#i need to keep better notes on the media i consume

[tiagems]

So I'm not gonna mince words: the book is not good. That's not necessarily a bad thing though imo, Twilight is awful and it still got people to read, and once they started reading they found better books to enjoy.

There is a significant amount of people who hate the book just because it's easy to hate. It's easy to sling around words like "immature" and "vapid" and "convoluted", because Lightlark is all of these things, but there's a group of people who like to go out and shame the people who do like it. They are just bullies who likely haven't even read the books but just read a review or two and decided to make it a moral thing. It's not.

I'm glad you enjoyed the book. I did not.

I think that Lightlark is what you get when someone who only consumes media and never engages with it intellectually tries to write a series.

I have a lot of issues with it, enough to make my own video essay on the matter. My largest issue is that it's marketed as a Young Adult book when the plot is clearly better suited for New Adult or just plain adult fiction, but it's easier to market YA to tiktok users because the demographic there is around 13-19. There's other issues including:

- The lack of characterization in any of the characters. Alex Aster treats characters like plot devices, and has them do things just because that's what they need to do to move the plot exactly in the way she wants it to move. To avoid them doing things out of character, then, they simply don't have any character and are all cardboard cutouts. Can you describe anybody beyond their physical appearance and use in the story? Who was Aurora's sister? What's Azul's late husband's name? Why did Grim fall in love with Isla? How old is Isla?

- The twists. Having twists in your book isn't a bad thing, the problem is that there's no narrative difference between Aster's twists and Aster's exposition dumps. It feels less like putting a puzzle together and more like taking notes from a poorly edited textbook. Also the sheer amount of them are exhausting.

- The dialogue. This is just a personal preference of mine but I can't stand dialogue that doesn't sound natural and realistic. If you can't imagine hearing this conversation in real life, I am immediately yanked out of the story.

- The themes, or lack thereof. This could've been a story about so many things, about societal expectations, about what it means to sacrifice your own desires for the greater good, about violence against women and the harm it perpetuates. We get none of those things.

There's more but I don't want to lose you. I think I already have, I'm in too deep now though.

I want to reiterate, there's nothing wrong with liking Lightlark. I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you keep reading more books and continue to expand your tastes. Maybe one day you'll look back on Lightlark and cringe the way I do when I think about the books I used to like(Maximum Ride, the Immortal Instruments, Harry Potter).

I was very excited to look for fanart and see what other people thought of a book I was reading to see if other people enjoyed it as much as I did.....only to find....that everyone...hates it.

I'm a little bit sad because I really enjoyed it. Did I read the same book as ya'll?

[supportgaza]

From Gaza to Ireland: Out of the Fire of War to the Fire of Soul-Crushing Survival Guilt and Fear for my Family

Note: My main account (@mahmoudkhalafff) was unfortunately terminated by Tumblr for no reason. This is my back up account. Please continue to boost my campaign. We are too close!

At times of peace, having to be away from your family for months and years is a high price you pay for obtaining an academic degree or securing a better job. Imagine while you are away, they were trapped in a besieged strip of land and thousands of missiles rained down on that besieged area of 360 km² around the clock for almost 11 months. That would crush every cell of your mind and drive you crazy, wouldn't it?!

Imagine suddenly getting addicted to watching the news and the gory videos and pictures all the freaking time. You follow relevant social media pages that only show images, videos, and stories of entire families that were wiped out in an instant in an airstrike and deemed as collateral insignificant damage. While plunging deeper and deeper into an unprecedented state of acute depression, I wondered: how come all my suffering from displacement, fear, and hunger in Gaza for 5 months during the war before being evacuated to Ireland is nothing but a drop compared to my ocean of suffering now?

The constant thinking of my family in Gaza during the genocide and all the potential scenarios is consuming my sanity and mental health at a time in my life and a place where I am required to be 199% focused and productive. To give you a glimpse of my horrible psychological suffering these days: I fear going to sleep because I know horrible horrible nightmares are waiting for me on the other side. Some have to do with the horrors of wars I witnessed in Gaza myself and others relate to the horrible potential scenarios I keep thinking about.

Seeing the images and pictures of Gaza makes you think a thousand earthquakes hit every neighborhood of the Gaza Strip! Nothing and no one has been spared. The horrific war has turned the place into a hell on earth, unfortunately. How can young people have any hope for a better future seeing the mass destruction and the relentless Israeli efforts to stifle Gaza and squeeze hope out of its people as a form of collective punishment. How monstrous and heartless!!!

Amid all this chaos and madness, my number one priority and focus is evacuating my family to Egypt as a first step and hopefully reuniting with them in Ireland at a later stage.

Please do consider helping me save my family by donating, reblogging, and sharing.

Note: Vetted by:

1. @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi # 151 on the spreadsheet of Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List]

2. @riding-with-the-wild-hunt Here .

Tagging for reach <3

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @ibtisams @vakarians-babe @90-ghost @sayruq @fairuzfan @sar-soor @fallahifag

@el-shab-hussein @taamarrud @humanvoicebox

@plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-lindigo @soon-palestine @communistchilchuck @palestinegenocide @northgazaupdates2 @northgazaupdates @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45-helping-others @kyra45 @commissions4aid-international @feluka @appsa

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[yandere-class-1a]

Also can you do normal yandere class 1a head canons if that's ok? (and can u add mic and aizawa)

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to complete this ask, I got burned out about halfway through and needed to take a little break. I hope you like them though! I wasn't exactly sure how you wanted me to do them so I did all of class 1-A (+ platonic Aizawa and Mic) separately, they do have some connections in them though. There are a lot of words (3,895 to be exact) so I'm gonna be adding a read more button.

Shoji is absolutely the type of yandere to try and protect you from the bad in the world. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong he will turn into a big guard dog. He wraps you up in his arms and death glares at the person that looked at you funny. If you comment on it he will turn back into the big teddy bear that you know and love. He will not limit your internet access but you bet he will watch over you if you look up triggering or problematic things for your mental health. He won't restrict it but he will have a big talk with you about how it's better to consume positive media instead of negative media. He loves to cuddle you with all his arms, and it's absolutely heavenly. He might be the tallest in class, but no way does this man not like being the little spoon. He loves feeling you wrapped around him actually a little bit more than him being wrapped around you, he just loves the comfort you give him.

Koda is absolutely a cinnamon roll yandere. He doesn't want to hurt you or anybody else for that matter. He feels like the type of yandere to worship the very ground you walk on. If you give him a gift he will put it on a special shelf and cherish it forever. Once he accidentally forgot to put it up on his shelf and one of his animal friends accidentally broke it, he cried for hours until you managed to calm him down. Whenever you can't sleep Koda will send over a bird with a beautiful song to lull you to sleep. If you confront him about it he will try and deny it at first but end up cracking under your gaze. He tells you how he just wants to make sure you get a good amount of sleep, he didn't mean to upset you. If you aren't angry at him he will be so happy, if you are he will honestly turn into the poutiest baby you've ever seen.

Sato is the type of yandere to give you anything and everything you want, especially if it's something to do with baking. He and you probably have a designated day to bake at least one thing. If you don't feel like baking that day Sato will definitely sit you up on the counter and just talk to you well he bakes. If you love to lick the spoon he will definitely bakes the batter specially without eggs so you can eat as much of it as you want. He might look big and scary to some people but he is actually a absolute sweetheart. If you get tired from walking, even just a little bit, Sato will pick you up and cradle you like a baby so you don't have to walk. He feels like the type of boyfriend that will give you his shoes if yours are hurting your feet. Either that or he will carry around a extra pair of shoes in his bag. He doesn't care what people think when he does stuff for you, your his precious angel and he's willing to do anything for you.

Ida's obsession with you stems from a deep-rooted sense of duty and responsibility. He becomes fixated on protecting you at all costs, believing it's his duty to keep you safe, even if it means resorting to extreme measures. Now Ida does not want to hurt anyone, however if they were to hurt you then he most definitely would be willing to bend his morality a little bit. He is smart enough to do full background checks on anyone close to you and is willing to use that against them if they try and hurt you. He will have Aizawa set up security cameras all throughout the dorms saying he wants to protect his classmates as class representative. He does use the cameras for that, however he mostly uses them to keep tabs on you. On a side note he keeps the kitchen stashed with all your favorite foods so you never go hungry.

Sero is the type of yandere to be possessive of you but still lets you have friends (He definitely doesn't have Ida run background checks on them or anything like that... oh who am I kidding he most definitely does). He will definitely get close to all your friends and family if you want. If someone you grew up with shows him your baby pictures you he will definitely internally fan boy. He has a pretty laid back attitude, so he's not super controlling or manipulative. However this man definitely makes up for it with his obsessive ways. He will definitely want to do the spiderman kiss at some point or another, once you start dating it happens all the time. ⚠️Next part of Sero's headcanons continues slightly suggestive things, just thoughts and not actually doing anything⚠️ He's best friends with denki so we can guarantee he's at least a little bit of a pervert, at least to you. He would love to either see you shirtless or in a sports bra depending on your gender. He knows you're not ready for the next step so he's not gonna force you, for now he's fine with just resting his head on your chest or sitting you on his lap.

Todoroki is the type of yandere to be so obsessive for you that it hurts his heart to not be with you. He can be so possessive sometimes that he'll lock the two of you in a room and hide the key. He knows it's a bit over the top, he just can't help it. To him you are a living breathing God, you are so amazing that he just has to be next to you. However he does know that you might try and grow distant if he gets too possessive... To make up for this he tries to be as lenient with you as possible in most things. He will definitely stalk you, but he's pretty open about it. He will be like "He darling! You went to the ice cream shop yesterday and left your notebook. Don't worry though, I picked it up for you". Him and the class decide that kidnapping was out of the question... but sleepovers with the class that "accidentally" last for a week aren't uncommon. Todoroki will invite you over to his dorm all the time, sometimes just to cuddle. He desperately craves physical affection... Please give him some.

Momo is one of the yanderes with more common sense. She makes sure to match how fast she eases you into her yandere tendencies and how well you take them. If your reactions are on the more positive side she will move up a few levels in about two to three weeks. However if you seem uncomfortable she will ease them onto you slowly, conditioning you so it all feels normal. She feels like the type of yandere to invite you with her instead of stalking you, though she's not against it either. Like if she goes to the Mall or even the Library she will definitely invite you. If you don't really want to go she will tell you that you can get your favorite food or stop at your favorite place on the way. If she goes shopping by herself you can 100% guarantee that she returns with at least two gifts for you. If you go shopping with her however you both will definitely come back with bags full of gifts.

Bakugo is on the extremely possessive yandere side. He used to want you to be only his, but after a lot of convincing from the class he realized that they all loved you as much as him so maybe just maybe they could share you. He still can't be in the same room when Izuku's or Todoroki are being lovey with you though, he's working on it though. He used to call you only his and use words like my darling, now he calls you the only theirs and names like our darling. If anyone that isn't in class 1-A gets too close to you, even simple things like brushing against you in the hallways, he will quickly and without thinking grab your hand and not let go until he feels better. Bakugo here is definitely not shy about pda (public display of affection). He will hug and kiss you all he wants no matter where you are, though it's a bit more rough out in public to keep up his tough boy appearance.

Kirishima is the type of yandere to obsess over every little thing you do. He notices every little detail about you and points them out to other classmates. Like one day you came into class and Kirishima just casually tells the bakusquad that your breath smells slightly different than it normally does, probably because you ran out of your favorite scented toothpaste and had to replace it with your second favorite. They all looked at him funny. Not because of the obsessive sound of that sentence, but because he somehow managed to notice something that no one else did. The minute you walk into the room Kirishima's eyes find you. He can somehow keep a good conversation with a person well-watching. He is always telling you how manly you are, even for the littlest things. He is almost constantly wanting to give you affection. His affection ranges from quick kisses on the nose to cuddling for hours. He wants to wash you in the bath soooo badly. Not in a perverted way of course! He just wants to take care of you, you're his darling after all! He would have Momo make a bathing suit to cover up your privates so he could even just wash your hair for you.

Ojiro is the type of yandere who literally just wants to take care of you. He will buy you whatever snacks you want, no matter how hard they are to find. He hates to see you sad so he will almost always have a funny or cute video saved on his phone to cheer you up. He honestly buys the most thoughtful gifts in all of class 1-A. He will teach you martial arts if you ask him to, though he's absolutely gonna baby you if you get hurt during training. He likes when you play with his tail. He will definitely wrap his tail around you while you're both sitting down. He is extremely shy about telling you his love for you. Him and Koda can sit together for hours and just talk about you, but when it comes to actually telling you about it he gets all shy. He once managed to get out the words I like you but before you could even respond he tried to cover it up with a like a friend.

Aoyama is the type of yandere to constantly compliment you and not be shy about his obsession. He loves to do Mini fashion shows for himself and You. He will invite the whole class and they all show up. Bakugo might take a bit more convincing but he cracks when Aoyama shows him one of the dresses/suits you will be wearing. If your having a self conscious day where you don't like something about yourself fo to Ayoama. He is always ready with a list of things he loves about you. The list doesn't have only things about your body either... It has little habits you do, your tone of voice, your passions, your different styles, your personality, ect. He is always ready to make you any type of clothes you want. He can make the comfiest bra's and/or panties if your comfortable with that. He knows how to make binders and breast forms for trangender darlings as well. He gives you your favorite type of cheese randomly, and if you don't like the taste of cheese he buys cheese scented candles for you.

Denki is the type of yandere to follow you around like a lost puppy. He is super duper protective of you to the point that he will do his best to remove anyone and anything that has the potential to harm you. At some point you got a splinter in your foot and this boy convinced everyone that soft carpeted floors were a necessity to have in the dorms. He may not be good at numbers or other academic things, however he is amazing with people. He would never hurt you, that includes manipulating you, but he'a not above manipulating other people. Half the time nobody even notices he's manipulating them, and if they do, Denki will manipulate them more to think it's all in their head. Denki is a naturally cuddly person so cuddle sessions are a must have. If you ask him for cuddles he will drop everything he's doing and cuddle you. He isn't the type to get jealous cause he knows you love class 1-A and only them romantically. He is more the type to get to show the other person that you belong to him.

Izuku is the type to know everything about you, even things you don't know. Izuku definitely has at least 3 notebooks full of all your information. The first one starts of pretty standard, just your name and quirk, same as everyone else. It then gets more in detail about your quirk until it's basically entirely explained as far as to your family tree to compare the quirks to your own. It then sorta just kept on going from there. He definitely has a secret shrine to you. It has little things like pens that you left behind up to pictures of you at all times of the day. He keeps it hidden in a locked drawer so no one can find out about it. He’s a huge stalker. He almost always knows where you are and when he doesn't he panics and searches the entire city for you. He likes to watch you sleep secretly, only for about half an hour though.

Mina is the classic type of stalker that watches you from a tree. She will absolutely positively have a wall covered with photos of you in her room. Now she's not a complete idiot, so she buys a pretty tapestry and covers up the pictures with it. She is super bubbly and friendly so she has no problem talking to you. She will listen to you talk about something you love for hours if it would make you happy! Of course if you preferred to listen she has tons of stories to tell you, even if she might bend them a little bit to make herself sound more amazing. She definitely sends you good morning and good night texts, just not at normal times. Her good morning texts range from 4:00 in the morning to 12:00 noon. Her good night texts are around 10:00 in the nighttime to 2:00 in the morning. She definitely posts all about you on her social media's. If your not comfortable with pictures she will just post all about how amazing and beautiful/handsome you are. If someone says something like "Oooo what's their number" or "I bet I could date them" Mina will instantly block them. If they something more, suggestive to straight up filthy, Mina will not hesitate to break their online profile. She has a passion for coding and knows how to hack into accounts without leaving a trail.

Tokoyami is the type of edgy but soft yandere. Tokoyami loves it when you listen to his poetry. He could go on for hours with edgy (yet very cute) poetics about how you are his beautiful Shining star. Darkshadow also likes to talk to you. However theirs are more asking you questions and listening to your answer so they can store it in their mind. Tokoyami is really shy when it comes to physical affection, Dark Shadow is definitely not though. Tokoyami will be sitting next to you in the common room and Dark shadow will just pop up and be like "Tokoyami wants to hold your hand but he's too scared to ask". Tokoyami isn't that great with speaking words, mostly prefering to write instead. He will write cute little notes for you and leave them on your desk. He makes handmade black envelopes and seals them with a red wax stamp. Dark shadow likes to put little random questions at the back of the card, like what's your favorite color or do you have any pets. Dark shadow likes to write in pretty pink glittery gel pens just to mess with Tokoyami.

Uraraka is the type of yandere to be so caring that you hardly see the obsessiveness because you're too happy from all the love she gives you. But let me tell you that the obsessiveness is 100% there. She's very careful that nothing can hurt you. If you do somehow manage to get hurt she will take care of the wound extremely tenderly. It could range from a splinter to a broken leg, it doesn't matter because she treats you so sweetly it's impossible to top it. At times she will become quite clingy, wanting cuddles and kisses galore. If your just not a touchy person or maybe you don't like skin on skin contact she will try and back off. However she needs some type of contact or she gets super pouty and sometimes depressed. If you want to bring her out of this state all you have to do is link your pinkies. It's not much but it makes her super happy that you're even touching her. Be careful as when her emotions get super high her quirk gets out of control and you might float up to the ceiling.

Jiro is like the edgy to everyone except you girlfriend. Once you found a cute and fluffy pink key chain and gave it to her. She paused for a second and you panicked thinking you messed up. When you offered to take it back she snapped out of it and hugged it to her chest tightly. She gently smiled at you and said she absolutely loved it. After that she placed it on her bookbag and hasn't taken it off since. She is super flirty to you but if you so much as say she looks pretty she will turn into a blushing mess and not be able to look at you for at least 10 minutes. If you ask her to teach you and instrument she will absolutely agree. If you are a slow learner it's ok, She has all the patience in the world for you. If you learn quickly she will eventually start playing musica with you. It doesn't matter what type of music you like she definitely has a playlist of all your favorite songs that she listens to when she misses you.

Hagakure is definitely the type of yandere to stalk you any chance she gets. She would have major problems approaching you cause she thinks you're too good for her. She honestly thinks that you are absolutely one of the most perfect beings in the universe. Her quirk literally makes her invisible so she could stand directly next to you and you would never know. It may sound a bit creepy, and she is well aware of this, but she likes to watch you sleep. She loves how peaceful you look when you're having a good dream. If you were to sleep walk/sleep talk she will let you do whatever it is you do as she finds it adorable. If she thinks you might hurt yourself in your sleep she will gently lead you back to bed and tuck you in tightly. She will sometimes follow you for hours. When people ask her what she likes to do her reponse is "being with y/n". It sounds normal enough to not cause suspicion but it's still the truth, she does love being with you! You just Don't know she's there most of the time...

Tsu is the type of yandere to be extremely sweet to almost everyone but if they so much as look at you wrong that switch flips fast. So basically Tsu is overprotective central. She will protect you from any harm that comes your way. She has a dead serious glare that is honestly scarrier that original Bakugo. She loves to cuddle up next to you in the sunshine on a warm day. She doesn't like intense heat but she loves sunlight. She will curl up next to the pool and just sunbathe with you if you want. If you love swimming she will take you swimming all the time. She uses her excuse of being able to breath under water as a way to kiss you. Let me explain, she will press your lips together and blow air into your mouth so you can stay underwater with her. She will 100% take selfies with you any chance she gets. She actually has a locked folder on her phone called 🐸 ~ My Darling ~ 🐸 with over 500 pictures of you.

Aizawa is like a father type yandere to you. He's gonna be super duper protective of you. If a villain tries to attack you while your in class (because Class 1-A is just a villain attack magnet) you’re the first one he thinks about protecting. He knows it's wrong to have a favorite student but he just can't help it. Your just such an amazing person to him how could he not favorite you?! He absolutely is not afraid to show his favoritism to anyone. If Nezu comments on it aizawa will just be like "What are you gonna do, fire me? Who else would be willing to take care of those problems children?". If you accidentally mess something up he will just simply forgive you and tell you it's ok. Like once you and denki had a sleepover and forgot to do homework... Denki had to do 10 laps around the field and you got asked if you needed help on any of the questions. He definitely teaches you privately different skills that aren't related to your quirk.

Present Mic is like an extremely proud father. At any game or contest that he announces he scream out praise at every little thing you do. He's been asked about it before and his answer was just pure confusion. He doesn't understand that he might be focusing more on you than the actual thing he's supposed to be announcing, he just thinks that you're doing amazing and wants everyone to know. Mic is extremely handsy with you, of course in a fatherly type of way. He will often be seen with some type of contact with you. He will pat your back, ruffle your hair, hold your hand in crowded areas, ect. He will hangout with you and Aizawa in your dorm room as you all take turns picking a song to listen to. If you really like a certain band or singer Mic will get you both tickets to one of their concerts.

[queers-gambit]

Now and at the Hour of His Death

prompt: any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.

pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader

fandom: The Last Kingdom

word count: 6.1k+

note: fuck you, Netflix.

warnings: you already know - author needs therapy, projects hard, pregnant wife, Lord’s name in vain, Christianity (obviously), and a fuck ton of fucking ANGST because fuck your feelings. hurt NO comfort, drama, oneshot, cursing, canon-typical violence, injury, and blood. character death and spoilers - yeah, i'm giving you THAT scene. requires maturity and caution. good luck.

also please note: NO, i do not age Osferth to be 16 - that's just a reference age for when he eventually runs away from the monastery.

again, you are missing nothing if this upsets or triggers you and you choose to skip. value your wellbeing, my angels. author is not responsible for the media YOU choose consume, but still, as usual, MDNI

"You should not be doing this sort of work," Ingrith's voice scolded you, and when you turned, you saw the blonde woman standing with her hip cocked and a stern expression. "It's bad for your health to be in such filth, we've stable boys for this sort of chore."

"I do not mind," you sniffled in the brisk air, shoveling the horse shit of the stable into a muck bucket to be dumped into the fields later. "It keeps me busy," you grunted lightly, sure to bend your knees when lifting the pitchfork, "keeps me humble," you listed, dumping the waste to grin at your friend, "and keeps me young."

"In what way?"

"Reminds me of my childhood," you eased, continuing your work. "I slept in a stable from the ages of 4 to... Oh, shit, I guess I was about 16 before I left The Loft."

"What?" She breathed in confusion. "Never knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, true story," you beamed at her, still shoveling shit. "I slept in the stalls with the horses, sometimes in the grain rooms - basically anywhere I could since my work didn't include official room and board, so, I had to make do with what was available. Then, one day when I was about ten, Old Man Rivers said I could use the hay loft if I cleared it out, fixed the rotten planks. Stayed up there till I was about 16, and after that, I kinda ran away."

"Old Man Rivers?"

You nodded, "My mother lived on his homestead, but she was real sick, you see. So, he kinda took me in without assuming responsibility for me," you cleared your throat, shrugging, "let me stay in his barn if I worked with the horses and livestock for him."

"Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Seems simpler when I look back."

Ingrith sighed, "C'mon, put the pitchfork down. Come help me prepare the rabbits. The scouts say the men aren't too far off, they'll want a hot meal."

You chuckled with ease and set your pitchfork aside, giving a hearty pat to one of the horse's necks as you passed by to exit the stable. Ingrith made sure you washed up before you were both mounting rabbits on the rack to start skinning them.

"Could I ask something?" She wondered after a time.

"Anything you'd like."

"Why'd you run away? From Old Man Rivers?"

You laughed, "I was in love."

"Oh, you and Baby Monk go that far back, huh?"

"Try even farther," you teased. "Our mothers were friends, and when I worked in the stable, he was in the monastery, but when he came to me, saying he couldn't do it any longer, I couldn't let him go alone. Life was supposed to offer more than what we were given, so, we set out to find the legendary barbarian, The Dane Slayer," you teased, both giggling, "our Lord, the legendary, Uhtred of Bebbanburg."

"And all this time...?" She smiled, watching you shuck hide like you've done it your whole life. Ingrith inferred you probably did.

"Yeah," you eased, "all this time, he's been by my side. Kept me close, never left me behind. The others weren't too sure about me on account of being a woman, they told us to piss off a few times - but they came around after Osferth refused to send me away."

"He's a good lad, Osferth," she nodded.

"Arguably one of the best ones," you agreed, nudging her arm gently, "but look who I'm telling, right?"

"Oh!" She giggled, swatting at you loosely before going back to your work for a moment. Suddenly, the townspeople of Rumcofa stirred to life, and over the voices, you heard them announcing their Lord's return - which meant all of your men were home. You both grinned and breathlessly left your post, Ingrith pausing a young lad to ask, "How many return to us?"

"Does it matter? Come, c'mon, let us see ourselves!" You all but squealed, overwhelmed with excitment; eager for your own reunion with the man you've loved since you were a young lass.

"Warn the alehouse!" Finan was heard shouting. "Osferth's thirsty!"

"Jesus," you laughed, dodging around the procession of people waiting to greet their warriors on their return home so you could approach the white gelding your husband rode.

His face was absolutely priceless when he caught sight of you. As Osferth eagerly dismounted, your hands smoothed over the small swell of your belly - purposefully wearing a dress that accentuated your ever-changing figure. "Am I dreaming?" He laughed, a stablehand taking hold of his horse so his hands were free to caress your belly. "Oh, my God, I'm not, 's real, oh, God," he beamed, laughing with you. "You're pregnant? Truly? Yes? I-I am not - I am not being deceived?"

"No, my love, I guess our prayers were finally heard."

"OH-HOOOO!" You heard Finan holler as Osferth finally pulled you in for a sweet kiss; both ignoring the Irishman. "Lord! LORD! Uhtred! Hey! Did you hear!? Baby Monk's got some spunk in 'im afta all!"

"Oh, God," you laughed against Osferth's lips, but he was quick to shush you with another breath-stealing kiss.

"A baby Baby Monk! AHA!" Finan was still laughing, your husband's hands caressing both your cheeks when he pulled back just in time for Finan to descend. You grunted lightly when his heavy arms dropped over both yours and Osferth's shoulders, his laugh still booming as he gave a squeeze and cooed, "Oh, congratulations, yah two love birds! Wasn't sure you had it innyah, boy!"

"Don't be so rough with her, Finan, for God's sake," Osferth scolded, nudging his friend to get out from under his arm.

"What?" Finan looked at you gobsmacked. "Sayin' I gotta treat yah different now or somethin'?"

"I didn't say that," you told him prettily with fluttering lashes, fist quickly balling up to jab him in the weak spot of his armor - making him grunt and wheeze. "Aht-aht!" You warned with a pointed finger when he flinched as if to retaliate, "Can't hit a pregnant woman."

"Oh, yeh li'l shite," Finan laughed, Osferth pushing him towards his wife so he could stand in front of you and command all attention.

Osferth took a moment to simply look at you; thumbs gently tracing over your cheeks in sweeping motions, a slow grin breaking across his lips. "This almost doesn't feel real... But how I have to praise God for this blessing. A baby," he breathed.

"A little you and me," you agreed softly. "Sound okay to you?"

"More than okay," he chuckled, pecking your lips, "sounds like a lifetime together."

"Good by me." His nose nuzzled up yours, the sweet moment broken when he sighed sadly; eyes shut and smile dropping. "What is it? What's wrong, love?" You asked, stepping into his embrace so you were nuzzled into his neck and his arms were wrapped around your form in a vice.

"Uhtred means to move us again," he whispered in your ear. "Brida, she... She's got Father Pyrlig, and - "

"What!?" You snapped, rearing back slightly to pin him under your hardened glare. Pregnancy hormones would surely give Osferth whiplash.

"My love, I did not - "

"Brida's got Pyrlig? Fuck are we standin' here for, let's go!" You reached for his hand, ready to march off.

"Uh, no, no, no, no," he pulled you back to him; anchoring his hands on your hips so you could not escape. "You are not going anywhere. Not now - especially now," he glanced at your still-growing bump. "The men will go, you know we will return, but you have this new responsibility, and that's keeping this little one safe. For us," he smiled at you.

You huffed, "I'm not unfit to do what needs done, Osferth."

"I did not say you were unfit, but look at the timing of it," he frowned. "I should've been here when you learned, but I was not, and I am truly so sorry for it. Look, I do not know how long this venture will be, but you know I will return. We've waited for our family for far too long, I will not jeopardize this - so I will return. If you go with us, and something were to happen," he shook his head, "my angel, I would never forgive myself. So I need you to stay here, stay safe, if for nothing else but for me."

"But Pyrlig - "

"Will be saved," he assured.

"And Brida - "

"Will be dealt with," he eased, chuckling lightly. "My angel, you worry too much about everyone and yet never about yourself."

You pouted, "Well, why is it just me meant to stay back? This is your child, too, Osferth, and should have the right to meet them! You can't always control what happens, accidents are real, what if you don't return - "

"Don't think like that - "

"But it's a real threat to us - "

He agreed, "Of course, but - "

"Yeah, I know," you nodded, cutting him off, "we serve Lord Uhtred. This comes first, and I'm not - "

"I've made a vow to him."

"You made one to me, too, you know."

"Angel, please, don't do this. Do not ask me to choose," he begged with a frown, and you caved.

So, with a sigh, you nuzzled into his embrace and relented, "All right, yes, fine, go after Brida and Pyrlig. And when you find them, tell him I am waiting for his safe return, he is dearly missed. Ideally, I'd have him birth our child."

"Of course," he breathed, finding a small reprieve of relief that you did not fight him further about leaving - about choosing which vow to fulfill: the one to his Lord Uhtred or the one to his wife.

Both made to God.

Luckily, Osferth married his best friend and you were never one to pick fights with him. You liked the harmony you had; the peaceful environment you had both cultivated to preserve the trust and love you built through the years. He was genuinely one of a kind; a man who walked many lines between faith, humanity, right, wrong. He was the voice of reason, constantly striving to do better than he did before, learning all he could as if a rag soaking in water. For all he was, Osferth has always been enough for you, and for that reason alone, you never felt the need to argue.

To fight. To voice contempt.

"Question," you perked up, smirking at him as your pregnancy symptoms ran a little wild, "think we've time to, you know, really give our thanks?"

"Angel - "

"What?" You grinned. "You fucked me on the alter all those weeks ago and look - your seed stuck. We might as well go give thanks in the same manner, just to really show God how thankful we are for this blessing he's given us."

"Think the Devil's gotten into you," he laughed.

"Or your child is ruining my hormones," you countered, his lips meeting yours in another passionate display of his excitement.

"C'mon," he whispered, taking your hand, and leading you to the chapel - thinking you were being sneaky, but your matching giggles made Ingrith and Finan beam at each other.

"He does know she can't get more pregnant, right?" Finan teased, flinching when Ingrith smacked his upper arm.

"WHY!?"

"My angel, please - "

"What the fuck is going on, Osferth!?"

"I'm trying to explain - "

"The Queen? The fucking Queen is dead in our village! How can that possibly be explained!?" When Osferth didn't answer, just sat in the wooden chair before the shared hearth of your humble home, you snapped, "Well!?"

"Are you finished? May I speak now?"

With a huff, you nodded and gestured for him to speak; arms crossing around your swollen tits. He explained to you the reason for Haesten's arrival, the wagon his men toted, and why he brought the Queen's dead body to the settlement of Rumcofa. He told you Haesten wanted to keep the peace when King Edward found out, claiming Uhtred's son-in-law, Stiorra's husband, Sigtryggr, had ordered this death - thinking war would surely roll over his lands.

You never knew Haesten to be a generous man, nor much of an honest one, but it seemed the severity of the situation made everyone eerily on-edge. Uhtred dispatched his men; leaving Finan and Osferth in the village with you, developing a plan that would save both Saxon and Danish life. And yet, it was all futile when evil forces worked against good.

You didn't feel safe in Rumcofa anymore, there was a stench in the air; tension that mounted to embrace all residents with discomfort. Something was about to happen, but nobody knew what. You didn't claim or pretend to know what was happening, but Haesten's abrupt appearance spelled danger for everyone involved. So, as a security measure, you kept a long sword buckled around your swelling waist and a dagger strapped under your skirts. With Lord Uhtred gone, there was no invisible fence protecting Rumcofa - leaving it up to you, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf to pose as guard.

Yet you'd never be enough.

Like the surf over sand, a group of angered men descended on Rumcofa. "Who's men are yah?" Finan asked, you lingering at Osferth's side to watch the interaction from a short distance.

"We come from the King," a burly Saxon replied, your head cocking in interest - swearing you've seen him before. "Dane murderers are hiding here and you must hand them over."

"You're mistaken, sir," you kindly offered, the man's eyes shifting over you, "because we live in peace. Any murderers have surely moved on from here. We do not host them."

The man growled, "Don't think that's true, love."

Finan held a hand back at you, meeting your eyes and nodding simply. He turned back for the man in fur, diverting, "Of course, my men will attend to it."

Finan turned from the group, his eyes connecting with yours as he passed by. There was urgency, a quickened pace he adopted; having no intention to hand anyone over, wanting to remove these men without bloodshed. However, that was a distant thought because Father Benedict tried to assure the Saxon leader that nobody in Rumcofa would murder Queen Aelflaed.

You wanted to step in when the Saxon evidently didn't know about the Queen's demise - getting in Benedict's face and demanding to see what he spoke of.

"No, no, no," you muttered nervously, "he can't see the body, love, no, no, no, this is bad. Very bad."

"We can't stop Father Benedict without altercation," Osferth whispered back, keeping a tight hold of your hand, just watching the group. "If something happens, you need to get yourself safe."

"How do we truly know they're from Edward? What credentials do they have?" When Osferth shook his head, you worried, "Got a bad feeling 'bout this, angel."

Then the violence began.

The strange men took charge when their leader walked away, starting to physically harass the citizens; making both you and Osferth step in to try and diffuse the tension. You pushed men off unarmed women, got in between them and the children, did what you could without drawing a weapon.

When a man shoved you away from him, Finan wrangled him away, sneering, "Get yer hands off of her!" He kept the violent men at bay for a moment, telling you, "You need to go, darling - "

"Not now, Fin, look around us! We need to contain the situation, you'll need all hands you can get," You snapped, the two of you forced to part way.

Osferth panted nervously and looked left and right, turning to meet the Saxon and demand, "Tell your men to stand down!" But then, his eyes squinted when you joined his side to pull him back a step or two, recognizing him just as you did.

"I don't think they're here for the Queen, love," you heaved for breath in warning, still backing him up. "They've planned this."

"Finan!" Osferth barked, "These men have been here before!"

The Saxon roared over the fray, "Danes of Rumcofa have murdered our Queen!" His men jeered in anger, making Finan brandish both swords and for Osferth to push you back further from the attention. "Do your duty and rid the cockles from the wheat!"

You were left no choice. Osferth and you both armed yourselves, starting to fight off the Saxons as their leader demanded Danes and Christians be separated. You were unable to help, engaged in battle, but Young Uhtred gathered the Danes and begged Father Benedict to declare the church a sanctuary - thinking it would save lives.

It was only leading the Danes to slaughter.

The Saxon, Bresal, punched Father Benedict when he tried to stand in the way; his men holding Young Uhtred in the doorway to let their men enter the church the Danes were gathered in. They forced Young Uhtred to watch the massacre - men, women, and Danish children all slaughtered with no escape. No hope. No answer to a single prayer. Nobody to stop this bloody situation.

You fought on, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf doing their best to protect you by keeping you in the middle of their wee group. But you still got plenty of action.

"This is madness!" You cried out, slicing a man's throat open. "We need aid! We need more men!"

"This way!" Finan encouraged, "We must cut a path for Ingrith! Check the docks! Check the docks!"

You and Osferth ran towards the water, Cynleaf not far away. You searched for Ingrith, but you had no time to linger; engaged one-on-one again, forced to protect yourself and unborn baby. Not a minute later, you saw Ingrith on horseback, being stalled by a Saxon and for your husband to rush to her aid. He punched the man away from the horse, you hacking at another enemy, in time to see Osferth engaging with two Saxons - one being the leader, Bresal.

It all happened so fast.

You were already racing towards them when the unexpected. Osferth was battling on two fronts, holding Bresal at bay, fending off the other Saxon, screaming for Ingrith, who only managed a few paces before the Saxon's dogs spooked her horse. The noise was deafening; people screaming, crying, dogs barking, horses whinnying, swords singing as they clashed.

You watched it happen in slow motion.

You sprinted faster than ever before.

"INGRITH!" Osferth bellowed in worry when her horse reared back and dropped her to the dirt. It left an opening for Bresal to stab his dagger into Osferth's lung - freezing time and wrecking your world.

"NO!" You screamed, Bresal smirking at you and yanking his dagger free. Osferth wobbled, eyes wide as he met yours, the Saxon walking away as Osferth dropped to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Oh, God, no, no, you can't take him - not yet! Please, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," You repeated, sliding on your knees in the dirt to catch him. "No, no, oh, my God, no, Osferth, no, please! Not now, not now, please, no, God, no! Don't do this! Please, please, please," you rambled, readjusting to better hold him, hearing Cynleaf and Finan yell for Baby Monk, too. You raged at God, "You can't take him yet! You can't have him! He's mine!"

But you heard nothing except your husband's labored breathing.

"An-Angel, angel, my angel," Osferth choked, wheezing and crying as he couldn't hold himself up and completely slumped back into your body. He pawed at your arms in an attempt to get closer.

"No, no, no, you're all right, you're okay, you're okay, my sweet love, you're all right," you insisted, hands stained in his blood as it poured from his wound. You knew it was essential to add pressure to a wound, but also, that this was all futile. Yet you needed to try. "Hey, hey, hey, look at me, just look at me, sweetheart, please, only look at me, nothing else matters," you pleaded with him in a rush, the lads sprinting to where you held your husband to your lap.

Nobody interrupted you.

"Where's the wound?" Osferth sobbed, trembling, blood spurting from his mouth; going paler by the minute. "Angel, please, the wound? Where's the wound?"

"No, no, no, don't worry 'bout that, hey? Don't you worry, you just keep looking at me," you sobbed, holding his neck and cradling him to your swollen belly. "Just at me, my love, okay? Just look at me - don't look anywhere else, okay? Nothing else matters."

"H-How bad? How ba-ba-bad-bad is i-it?"

"You're going to be all right," you lied to Osferth for the first time.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Osferth repeated through his tears and fears, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

He held onto you desperately, sobbing, you slowly rocking. "No, you're all right, Osferth, it's okay, just look at me." You caressed his cheek, smearing blood, but locking eyes. "My love," you whispered, "listen to me - "

"I don't wanna die, please, please, angel, my love, please," he coughed, holding your arm tightly as if it would give him life. "Don't let me die," he wheezed, "don't let me die, my love, please, please. Don't let me die, I don't wanna die. I-I wanna meet our baby, please, I want to meet our baby, I want to be a father. Don't let me die, love, please, I-I wanna be your husband longer - "

"You'll never not be my husband and you'll never not be a father, hear me?" You sniffled, trying to smile at him. "Don't you worry, you're gonna be okay, you're okay, Osferth. You'll always be my husband, nothing will change that - I swear."

Blood pumped with each beat of his frantic heart, making it gush over your fingers. You didn't even feel it.

"Please," he choked, more blood bubbling from his lips, "don't let me die, I don't wanna die. Don't let me die, please, not now, not when our baby isn't here yet, please, I just wanna meet 'em, be a family, I wanna stay with you, don't let me go. Please, don't let me go, I don't want t'go! Don't let me - "

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here with you. I'm right here, Osferth, you're not alone, you're never alone. I'm here. I've got you. I'll always have you, I won't ever let you go. Never."

He sobbed harder. "I don't wanna leave you. Please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be without you - " But the words choked him, a splatter spraying across your face when he coughed; you didn't even flinch.

"Listen to me," you begged, "I commend you, my dear, sweet husband, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator."

Finan was heard behind you, retching jarring sobs as you read Osferth his death rite prayer. "Don't let me die," Osferth begged still, as if you held that power.

He had always looked at you as if you hung the sun and stars, and now, as if you were his very reason for living. You hated God in that moment for forcing you two through this.

"May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May Holy Mary, the angels," now, you choked on your words, emotion clawing your throat, but still continued, "and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace." You sobbed, "May Christ who died for you admit you into His garden of paradise. May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of His flock. May He forgive all your sins, and set you among those He has chosen. Amen. Please, please, say amen, Osferth, say it, please!"

"A-Amen - Amen!" He coughed, trying to get closer to you, nestling into your warmth as he felt impossibly cold. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be alone. I can't go without you, please, don't let me go - don't let me die, angel, please, I can't go without you. I-I’ve never been without you my whole life, I don’t wish to start now. I love you. I-I love you, please, don't let me go, I love you. I need you."

"You'll never be without me," you promised, face coated in blood, grime, dirt, and ash; all streaked with your tear tracks. "You will always be my husband, hey? Hear me? You're always gonna be with me, I will never be apart from you. I'll love you forever, Osferth, I won't ever stop." You felt your chest cave in as you sobbed, "Please, don't you leave me - "

But Osferth was wheezing and panting, only staring up at you. "I only need you," he whimpered, "I've only ever needed you, I can't do this without you. Please, I can't - I can't go without you. I don't want to leave you, I can't leave you, please!'

"So don't leave me," you sobbed, him still clawing at you in desperation. "I love you more than life, Osferth, please, don't leave me, okay? Don't go. I love you so much. Being loved by you was my greatest pleasure in this life, I want our child to know your love, too, Osferth, please, don't go."

"I-I wanna meet our baby, I wanna hold 'em, love 'em," he repeated. "Please, this can't be the end, don't let this be the end. W-We have so much more - we were supposed to have eternity together, my love, my angel, please! This isn't the end, I can't - I can't go without you!"

"You're okay," you soothed uselessly, rocking more prominently. "Just stay with me, my love, okay? Stay with me. Don't go. Only look at me, all right? You hear me?" You sniffled, caressing his cheek. "You're the best thing in my life, Osferth, yeah? Understand me? Where you're going, y-you'll be welcomed a hero, with open arms. You'll be my own angel. My real angel. The reason I keep going for our child. An-And you'll stay there just for a little while until I join you, okay? You'll watch over us, me and the baby, right? Our own angel? Hey? 'Cause you'll never be part from us - you'll never be apart from me. You and I are a forever sorta thing, we'll never be apart, we'll always be part of each other no matter what."

Osferth lost his words, eyes widening and pulling you closer.

You just soothed, "I'm here with you, my love. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone, I'm right here, I have you. I've got you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Osferth, okay? I love you more than anything, you're my everything. I love you," you sniffled, breaking down in worse sobs, repeating, "I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't faster, I love you, this shouldn't be happening. I'm so sorry, I should've come faster! I love you, I'm so sorry."

With his last breath, Osferth choked, "L-Love y-y-you."

"I love you," you hushed, bending at the waist to rest your forehead on his, "I love you so much. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be all right, you'll be safe - where you're going, you'll be safe. I'm so sorry, my love... I'm so sorry."

You felt him go still. You felt the last of his breath exhale, his body deflate. You felt his soul detach from his body.

You froze.

"Oh, my God," you breathed, pulling back to look down at his petrified features. "Oh, my God, no, no, no. God, please, please, give him back," you sobbed, "give him back to me! Do not take him! It's not his time, you selfish cunt! Give him back! It wasn't supposed to end like this! Give him back to me, please! Please! This isn't how this was supposed to happen! We promised eternity together, please! Let us have that! Let us be together, give him back to me! I need him!"

Your shrill hysterics were heard all over Rumcofa.

Finan sobbed into his wife's arms behind you, Cynleaf knelt to slowly extend his hand onto your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he offered, but you pushed him away harshly; knocking him into the dirt.

"No! I don't want your fucking condolences!" You snapped, holding Osferth tighter, "I want my husband! I want my husband back! Can you give him to me? Can you, Cynleaf? Can you give him back to me!?"

"No - "

"Then you have nothing to offer me! I want nothing else, nothing from you! I only want him!" You looked away from the young lad, finding Osferth's wide open eyes staring up at you. You whimpered, "I only need him, so, please. Please, give him back to me. Please. I need him, I need him, I can't do this without him, please, God, don't do this. You take so many lives, why add him to the mix!? Give him back! C'mon," you begged the cooling body, "c'mon, love, get up. Get up for me, please, just wake up. Come back to me, get up... Get up, Osferth, get up! Please! WAKE UP!"

But Osferth never moved. Never blinked. Never drew breath. And God never answered your pleas. Your dress was saturated in your husband's blood; a pooling puddle seeping into your knees, bodice drenched, his baby moving in your belly. You wailed into the still air, holding your husband tight to your chest; mouth agape to release the terrible screams of anguish, tears never ending, rocking on your knees. You didn't know what to feel... But devastation was prominent.

You wept until your throat went raw, jaw tender from your open mouth. "I'm so sorry!" You repeated, "I should've been quicker! I should've been at your side! You shouldn't have been alone! This is my fault! This is all my fault, I shouldn't have been away from you. I should've been with you, you did not deserve this end. Please! Forgive me, wherever you are, forgive me, I did not intend for this, I shouldn't have left you, I should've been at your side, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"No," Ingrith whispered, "no, do not say this is your fault, you did nothing - "

"Exactly!" You snapped at her, eyes ablaze, her husband silent. "I did nothing, I wasn't with him! I wasn't where I was supposed to be! And he was stabbed because of you!"

Finan whispered your name in reprimand.

"No! How many times have you rode a fucking horse, Ingrith!? And now, today, the time it truly matters, you fall; you posed distraction," you sobbed, crumpling in on yourself. "He was distracted by your fall... This shouldn't've happened, this is all wrong!"

The trio just watched you, knowing your emotions were raw and unwavering, that your words did not have meaning because your husband had just died in your arms. Hours passed, you did not move. Hours passed, your husband did not return. Hours passed, and your heart shattered with each passing breath you selfishly drew.

Because living felt selfish now without Osferth.

"Sweet one," Finan whispered, the sun setting, "we should move him. Bring him to the church so Benedict can pray."

Your head shook, "No."

"Darlin', we have to - "

"No," you whimpered, "because if you take him to Benedict, it's real. If we move, he's truly gone... He can't be gone, Finan," you sobbed, meeting your friend's eyes. "If you move him, he's gone, I'm not ready to say goodbye, please. Please, don't take him from me."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "but he should be laid to rest."

"Don't take him from me," you begged, a new wave of tears starting. "I just - we were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to have this baby, and now, it's just me? This cannot be, so please, don't take him from me, I only need him back. Give him back to me, Finan, please, I can't be without him."

"I know," he nodded, gently encouraging you into his embrace. It meant you had to let go of Osferth, something you did slowly and gradually, leaning into the Irishman's chest. "All right, I got yah," he whispered, looking to his wife. "C'mon, stand with Ingrith. I'll carry him."

"Be gentle," you sobbed, feeling Ingrith grip your arms to help heave you to your feet; watching Finan scoop Osferth over his shoulder. The change of position made more blood splatter to the dirt, your heart stalling in your chest when you heard the mess.

You felt your soul shriveled and hidden somewhere deep in your chest, following as if in a trance. You watched Finan and Cynleaf slowly lower Osferth to the ground with the other dead Danes, feeling yourself drop to the ground in shock.

Seeing Osferth amongst the dead made it so much more real.

"It's all my fault," you sobbed, Finan moving to your side, "it's all my fault, I got him killed. I should've been quicker. This is my fault, my fault, I did this, 's my fault."

Finan knelt beside you, bringing your foreheads together to hold you tightly and let you sob into his embrace. "You didn't do this," he promised, "you did nothing wrong. You are not at fault. Do not carry this guilt."

You sobbed without reprieve.

Young Uhtred halted Father Benedict from praying over the Danes, telling the older man they had different customs, but looked back at you. He asked your name softly, wondering, "Do you wish for a prayer for... Him?"

Even Young Uhtred couldn't stomach the truth, avoiding using Osferth's name out of sheer disbelief.

"That'd be nice," Finan agreed, turning to sit beside you and hold you under his arm. You leaned into his embrace, head to his shoulder. "She read him his death rites when... It happened."

Young Uhtred nodded, bowing his head, leading, "Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Then, you joined from under Finan's heavy arm, sobbing through your words, "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Benedict finished, "Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end."

Together, you, Ingrith, Young Uhtred, Benedict, Finan, and even Cynleaf ended, "Amen."

Feeling the most level-headed, Ingrith stepped in and directed the men; informing that Young Uhtred should lead the remaining Danes to Daneland, Finan and Cynleaf would meet Uhtred on the road, and she would accompany you to Wessex - where Osferth could be laid to rest at the place of his birth. Then, the people mourned together for their fallen.

Finan disagreed initially, telling his wife you were his responsibility now that Osferth was passed. But there was no way you could continue with the company, not in your pregnant state. Finan didn't like the idea of you being without him, considering you close to a sister; something of a best mate, someone he couldn't turn his back on - no matter the situation. However, he understood the predicament and finally agreed to part ways, but not before he untied Osferth's crucifix and latched it around your neck. At the gates of Rumcofa, before separating, Finan gifted you his rosary; thinking it might bring comfort in his physical absence.

Years from then, you would bring up a single son named Gabriel (a name your husband favored, a name benefitting an Angel) under Lord Uhtred in his birthplace of Bebbanburg. You never remarried. You never even so much as looked after another man with lust. Gabriel would grow into a handsome warrior and a devoted man of God, satisfied on tales about his father; being painted as a man of honor, integrity, and bravery. Osferth, too, was a man of God, a man of the sword, and a man of his word... Until the very end. And when your time came, you were brought back to Wessex to be laid to rest with your husband; your son having a son, naming him Osferth, and knowing, both his parents shined down on him in pride.

It was a comfort for everyone to know, somewhere in the afterlife, in God's warmth, you and Osferth were reunited; looking just as you did the day you parted from one another.

requesting rules and masterlist

[demonicbaby666]

Territorial

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Kara Danvers x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, jealousy, fingering, semi-public sex

Summary: Attending an event with Kara seemed a good idea. It had never been an issue in the past, but when she returns from mingling to find you enjoying the company of another guest, things take an interesting turn.

A/n: I want to say that I've thoroughly proofread this, but I cannot because I am lazy and also not motivated enough to do that :)

Kara didn't want to leave you. On the drive over to the reporter's gala, you'd heard her say just that, even if you were the slightest bit distracted by how her muscles bulged under the sleeves of her blazer. 

She knew you were no social butterfly and had sworn to stay by your side when you needed a breather from small talk and scheming questions—a hero even when she shed her cape. You'd tried to reason with her, explain you were not a child, that you'd be fine alone. Alas, it proved useless. She wasn't having it. 

However, that was the drive over when Kara had yet to be faced with renowned reporters, endless opportunities for stories and the chance to fill a whole page, front and back, with media contacts. So, when the time came, you were proud to admit you succeeded in swaying your girlfriend to do all the things you knew she was most looking forward to with a "Please don't let me stop you. I had been wanting to check out the bar anyway." 

You did receive a dejected look from Kara as she was dragged away, one that reminded you of a little lost pup. That wasn't entirely a pleasant sight, but when you arrived at a too-tall bar stool and peeked over your shoulder, you were happy to note Kara was lost in conversation. The twinkle in her eyes she only got when intrigue grew and questions were formed was bright as ever. She was utterly consumed. It was a happy sight. A sight that, mixed with alcohol, made your chest flush a little too hot for liking. 

Time ticked by, and for a while, it was okay. You watched Kara move around, go from person to person, nursing your drink between glances and taking in the room decor. The thought of joining her did cross your mind but was quickly stored away when you realised how hard it would be to reach the blonde across the ocean of bodies. Better to sit tight and save yourself the trouble. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the event hall grew too loud. Not loud from rowdy patrons or blasting music. The accumulation of too many polite voices and clattering sounds combined to form a monotonous hum was what was beginning to drive you crazy. You waited. And you waited. And you waited some more. You waited for as long as you could, feeling more and more how your cheeks began to burn until it got a little too much, and you found your way outside to the stone stairs of the grand entrance, heart beating a little too fast for your liking.

That was where Kara found you. She'd wrapped up her conversations as fast as possible, asking and answering rapid-fire questions, absorbing every bit of knowledge offered while keeping track of the time. It couldn't be helped that now and again, she lost herself in stories that she imagined would one day be hers. She knew you'd understand. But then, too much time had passed, and she knew it as she hurried over to the bar, already panicked about how best to apologise for leaving you alone for so long. 

By the time she did find you, after discovering the bar vacant, her worries were gone, and Kara was joyous to finally be so close to you again that she could smell your perfume. The stories she'd heard were waiting on the tip of her tongue to be regurgitated, along with an apology kiss, which she had decided was the foolproof option on the walk over. However, when she turned a corner and finally saw your unmistakable figure, she did not expect to find you with company. More so, she did not expect a pristine blazer that was not hers to be wrapped around you, keeping you warm from the evening's light breeze. 

Watching from a close distance, Kara could see it. She could hear it pierce her ears—the bitter sound of laughter. You were smiling, listening attentively to what this random woman spewed at you, and it drove Kara crazy, filled her veins with fire, and turned her knuckles white. She hated this part of herself, the wiry-clawed green-eyed monster that came out so often around you. She'd been pushing it down all evening, all week, hell, your whole relationship, whenever she saw someone's eyes linger on your figure too long. But this, whatever was happening between you and this woman, was, for some reason, Kara's last straw. 

"It's freezing." She strode over, steps heavy, tone sharp as she announced her presence.

It was, in fact, not freezing, and you were about to mention that as you turned to greet Kara, but the second you saw her stony expression, you decided otherwise. 

"Kara, it's so nice to finally meet you," the woman beside you said, extending her arm to the blonde with a warm, charismatic smile. "Andrea." 

The reporter outright ignored the greeting, stared at Andrea with flared nostrils and then back to you, her eyes softening only a smidge. You hated to say it, even if it was just to yourself, but something about seeing Kara this way deeply affected you. Of course, you loved sweet Kara, the Kara that would never be able not to help, the Kara that left a trail of sunshine behind her as she walked, the Kara that giggled at double entendres, and that's what she said jokes. But this Kara, fierce, protective and territorial Kara, the Kara that would crack someone's neck if they looked at you the wrong way, throw them over the side of a building if they even thought to touch you, drove you mad with undying lust. 

"Why are you out here?" your girlfriend asked, snapping you out of your daze. Her eyes grew smaller, and her lips thinned as she stared at the blazer still around your shoulders. 

Sensing her hostility and heavy eyes, you got the hint. Well, it was less of a hint than a blaring alarm. Nonetheless, you understood. "I got a bit hot inside, that's all," you calmly answered, beginning to shrug off the satin jacket that seemed to be Kara's new adversary lest she burn a hole right through it. 

"Nice seeing you, Andrea," Kara said dryly, sporting a sarky smile as she took the blazer off your shoulder and handed it back. "I'll be taking my girlfriend inside now."

With an arm hooked around your waist, you were ushered inside, unsure what the hell had just happened until it was too late to turn around and apologise for Kara's out-of-character behaviour. 

"Did you have to be so rude?" you whispered. "She was only being nice." 

Kara was indifferent, her face expressionless. "I thought you didn't want to socialise," she finally said, manoeuvring past groups of chattering clusters. 

"She approached me. It would have been rude to ignore her," you tried to reason.

"The blazer?" Kara countered, nails digging into you so hard you felt them pierce the silk material of your dress, forcing you to choke down a whimper. 

There were so many things you could have said, so many things you should have said. You could have given Kara one of the many valid reasons you had at your disposal. But no, you did nothing of the sort. Seeing Kara this pissed off, even if she was trying to hide the true extent of it, was absolutely divine, and you wanted it to last. 

Leaning over to her ear, keeping up with her quick pace on your tippy toes, you sultrily whispered, "I was chilly, and she offered to keep warm." 

Kara halted, standing stark still in the middle of a desolate hallway. You saw her jaw lock, the way her veins in her neck bulged. Her eyes, shining a scorching shade of blue, looked off into the distance, and that was when Kara truly lost herself to silent rage. 

When her feet started moving again, no words were spoken. She only pushed you down the corridor and then to the left, each step growing more daunting as the woman beside you remained stoic. You started to consider that perhaps you had gone too far. 

"Kara, I-" you tried but were cut off by the force of Kara roughly shoving you inside a side room. With no warning, your body was slammed against the back of the door, forcing it shut with a bang that echoed in your ears, its remnants reduced to a faint buzz. 

Kara had kept her hands on your waist, body a safe distance away as her azure eyes roamed your face in rapid intervals, eventually landing on your lips. 

"Do you need a reminder?" she snapped. 

Fidgeting and momentarily adverse to maintaining eye contact, you looked around at the collection of coats, studying all the colours, all the various items poking out of pockets, and the occasional umbrella brought in by the wary, inherently failing to answer Kara's vague question. 

The quiet grew to be biting; its teeth gnawed away at your confidence until breathing became almost impossible. Thankfully, the room itself was chilled, air circulating well enough to ensure that dust particles and the distinct smell of dampness would not stick to the fabric. Only two windows painted the room, both of which were located to your right, one jammed shut with rust and debris, the other slightly ajar. And as grating seconds passed like hours, and eyes locked onto you, hot breath rained down on you, the timid breeze that began to sweep in through the small crack of that old window became your new best friend. 

You focused on it as you looked to the floor and watched your toes curl. You heard its high-pitched whistles alongside the squeaking leather of your shoes, and you felt its light fingers caress your flushed cheeks just enough to dull your panic to a manageable seven. 

Of course, this did not last long. Your senses eventually found you, and you remembered the lingering question dancing in the air and the unhappy blonde who deserved an apology. But it was too late. For the second time that evening, you concluded that you'd pushed your girlfriend too far. 

Your punishment was a hand coiling around your throat, calloused fingers threatening to mark you with blotchy bruises but not daring to squeeze hard enough to hurt. Beneath the firm grip, you closed your eyes, frustrated with how painstakingly annoying it was to have something so wrong feel so good. So fucking good you were struggling to hold in a moan. 

"Do you need a reminder that you're mine?" Kara calmly asked, fractionally squeezing just that little bit tighter to force out a strained whimper. Her pupils were blown wide, dark whirls of something foreign polluting the bright shine of her irises. 

Distant music seeped in, filling the silence between rapid breaths. Eyes sharpened their focus on one another, studying the new hues of lust, committing the new palettes to memory for lonely nights. Then came the slip—your submission offered with one last shuddering breath and the slow close of your eyelids, and Kara, sharp as a whistle, acted accordingly. Her lips, soft yet bruising, devoured you at a moment's notice, pulling you in with deceiving memories and false promises, only to demolish them with biting nips and trailing scratches. She tasted of pure possession, each slide of her tongue more demanding than the last. 

She wanted control, and you happily gave it over. 

Kara pulled back, beginning to plant kisses from your mouth down to your neck. She drew you into her mouth, sucking hard enough to have surely left a mark, and you'd have cared if it weren't for the svelte fingers shamelessly working under your dress, rising to the juncture between your thighs to tease your clothed cunt with light touches. 

There was no remorse when your shivers were felt, when your pitiful rendition of a beg was heard or when your hips started to grind down in desperation. The reporter was hell-bent on prolonging the torture. 

Hand on the underside of your knee, Kara encouraged you to wrap a leg around her waist. She hauled it up as if it weighed nothing and held it in place, momentarily allowing you to find some needed friction along the column of her toned stomach. It was then you realised why Kara wanted you to have some leverage. Savagely, your underwear was torn, fabric protesting louder than you did in fear you'd anger your tyrant and be deemed unworthy of her illustrious treatment.

"I want them to hear you," Kara drawled, dipping the tip of her finger inside you. "Hear that you belong to me." 

Instructions clear, she thrust three fingers into your welcoming pussy and began fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. There were no words to describe the ecstasy that was being stretched so abruptly it almost hurt, so you settled for a silent cry instead, gripping onto muscled shoulders for leverage. 

It stung when Kara pushed harder and moved faster, but the tendrils of pleasure did not lessen, circulating through your body and bubbling in your stomach, so you endured. 

Your moans were carrying, spilling out of the room to ricochet and bounce around the high-panelled ceiling and walls of the corridor. The occasional gasp that did reach your ears left you desperately wanting to be ashamed, to do the sensible thing and tell Kara to stop. The embarrassment of exiting the cloakroom and coming face-to-face with the many people who knew exactly what had happened was enough for you to listen to your rational mind. But what remained stronger was the need to chase your impending orgasm. 

That's what made forgetting so easy—the vehement need for ownership being met, even if it was being done in such a precarious place. It's probably why you didn't stop the following words from coming out of your mouth.

"Yours." You wanted her to know. Hell, you wanted everyone to know. So you kept saying it, over and over, louder and louder. "Yours yours, yours, only yours." 

All you could do was continue to pull Kara in, clenching around her fingers, and beg her to go impossibly deeper with the firm grip of your leg and crackling cries. Soon enough, there was no need for Kara to hold you close; you were stuck to her like glue, and the blonde chose to take full advantage.

Her hand lay flat on the wall to gain some leverage, her fingers starting to move so fast they felt like they were vibrating. Soft kisses along your throat became harsh, teeth latching onto skin repeatedly, mercy momentarily shown with soothing slides of a slickened tongue. In the back of your mind, you knew what was happening. The reporter was marking you as hers, and when you left that tiny room, there would be no mistaking it. In the upcoming days, she wanted you to see the bruises staring back at you in the mirror, a warning for you never to forget. Hers. 

"Mine," Kara growled, her voice raspy. 

Your chest was rising and falling alarmingly, your breath short, and your lungs exerted. Everything was moving so fast you scarcely noticed Kara place her thumb over your clit till it was too late, and all that was left to do was gasp so heavily your lungs felt like they may burst. 

With the duel stimulation came the lack of awareness, and it seemed, even for Kara, your volume was rising to a level that would amass too much attention. Her lips found yours, and muffling your cries, she drove her tongue into your mouth.

Her thumb continually ran in circles, each drawing you closer. Your stomach was so tense it felt painful. Still, the persistent waves of satisfaction were worth the strain, and unsurprisingly, in little to no time, you felt the inevitable crest of your orgasm, releasing an open-mouthed gasp against velvet lips. 

You came with a silent cry, your head thrown back and slamming against the wall, forcing Kara to separate her lips from yours. She watched you fall apart in awe, milking you for you had till you were shaking so badly you could scarcely hold yourself up. 

"Keep holding onto me," she whispered, and you obeyed, wrapping your hands around her neck, breathing heavily and dropping your head to her shoulder. With a delicate kiss on your temple, Kara slowed her fingers down to languish thrusts and placed her hand over your ass, taking the majority of your weight. "I've got you." 

Assured there was no chance you would collapse, Kara kept going, continually pulling meek whimpers from you with every curl of her fingers. It felt like your orgasm was never-ending, waves of full-bodied pleasure rippling through your system over and over, burrowing into your skin till it felt like you were on fire. Finally, when a grimace replaced the gratified smile you wore and your moans began to sound more wounded, she stilled, slowly withdrawing from you. 

Weakly looking up, you watched Kara bring her fingers into her mouth and sample your unique taste. Her eyes fluttered shut as the familiar tangy nectar coated her tongue, and a satisfied hum vibrated in her throat. 

Head falling forward, knees still shaky, mind certain, you whispered the only thing that seemed to be running through your head, "Yours." 

Lips to your temple, Kara happily muffled her confirmation, "Mine."

Taglist: @iliketozoneout @homo-oddity @noahrex @lovelyy-moonlight @camciel | Click here to be added to my taglist

[sawbiter]

kiss it better - izuku midoriya

- cws/tags : smut, oral (reader receiving), afab reader with no specific pronouns used (i believe), love bites, relatively vanilla, softy izuku bc i like my men loving, fluffy, being in love, established relationship, shy!reader, porn w/o plot, reassurance, minor insecurities (all bodies / genitals r beautiful!)

18+ content ahead; you are responsible for the media you consume online.

author's note: i had covid nd then writers block but im back for now! pls enjoy i love izuku.

-

you can feel yourself flushing slightly as izuku takes off your shirt, unclipping your bra after he does so.

hes still fully clothed (unfairly, in your opinion,) and it's honestly,, a little nerve-wracking.

“baby?” izuku snaps you back to reality, looking up at you from his spot on the floor and noticing your nerves, “we don't have to do this- I won't be mad or anything.”

his red eyes are so, so soft.

you swallow, “i want to. i'm just.. i don't want to like.. tatse bad to you,” you say, your arms crossing in front of your chest subconsciously.

he just smiles up at you, “you won't, baby. i promise.” izuku grips your hand and squeezes reassuringly, “how about,, i start off just kissing you down there? just warming you up a bit?”

you flush further, butterflies invading your stomach as you nod.

he nods back at you, before beginning to give your thighs teasing love bites, kissing them gently after he pulls off for each one.

it's teasingly slow, you feel so achy you almost wish you hadn't asked him to go slow.

when he finally, finally makes it to your cunt, you're almost gushing for him. he smiles up at you once more, squeezing your hand before beginning, giving your clit a kiss and pushing your thighs further apart for better access.

you whine lowly at his teases, your whimpers getting louder as he laps up your juices & sucks on your clit, “'zuku,,“ you whimper, your eyes teary.

“'s it good, baby?” he asks, pulling away for a moment. you nearly sob at the loss of stimulation.

“please, keep going. feels,, so good.” you sniffle, your hips twitching upwards as he goes back to it, sucking on your clit.

he inserts a finger, causing you to outright moan his name and buck your hips to meet his hesitantly thrusting fingers.

“so brave, huh?” izuku praises, his voice slightly muffled from how close he is to your cunt, “you just needed me to calm you, 'nd now you're all wet for me.”

you nod vigorously, “please, 'm gonna cum soon- don't stop.”

as soon as you announce it, it's like a switch flipped in his brain, and he's back to lapping at your cunt, speeding up his fingers as he licks up your juices like it's his last meal. your thighs lock up around his head, your fingers tugging at his hair- practically suffocating him in your cunt.

with another harsh suck to your aching clit, you cum with a loud moan, almost going limp as your thighs lock tense around his head only to go slack.

“was that too much?“ he asks, as soon as you come down from your high.

“it was great- i love you.” you respond.

he smiles, “i love you too.”

[aangelinakii]

BATFAM LOVE LANGUAGES.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, barbara gordon, duke thomas, stephanie brown, cassandra cain

not proofread !

note : i don't know too much about cass, duke and steph as i haven't consumed a lot of media featuring them, but hopefully i understood their characters well enough !!! thank you for reading <3

BRUCE WAYNE — quality time ( && trust. )

i don't think bruce would be a very obvious boyfriend, especially in the public eye. he's a very private person; i mean, he's managed to keep his secret identity just as it is for years now (if we exclude arkham canon lol). for him, trust is something very important. he needs to be able to know and feel that you trust him, and that you won't tell anyone else his secrets so that he can fully trust you. when he does trust you completely, he will tell you about his secret identity, and feel able to express a more emotional side of him.

as well as trust, his main love language would definitely be quality time. as i said, he prefers a private, calm relationship, and he likes doing things that are exclusive and important to the two of you; something where you can just bask in the essence of each other, and talk about your days, or share secrets you've never told anybody else. or even if either of you have had a long day and don't feel like talking, he'll gladly sit with you in silence and watch a movie you both enjoy (or even one that he isn't too fond of, but knows you love, so he'll push through it just for you).

his favourite ways to spend quality time : going out for dinner together, or even cooking at home and eating just the two of you at the table , spending five more minutes in bed together in the morning , watching favourite movies on the couch (only exclusively at home; he never goes to the cinema) , talking about how each other's day went

DICK GRAYSON — physical touch && acts of service.

dick is an easy guy to impress, and once you have him, he's like putty in your arms. when he's in love, he never wants to let that person go, and quite literally is almost always clinging onto them in some way. he's definitely one for physical affection, but is also conscious of boundaries. at home, away from prying eyes, he is attached to your hip, your essence completely comforting him; but in public, he knows better than to overwhelm with touch, but will opt for holding your hand if that's what you're comfortable with.

when he's in love, not only does dick want to always be with that person, he also is conscious that he's showing his love in a way that is clear to them. he never ever wants them to doubt his love, and so he shows acts of service that won't get mistaken. dick is very deliberate with his actions, and makes mental notes of things you like and don't like, so he knows you'll be happy with everything he does for you.

things he does to show his love : cooking breakfast in the morning, possibly bringing it in to you on a tray so you can eat in bed , offering to help you with your chores or errands , remembering your likes and dislikes

his favourite ways to express love through touch : holding hands whilst walking in public , fixing your hair or tucking hair behind your ear , pulling you away from your work for a moment to give you a hug , offering to give you a massage after a long day

JASON TODD — words of affirmation.

although many iterations of jason in the fanon world see him as a person who adores physical affection, i feel that he would actually be more opposed to physical affection. i think he's been through a lot, and actually physical affection could be quite triggering for him, too overwhelming. instead, i think he would appreciate words of affirmation. when he pays someone a compliment, he truly means it, and often says things to show his love instead of through grand actions. and if someone pays him a compliment, especially a love interest, he knows it's genuine, because people don't ever give him compliments. words mean a lot to him, out of anger, out of love; they all mean something.

words that mean a lot to him : "i'm so proud of you" , "no one makes me as happy as you do" , "i appreciate you so much" , "i trust you" , "thank you for always listening to me"

words that he means : "i'm so lucky to have you" , "you make me so happy" , "thank you for everything you do for me" , "you're so good to me" , "thank you for respecting my boundaries, i appreciate it more than you know"

TIM DRAKE — acts of service.

i saw somewhere that said tim puts his all into everything he does, eager to prove himself somehow, and i think that even follows through to his (romantic) relationships, which is why he opts for meaningful acts of service to show his love. i don't see him being too big on physical touch, but not minding it, and he appreciates little gifts, but is always one to go above and beyond for someone he loves. due to the way he became robin, he feels some sort of guilt, and wants to show that it wasn't a decision made in vain, so he really pushes himself to his limits. in a relationship, he doesn't push himself to his limits per se, but he can sometimes outdo himself.

things he does to show his love : running your errands for you if you're busy , trying (and sometimes failing) to make a romantic dinner for the two of you, but sometimes just turning to uber eats , booking fun activities for you to do when you're both free, like paintball or pottery painting etc

acts that he appreciates : being made a packed lunch, or being brought one of his favourite snacks , being run a bath after a long day/patrol shift , booking out days in your month to spend with him , memorising his schedule

BARBARA GORDON — quality time ( && listening. )

barbara, although she can be upbeat with friends, takes some time to allow the walls around her to thaw. she probably isn't big on physical touch, partly due to trauma and partly due to simply preference, but adores quality time with loved ones. she really enjoys just being in the presence of those she loves, talking about interests or each other's day, or even just those really specific conversations neither of you are too sure how they began. but she loves those conversations the most, where you say something and she listens because you're really pouring your heart out here, and she reciprocates by opening up something sensitive about herself.

her favourite ways to spend quality time : watching movies and tv shows together, and then talking about them over a cup of hot chocolate the next day , doing work side by side, just the fact that you're together makes her work to a better standard , laying in bed late at night just talking

DUKE THOMAS — giving && receiving gifts.

duke is a really lovely guy, and is very thoughtful when picking out gifts. he is attentive to your interests and makes sure to remember everything you like and dislike; so that when he's out and about, if he sees something that he knows you'll like, he'll get it, no thoughts. not only does he shamelessly buy you things, if he gets the time, he'll even make some cute handmade trinkets just for you, and they're even more special because he thought the thought and then made it, just for you.

obviously his actions can't just go unreciprocated, so he also like receiving gifts as well, but would never say it, as he'd feel guilty, so he just hopes you'll do it. and when you do, well, he couldn't be happier. he adores that you remember his interests, or remember that thing he said he wanted a few weeks ago, or even a few months if his birthday is coming up. he's always grateful for anything he gets, and always gets you something in return.

things he likes to give : photo albums of cute moments you shared , little trinkets that reminded him of you , plushies he won at the arcade or carnival , flowers when he comes home after a long day because he wants to make up for being a little late

things he likes to get : lego sets , his favourite snacks from when you walked past the corner shop on your way home, and you had to turn back because you thought he'd like something , the video games he's been raving about for months

STEPHANIE BROWN — physical touch.

this girl is just a bundle of joy, really, especially when it comes to you, and getting to spend time with you. at the beginning of a relationship, she is practically aching to cling to you all the time, but is aware that physical affection may be a bit awkward. it's not her fault she likes you so much! but as the relationship strengthens and continues, she'll slowly ease into her true clinginess. her love language would be a mix of physical touch and quality time, but leaning more towards physical touch, because as you spend time together she likes to be in contact with you somehow.

her favourite ways to show love through touch : linking her arm with yours , holding your face and stroking your cheek with her thumb , pulling you up from the couch when your couple song comes on so you can dance together in the living room , ruffling your hair , leaning against you

CASSANDRA CAIN — acts of service && quality time.

as cass is a woman of few words, she tries to find other ways to express her admiration or affection. specifically, she enjoys spending quality time with her significant other, even if it's in silence. she enjoys working around you, and living her life by your side, and taking time out of her weeks, her days, and her months, just to be able to spend some time with you.

when she can, cassandra will show you, rather than tell you that she cares. it's a lot easier for her than getting all sappy with her words. so she sticks to acts of service, usually small, but still meaningful. she can get quite shy when expressing her emotions, so i don't think she would go above and beyond, but if she did something more obviously meaningful, she would try to act nonchalant about it.

things she does to show her love : memorising your food and drink orders , helping you put on jewellery, like put the backs on your earrings, or clasp your necklaces, watches, bracelets etc , surprising you with having done the chores you'd been wanting/needing to do , picking lint or hairs off your clothes that you don't realise are there , taking time out of her days to spend specifically with you

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: yall doubted me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

A deep growl rolls around you. This one is beastly. Not lurid or lusty. Your head dangles over Andy’s arm as he carries you into the bedroom, stalling as Ernie snarls at his entrance. You whimper as your body thrums from head to toe.

“Shhh,” Andy hushes, both you and the dog. He lowers you onto the mattress as Ernie’s rumble deepens. “Honey,” he pets your forehead, “you did so good.”

You turn your head, staring at the wall. Disgusted with him but just as repulsed by yourself. The tenderness tingling between your legs stains you with shame. As much as you detested every violation, every intrusion, you enjoyed it all the same. Your body delighted in it and even then, you feel that empty longing clenching inside of you.

“You just need to get cleaned up,” he looms over you as Ernie growls.

“Puppy…” you murmur and wave your hands senselessly.

Ernie lets out a soft boof and the bed jolts as he jumps onto it. He sniffs you as he jostles you and lays against you, licking your arm with his warm, rough tongue. It’s soothing. You turn and embrace him, shuddering as the afterglow fades to humiliation.

“Let me take care of you,” Andy intones.

His shadow hovers around the room and his footsteps fade into the distortion of your new reality. That fog of disbelief returns, thicker than before. That first night when you couldn’t fathom the absurdity of it all can’t compare to the haze that consumes you then. After all they’ve done, your only shield is denial. 

It didn’t happen. You didn't just let them do all that. You didn’t crawl around and obey them like an animal. No. No. You’ve been in here this whole time, it’s only a bad nightmare.

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine. Ernie lays his head down next to yours. It’s just you and your puppy. You’re safe. He’s safe. That’s what matters. When you took him in, you took on the duty of protecting him. 

That’s how it should be when you take someone in. When you promise to take care of them. That’s not how it always goes, though. You know that better than anyone.

You quiver as you remember the nights in the group home. Scared and alone. Even with the other kids, you were never really wanted, never accepted. You had no one to talk to, no one to help you.

Those days are far behind you… but the feelings creep back in. You thought you were stronger now. You’re just as weak as you were then.

The noise of water pouring down splices through your daze. You shift onto your back as Ernie’s hot breaths puff over your shoulder. You move, just a little, and give up as the effort tinges in your muscles.

Andy returns, a fuzzy silhouette over you, as he takes you by the arm and sits you up. Ernie bristles and you flutter your hand behind you. That’s the one thing you couldn’t handle; him getting hurt. He licks your palm as you feel the tension of his body through the mattress. He knows it’s all wrong but he’s a good boy and he’ll listen to you.

Andy lifts you from the bed again, this time with his arm across your back as he makes you stand. He walks you around into the bathroom. He sits you on the open toilet and you hang your head.

“Honey, you should… go, it will help,” he girds, “you don’t want an infection, huh?”

“Leave me alone,” you babble and cover your face with your hand.

“I have the bath running for you, sweetie,” he coos and steps away, “I’ll add some bubbles.”

You shakily lift your head and watch his back as he goes to the tub. He uncaps a bottle with a click and you fold over your lap. The pressure in your core begins to burn. A ripple flows through you as your bladder releases. The trick of your urine on the porcelains adds to your shame.

You grab toilet paper to wipe yourself, hissing at the touch of the tissue. You drop it into the bowl and sit up. You shake as Andy returns to you and takes off the stockings. You’re completely naked. He scoops you up entirely and lowers you into the tub, the water lapping up higher and higher around you.

“Did you like your presents?” Andy asks as he turns. He takes a stool from beside the counter and unfolds it, sitting on the other side of the tub wall.

You stare at the tiled wall as the hot water sears your oversensitive skin. You can feel the pearls dangling from your ears, a reminder of their game. You reach to the jewelry and he catches your hand.

“Those are really pretty on you,” Andy hums, “not that you need help.”

You slip your hand free of his and drop it back into the water. Your eyes singe. His betrayal is worse than anything else. He said he would keep you safe. That he wouldn’t let them hurt you but all you can think of is how much he hurt you.

Andy stirs the water with his fingers as the bubbles foam over the top. The smell of fake vanilla wafts in the air. You lean your head back and look at the ceiling. You hate him more than the others. He’s a liar. For all their faults, the others don’t hide what they are.

“You can just relax until dinner,” he coaxes as he touches your chest, “recover…”

You hear claws tapping and look over as Ernie fills the open doorway. He sits, staring intently at you. Maybe you should have them take him to a shelter… you can’t take care of him here. Not like you should. Your eyes sting and you look away. No, he doesn’t deserve that either. You’ve failed him.

With no response, Andy doesn’t say another word. For a while, he touches you, soft, almost curious touches, then he stands. You peek up as he undresses and the world shifts as he moves you from against the porcelain. He steps in behind you and eases down into the tub, pulling you over him as he reclines.

The intimacy of that moment churns in your stomach. It’s how he acts like this is all normal, like there’s anything more than there is. This isn’t a relationship, this isn’t a utopia he’s built for you, he’s using you. Just like those other two.

“You’re so precious, sweetie,” he frames your face and kisses the crown of your head, “so… beautiful.” 

His hands trail down your neck and chest. He fondles your tits as your body locks up. Ernie snorts and treads closer. Your head drifts to the side and you stare at him. His jowls curl up with unease. You hush him. He huffs and circles around, once, twice, then lays on the bathmat.

“He loves you,” Andy comments as his hands continue to explore, “that’s sweet. You must be really good to him.”

You sniff and swallow down your horror. You don’t want to hear him. You want him to go away, to leave you to wallow in his desecration. You reach up and catch his hand, trying to pull it off your stomach. He resists, far too easily for your comfort.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

You shift, the water sifting around your bodies. You feel the twitch beneath your back. Despite everything, he’s getting hard again. You are sickened by his insatiable appetite.

“Just relax,” he coaxed as he tickles your sides, “soak up the heat and then we’ll lay down, huh? Get some snuggles in. I got a turkey in the oven–”

“Shut up,” you snip, surprising even yourself.

“Honey,” he rebukes, “don’t talk like that. It’s Christmas.”

Your lips trembles and you take a deep breath. You notice how his hand braces your hip firmly. You gulp and try to ease the knots in your muscles.

“Sorry,” you eke out and let his hand go.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he releases your hip and instead tickles the bottom of your stomach, “I know you’re a good girl.”

You close your eyes and grit your teeth. You’re not good, you’re scared.

❄️

Andy puts you in a pair of fuzzy pajamas. A crop top and short shorts. Everything is designed to keep you a display. He lays you down in the bed and you lay there, paralysed. You’re trapped in this room, in your own body, with no way out.

Ernie lays at the foot of the bed as Andy leaves. You stare at the door and wonder. Is that it? For how long?

When the door opens again, you tear your eyes away. Andy carries in a basket and sets it on the side of the bed. He starts to unpack the contents; the gifts. You recoil in disgust and cross your arms.

He hangs the new sweaters and puts the new pieces of jewelry in the box on the vanity. He sorts out the perfumes and lotions and other toiletries and takes them into the bathroom. You curl your lip and fall onto your back.

You can’t just roll over and give up. You’ve been through stuff before. You can do more. This is only the first day and you saw the cracks. Right now, it’s three against one, but the three is very close to dissembling.

The plan. Whatever it is they keep going on about, it’s going to fall apart. It has to. All they do is bicker. You see their hate, you just need to needle away at it.

You sit up and take a deep breath. When Andy comes back in, he seems surprised. You look at him and smile. You worked in retail for years, you can play the role he wants.

“Honey,” you get to your knees, ignoring the sensitivity between your legs, “do I have to stay in here?”

He looks at the door then back to you, “well, I…”

“You said you had a turkey cooking. I could help with dinner,” you offer with a flutter of your lashes.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say, “I… Ernie’s too big to be locked in here.”

He glances at the dog and frowns, “yeah, I guess.”

“And he’ll need to go pee soon,” you insist, “Andy, I know you have a son. Ernie’s like that to me. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Andy flinches, “...I know.”

“You’re a dad, you must be a really good one,” you come to the edge of the bed and sit on your knees, “you said you’d take care of me.”

“I will,” he crosses his arms. 

“So, you need to help me take care of my puppy,” you pout, “right?”

He lowers his chin and drops his hands to his hips. He exhales as he pokes his cheek with his tongue, “I guess.” He looks up slowly, “it’s sweet that you care so much about him,” he treads closer, “you’d be a good mom.”

You blink. You hope he isn’t implying anything, “I already am. Ernie’s just like a kid.”

“Well, yeah, I know that but…” he sits on the bed beside you, his eyes roving up and down, “once you’re all settled… we could… talk.”

Oh. Okay. He really is nuts. 

“Maybe then,” you reach to his hand. “I could really use a hot chocolate, I could make some for all of you. Or coffee?”

He smiles and the rigidness leaves his shoulders, “how did I find someone so sweet, huh?”

You squeeze his hand and cautiously stand, “how did I get so lucky?”

He rises with you and Ernie drags himself off the floor. You outstretch your other arm to the dog in an effort to keep him calm. He’s probably just as scared as you.

You walk with Andy to the door and he lets you go to unlock the door with the key. You wait patiently as you latch onto Ernie’s collar. You know he’ll try to bolt, he’s restless.

Andy steps back and lets you out first. You walk with the dog calmly down the hallway. You stop at the impasse of the two doorways.

“Can I put him in the front room? He’ll only mooch in the kitchen?” You ask.

“Should we grab his leash?” Andy asks.

“He’ll be good,” you promise.

“Alright, go then.”

You tug Ernie with you into the front room. You let go of his collar and scratch his head. As you enter, Ransom sprawls over the sectional, lazily thumbing at a tablet. He peers over and sits up as he sees the dog.

“Shit! How did you–”

“He won’t bug you,” you insist as you turn to Ernie, “Ern, be nice. Lay down.”

You point to the floor and the Saint Bernard dips his head. He circles and obeys. You give him a ‘good boy’ and turn to Ransom as he narrows his eyes at the dog.

“Mmm, damn, why don’t you call me a good boy, baby?” Lloyd startles you as he struts in from the other doorway.

“I… did you want hot chocolate? Or coffee?” You ask.

“Whatsa matter with you? Cock hungry again?” Lloyd snorts.

You wince, “it’s Christmas.”

“Oh, damn, she’s got stamina,” Lloyd snickers, “I didn’t think you’d be back on your feet again so fast. Maybe on your back…”

“I’ll have coffee,” Ransom slides up to lean against the armrest and rolls his shoulders with a groan, “I’m stiff as fuck.”

“Me too, but coffee won’t do much for it,” Lloyd sneers as he rubs the front of his pants.

“I’ll put a pot on,” you say and try to side step Lloyd.

“I’d love something warm,” he catches you by the throat, “I could just drink you up, sweet cheeks.”

He flicks his tongue at you and you struggle to hold your smile. You can do it. You’ve made it through how many Black Fridays?

“That will wake you up, Hugh–”

“Don’t call me fucking Hugh,” Ransom snaps back.

The tension is cut with a sharp ahem. You glance past Lloyd as Andy lurks in the doorway. Lloyd retracts his hand and wiggles his fingers. You let your breath out.

“Do you want coffee or not?” Andy grits out.

“Dark roast,” Lloyd gestures derisively as he spins on his heel, “maybe you numbnuts needa drop a blue pill into yours but I’ll take mine black.”

“Fuck off, Hansen,” Ransom mutters.

“What? I’m just saying, if you can’t keep up, I got enough to give her a merry christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” Ransom rolls his eyes.

“Come on, sweetie,” Andy offers his hand,“let’s go get that hot chocolate.”

“Fucking cuck,” Lloyd sneers under his breath.

Andy sighs and you take his hand.

“Sounds yummy,” you chime as you lead him out.

[abbyshands]

I can't even lie; I think a lot of the reason that TLOU fans specifically seem to be so angry about the strike and annoyed at having to hear about what's going on in Palestine is because they don't want to be reminded of the reasons why they should no longer buy anything in relation to the game. They don't want to be made to feel bad if they bought the remaster, or merch, or just bought the games in general even after finding out about Neil being a Zionist and sending money to Israel. It's sad, honestly.

anon. THIS! 100% percent. people are too full of themselves to want to feel responsible, to be held accountable. and it’s not like we’re saying to never play the game again, you know, never like it again? i don’t think people realize that it doesn’t even work like that. you can very well play the game (or watch someone else do it) or watch the show n’whatever, just make sure you’re getting it secondhand or pirating it, etc. what’s so hard about that? i hardly own a video game i didn’t buy secondhand, and i know i’m not the only one who’s watched a movie or show on some random ass site. it isn’t that difficult. and if you want to get merch? places like etsy have a million things you can buy, things even better than nd’s actual stuff (and, obviously, you’re not funding a zionist in the process).

like, it’s one thing when you’ve already purchased things before you knew. okay, well now you do, and here’s your chance to compensate for that, at least a little bit. but going out of your way to buy the remastered or saying you’re gonna keep watching the show & whatever (from hbo, i mean), when you know all of this? that shit’s just fucked. neil druckmann does not need you to dick ride him for being an actual pos. like, what?

i can’t even get what’s so hard about remaining aware of the media you consume, especially in our world. it’s not even just the last of us you need to do this for: it’s any show or movie you watch, any game you play, any book you read. you can’t just not do that considering the world we live in today. i believe that’s incredibly ignorant, and to be less scholarly, dumb. i never believed i’d see the day where a genocide wouldn’t be enough to make someone’s heart break. to make someone fucking cry. to make someone not want to speak out about it, to do their part to get it to end. god, i can’t believe it.

but on a bit of a better note, it makes my heart swell to see people on here, especially most of my mutuals, using their voices and followings to spread awareness about this. can’t even explain how much i love you, how much you deserve the world. or to people like this anon, who aren’t attacking me or anyone else for doing the right thing, & speaking actual common sense ♡

sorry this was such a long response, but you really spoke to me on this one, anon !!! keep spreading awareness about these people suffering before our eyes, backlash & ridicule or not. FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE.

[taissaswifelowkey]

playpen

pt i

pt ii

rhiannon and afab detective reader bc we need more detective readers???

a brilliant detective falls into the hands of a cunning journalist, literally and metaphorically

a/n: yeah i couldn’t wait anymore, sweetpea defender. i also got my knowledge from any fictional detective media i consume so don’t come for my neck please 🫤 the “obliviousness” is toned to an average amount, just the normal level if that makes sense? like the reader is not 100% clueless. they don’t interact a lot but i promise they will in the next chapter. thoughts are in italics and bold, proofread but knowing me there still might be mistakes left. i wanted to try something new but idk maybe it should have stay in the drafts. enjoy reading and drop feedback if you have any 🤠

warnings: for the sake of the plot some details have been changed but there are still major spoilers if you haven’t watched the entirety of sweetpea!! swearing, mentions of blood, implied use of other weapons, dead bodies, stabbing, murder, slightly obsessive behaviour, stalking, a few implicit suggestive thoughts but is is rather vague. purely self indulgent and GAY SOOOO GAY you already knowww

it starts below the cut 🙂‍↕️ (i also realise that placing the pictures before the indication looked better)

Another body found near an alley of a nightclub. He couldn’t be any more than forty, is neatly shaved and is dressed in a suit. Clearly, the killer has a preference of victims. There is obviously a pattern. Your colleague DCI Farrow sees it. She is the only one who understands that your seemingly small community has a serial killer looking around and doesn’t infantilise you like the rest of the crew, or tells you to not get carried away like your boss, DI Diane St-John. Just thinking about them makes you grit your teeth. What use is it to join the police and helping families if it’s to play ill jokes and pranks and dismissing you every chance they have? And frankly, this killer is starting to get on your nerves. All credibility that you successfully kept is getting tossed and the same goes for Miranda.

You crouch down, assessing the man’s corpse. Fourteen stab wounds in all. Neck, chest, abdomen and hands are impacted. Viciously impacted.

“It never gets prettier, does it?” A voice muses beside you. Farrow looks down at the man, a slight despaired tone in her voice.

With a scoff you stand up, sparing the body one last glance before you pull out your notepad.

“If only it could just get easier for us.” You mutter. She hums, looking ahead as a small crowd of journalists gathered near the crime scene.

“In any case, they’re getting the attention they wanted.”

“You think they want to get noticed?”

She flips through her notes and beckons to come forward. “See here? They didn’t even wait for a week, not even three days before they hit again. Literally.”

“People like me, men like me are in danger! We want answers!” You both snap your heads to a man dressed in neon. Deciding to keep Farrow’s theory in mind, you march to the man, slowly raising your hands and putting yourself between St-John, who was just sputtering at the man’s words. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen her this speechless.

“Sir, please calm down—”

“Oh. Oh, I see what’s going on around here. What’s next you’re going to tell me to take a sip of water? Ask me if, I don’t know, my monthly testosterone levels are rising again?”

Is this guy serious?

“You’ll get put in a cell where you can calm down your testosterone levels, if that’s what you wish.” You simply stated, your stare locked on his. Two journalists stifle a laugh and get a warning glance from the volatile man.

“I now understand what it's like to be on the other side. From then on, consider me a feminist:”

And with that he shakes his head, leaving a bewildered Diana and a confused Farrow.

The remaining journalists leave the scene and coroners ask if they can carry the body away.

“The ball’s in your court now.” Diane shrugs, leaving before you could even utter a word about the theories you came up with.

Always welcome to hearing out others that one isn’t she.

And then a week passed and you were in your office meticulously piecing everything together on your own. Farrow got the credit card details of all the partygoers who attended the nightclub the evening of the murder. You set the file aside, mulling over your reasonings.

It makes sense. Same patterns, same type of victims. The killer’s got an MO. That helps. What doesn’t, is your crew thinking you and Farrow are completely deluded. So much so that someone thought it was funny to hide your PC, with a note attached on it which read Thought I might give you a break. Don’t wanna see our favourite detective get a burnout cos you’re the only one who actually refills the coffee machine xx

Pinching your forehead, you open your laptop and profile your victims, verifying their last whereabouts to give you a clear start. The last victim was at a nightclub. Anyone who was there could potentially be a suspect.

You peer at the file and scan down names of every credit card holder. You figure you’d do half and Farrow would take care of the rest.

It was funny that you found yourself interrogating the yelling man, whose name you found out is Jeff.

“It would be great if you could, I don’t know, maybe pass a message? Perhaps to the families? Don’t you realise the gravity of our situation here?” He sputters. You already feel a headache approaching and are this close to dismissing him. He swirls the cup of non dairy coffee and swallows it in one gulp like it’s a shot.

“Sir, I promise you we are doing everything that we can. Being cooperative and understanding would help—”

“There you go again with the keep calm thing. Don’t tell me to be calm. You know I can write a report about you in The Gazette, right? Yeah?Because I literally work there. And now I really want to get on that article so I’m going to be very quick. I went with my team to the club, we had drinks, a karaoke session, then I went home.”

A fly lands on his head, to which he aggressively bats away. He’s evidently aggravated and you think it’s best to let him off. Besides, you had to give it to him. His stories match his other colleagues. Everyone working at The Gazette were together.

You feel like you had a fresh breath of air once Jeff left your office. Working with him must be a pain.

The last person you had to interrogate was Rhiannon Lewis. You recognise her as one of the journalists who laughed at Jeff. You would too. The colour of his clothes were just as loud as his personality.

She looked nervous, holding on to her purse, her doe flickering everywhere before landing on yours. Usually…this kind of behaviour would be taken into account. But perhaps she has never been called in by the police before?

“Rhiannon Lewis, is it?”

You greeted her and presented yourself, trying to make her feel a bit at ease, extending your hand to her. Her skin is so soft and featherlight it’s a barely there contact. The touch grounds her to reality for a bit. She almost didn’t let go until you spoke again.

“Thank you for coming here. Also you can sit, you know?”

With a tight lipped smile, she nodded and sat down. Putting the purse on the floor she cleared her throat and slowly inhaled.

“It’s not a problem Officer…Detective?”

“Either which is alright. And don’t worry about the procedure. I’ll just ask a couple of questions and then you can go, alright? Can you do that?”

She feels herself cooling down a couple degrees, the soft yet directive tone carried in your voice sending her chills.

“…Yes.”

“Good.”

Though she doesn’t think she’d be able to. Not with your large shirt. Or the way your sleeves are rolled. And this weird scenario that she swears she’s seen in awfully written romance books.

“So, you and your team had a get together, right?”

“That’s…that’s correct. I’m just…how did you get to call all of us down by the station?”

“We traced your credit card information. Anyone who’s had drinks were called up here.”

“Ah.”

Be careful, Rhi. And stop acting like you did it. Nothing happened. Technically.

She should’ve let Craig pay for the drinks when he had his chance at being the gentleman he insisted he was.

“Mhm. So, can you tell me what went on that evening?”

Was it possible to find a sound attractive? Maybe it was the way you paired it up with a small nod. Or how you leant in and she caught a whiff of your woodsy fragrance.

Berating herself for having the mind of a teenager, she collected herself for a split second before answering your question.

“I had a couple of drinks with my coworkers, then we held a karaoke session. After paying for my drinks I went out with someone.”

Of course that was before she could stab that man. The same one she’d seen around, sitting down next to people when other empty seats were available. Even sat next to a teenager who had to hop off their next stop.

“Can that someone perhaps vouch for you?”

You kept an impassive face though your eyes were trained on her fingers and the way she twirled them. Noticing, she brought her fingers on your desk.

She was odd. Similar to that of a suspect. The way she was nervous to the point of looking like she’d melt on the spot. Then again…it could just mean she’s an anxious person.For someone who sang in front of a couple of people, you think that’s impressive and kind of brave.

“Would it be convenient to you if I said yes?”

She blurted all of a sudden, the words leaving her. She felt her own eyes widen a fraction but it’s not entirely regretted either, the crease between your eyebrows egging her on.

“I’m sorry?”

“Would it help if I told you yes, I spent the other half of my night with a date? Who by the way partially left me unsatisfied if that’s even possible. Maybe I’m just emotionally connected to people.”

Your apathetic expression is losing its composure, being replaced by utter confusion. She thinks it’s a better look for you, it gives her tidbits of aspects of who you were.

“It would be greatly appreciated if you could just maybe answer the questions Miss Lewis.”

She’s trying. She really is. But she’s concentrated on the way you’re saying her name. She wonders how you would sound if you said her first name, how she would sound if—

“So, you were on a date then. What’s their name?”

“Craig.”

And how can he be selfish enough to leave her alone would be perhaps your next question. You wonder if she knew anyone there who might have offered her comfort. Perhaps that guy she was laughing with. Wait…why are you even curious?

“Alright. I didn’t see his credit card information so we’ll have to give him a call. Could you perhaps leave his number?”

You ask but you are already pushing a piece of paper and pen her way. She shouldn’t have looked at your hands.

“For professional purposes, right? He’s not very good at answering messages. Believe it or not, our texts are filled with thumbs up emojis.”

She bitterly laughs as she scribbles the number before handing it back to you. You hate how the sound of her laughter causes your heart to skip one, two beats.

Shaking your head at your train of thought, you moved to stand up and lead her at the threshold.

The interrogation’s over already?

“Hey…you’ll catch them, won’t you?”

That same confused expression that her brain captures takes over your face again. Apparently she might have developed a thing for it.

“I was talking about the killer?”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah we’ll catch them. I can’t promise you when but…we’ll do anything we can.”

Her gaze makes you feel unsteady. The room feels crowded with the way her eyes are honed in on yours.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. This affects me greatly as it does the rest of the community, Detective.”

“We understand a case like this can make you feel worried. It’s not nothing you don’t know already, but walk in public spaces, contact your friends and family before and after work and check up on them as well.”

At that, her demeanour changes, for just an instant. Her shoulders are slumped, her eyes flickering between yours.

“My family situation is…complicated. And I don’t have any friends to talk to.”

You don’t know why you did it. Of course, you do the same for everyone but only under specific circumstances and conditions.

You rush for one of your many cards with your name, clumsily so. She looks at it curiously before you move to clarify.

“In case you have anything that might help the case or if you…need anything. You’re not alone.”

She’d believe anything you tell her. With one last smile, she shook your hand again, lightly squeezing it.

“I hope so, Detective.”

Quickly leaving your office before she let out another ridiculous sentence, she took a deep breath and left the station, your card in her hands.

She’ll have research on her hands. Maybe, hopefully, you won’t forget her and place her in the back of your mind.

A twisted thought isn’t it? It’s almost as if she’s begging to get caught.

▸

Only a few days have passed, the card on her table taunting her whenever she’d pass by with Craig. Though she never lost sight of it. Always keeping it nearby. Whether that be at home, or at work…or even during her nightly escapades with her knife. It feels weird but she feels a whole lot different, a whole lot better knowing a metaphorical part of you is there with her.

It’s a shame what one can find with just a simple first and last name. And you just had to be one of these people who kept things under the radar.

You had no socials, only basic public information. However she was lucky to stumble upon a newspaper that had a picture of you holding a cat and someone cradling a sleeping puppy sitting next to you. You were volunteering at an animal shelter. Cute, she thought. It was a green flag to like animals. She felt oddly sad, being reminded of Tink’s death. You being an animal lover was the perfect thing for her.

You were wearing casual clothes that day, your professional oversized button shirt switched for something simple. In the article you mentioned how having a cat helped you grow up, and you adopted your first pet at the shelter and met your best friend at the same time. You also talk about your favourite hobbies and random things that you call silly but that just sends a pang to her heart.

There’s this one coffee place that has a booth near a window, all the way at the back. It’s heavenly and kind of underrated. I always go there when I’m in need of quiet.

I won’t say I have a lot of favourite hobbies, but I do like to collect rocks and trinkets. Sometimes you’d see me with a rock after I’m back from running.

She could listen, at least theoretically, to you all day. You were the mellow, soft type. Not the same person she saw that day on the crime scene, where she had to disguise her nerves by laughing at whatever nonsense Jeff was complaining about.

Unfortunately she didn’t get much information, not even simple clues. Not even out of your friend, who only used a first name for the article. Even then, it could be a made up one. She was hoping to perhaps get anything she needs to know about from you from them on a social page but things have gotten complicated.

You’re complicated. You’re making her feel complicated. Why does she want to be noticed by you, like you’re the only one who could ever really afford to?

“Rhi?” A voice startles her from her dreams of your hands again. She knocks over her tea, splashing all over her table. And the files she printed.

“Shit, shit—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t move.” The kind voice, her colleague AJ, grabs napkins from her desk and helps her clean. He does so with a soft reassuring smile. “I take it has been a long week since Norman’s finally put you to real work?”

“Something like that.”

She thanks him as she closes the tabs before turning her attention to the brunette, who’s wearing a wry grin. AJ, despite being a nepo baby, was the only one who ever really noticed her in the office. As in, he fully acknowledges her. Not like the rest of the team. But the degree of attention she feels towards him is different than what she feels towards you. Slightly different.

He smiles and nods to her again, shifting his weight on his foot. “Well if you’re not too busy we could perhaps go for coffee?”

“Isn’t our break in five minutes?”

“Family privileges.”

He shrugs, raising a slight eyebrow.

Okay?

She looks at her screen one last time before returning his warm expression. Though she’s Shute she looks like she’s trying to force a smile out of her.

“That is kind of you but I’d rather not. I mean, I’m still new to the editorial team and I’d really hate to give a bad impression, you know?”

“Oh.”

He really tried to hide his disappointment. He really did. But the slight quiver in his voice and his tip lipped grin gave him away.

“Maybe another time, then.”

“Another time.”

And with that he nodded before leaving, leaving her to pick up where she left off.

▸

Rhiannon Lewis was a phenomenon. You’ve never seen anyone like her, really. And you don’t think of her uniqueness as something negative. She’s peculiar, odd…but there are many layers that might make up who she is. That’s what you want to do. To peel off those layers off her. Find out who she is. Your notes seem to cover enough of her information…surface level information. What you’re doing is risky. Maybe slightly deranged. But this is all for the sake of your…well. The investigation.

What you’ve gathered so far about her is that she works for The Gazette. Her father recently passed away and owns a moving company. She has a sister.

You called in the supposed Craig who spent the night with her and her alibi seemingly checked out. And seemingly is used very lightly, here. He was kind of confused at your use of the term “date” instead of “boyfriend” before confirming that yes, they spent the night, all night in his bed. Cool. Great.

“It was great until she left in the morning…she wasn’t that kind of girl before. Between you and me, she was rather the clingy type. She would stay on for two hours after.”

That made you want to tell him not to give private details but you’d take anything you can get.

As soon as he left, you wrote prone to attachments to your notebook along with a couple of traits you briefly witnessed. shy, nervous, plays with her fingers, blinks her eyes more than necessary.

Right under those traits were written all the details of the night of the murder. The victim was murdered before she got to spend the night…or have her date, whatever, with Craig. She said she paid for her drinks, stayed at the bar then left with Craig at the time of murder. Her alibi checks out. Right?

Although something is evidently not adding up.

At all. There are still many, many questions on the tip of your tongue. The first one being what is she doing with a guy like Craig among many others.

And you’re wrecking your brain trying to understand it. Miranda has shared her doubts about her. You both went to St-John, trying to get her to see that something is off but all she answered you with was a "I'd really hate to give you a long week break if you come to me again with this serial killer nonsense."

Judging by Rhiannon's character, calling her in back would push her away. You did give her your number and encouraged her to call you in case of anything so by the looks of it, she has to take the first step. But if she doesn't answer and refuses to meet with you, that will be a cause of pinning her as a prime suspect. You're sure she's smart enough to not do that.

"She's off."

No hesitations on Farrow's part. You thought she would at least wait a few minutes before theorising an idea. This does reassure you in a certain way. You weren’t insane for thinking that Rhiannon is more than what she seems.

So you call her.

And wait.

You do tread lightly, though. Very lightly. It's not like your fingers were trembling whilst you were calling her number. Not at all.

Taking a deep breath, you hear the phone ring for a few seconds before a voice answers it.

“Hello? Detective?”

How did she know it was you on the first call? Was she somehow hoping it was you? Or were you just plain delusional and perhaps a bit insane.

“Miss Lewis? I was wondering if you could maybe come down to the station. When you have time, of course. I talked to your boyfriend about your alibi and would like to review a few things.”

You hear shuffling sounds then…something breaking?

“Shit, shit—”

“Miss Lewis? Is everything alright?”

Nothing was alright.

She was doing the dishes, peacefully as one could on a Friday evening. It’s been weeks since she’s last seen you. Or rather heard you. Your voice held a certain warmth to it. And although her eyes loved to memorise every detail about your face, her brain wanted to store your sound.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“I can always call another time if you’re busy—”

“No! I mean…don’t. I’m not busy. I mean I’m not doing anything important at the moment. Just…what is happening? Is everything okay?”

She puts you on speaker while cleaning the shards of glass, careful to not hurt herself while also trying to listen to you.

“Are you sure?”

“Please. I’m not occupied at the moment, I’m at home. Alone.”

Why did she feel the need to add that information?

“Alright. Well. It’s to inform you that I talked with your boyfriend and he confirmed your alibi. If it would be alright, there are other things I would like to go over with—”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right, your date—”

She laughs, an airy type of laugh that sends a strange swirl to your abdomen.

“I’m actually not sure if he can be considered a date either. When you think of it, it looks too much of a strong word, no? Sure we see each other maybe twice a week. But a date is just a one time thing. This…whatever this is, is some sort of weird non-verbal agreement.”

“…Uh-huh. Would you care to tell me more about it whenever you can?”

“More about who I’m seeing?”

This woman was driving you wherever she wanted you to. Pinching your eyebrows and fighting back an incoming headache, you think of what to say before diving into…this. Whatever this was.

“More about your evening. What you were doing before you were at the bar. And before you met up with Craig.”

“And here I thought you were interested in what I was doing now.”

She dusts the remaining shards, accidentally cutting herself at the sound of your sigh. It’s just a small cut. But she’s still pissed off at how you’re able to render her weak.

“Rhiannon…”

“You’re calling me by my first name? We are making a lot of progress here. Next is, what, we meet somewhere for coffee?”

“Miss Lewis. Please.”

“Yes, Detective?”

“Concentrate on what I’m saying. We can go anywhere you want us to. But now I’m focused on trying to gather all essential information to move forward and avoid wasting both of our time.”

“You’re not wasting mine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

In fact she wants you to waste all of it.

“Is there a time you’d like to meet up, then?”

Deciding that your nerves are too tired to decipher anything properly, you play along with her game, blindly, and just focus on her words, mindlessly agreeing with her.

“We can meet up at this coffee place. I will call you over the weekend and let you know when I’m available. My job might keep me busy.”

“Whenever you wish to, Miss Lewis.”

“It will be quick, I promise.”

She shortly hands up after that. Your heart is still hammering in your chest, your hands clenching the landline as your mind races.

Where have you landed? What have you landed yourself on? Do you want to get out of it? Of this weird latch cause by her?

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Incel! Scaramouche x NB! Reader

This is an 18+ blog!!!! If you don’t like yandere content or are a minor, do not interact. thank you!

CW: Yandere content, stalking, creepy scaramouche, incel behavior, creepy behavior, toxic relationships, kidnapping, his friends encourage and enable his problematic behavior, brief fantasizing about a domestic husband/spouse dynamic, forced romantic relationship, non-consensual touching

*also just to be clear, this is loosely based off the term “incel,” his behavior is more like a creepy recluse if anything?? I just couldn’t think of a better word to use and I thought it fit okay. there’s no misogyny or extremely gross behavior involved, but he is creepy so just. keep that in mind. anyways, enjoy!

—————————

Incel! Scaramouche who doesn’t get out much not because he has bad social skills (he does but that’s not the point), but because he loathes the idea of big crowds and being around lots of people. Socializing with people is already irritating enough, since he’s the only one on this earth who seems to have braincells. Why go out when he’s got everything he needs at home?

Incel! Scaramouche who has more money than he knows what to do with from his (insanely) loaded and emotionally distant mother (who gives it to him because she doesn’t know how to show affection any other way). he spends it all on expensive gaming set ups, take-out, and new technology all while being up in his top floor penthouse with a horizon line view.

Incel! Scaramouche who has friends, they’re just all online (and just as fucked up as he is) who he talks to (yells at) through the microphone while gaming.

Incel! Scaramouche who meets you while doing something mudane. He sees you at a grocery store picking over vegetables one day. Ignores you. 30 minutes later, he proceeds to bump into you and then acts like an asshole about you touching him, something that was clearly his fault. The two of you get into it, and eventually you’re the one to turn and walk away, already in a bad mood from the interaction. He’s interested now.

Incel! Scaramouche who isn’t delusional enough to convince himself that it’s fate, but who is curious enough to stalk follow you around for a while. He’s not hurting you or talking to you, what’s the harm done?

Incel! Scaramouche who while stalking monitoring you begins to note things about you. Unconsciously, of course. It’s not like his life revolves around you or anything. He just…starts to notice things. How you spend your days, what you like, what you don’t like, who you interact with and the places that you spend your time at the most. Soon enough he knows just as much about you habits and daily life as your friends do, if not more.

Incel! Scaramouche whos friends encourage his problematic behavior. They’re just as chronically online as he is, and have no conception of the morals and boundaries that come with having a healthy relationship. (Some of them, like Venti and Kazuha, even have a more romantic view of his infatuation interest, repeating that it’s okay to cross some lines, as long as it’s for love)

Incel! Scaramouche who has a weird view of relationships because his only knowledge on them comes from anime, the internet, and all the other types of weird media he consumes. (Should the kidnapping happen before or after your first date?) He’s not doing any of the cheesy shit the internet says. He’s not going to bring flowers, that would be stupid. (He’ll end up buying an overly large bouquet which he sends to your doorstep. there’s no note and you find it extremely creepy. You refuse to leave your home without pepper spray now)

Incel! Scaramouche who eventually just plucks you from the streets, right outside of your home/apartment building. No struggle to go along with it. Obviously you do fight back, but the men he hired to pick you up are far too experienced for you to even have a chance of running away.

Incel! Scaramouche who doesn’t really care about your feelings surrounding the whole situation. and well. he was getting a little lonely. most of his friends live too far away for them to meet up frequently, and it’s not like he’d want to see those crazy bastards everyday anyways. You’re much better company compared to those psychos, as much as he loathes to admit it. and you’re just so…pretty, and he can feel and touch you as much as he wants. it’s pleasant, and his apartment has never felt so full before, not at all empty like it did before he brought you here. you should be grateful you’re here too; he gives you everything you could ever want (within reason). really, you should feel grateful that you’ve been chosen by someone who’s so financially stable, who can provide for you.

you can have a good life with him, better than you could’ve had without him.

Incel! Scaramouche who kind of begins to see you as his little house spouse. nevermind that you’re here against your will; you’ve taken up doing chores around the house if only to fill the time, and it’s really only confirming his belief that kidnapping you was the best thing he could’ve done. when he comes through the door after a rare visit to the outside world and he sees you sitting there, idle, practically waiting for him? he feels like the typical breadwinner coming home to a loving domestic life. he’s not so delusional to think that you’re happy to be his little house spouse and captive, but it’s not like you can do anything about it, so he might as well enjoy the thought while he can.

[dysfunctional-doodle]

Do you have any Mikey angst fics you can recommend?

Yes I do! I keep meaning to update my list here. I will…at some point.

Here is the old list:

And here are a few new additions!

Wrong (ROTTMNT):

"His younger brother lies still in his lap, eyes closed and face sickly and pale. Mikey is silent and dripping in water, chilled to the bone. He's so cold.

He’s not breathing.

In that moment, everything clicks."

Or,

A presumed dead Mikey fanfic, featuring science facts about box turtles.

Disposable (TMNT 2003):

“The life of your brother, or your own? Better hurry up and choose if you at least want one of you to make it out alive.” Bishop pressed the pistol harder against Michelangelo’s forehead, staring Donatello down expectantly.

The Fixer (Bayverse)

-> You need an ao3 account to view !! <-

NOTE: I LOVE THIS ONE B TEAM ANGST SO WELL WRITTEN I AM FEASTING ON THIS FIC…anyway:

Donnie fixes, even when he breaks. April learns this the hard way.

Surface Pressure TMNT (All Media Types)

NOTE: actually, read everything by this author, I live for their writing style and characterisation

What if Mikey saw Encanto and realized something about his very own family?

Waterboarding (TMNT 2003):

If someone had asked Michelangelo a week ago if waterboarding would be effective on turtles, he’d have laughed in their face. Now thought? Now he wouldn’t be laughing. Especially as he tried to keep water from getting in his nose and mouth and wondered if he was about to set a new personal record for how long he could hold his breath.

Parasite (TMNT 2003):

After Leo is bitten by a bat, Mikey desperately tries to convince his brothers he’s no longer himself.

Or

Leo gets infected by a parasite and is slowly infecting his remaining brothers.

Lost (TMNT 2003)

-> You need an ao3 account to view!! <-

Mikey and Klunk get separated from the others and lost deep below the sewers. Good old fashion turtle luck leaves them injured with no hope of finding their way out. But they continue on, determined to survive.

MY FICS:

Fungus Humungous (TMNT 2003)

“Mikey?”

Michelangelo doesn’t answer, standing alone in the shadows. Leonardo moves to place a hand on his shoulder but pulls his hand back when the youngest screams in utter terror, his eyes wild and staring at the space around them. It’s a sound that haunts them all to their core, ringing over and over and Mikey keeps screaming and sobbing, begging for something they can’t understand. The fungi quickly latches onto his face, mushrooms digging into his eyes, across his shell -

“Mikey!” Raph yells but Mikey doesn’t hear them, lost in his own nightmare and unable to defend himself as the mushrooms consume his face completely. Instead, they can only watch helplessly as Michelangelo gets dragged into the darkness.

~

A mysterious infestation of fungi in the sewer system of their old home causes the turtles to each become trapped in the own never-ending nightmares. Imprisoned in the dark caverns and the last one standing, Leo must battle his own fears if he stands a chance of saving his brothers before they are all consumed by their own terror.

~

TLDR: remember that 2012 episode with the fungus? I rewrote that for 2003, but much darker.

Subsidence (TMNT 2003):

It is then, as his eyes travel to follow Michelangelo, that Leo spots the way the water is dripping thicker now, seeping through the concrete of the ceiling. There are signs he has carelessly neglected – the cracking on the stone, the groaning of pipes around them. His cheerful mood snaps.

Something must reflect this in his expression; Mikey pauses, a few feet ahead of him, face twisting to concern.

“Leo –“ he begins, but is interrupted when everything shudders. Rubble drizzles, then throws itself upon them as the roof collapses under the strain of the water pipes.

For a moment, Leonardo’s eyes meet his youngest brother’s and see the terror flash inside them. He barely has time to take another breath before the world caves in, and everything goes black.

~

While the brothers are out exploring a new sewer system, the whole thing collapses. With no way to get out and separated from each other, they all face their own struggles, injuries and fears as they fight to survive and find each other.

TLDR: a sewer caves in. Leonardo and his brothers are trapped because I like angst.

[lunaekalenda]

Kento Nanami is well-known for being the head of the most important business of Tokyo. A cold, strict, workaholic man who seems angry to the world. The newspapers talk about him and the media roast his attitude. Although he's handsome, well-ported and polite in extreme, all the social media influencers that like to rant about him as a way to earn money ask the same question:

Who would be able to date the Cold King?

"Who would be able to date? Goddess, I'm not a robot." Kento sighs, taking both cups of steamy tea from the kitchen counter and walking towards the couch. You put the phone down, receiving the tea and a forehead kiss from your husband as he surrounds the sofa to sit by your side, arm opening for you as you snuggle up against his body.

"It's true that you barely smile on pics or meetings" You agree with the post, making your man sigh and drink a long sip.

"Most of the times I don't even wanna be there." He says. He puts his cup on the coffee table, that shines with the reflections of flames, consuming wood on the built-in fireplace. You copy his movements, only to be able to hug your husband with both arms, leaving a kiss on the spot his unbuttoned shirt leaves naked near his chest. He sighs, his hand caressing up and down your back, fingertips dancing on your hips and back to your waist.

"Hm? You don't? Do you have better places to be at?" you tease him. His hands grip your waist stronger, taking your body to his lap, making you laugh.

"So funny, my love." he murmurs. Your legs rest on both sides of his, and his eyes and hand travel to the anklet he bought for you less than a month ago. Embodied with tiny pearls and a "K" in a large fan of colored gems. His lips curve on a smile. "This might be the cheapest jewelry piece I have ever bought you, and still, you don't take it off." You smile at him too, your hands on his cheeks, your thumb caressing his bottom lip sweetly.

"Maybe because it has your letter." you whisper. Kento smiles widely. You know that anklet wasn't cheap. As any other thing he ever bought for you. "And, really, I don't need all those gifts." His lips press a chaste kiss on your thumb, his hands going back to their original position on your waist.

"If I work non-stop and I can't gift my most loved one everything they deserve, does it even worth all the work?" You hit his shoulder slowly, making him laugh. "You deserve a lot more, my love. I'm sad I'm unable to give you everything." His right hand travels up to yours, taking the one you placed near his lips, tangling his fingers with yours before kissing the back of your hand. Your wedding ring shines when he places your hands on the couch.

You don't like public attention, and Kento doesn't want to expose you to the shitty world of gossip magazines. That's why he has paid so many paparazzis so they don't follow him, how his trips and dates are always invisible to everyone, how his enterprise has bought the silence of almost all the newspapers and magazines, but still, some of them are hungry for an exclusive.

His lips touch yours softly, just a caress, before he leaves a peck on them. None of you move for a second when he parts, before you find him smiling back at you. "I love you." He whispers. You peck his lips this time. "I love you too."

Time passes by while you spend the evening by his side on the couch, in front of the fireplace, head resting on his thighs while his hands caress your body. Your expensive pajama, another of his gifts, shows under the velvety blanket he put on top of your body half an hour ago. He keeps reading his book, humming for himself and taking notes on the margins while he reads, but taking his hand back to your body once he's done.

"Love, what do you wanna dinner?" he asks, closing the book and directing all his attention towards you. "Should we cook? Do you want to have delivery?"

"We have all the time of the world. And your food is better than any delivery so... Could my perfect, handsome, talented husband move the action towards the kitchen?" You whisper. Kento rolls his eyes before slapping your ass jokingly. Then, he stands up, taking the blanket away from your body before standing up, taking your body sweetly against his. Your arms get tangled on his neck as he lifts you easily, your lips finding his as he walks towards the kitchen, blindly walking around your exclusive apartment, reflecting yourselves in the clean marble floors and the huge windows that show a panoramic of Tokyo. Kento easily finds the kitchen, leaving you on the counter, stealing another kiss from you when he parts with a smirk.

"Time to cook, my love."

You pout towards him. After all, he's the one that took private classes with that five-star chef to impress you on your very first date, so his cooking always taste like a piece of heaven.

"Can't I just sit and look how you do? You look really really hot while cooking, hm?" Kento smiles again, rolling his sleeves up as he gets close, a brow raised in a silent joke. "And I'll make sure to reward you for your amazing work." His lips curve in a side smile when he pecks yours again, unable to let you go, in need to press his lips against you until he needs air.

"I'll be waiting for that reward."

"We'll see if the cooking deserves it." You tease. He points at you with a wood spoon before talking.

"It will, my love. Of course it will."

a little drabble for @dreamcastgirl99 <3 i hope you like it!

[jojo-oliver]

How to tumblr for artists… my own version

A collection of things that have been working for me, but may not work for everyone

~~~ your posts ~~~

!!!reblog your own stuff!!! you need to reblog your own stuff, there is nothing morally wrong with reblogging your own stuff regularly. in fact, it is morally right to allow the chance for more people to see your artwork.

~~~ queue it!! ~~~ my queue is 500 posts strong. maybe don't try to make your queue hundreds of posts strong in the same day omg but like… once every month or two i'll go through my whole blog and just scroll and "add to drafts" to every one of my own posts i have. then i'll use the "mass post editor" to add content warning tags. and add to queue, and shuffle. and then I write down what the date was for when I last added my posts to be reblogged on queue. this is helped by turning on timestamps for posts in tumblr "dashboard preferences" settings.

queueing is necessary and life saving for me. It takes out so much work with decision fatigue and the anxiety around posting. It also guarantees that even if I suddenly need time off or away from my phone, I don't just disappear and lose all traction. It also breaks the instant-gratification cycle that you expect when you finish an artwork. It's hard to keep creating when you post something and, when you're expecting to get that gratification, you get none... If you queue your new artwork to come out at a later time, you've separated that expectation - with time. It hurts less and contributes to a more consistent gratification thing instead of peaks and troughs.

~~~ tag ya stuff ~~~ when you're making a new post, the first 20 tags are what gets put into the searchable tags. do not feel shame for using lots of tags. shame is the mind-killer. tags are hard. hard to know what to tag a post with. hard to remember the tags. so I found some ways to help myself. maybe they'll help you too. dedicate some time towards just figuring out what tags you want to use. i have a list in my phone notes that i add tags to and reference whenever i'm making a new post. i have the phone right beside the laptop while i'm tagging so that i can just look at it and scroll. tags are the only way for people to find your artwork, other than people manually coming to your blog because they saw you somewhere. there is no algorithm. posting without tags, until you have an established fanbase, is throwing something into the void.

When I'm doing tag research, I look at what people seem to use - when you put something in the search bar, tumblr recommends you some that have a higher following, typically. Looks like this on desktop:

if you like one tag, look at what other people who use that tag also tag their posts with. Observe and learn how this tag is used. search through a bunch of them and write them down.

here's what i got in my notes, for the specific kind of art I post and look for:

these tags are sort of specific to me and the kind of art I make. You'll want to research your own tags, but this is an example of how I keep them organized to make posting more effective. I generally only write down a tag when it's got more than 2k followers. You might be tempted to use the tags with millions of followers, but I've actually found those a lot less functional for small artists. If your stuff doesn't immediately get a bunch of notifications, you're drowned out and pushed to the bottom much faster. But the bigger tags are better than no tags, so I keep them if I can't think of anything else to tag something with.

~~~ post at the right times….? ~~~

fridays and saturdays is when I post fresh new things... usually. every website has it's own peak hours, and you can find those hours in many different online articles that try to sell you social media growth services. tumblr is unique in having later hours.

here's some random graph from google images:

please don't over think this. please don't let this consume the idea of when to post, preventing you from posting at all. it doesn't mean too much - if you post during very active hours, maybe your art would just be pushed down the feed faster. if you post at the end of hours, maybe everyone's going to sleep… if you post at inactive hours, maybe there's less 'competition'… if you post at the beginning of active hours, maybe that's just more time for your post to circulate for the day, if you have enough people reblogging it once it drops....

this also is in EST. So fuck the other time zones, I guess. I'm over here in europe knowing that the "best" time to post would be like 2-3am or something. It's like this for most english-speaking majority sites - higher traffic in north american time zones.

it's also worth mentioning that this is scattered as heck, compared to other social media sites. and it's not like, the activity times of your followers. it's not the best time to post for your niche. this is just tumblr, broadly. all of tumblr.

~~~ Plan ahead for annual dates ~~~

Your artwork will get more circulation if it's posted on a celebratory day. You could just put them on your calendar and if you're wondering what to make, look on the calendar for what's coming soon. For example, asexual awareness day, trans day of visibility, location-specific holidays, etc. Here's my phone notes thing with my own recorded annuals:

I got these dates from googling and reading different articles, but I find that I still miss dates, and then I add them for next year. If you know of some I missed, tell me and I'll add them please <3

~~~ reblog other people's stuff ~~~

tumblr is sorta about ecosystems. things get passed around within groups of people that are all following eachother. to enter this ecosystem, you must engage and reblog other people's stuff too.

if you reblog other artists' stuff, sometimes they'll come over and reblog your stuff too. sometimes they'll follow you back. this is called becoming a mutual. I'll search specific tags for the kinds of people I want to follow and the kind of art I like - those are listed in the screenshot of my tag note under "Tags for finding new people".

I see a lot of blogs out there that are very clean, posts are tagless, and are only for the artists' content. like scrolling through a portfolio. I imagine this is good for people who are migrating to tumblr but already have their own established fanbase from elsewhere.

you don't need to do reblog other people's stuff on your art blog, you can do this on a separate blog. but if the two don't look very closely correlated, it's hard to tell who you are when you're interacting. and hard to make sure people know that you are the same person as your art blog. and you gotta remember to promote yourself on your personal blog.

~~~ have an art tag ~~~

make your blog easy to search!

if i go to your blog, and you've written 'artist' or 'sometimes art' in your bio, i wanna see it… it make me so sad when i don't get to see it. i want to reblog it. please let me reblog it :(

to make a tag on your own blog searchable, you don't need to repost it to add a tag. you don't even need to reblog it. you can actually just go back to the original post and edit it to add your tag. I've seen post people just have their art tag be something like #(blogname)art . you can see my own in my tags image above. if it's very unique, then it'll work tumblr-wide. I think that's good, since the tumblr search function is really weird. Otherwise it should still work if it's not entirely unique, people just have to make sure they're searching specifically your blog to see only your stuff.

I like to have a link in my pinned post where people can click to have immediately searched for my art tag. Convenience is king. Keep in mind that most people are on mobile, and if something isn't immediately clickable, they often won't find it.

~~~ be consistent and be patient ~~~

!!!this time will pass anyway!!! how many notes you have is not correlated with how good you are as an artist. wanting to earn something from your art means you essentially have two jobs. two potentially full time jobs. this shit's difficult. most of the job is promoting yourself. don't undersell how hard it is to do… don't feel bad for not immediately succeeding. I would write about how hard it's been to promote myself, but it would just be long and sad I think.

This isn't a full guide, please feel free to add more!!

I'm sure in another year I'll disagree with a lot of this, it will become irrelevant with time, and I'll have a lot of different opinions. Chip in and share what you've been doing? Teach me? This is very overwhelming. Don't do it all at once, just like, try one thing at a time, and see how it works for you. Your niche might be different. One size does not fit all. If you're confused about some of the things I talk about in here, you might be on mobile. I do most of my queueing and posting from the desktop browser version.

I will update this with more as things change, but I think you'll have to click through to see the updated post

[sir-adamus]

this isn't directed at anyone specifically, as this is a sentiment i've seen a lot, but i think some people were expecting some kind of catharsis in regards to Neo being punished or just straight up dying in the volume 9 finale because they don't personally like and are therefore dismissive of the character; and then making claims that it was bad writing that she didn't get the shit kicked out of her and was then killed, but instead getting to bow out gracefully and taking the first step to improve on herself and find herself again (which, i have to say, is not a redemption, the claims of 'bad writing' always paint it as such which is weird to me - it's like, the start, at best)

and i've been seeing this sentiment for months and, from the perspective of someone who never really had an issue with the character and liked the way she was handled, every time i've always had the same question of like, is it bad? or do you just not like it? cos let's be real that's been a major, major problem in this fandom for years, and even the people who complain about it coming from the loud vocal minority are often guilty of similar behaviour, just in more 'acceptable' ways

there was this really good post i reblogged the other day, which i'll link here, which basically covers my general feelings on this in regards to media in general, but in specific regard to the show;

a) the main characters' priorities have never been on personal payback, and neither has the show's (which it makes a point with several times, with Yang and Blake giving Adam multiple opportunities to stop and just leave as just an example, which he doesn't take), so there's no reason for them to go after Neo when she's no longer a threat

b) by the time WBY would've had the opportunity to 'punish' Neo for everything she did, Neo was possessed, and in the aftermath of that, was no longer hostile to them because of the events leading up to her getting possessed in the first place

RWB/Y is a show with lots of thematic resonance, we see parallels and layers and one of the major themes in the show is grief, and how you handle it; in the Ever After, Neo serves as a microcosm of Salem - she lost the one positive (though ultimately co-dependent and not particularly healthy) relationship she had after a horrible childhood of isolation and instead of coming to terms with her grief, she dedicates herself to revenge (which was her characterisation click moment when she returned in volume 6, as that return actually gave her motivations and a goal, versus how she was in volumes 2 and 3, where she was just kinda there and didn't have all that much to her) and it consumes her, so when she actually does get that revenge she wanted, instead of there being any kind of catharsis, she's just left hollow and empty because she has nothing left, which leaves her open to getting possessed by the Cat

but after being freed from possession, Neo has no reason to keep fighting because of that prior realisation, and comes to the conclusion that she needs to move on, with the best opportunity to do so being letting the Tree help her. and this is what loops back to the post i linked; Neo is given the option to stop and change and she takes it

does it come too late? sure - but by the same note, better late than never. besides, the Ever After is a fairytale world where the normal rules don't apply, so 'late' isn't as damning as it would've been