about, probably something silly, and I’m guessing the fight itself must not have been so serious. But I’d just come home from my ex, and when I heard them I thought he was hurting her. I thought she was in danger. So I got angry. It never got physical, by the way. People always think I’m violent, because that’s how they view Persian men, but I’m not. Then James got angry too. And I understand. All he knew of me was the bastard I’d been when we went to school together, and he thought I was a monster. He said he didn’t understand why my sister still loved me, and when Cordelia asked him to leave, he at first refused to leave her alone with me, convinced I’d hurt my own sister.’

Alastair was shaking, even if it had been over a year ago. And honestly, he couldn’t blame James. He knew it was his fault, and he knew James’ perception of him was influenced by how he’d treated James. It would have been a lot worse coming from someone he didn’t have a past with. He knew that because of the way they looked, people expected Alastair to be violent and controlling and people expected Cordelia to be meek and submissive and in need of rescue from her family, or well, the Iranian part of her family. He knew many would assume his sister needed to be rescued from him, when he’d done everything he could to protect her.

‘Cordelia stepped in, and dragged James out before it got out of hand, and later I learnt that’s when she’d broken up with him.’

‘It’s not so much an excuse as it is an explanation,’ Thomas said. ‘We can all grow and do better, and having a disorder is not an excuse to hurt people, but I know you’re doing the best you can and I feel it would be unfair to hold you to the same standards as someone who does not have PTSD.’

Alastair wasn’t sure he agreed. More than anything, he wished he could be normal, he wished he could be in control and be good enough. He was doing the best he could, Thomas was right about that. But the best he could wasn’t enough.

‘But if I cannot be held to the same standards, what about my father?’ Alastair asked. ‘Does that mean, because addiction is a disorder as well, he cannot be held to higher standards? Could I not have expected more of him?’

Thomas frowned. ‘I don’t think it’s the same. As I said, having a disorder is not an excuse when you hurt someone. But you were very young when you did hurt people, and you stopped. You changed. You’re going to therapy. Your father never did any of that, did he?’

‘No he didn’t,’ was all Alastair said.

When he was younger, he’d been foolish enough to believe his father’s promises. He would say he’d quit, that it wouldn’t happen again, that he’d gotten better. But he never did. He wasn’t sure he could explain the disappointment, of finding his father passed out with a bottle again after believing his promises.

‘I think I’m not explaining it well,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure… I know you’re sorry, for what you did, and that you’re trying to do better. But I think you lashing out because of your fear is not the same thing as someone else who is awful to people because they enjoy hurting others, or because they believe they’re better than them. You still have the responsibility to do better, but it’s not the same.’

‘I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone,’ Alastair said softly, tears in his eyes. ‘That’s the thing, I always knew it was awful, I knew what I did to people. I knew how much it hurt and I never wanted to do that to someone else. But I did it anyway, because I couldn’t take it anymore. At the time I thought those were my options, be bullied or become the bully. And I convinced myself, no matter what I did, it wasn’t as bad as they’d done to me. But that didn’t matter.’

Alastair burst into tears. He tried to stop it, to control himself, but he couldn’t. Part of him expected Thomas to let go of him, but he didn’t and Alastair leaned into him even more, closing his eyes. He could feel comfortable like this. He could pretend he was safe and protected. Thomas’ strong arms made a better illusion of safety than a lifeless stuffed hedgehog, for sure.

It was difficult, when someone could see right through him. And he knew Thomas had always seen through him. Had Thomas made excuses for his behavior back then? Had he defended him from his friends? Thomas had said he’d always seen Alastair was very sad, had he suspected something was not right? Had he used that as an excuse for the awful things he’d done? It was sweet of Thomas, for sure. But he didn’t want people to make excuses for him, he didn’t want them to pretend it was fine. He knew he didn’t deserve that.

‘You know, my father told me he was quite awful when he was in school,’ Thomas said. ‘When he went to Spain, he realized what his father had taught him was wrong and he didn’t want to be like that anymore. He deserved a second chance, and so do you. So far, you’re doing an amazing job.’

Alastair was tempted to shut Thomas down again. He wasn’t doing a good job. He’d tried to change, to be better, and at least he was no longer hurting others, but what use was it when he couldn’t help them either, when the only alternative to hurting others was hurting himself? But he was curious too, how similar was he to Gideon Lightwood? Tessa had drawn the same comparison.

‘I really can’t picture your father as a school bully,’ Alastair said, wiping at his eyes.

‘Me neither,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But he believes everyone deserves a second chance, because where would he be if he hadn’t been given one? And I find it really hard to believe what you said to me about my parents only liking you because of your power or because you want to save me. That’s not what they’re like at all.’

Alastair wasn’t sure how to explain that to Thomas. Perhaps he was making too many assumptions, but it just seemed unlikely anyone could like him for him as a person. People liking his power made much more sense. It was the only thing his father had liked about him, the only part of him he’d showed even an ounce of interest in. It was the only part Father hadn’t deemed worthless.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ was all Alastair said, mostly because he didn’t know how to explain what he was really feeling and didn’t want Thomas to worry.

Lucie and Cordelia returned inside, both their faces serious and Alastair suspected they were still concerned about the selkie’s skin. He had run out of ideas on how to enter that world by now. He sat up, but didn’t quite move away from Thomas yet. It felt too good to be held like this, Thomas’ arms applying just the right amount of pressure to be soothing. He wanted to hold on to that feeling.

‘Okay, so I have some news,’ Lucie said. ‘Grace escaped from Tatiana again and came to deliver a message to me. She claims I am a witch and I can use dark magic to open a gateway.’

‘Doesn’t using dark magic require making a deal with something like the creature we’re trying to defeat?’ Thomas asked.

‘According to Grace, not when you’re a witch. But that’s very uncommon, apparently. And she thinks my seeing ghosts is a sign I’m a witch. Problem is, I have no clue how to do any of the things she claims I can do. What do you know about witches?’

‘All I know is, sometimes people are born with certain powers, like my memory, but as far as I know all such powers are rare and no one understands why it happens,’ Alastair said. ‘Since she’s not human, maybe she knows more.’

‘There was an evil witch a few centuries back who was defeated by your and Cordelia’s ancestor,’ Lucie said. ‘And then she turned into a mermaid, which is how Grace knew about her.’

‘Some of our ancestors did keep journals, in an attempt to improve our knowledge of the supernatural,’ Alastair said. ‘Of course, those are full of contradictions, and sometimes racist assumptions about creatures that aren’t evil or dangerous, but protected indigenous cultures from colonizers. But a story about a witch would likely be documented.’

‘Can we see these journals?’ Lucie asked. ‘I’m guessing your ancestor didn’t know much about how she did it, but he must have known what she used to fight him.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘My father has them.’

Alastair couldn’t face his father, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, even if needed to. He felt tired and empty now where he was somewhat safe, but he suspected he’d fall apart if he had to confront his father. He definitely didn’t want Cordelia to have to talk to him. For a long time, she’d idolized him, but now that she knew the truth, and knew how it had affected him, she was angry.

‘Your father could ask for them,’ Thomas suggested to Lucie. ‘Will has known him for some time. Or perhaps he can ask uncle Jem to talk to Elias.’

Alastair wasn’t sure his father would listen. He wasn’t sure what to think, what to expect from his father now. He hadn’t seen him since he left, not outside his memories and nightmares. He didn’t know what his father was up to, and he didn’t want to know. All he knew was, Jem was still trying, Jem never gave up on anyone. But Alastair had given up a long time ago.