#i watched it whilst drawing my new piece

[purple0-0lilac]

I have a question for you theater buffs

Was Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street always funny? The stage version not the movie version.

I mean it is dark don't get me wrong, but there's like this funny edge to it?

[ellecdc]

hii!! i saw that ur requests were open and i was like omgomgomg. i was wondering if you could do poly!jegulus x reader (in ravenclaw/hufflepuff) and its like the cliche tie switch type of thing where they all end up with eachothers tie colours (like james gets a green tie, reg gets a blue tie, and reader gets a red tie). and omg pls feel free to ignore this ik its an odd one. anywhosies i love your fics !! you truly have such a talent for writing :)

soooo cute hehehe, thanks for your request! hope I did the trope justice <3

poly!jegulus x fem!reader who all swap ties [819 words]

CW: somewhat secret relationship (at least James' involvement), accidental outing of that relationship, reader is portrayed as shy and Ravenclaw

You were shy. 

Certainly far shier than Sirius, shier than Remus, and perhaps even shier than Regulus. 

And it was because you were so shy that Sirius almost felt bad for saying something. 

Almost. 

“Oi, Rem,” Sirius started whilst keeping his salacious smirk pointed at you, completely unawares of the piss being taken at your expense, “I think you might need to take 10 points from Ravenclaw for being out of uniform.”

Remus looked up from the article he’d been reading as the piece of toast that had been on its way to his mouth paused midair, and you furrowed your brows as you looked up at Sirius from under your lashes. 

“Me?” You nearly squeaked when you realised Sirius’ predatory gaze was pointed at you, though Remus had the grace to smile at you apologetically. 

“Your tie, love.” Remus explained gently, but that didn’t seem to clear things up for you.

“But…I have my tie on?” You argued in the form of the question, hand migrating unconsciously to the well-tied knot at your neck when James’ voice permeated the atmosphere.

“Angel!” He called out breathlessly as he made it over to the Gryffindor table. “I, erm, I think there might have been a mix up.” 

Sirius watched you turn your head - which only served to draw further attention to the fact that you were not wearing your own house colours - to see James loosening the blue and copper tie from around his own neck. 

Sirius couldn’t even enjoy the widening of your eyes or the slacking of your jaw when he realised something.

“Wha- wait, no, wait, hang on.” Sirius sputtered as Remus nearly choked on his tea. “Why do you have her tie?”

Your hand quickly began to loosen the tie situated around your neck, though your movements slowed when you realised-

“For Salazar’s sake, Potter.” They heard Regulus hiss as he stalked over from the Slytherin table; Barty, Evan, and Dorcas cackling, seemingly at his expense (to the point that Barty actually slipped off the bench in a fit of laughter), as he ripped the red and gold tie from around his neck.

“What the fuck!?” Sirius shrieked as you finally pulled the green and silver tie off of your person and timidly held it out to your boyfriend. 

“Can’t believe you were so quick to blame it on me, Reggie.” James teased; easily replacing his own house tie to his neck and casually fixing the collar of his shirt whilst Regulus turned a completely new shade of pink and you looked like you were hoping for the floor of the Great Hall to simply swallow you up. “It takes two to tango.”

“Or three.” Remus chuckled under his breath, wincing when his boyfriends ire turned towards him. 

“Did you know!?” Sirius asked his maybe possibly soon to be ex boyfriend (or certainly his boyfriend who would be getting no cuddles or chocolates from Honeydukes for the next foreseeable future). 

“I…had a hunch?” Remus tried.

“The three of you!?” Sirius barked at the three of you then, though you and Regulus seemed to understand the question was for James. 

“Yeah!” James responded easily. “We’re pretty cute together, huh?”

Your shoulders migrated impossibly higher at the attention as you tried to cave in on yourself, and Regulus simply rolled his eyes at what he clearly felt was a Gryffindor brand of nonsense. 

Sirius had no response to that, though it didn’t appear James was waiting for one. James - the sod - simply pressed a kiss to the side of your head before doing much the same for Regulus and continuing back out of the Great Hall for his meeting with McGonagall as the Headboy. 

Regulus let out a frustrated huff and narrowed his eyes at his brother as if just daring him to say anything, though Sirius watched his face soften significantly when he turned his attention to you. 

“D’accord, amour?” He murmured quietly. (translation: alright?)

“Ouais.” You offered quickly. “But, erm, can you go away now?” 

Sirius sort of expected Regulus to huff in offence or chide you for being quite rude, but Regulus seemed to understand that you simply did not like the attention right now and actually smiled at you. 

What the fuck was happening right now!? 

“Tu vas bien, mon amour.” (translation: you're okay, my love) Regulus whispered into the side of your head where he pressed his lips before he departed, but the expression on your face made it look as though you very much disagreed with that. 

“Oh my gods?!” Sirius let out then when it was just Remus, you, and himself. 

“What’s that saying?” Remus asked as he looked back at his newspaper with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Curiosity killed the kneazle?”

“I wasn’t curious, Moons. I was trying to take the piss.” Sirius pouted.

Remus simply hummed at his petulant boyfriend as he winked at you over the Daily Prophet. “Call it karma, then.”

[finelinevogue]

notes on love

summary - harry attends the football and you attend the baftas

pairing - fiance!harry x famous!reader

word count - ~1.5k

*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*

It was the first time Harry had made a public appearance in months.

Sans a hat on his head.

After braving a shave to solidify a new chapter in his life, Harry had decided that enough was enough and he just wanted to be seen again. Gain some new publicity.

“I can’t do this.” Harry’s voice rang through your phone.

Your phone was currently propped up on the vanity in front of you, whilst your stylist gracefully worked around you to get your hair and makeup done.

“H, baby. You’re going to a football match where over half the population there will be white bald men. You’ll blend right in.”

You took a sip of your apple juice in its carton as you suppressed a laugh. Harry rolled his eyes at you, taking the joke like the good sport he is.

“I actually have more hair than them. I’m not bald anymore.”

“See! Embrace the new hair, H. You look really good.”

Harry smiled at you then, his eyes which had previously been darting between watching you and looking out the moving car window were now permanently on you.

“Not as beautiful as you, though, love.”

“Don’t even have my makeup on yet.”

“Never needed it.”

You blew him a camera kiss for those words alone.

“Where are you now?” You reached for a slice of pineapple from the bowl of fruit you’d ordered from room service.

“About five minutes away I think. Are you still in the hotel?”

“Yeah. Don’t need to be ready until 5.”

You were getting ready for the BAFTAS, which Harry had hoped to be there with you for but you’d decided to take your nan as your date instead since she wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

Harry was more than happy to let Nana, as he liked to call her, be your date to the BAFTAS. Plus, it meant that he could go see the football.

“You’re going to look so pretty.”

Harry had helped your pick out your dress, which was a sophisticated black to contrast the red carpet you’d be walking down. The dress itself was beautifully cut and shaped you in all the right places, making you look elegant and regal.

“I’m nervous.” You picked up your phone so the conversation felt a little more intimate, even though it was still over face-time.

“Why, love?”

“Don’t normally do stuff like this without you.” You pouted.

Harry wished he could kiss that pout away, “And yet the times that you do, you always end up winning! It’s like they never want you to win when i’m there.”

It was a running joke that Harry was your ‘bad luck charm’.

You didn’t believe that though. It’s just that other actors performed better and won, over you, because of it. If anything, you always won because you got to go home and drink hot tea and eat popcorn with your Harry.

“I’ll miss you.” Your face was so close to the camera that Harry could probably see up your nose.

“I miss you. Send me photos when you’re getting ready. I wanna see you before anyone else.”

“Okay.” You smiled. It was routine at this point to always show each other’s public outfits before anyone else.

“Have you got your ring?”

You held up your left hand and wiggled your ring finger in front of the camera. You blushed thinking about the moment that you got given the piece of delicate jewellery, with Harry on one knee.

“Always.”

“You going to wear it on the carpet?”

“Of course. Not going to draw attention to it though. I’ll let people discover it for themselves.”

Harry laughed at the thought. You two were practically the biggest, most A-List, celebrity couple around at the moment and so when people watch sight of you with the ring there’s no doubt it’s all people will talk about for weeks.

Someone told Harry they’d arrived at the venue, then.

“I have to go, honey, but text me updates please. Wanna see you get ready through photos, okay?”

“Okay.” You promised. “Text me to let me know you’re safely home later, please.”

Even though he was going back to his Manchester home, you still liked to know that he was safe and sound. Especially since you were in London and weren’t going to get to be with him tonight.

“Will do. I love you.” Harry kissed his fingers and then dotted them over the camera.

You returned the gesture, “I love you. Bye, bye, bye!”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You were just finishing getting ready and scrolling through Twitter.

Harry was trending worldwide for showcasing his new hair. His growing hair. No one had seen him like this since the end of Tour last year.

You pouted because you missed him a lot.

People were absolutely loving it. As always, a lot of people were losing their shit over Harry content. You were too, because you missed him.

“Oh, he looks so good!” Your stylist, Jamie, gasped behind you.

Jamie was currently fixing your hair and you had to say they had done an impressive job.

“I know.” You smiled to yourself.

“He looks like a sexy CEO.”

You laughed out loud at that, “When he puts on his glasses he does.” You agreed.

“Harry wears glasses?” Jamie gasped.

“Yeah, hang on..”

You started to go through your camera roll. It was only a few days ago that he had gotten new glasses, because he’d managed to lose his old ones. Typical.

You stopped on a photo of Harry sat in bed with the duvet up on his chest, a book in his lap and his glasses on. He didn’t realise you had taken the photo of him, but it was now one of your favourites.

“Oh damn…” Jamie gasped. “If your marriage ever goes south, tell him I’ll be available.”

You laughed again, shaking your head in dismissal but also approval.

You went back to Twitter to see if any of the Harrie accounts you follow have tweeted anything. You make yourself laugh as you look through their feral comments.

And just because you like to cause a riot on the internet you liked an insane tweet.

harriesmiles: the way that this photo makes me want to cling onto harry like a koala bear and never let go

It wasn’t long before you were trending with Harry.

Then the face-time call comes through from him.

“Am I done?” You asked Jamie quickly.

He nods, knowing you routine with Harry, and allows you to slip into the bathroom next to the bedroom.

You answered the call shortly after locking the bathroom door.

“Hellooo.” You said in a weird voice, feeling hyper from the Twitter craze.

“Hi, babe.” Harry was obviously outside and trying to watch where he was going, more than looking at you.

“Has the match finished?”

“Yeah.” And you honestly didn’t care enough about football to ask how it went. “Are you ready?”

Harry’s eyes flicked down to his screen momentarily, smirking when he catches sight of your glammed out makeup.

One thing Harry loved more than anything was you in a red-lip, so of course you had to make sure you had one for him - despite the fact he couldn’t kiss it off you tonight.

“What?” You giggled, watching him trying to suppress his smirk in public.

“You’re so annoying. I’m trying to act all cool and mysterious here and you’re making me smile like an idiot.”

You dipped your head and smiled, accentuating the blush that was already powdered onto your cheeks.

“H, honey, you’re walking through the streets of Manchester. No one cares about how you act. They’re probably all drunk anyways.”

“True, true.”

“Did you have a pint?” You propped your phone on the counter.

“Uh, yeah.” He said whilst trying to cross a road.

“Love, do you want to call me back when you’re at less risk of being hit by a car?” You sarcastically asked.

“No!” He yelped. “No. Needs to be now.”

You gave him a confused look but carried on regardless.

You shuffled back in the bathroom, giving him a full angle.

You watched in anticipation as Harry looked at you through his tiny screen, wishing it were ten times bigger.

“Wow.” Was all he said and you giggled like a girl having a high-school crush. “I love you so much.”

“So you like?” You swished your dress from side to side.

“Mhm. Wishing I wasn’t so far from you now.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll have all the kisses for you then.”

“Tomorrow it is, then.” Harry smirked to himself, kissing the camera.

Little did you know that tomorrow was coming a lot sooner. In fact, Harry had been running for the earliest train out of Manchester and down to London for the duration of the phone call. Because Harry was always going to show up for you.

[prettiestofpisces]

juju watkins x gf!reader

synopsis: you happen to be juju’s girlfriend and lash tech

fluff✨blurb

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

as juju’s six foot two form laid on your lash bed, you sat down in your swivel chair adjacent from the girls head.

to the right of you was your lash table which held all the materials you’d possibly need for judea.

“so how have you been baby?” you say swiftly playing with juju’s ears.

although you two were newly official, you both have such a tender spot for one another.

knowing each other, growing with each other since highschool, y’all were made incredibly close over the years.

sharing a kiss or two, prolonged cuddles… your relationship was beyond affection yet nothing contained a label at the time.

that was until senior year after learning you’d both be attending southern cal, juju decided to jump the gun. asking you to prom and later on to be her girlfriend

“mmm good…” she hums with her eyes closed.

“too many promotions, practices and flights.”

now your hands caress her cheeks yet you waited to respond.

“you just want some peace and quiet, i understand baby, keep talking to me if you’d like.”

you then alert juju you’re about to start and she, unknowingly yet conscious of something near her eyes, closed them tight without saying anymore.

you pumped a light foam soap over her lashes and began swirling it in, cleansing the hairs or anything foreign.

“what about you?” she spoke out suddenly.

“hm, well i’ve been busy with few clients, classes and missing you but!.. i watched you play kansas and saw you got roughed up” you giggled.

after said, game juju sported a subtle gash on her left cheek due to brutal play. juju never complained but you knew the mark bothered her.

“you can’t tell but i’m rolling my eyes” juju says with a wide smile, following with more banter.

you let out a final chuckle before rinsing off her eyes and proceeding.

after drying you lay tape down on her bottom lashes to secure them and a large piece for your markings and mapping.

“whispy cat eye right ju?”

“yeah ma” she responds so sweetly.

a minute passes as you’re finishing up writing little numbers across the tape you’ve placed and now you’re able to begin lashing.

pluck a singular extension, dip it in glue, place it on a single lash and wait. a simple process yet very demanding.

you hum along to the rnb tunes in the background, filling the silence and soon enough, you hear the subtle snores of the girl in front of you.

as time ticks, it’s been 45 minutes and you’re finished with the left eye moving over to her right.

Please sprout, offer me your tulips

On my fate

You gon' be my blessing tonight

So keep your eyes wide…

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

and… you’re done.

slowly lifting the tape from jujus soft skin you crumble the pieces and toss them away. her sleeping form calm and content, you kiss her cheek to wake her.

“ju… baby, i’m finished” you whisper close to her ear. once her eyes flutter open you take it upon yourself to kiss her again, this time two pecks.

juju does a quick stretch of all her joints and crains her arm back hold your face against her own. turning her head to the right she embraces you both in a kiss, an oddly awkward perpendicular kiss but one with so much passion nonetheless.

after releasing, juju takes a deep breath and lets go of you all together.

“thank you” she draws out groggily. sliding off the table as you both stand up from your still positions. her tall lengthy frame towering over you like before.

juju looking rather seductive with her new stare. you stare up at her in return admiring you work, the lashes which accentuate her eyes so nicely, making your own dilate. you couldn’t help yourself.

“you’re so pretty” you squeal before juju pulls you into her chest ever so gently. loving the feeling of comfort you tighten the hug whilst still gazing at one another.

“what are you doing tonight?” your question filled with anticipation.

“staying here with you” juju harps, her blatant statement taking you by surprise yet you were more than okay with it.

“i love when you’re around.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆..°

and scene.

sorry i’ve been away, sigh..

just a sophomore in college what can i say however i hope you like this little blurb, its very rushed but i just wanted to post bc postings fun.

muah.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: August 2024

This time last year, the Kickstarter was in full swing, what a journey it’s been since then! Colleen is still working hard to complete the graphic novel and we have some incredible pages to share with you.

There have been many merchandise updates in the past few months and whilst a number of backers told us they loved these, others wanted to hear more directly about the graphic novel itself. So, for this month we will focus 100% on Colleen’s work, and how the various editions of the book are coming along. Everything is shaping up rather nicely, if we do say so ourselves!

You may have seen some of the sneak peeks Colleen has posted recently, such as this wonderful scene between our heroes:

And our favourite angel and demon on the road.

Collen has recently shared a rare view from her drawing board with us. "Working on pages 75 pages apart at the same time" she explains. The joy for us is that these pages arrive similarly out of order, so the graphic novel is unfurling like a magnificent jigsaw.

The reversible alternative covers by Rachael Stott and Frank Quitely are coming together beautifully. Different vibes, both ‘heavenly’ and we’re delighted to share them with you:

Moving inside. Here's an introduction to your introduction: our favourites include: Dog: Satanical hellhound and cat-worrier. Everyone should have one!

With the pencils mapping out the story almost completely in place, here are some samples from across the book – don’t worry we’re not giving too much away. It is always interesting to see these images come in, then watch them evolve over time

As we enter the latter stages of inking and colouring, we're also getting glorious new artwork by the bucketload. Colleen has been working diligently and it’s simply wonderful to see the story coming to life so vibrantly.

We shared this a few updates ago in its inked form. Now here it is in full glass-shattering colour.

A jaunty moustache and some 'definitely not-bad-news' being delivered in the middle of a birthday party.

A prior inked piece we shared before. Crowley venting his frustrations, oh so subtly.

And here's a closer look at some of the Horsemen in situ.

...of course you must also have some snippets of Aziraphale and Crowley having a fine time with books and wine.

And this rather lovely panel ends the previews of our main duo for this update.

But one final thing before we leave our heroes for this month... feast your eyes on this absolutely gorgeous celestial piece.

And now to the admin.

If you have a query, please check the Good Omens graphic novel FAQ page at terrypratchett.com. Some key recurring questions:

The Good Omens graphic novel was listed to publish in July 2024 - why have I not received it? We shared an update on April 16th 2024 introducing the new timeline and full context on why dates had to be moved. You can read that here. We appreciate that some didn't catch the timeline update and had been expecting items to arrive across July and August - the graphic novel and surrounding items are due to arrive in Spring 2025 to align with the new publication date. Thank you for your patience. We promise that it will be worth the wait!  

I've been in touch with a query about my pledge but have not heard back - what should I do? We have been dealing with a significantly increased number of messages recently and our team are working through them as best we can. If you have messaged over a week ago and are yet to hear back, please get in touch again, either via the message thread on Kickstarter or your previous email chain. Rest assured, we are reading and working through all messages as quickly as we can and appreciate your patience.

If your question is not answered in the FAQ, please don't hesitate to contact us and we can get back to you as soon as possible.

Events

We announced in our June update that Crowley's S2 Bentley would be appearing at ACME Comic Con in Glasgow. Unfortunately, our team will no longer be attending, so the Bentley will not appear at this event. We wanted to let you know as soon as possible in case you have booked tickets expressly to see it, or to meet the Good Omens HQ team. Maggie Service is also no longer attending the event, however Quelin Sepulveda, our beloved Muriel, is still appearing on the Saturday, and there are many filming locations around the central belt of Scotland if you are visiting, so you can still make your trip a little more ineffable. We apologise for any disruption to your plans.

Colleen has also had to cancel her appearance at the upcoming DragonCon, as she explains here.

[talesofesther]

serenity haze

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: You notice the changes in Jenna in the lines that you draw; the sketches of her in your sketchbook have more lines to them, creases in her eyebrows, and shadows below her eyes. Your heart clenches painfully whenever you look at a finished piece you did of her.

Requested by anon

A/N: First time writing for her so don't crucify me pls. I still feel a tad bit weird writing about real people, but I see my Jenna as a character in a story, that's all. Hope you can enjoy this one, let me know your thoughts. Requests are always open, though be aware that I go where my inspiration takes me, and be mindful of my guidelines.

Masterlist

You were naturally observant, it was a habit that came with a hobby.

You liked to draw things, and to be able to draw them, you had to observe.

Because you're observant, you tend to notice patterns, details, and moments that might go unnoticed by most.

Lately, you found yourself drawing one thing in particular — or better, one person.

Jenna Ortega captivated you, anyone who met her would probably say the same. She is captivating after all. Yet you know your feelings are different, because you see a side of her that few people do.

You had been offered a role in the new Wednesday show, it was a smaller one, but a privilege nonetheless. And this role gave you the opportunity to meet Jenna.

After the first month of working together, it was already known on set that; where you went, Jenna wasn't too far behind.

You'd catch yourself searching for her in the crowds most days, her favorite coffee order in hand. She'd greet you with a warm smile that never failed and a hug that lasted a little too long. Jenna was sunshine if sunshine could be a person, she was the most genuine girl you knew; beautiful inside and out.

It was inevitable that she became your muse.

Unbeknownst to you — and maybe even to herself — Jenna felt drawn to you too. You were quietness, you were calmness, you were the steadiness she craved in her hectic life.

Jenna had no obligations with you, no expectations to meet; she could be herself, on good or bad days, and you'd still be there. She didn't know how much she needed something like that until she finally got it.

In some ways, it felt like you were her breath of fresh air whenever she needed one. Which seems to be happening quite often nowadays.

Whilst everyone was running around on set, cameras on every corner of the room, and people talking incessantly in their intercoms, Jenna was speaking with Tim about an upcoming scene in the show. She leaned back on what was one of the booths in the Weathervane cafe, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding along to his words.

He spoke about the dance, and Jenna confirmed she had almost all the choreography done already. Except she didn't.

What she had, were sleepless nights weighing down on her shoulders.

She tried to take a deep breath to calm her nerves, but it didn't do much. Her gaze skimmed over the room against her own volition, finding you sitting in a corner of the set — on the floor no less — sketchbook in hands.

Jenna felt the overwhelming urge to escape to your world.

Dark lines steadily appeared on the paper along with the drag of your pencil. You bit into your lower lip, a habit of concentration, and glanced up at Jenna; only to notice her eyes already on you.

The heat that came to your cheeks was instant and you gave her a sheepish smile. She caught you red-handed. Hopefully, she wouldn't bring it up.

Because, how could you resist? When Jenna is standing there against the sun, golden rays highlighting all her features for you; from the curve of her lips, to the tip of her nose, to the shape of her eyebrows. Flawless.

You couldn't resist taking out your book and drawing a quick sketch of her. Sometimes for you, watching people from afar was much better than seeing them up close, you could capture their essence fully, notice each little quirk or mannerism.

Take Jenna for example; her thumbs brush the fabric of her Nevermore uniform as she speaks with Tim, she's nodding eagerly to everything he says, not able to stay still on her feet. She's a little nervous, a little anxious. You could tell from the other side of the room.

It's no secret that filming this series is taking a toll on Jenna — your pencil traces the outline of her jaw on your sketchbook before you move to her eyes, and around them, you see yourself being forced to add just a tad more shadow; it's been happening for a while — you see her exhaustion in the lines that you draw.

The rough image of her stared back at you from your sketchbook, and part of you wanted to take her hand and go away for a day or two.

There's a sudden presence beside you that makes you flinch back to reality. Jenna sat down on the floor with you; she rests her head back against the wall, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.

She brought her knees closer to her chest, making herself look smaller than she already is. Turning to look at you, all she asked was; "what are you drawing?"

There's always a silent understanding between you both. You bumped her shoulder with yours, "that's confidential information."

And she actually pouts, lower lip jutted out and big doe eyes pleading at you; "even for me?"

"Especially for you," you mumbled, not sure if she heard or not.

Jenna doesn't inquire further, forever reciprocating the serenity you bring to her life. She slumped closer to you, allowing her head to fall on your shoulder, blindly trusting you to hold her weight if so needed.

You placed your sketchbook aside, focusing solemnly on her. Your cast and crew mates are still walking around, no one spares a glance at the two actresses who sit on the floor of Jericho's cafe; it feels like your own little bubble of peace for a precious minute.

"Were you and Tim discussing a new scene?" You asked eventually, gently leaning your head on top of hers.

Jenna hummed, "it's a dance that will happen at the school party, I'm creating Wednesday's choreography."

"That's exciting, do you have anything already?"

"Not really. I've got two weeks."

The turmoil of emotions was so evident in Jenna's tight voice that you almost pulled away so you could look her in the eyes and tell her… you're not sure what you'd say, but something to ease it.

Yet you held back, choosing instead to take her hand and whisper 'you got this' against her hair.

———

Things only got worse after your little moment.

Jenna has been on autopilot. You doubt she's sleeping, or resting at all. She's always the first one to arrive on set and the last one to leave.

The sketches of her in your sketchbook have more lines to them, creases in her eyebrows, and shadows below her eyes. Your heart clenches painfully whenever you look at a finished piece you did of her.

It was a Saturday night, you sat on the roof of your trailer, enjoying the starry sky above you, the cold breeze around you. With the flashlight of your cellphone on, you turned the pages of your sketchbook, reminiscing the drawings of last week; until a rather loud noise caught your attention.

You looked around you with a confused frown. The set's parking lot was empty, with only a few street lamps on, and no one in sight.

This could be a cliche horror movie scene. You could feel a chill running down your back; but then you caught sight of Jenna's trailer, the lights were on.

Checking your phone, you realized you had been sitting outside for longer than you thought. 1:37 AM.

Not giving yourself much room to chicken out, you hopped down from your trailer, stuffed your sketchbook in your pants pocket, and walked up to her door.

You hesitated, awkwardly hovering outside Jenna's trailer in the dead of night. Your stomach was twisting and turning unpleasantly. Coming from inside, you could hear the faint melody of 'Goo Goo Muck' playing.

Your worry got the best of you. Taking a deep breath, you raised your fist to the door, and knocked.

The music stopped abruptly, and you heard shuffling from inside her trailer. And then nothing, the silence stretched for a few good seconds, before her door finally swung open.

Jenna stood in front of you and got your heart shattering a little. She was a bit of a mess; hair up in a disheveled bun, only in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants yet you could see her forehead glistening with sweat, her lips quivered softly with each breath she took, and you could tell her eyes were red-rimmed if you looked closely.

"Hi Jenna," you started with a timid smile, "uh- I'm sorry to bother, it's just, I was out and I saw your lights on and just wanted to ask if everything's okay."

Jenna gulped down the lump in her throat, fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie; "yeah it's fine, I'm fine." She tried mimicking your smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Okay," you whispered sympathetically, seeing right through the lie.

"Um-" Jenna cleared her throat, but it sounded more like a soft sob. She avoided meeting your eyes then. "Would you- would you like to come in?"

It was a plea more than anything else. You didn't hesitate in saying yes.

You closed the door behind you and glanced around her trailer; she had her laptop on her bed, YouTube page opened to The Cramps' song; there was a stress ball rolling around on the floor, you figured that's where the loud noise from earlier came.

"I'm working on the dance," Jenna turned to you, threading her fingers through her fringe, restless.

"And how is it going?" You asked, though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

"I can't come up with anything," Jenna shrugged, chuckling humourlessly as her eyes welled up with tears.

Your heart was trying to escape your chest — Jenna's eyes were shining under the orange lights of the trailer, hands trembling as she tried to hold herself together — you took a step closer to her; "Jenna, I think you just need to let your mind rest for a while, have you-"

"I can't," she cut you off urgently, "the scene is one week away. One week. And I have nothing," tears started to roll down her cheeks, but you don't think she realized it.

Jenna started walking from one side to another of the small cramped space of her trailer, "I can't think of anything that would fit Wednesday, and we're shooting this scene next week. I told Tim I could handle it and yet I have nothing, what am I gonna tell him? That we're gonna have to postpone shooting because I can't come up with a fucking choreography?"

By the end of her rant, Jenna was panting heavily, borderline hyperventilating. Her tears came nonstop as sobs shook her body. She was hugging herself, chasing some type of comfort that wasn't there.

Your worry finally escaped you and you closed the distance between you both. You took her face in your hands, cupping her cheeks as your thumbs gingerly brushed away the wetness there; "Jen, look at me," you spoke softly, not missing the way her hands came to desperately grasp at your shirt, "breathe with me okay? Can you do that?"

A fresh batch of tears hit your thumbs and you felt your chest crack open; yet Jenna nodded, all reddish nose and glistening eyes.

You took a deep breath in, held it for a second, and then exhaled, watching closely for the way that she'd copy the motion. You did it a couple of times until her breathing was finally somewhat even.

"There you are," you mumbled, regarding her with a bittersweet smile when her eyes found yours, "you're okay," you promised, brushing away a few wisps of hair that clung to her skin.

A sob escaped Jenna's lips as soon as she heard the words, letting her forehead lean into yours in a silent request.

You gladly complied, raising your lips to place a kiss between her brows before guiding her head to rest on your shoulder. You embraced her body flush with yours, arms sliding around her back until you felt the curve of her spine. The thudding of her heart mingling with yours.

You could feel the gentle trembling of her body from time to time. It only made you hold her tighter.

Jenna had a death grip on you, your shirt bunched up on her fists as if you'd disappear if she let go. She buried her head on your shoulder, seeking a safe place, "I'm so tired," she spoke against you, words muffled.

"I know," you kissed her temple, "I know."

You're not sure if you held Jenna for five minutes or one hour, but you stood there for as long as she needed. And when she was ready to pull away, bright and puffy eyes timidly looking at you with nothing but gratitude, you didn't say anything; all you did was turn off her laptop and put it away for the night, dimming the lights on her trailer to give her body a much-needed break.

Then, you sat down beside her on her bed. There was a reasonable distance between you that she was quick to close, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Be honest with me now, have you been sleeping this past week, at all?" You raised a brow at her.

Jenna pursed her lips, in some ways resembling a child who'd been caught stealing from the cookie jar, "that obvious?" She asked, ducking her head to hide behind her fringe.

"Very," you smirked, "for me at least."

That got her looking up at you with tender curiosity, she was looking more like herself already.

With your heart in your mouth, you fished for your sketchbook in your pocket. You handed it to her without daring to breathe.

Jenna flipped through the pages as if they'd crumble between her fingers; carefully, reverently. You could hear the way her breath caught when she found herself between the sketches, once, twice, and then again and again. Different versions of her by your eyes; talking, thinking, walking, smiling, laughing, sometimes even scowling.

And Jenna has never seen herself look so beautiful, so enchanting. Is this how you see her?

Her vision got blurred again but she gulped it back this time, "it's so beautiful," was all she could whisper, smile tugging at her lips as her fingers traced one of the lines that formed her.

"You are," was your answer, in the same quiet tone, afraid to break the spell holding this moment.

Jenna's eyes turned up to you at last, big and vulnerable, almost completely black because of her pupils. She leaned in just a tad, your noses shy of brushing each other — gravity, magnetism, fate; whatever it might be, trying to push you together.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that she followed, "tomorrow, I'll help you with your dance," you took hold of her free hand, intertwining your fingers, "and it's gonna turn out amazing."

Jenna giggled, and you wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it forever.

"Tonight," you copied her smile, "we'll rest, okay?"

Bringing your hand up to her lips, Jenna planted a kiss on your knuckles, "okay."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Jenna’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @aahdiieb @mindingmybidness12 @melthedwarf

[heartfullofleeches]

Imagine Miller doing a subbathon with yan chat except instead of donating bits to keep the stream going, they’re donating bits to see Y/n. Y/n is just sitting there next to Miller reading a book or something whilst they play a game and anytime the counter runs out because chat didn’t donate Miller juts kinda, throws a blanket over them or something until someone donates

A shadow appears outside your tent.

"Mind if I come in? Looks so cozy from here I might not leave.. Ow, ow, shit- not again." Setting up for the stream, Miller pokes their head through the curtains of your enclosure to attach a mic piece to a hanging frame, cerulean dreads snagging on the velcro latch in the midst of their playful banter. They mutter expletives, since as they tear their locks free. They crawl inside the tent and tap the mic overhead where you lay with a book in your lap and surrounded by a small library filled with more novels and other items needed for the duration of your stay. When Miller told you they'd be pulling out all the stops for your new corner - they meant it.

The whole idea for the space came when they discovered the very foundation for it online. They had mindlessly scrolling through various forums looking for ideas to make their room feel more of a home for you when they came across a frame for a floor bed fashioned in the design of a small house. It went in their cart that second and on their doorstep a day later. After gutting one side of their floor and setting the bed up, Miller fit it with your favorite sheets and pillows. They strung up mood lights and installed shelves into the walls for your trinkets. By the time they were done, the area was more decked out than their entire apartment. A fair act given who it was for. You warmed up to it well enough and that's all they could ever ask.

Miller grabs the remote for the lights and turns them up. "Quiet read in the dark unless you want eyesight somehow worse than mine." Their voice softens the closer they get until their lips graze your cheek. "You good to start?"

"Mmm...." You pull the blanket trapped beneath their knees over your lap. "Now I am."

Miller smiles. "Good. Remember, just turn off the cameras if you can't handle the attention. There's one there, there, and obviously here-" They point around the room, stopping on the front facing camera of your laptop. "And you have my card if you want order something to eat while we're live. I'll check on you in about an hour. Be good."

Miller nabs the pillow cushioning your elbow and lightly smacks your knee with it before backing out of the tent. They place it behind their neck as they sit down at their desk and adjust their headphones over their ears. Waking their monitors up, they find the feeds from your cameras on one and the scheduled stream on the other. Right before they tune in, Miller presses a kiss to the pads of their fingers and places it on the screen where you sat. The curtains draw back.

"Saw that!"

Miller hushes you, wiping the snicker off their face as the stream goes live. "Hey, guys. As some of you may know if you follow the community page, we have a special stream today."

They eyes the chat as you get comfortable. You yawn, laying on your side with your book in hand.

[I'll take your entire stock.]

[So glad I got paid yesterday. How are they so freaking cute?!]

[If someone gives a certain amount can they read to us too???]

[Alexa, what's my location]

"Your first mistake is thinking I'd have one of those things. Your second is not realizing we plan on moving every two years. You can watch them all you want, but it's best you remember Y/n is my partner. Cross any boundaries and I will take them away just as easily as I have shown them off to you.... but I'll still send pictures from the wedding!... Baby, you doing okay?

You hold your finger over your laptop's camera, reading the flood of messages and donations from your phone. "They absolutely hate when I do this.... but I think it works in our favor."

[mrs-snape5984]

“Take my mind and take my pain…”

“Like an empty bottle takes the rain. And heal, heal, heal….” (“Heal” by Tom Odell)

Nighttime is my favourite time of the day. Being surrounded by this natural darkness and silence (not in the way, in which I have to “mute” the world all day long by shutting the blinds and wearing noise cancelling headphones to avoid being overstimulated) makes me feel…safe. Almost content.

In some nights, I’m even strong enough to leave my room, so I can sit outside on my balcony, enjoying a fresh breeze on my face. The world is silent, there’s no car on the streets and all I see, is the Moselle glistening in the moonlight in front of me. Finally feeling human again…

During the phases of my crashes, I can’t even step outside to my balcony. Sometimes I’m desperate enough to crawl outside, when my legs are refusing to do their goddamn job even with the help of my cane! In these moments, I’m glad to be alone…without any witnesses to my humiliation.

Last night was a lost night. I passed out…again. It scares me to hell that these moments are happening more often nowadays. All I know, is that I sat down on my bed…crying from exhaustion and pain. And hours later, when I’m coming back to consciousness, I’m still in the same sitting position. There are proofs in my room, that my children must have been here…proofs like a drawing lying next to me on my bed…a plushie sitting on my coffee table, watching over me. And I know that my kids will tell me, that I didn’t wake up…no matter what they tried to do.

Yesterday a friend of mine wanted to visit me in order to enjoy a cup of tea with me in the darkness of my room. I was so excited to see her…to have someone here for a little while…to feel less lonely for a moment. My body ached so badly and my exhaustion felt like a truck, who was parking on me…so I passed out whilst I was waiting for my friend to come over. When I came back to senses, there were several text messages and several calls from her. She was upset, that I didn’t hear the doorbell, both of my phones and her knocking on the door. So, after a while, she left…and all what’s left for me is a feeling of being a total failure…a pathetic shadow of myself.

There’s still no cure for ME/CFS…and no one knows, if there’d ever be one. All I can do, is trying different things, and yet…nothing helped me. With each new crash I’m falling deeper into the void of darkness and despair. Each new crash takes its toll on me…takes a piece of me away! I’m so afraid of losing myself completely!

When I commissioned my friend @sleepybradipo for this meaningful piece of art, I begged him to make the trust between Severus and Julia - but also their despair - palpable. They’re searching for a way to heal Jules…to cure her body and her soul. Maybe the answer lies in the Dark Arts…who knows? These lovers will try anything possible in order to save her…just like I wished to be saved.

Ivano, when I got the idea for this project, I just knew, that you would be the best artist to make my dream come true. Your tender style makes my heart swell with so much love and gratitude. I adore your work and the dedication to all these marvellous details in this artwork…it’s everything, I hoped to see, when I described my idea to you. Thank you for helping me to soothe my troubled heart and mind with your beautiful art and your kind words. I’m beyond grateful that I met you here, my friend. You’re truly a blessing to me. Thank you for everything. 🥹

Oh, and please take my apologies for this chaotically worded post. My disease seems to rob the next piece of me by stealing my ability to create vivid images with my phrases (I already mentioned that in my last post).

I’m sharing my nocturnal view with you. Feel free to enjoy the Moselle at night.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[zorosjuicymelonsx]

Finding You

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first One Piece fanfic. I haven't written in a while, a lot of shits happened and mental health is not to be messed with.

This is a slow, romance burn (there will be smut later on) however in the meantime do enjoy the fluff and attempt at humour. I will let you guys know before in the notes if I need to add any warnings don't worry!

Chapter One Next

With another corrupt government taken down and its people freed from tyranny and hardship, the Straw Hats sailed their way through the New World off on their next adventure. It was a normal day for the crew, Luffy leaned back comfortably on the head of Sunny, soaking in the hot sun beaming down as he gazed over the sea filled with excitement. Sanji fawned over Nami and Robin as they casually sunbathed on their lawn chairs, the scent of tangerine wafted around them while sipping on the cool drinks the cook had put his love into making. Brook, Franky and Usopp were sitting at a round table on the ship near the girls under an umbrella, Chopper suffering through the heat as he laid on Jinbei’s cool lap watching the guys play cards to take his mind off the sweltering heat. 

“Oi, that's cheating Brook you can’t hide your cards in your ribs.’’ Usopp stood up accusingly pointing at Brook annoyed, the skeleton giggled behind his palm and pulled out a stack of cards he had indeed been hiding in his ribs. 

“That's SUPER uncool bro”. Franky threw his cards down and picked up his iced cola to sip on. 

“YOHOHOHO, that game was truly rib tickling.” Brook laughed at himself and gathered all their cards to reshuffle whilst hearing unanimous groans from the others to prepare for the next game that he promised he wouldn’t cheat again. 

Zoro comfortably leaned back against the beam of the ship, sweat dripping down his chest with his eye closed trying to drown out the noise of the crew in the background. He spent the day in search of an answer as to why he’d been feeling on edge since he woke up this morning. The air was calm around the ship, Nami noted no upcoming changes to the weather and his haki couldn’t pick up on anything out of the ordinary that would pose a danger to the crew. 

“Oi cook, come here for a second”. Zoro called gruffly for Sanji, the cooks hip swerving at the ladies came to a halt and became visibly irritated from being disturbed.  

“Can’t you see I'm busy shitty swordsman?” Sanji bit back but nonetheless reluctantly walked away from Nami’s side and gave a ‘what’ expression to Zoro once he stood before him. 

“Do you feel anything…off around you?” Zoro questioned, the cook clearly confused by what the swordsman was asking him. 

“Has the moss on your head finally seeped into your brain?” Sanji asked back, Zoro opened his eye to deadpan at the cook, regretting asking him. If the cook wasn’t going to take him seriously, at least Zoro knew he was always prepared for the worst to come. 

‘Maybe I just need some booze.’ He thought to himself.

“Nevermind, I don’t even know why I even bother with you.’’ Zoro said back, about to close his eye only to sense a kick approaching his head, quickly drawing Wado from his stilt to block the attack. 

“Wasting my precious time over your stupid-” the cook couldn’t finish his sentence before the ship began to rumble. The rumbling abruptly stopped after a few seconds, a large hole began to grow out of the deck of the ship. The hole appeared as swirled white smoke with stars glittering in it. The hole had now been fully formed. The swordsman and cook moved into position to defend the ship as they were the closest to the hole. Luffy jumped from his place to stand with Zoro and Sanji, clearly not worried but beamed with excitement as he gawked over the mysterious hole. 

As the rest of the crew quickly gathered around the hole, all ready for the worst to come out of this hole…a small hand shot out from the smoke, flayling trying to find grip around the hole onto the ship. The hand found grip on the edge of the hole, one hand became two hands on the edge, hauling themselves out of the hole to crawl to then lay on the floor of the ship. 

“Wow look, it’s a woman!” Luffy said the obvious, smiling widely at the mysterious woman who laid on her side on his ship, her face appeared fatigued. 

You were huffing in and out trying to catch your breath again, feeling sweat dripping down your back. Your breathing eventually evened out, finding the energy to open your eyes to observe where in the world you had stumbled into. Finding the faces of the concerned strangers staring at you, a small “shit” came out of your mouth as you scrambled to pull yourself up into a seated position, taking off your backpack and what appeared to be a dark green sword attached to it. 

“Excuse me, I do apologise for disturbing you. Where am I?” You smiled up at everyone as you asked politely, the crew members looked at each other clearly seeing that you were not dangerous, dropping their defences and gazing at you with wonder. 

“Oh what a beautiful lady you are, I’m Sanji your savi-” Sanji started walking forward to you, beaming with hearts in his eyes about to work his usual ladies-man routine before he was pushed back by Luffy. 

“You’re on my ship in the New World. Hi I’m Luffy and I’m going to be King of the Pirates.” Luffy happily said as he grabbed your hand and shook it aggressively, you looked at him and started looking at each individual in front of you until your eyes laid upon a familiar green-haired man while he was putting his sword away. Your smile dropped as you gasped, slowly standing up and started walking towards the swordsman, the others were confused by your actions. You eventually stood in front of him, your eyes glossed over and a small whimper came out of your mouth. 

“It's you…I’ve finally found you.” You quietly spoke, everyone suddenly looking at Zoro who had become the centre of attention. Zoro finally looked up from his swords to face you. What happened next clearly brought everyone out of their confused state as you slammed yourself into Zoro to hug him tightly. Sanji had visibly died at the display of affection from you.

“Oi, what are you doing?” Zoro said gruffly, not returning your hug, his arms were raised to not touch you.

“I spent so long looking for you, you have no idea how happy I am right now.” You said sobbing, tears falling from your face as you felt the relief flood in. 

“I don’t even know who you are and you’re touching me like this” Zoro angrily stated.

“Y-you don’t remember me?” You looked up at him concerned, the weight of his words crushing into your heart. 

Robin started to walk towards you from the others to ask the obvious question everyone had on their mind. 

“I see you know our swordsman, do you mind me asking who you are?” Robin asked. You turned your head to the side at the new sound to make eye contact with the woman standing by your side. You could sense her gentle nature, you offered a small smile before clearing your throat to speak.

“My name is Y/N Roronoa and this is my husband.”

[marvelmusing]

Like A Diamond

Part of the Glitter & Gold AU

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader (featuring Zoyalai and GenyaxDavid)

Summary: Every one of Aleksander’s closest friends has at least one Morozov diamond. He gifts you one which then prompts an official initiation into Ravka’s most exclusive group of socialites.

Warnings [18+]: smut, oral (fem receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism (Nikolai & Zoya play with the reader whilst their friends watch), soft dom!Nikolai & Zoya, consensual sharing of explicit videos and photos, praise kink, masturbation, nipple play, non-piercing nipple rings, hint of pain kink.

My Masterlist

Every one of Aleksander’s closest friends has at least one Morozov diamond.

His grandfather had not only been the founder of the company Aleksander now owns, but he had also been one of Ravka’s most influential explorers and inventors. He had located one of the country’s largest natural diamond deposits which had set the foundation for the Morozov brand.

Now, almost every celebrity worldwide wants one of Aleksander’s pieces. Very few people can afford to have such a luxurious item in their jewellery box, and he is very selective about who can be seen wearing his designs publicly. But, of course, if Aleksander values you he won’t be able to resist staking his claim on you through a gift of glistening diamonds.

Genya has a pair of earrings. Sparkling silver studs comprised of three teardrop-shaped diamonds stacked on top of one another to curve over the slope of her earlobe. She wears them on special occasions. Dinners and galas and parties, whenever she needs a reminder she’s appreciated. She and Aleksander have a close bond and his gifts are amongst her most valued possessions.

David has a simple pendant necklace with a small diamond at the centre. He wears it almost always since he likes the comforting weight of it and has a habit of loosening the chain from underneath his shirt to fidget with the expensive gem, twirling it with his fingers whenever he’s nervous. Genya thinks the habit is endearing, especially since the necklace was a wedding gift from Aleksander.

Nikolai has a ring. Thick metal, with a flattened centre that sits on his knuckle, where a Morozov diamond sits alongside his initials engraved there - NN. Nikolai Nazyalensky. He keeps it on his pinkie finger as a replacement for the Lantsov signet ring that he threw away when he became estranged from the rest of his family.

Zoya has a necklace which traces down her figure into a body chain. The thin shining strand of metal falls between her breasts, where a cluster of diamonds sit on her cleavage before splitting into two chains that hang around her waist meeting again at the small of her back. The piece is a pretty addition to Zoya’s tightest dresses and her favourite sets of lingerie.

Alina has more pieces of jewellery than she can keep track of. Glimmering rings, beautiful earrings, necklaces and chokers, glistening bracelets. One night, when the two of you are drunk and giggly, she starts whispering filthy words into your ear, telling you everyone’s deepest secrets. She takes your hand, sliding it into her panties so that you can feel where her Morozov diamond presses against her clit.

When you join the group, they all exchange knowing glances when Aleksander helps you into your coat after dinner or places his hand on your lower back as he steers you through the crowd towards the rest of the group at a gala. They all tease you good-naturedly, telling you that it’s only a matter of time before you get your own diamond.

Alina smiles widely when she sees her husband working on a particular design, sitting in his lap to offer him some company while he draws out something special.

Then one evening you and Aleksander are working late in your office, passing sketches between one another and comparing notes for your designs in preparation for your new collection.

“I have something for you,” he says quietly.

When you see him reaching for his coat pocket, pulling out a small velvet box embossed with a very familiar logo, your stomach flips.

“Aleksander, I hope you know you don’t ever have to give me anything.”

He nods.

“I know.” He opens up the box, nudging it towards you. “But I crafted this one myself.”

Aleksander doesn’t make many pieces by hand anymore, given that he has a company to run and a whole team of people to craft his designs for him instead.

“I thought long and hard about what piece you would like.”

As your eyes flicker down to the contents of the box, the breath catches in your throat. His thumb strokes the underside of your breast. Arousal stirs in your stomach, thrumming down between your thighs.

Slowly, you trace your fingertips over the edge of the box, the velvet smooth against your skin. There’s two small silver pieces, decorated with tiny diamonds cut perfectly to line the outside of the thin curves of metal. The shape of the rings themselves loop in elegant circles, so that they look like daisies.

“Are these…?”

Aleksander continues to stroke your breast, his fingers seeking your clothed nipple, hidden by the fabric of your shirt. Once he finds it, he rolls it slowly between his finger and thumb, pinching lightly.

“I wasn’t sure if you had them pierced or not,” he muses quietly, continuing his gentle touches. “Regardless, I thought it best to give you something easy to wear.”

The thought of having those rings, that Aleksander created himself for you, pinching lightly at your nipples all day has your eyes fluttering closed with need. He takes your silence for hesitation.

“I can turn one of them into a charm for a necklace if you would prefer.”

You shake your head immediately.

“No. They’re beautiful.”

He gestures lightly towards the loose collar of your shirt which reveals your cleavage.

“May I?”

You nod.

He loosens your shirt from the waistband of your trousers, unbuttoning the piece of clothing slowly and pushing the fabric aside to reveal your bare chest. He hums quietly in approval, his voice a low murmur that sends a thrill down your spine as he stares at your nipples.

“Look at that, milaya, all perked up and pretty for me already.”

A burning flush rushes over your skin, warming your cheeks before it spreads down your neck as you glance down at your breasts.

He takes one of the rings from the box, cupping your breast with his other hand. Even though your nipple is already hardened in anticipation, he rolls it between his fingers gently, encouraging it to stiffen further.

“Good girl.”

It’s difficult to not whimper aloud at his praise. He slots the ring onto your nipple, cool metal encircling the bud. There’s a firm pinch at first and you squirm at the sensation, though it softens rather quickly into something more pleasurable - a soft pressure that has you shifting your thighs to seek some friction.

“A perfect fit,” he observes, the corner of his mouth twitching.

He pinches your other nipple hard and there’s no stopping the whimper from escaping your lips this time. A wide smile spreads over his face as he slots the next ring onto your nipple, watching your chest heave as the metal clings to your hardened nub.

The sight of your breasts, areolae adorned with pretty circles of silver in a floral shape, pinched nipples in the place of the flower head, sends a heavy flood of arousal to your cunt. Certain that your panties are soaked, you bite down on your lower lip, gripping to the sides of your seat.

Aleksander’s eyes are darkened as he stares at your breasts, a glimmer of pride in the depths of his gaze. He hooks a finger under your chin, guiding your eyes up to meet his directly.

“How do they feel? Not too tight?”

“Good,” you say with a sigh. “They’re so good. I love them.”

He hums in acknowledgement, stroking his knuckles along your jawline.

“Ensure you take them out before going to bed.”

You nod.

He cups your breast, thumb brushing over your pinched nipple. Shifting your thighs once again, your eyes flutter closed as he stands. A whine claws at your throat, grip tightening on your seat as he shrugs on his coat.

“Aleksander,” you say quietly, your voice an almost pathetic whimper.

The temptation to grab his hand and press it against your clothed cunt is almost too much to bear. Embarrassment prickles over your cheeks at the thought of grinding weakly against his hand, begging for him to touch you. He cups your face with both of his hands, bringing you close for him to press his lips tenderly against your forehead.

“Send me a message when you arrive home safely.” The nod you give him in response is jerky. “And send Alina a video of whatever you do to satisfy yourself tonight.”

You do as he says.

As soon as you get home, your fingers fumble over the screen of your phone, typing out a message for Aleksander as you tuck your shoes away. He responds within a minute, praising you for following his instruction and reminding you of what else he had asked of you. That is all the incentive you need.

Bag and coat left abandoned in the hallway, you move up the stairs into your bedroom and collapse onto the rug between your bed and wardrobe. Once you’ve managed to prop your phone up against your wardrobe door, you begin removing more of your clothing.

Fingers shaking with anticipation, you slide down the zipper of your trousers, allowing the smooth fabric to drop down your legs. After Aleksander had left your office, you had only managed to button up a small portion of your shirt, hands still shaky with adrenaline.

Without too much preparation, you press on the record button and allow the camera of your phone to capture your need-fuelled actions.

The mess in your panties would be embarrassing if you weren’t so aroused by the sight of your slick clinging to the delicate lace, knowing that if Aleksander had slipped his hand beneath your waistband the same mess would have coated his fingers. His long nimble fingers.

It can’t be a very alluring video. But you’re too overcome by need to do anything but arch your back into the side of your bed, fingers reaching up to grasp at your covers as your other hand rubs frantically at your dripping cunt.

Any technique that you’ve gained from learning what your body likes has been abandoned as you mindlessly press your fingertips hard against your clit in eager circles. Gasps and cries of their names escape from your lips even when you grit your teeth as you writhe on your bedroom floor.

The nipple rings Aleksander had created for you glisten in the low light of your lamp as they remain firmly attached to the hardened nub of your nipples. The metal is no longer cool, warmed by the heat of your body, but the subtle pressure of the jewellery against your skin, a gentle tug on your sensitive nipples, has your arousal skyrocketing.

Thoughts of both Aleksander and Alina fill your mind, imagining her fingers rubbing sloppy circles over your clit while he holds your waist still to prevent you from squirming.

Their breathing heavy against your neck as they press kisses there, unable to pull themselves away from you to breathe properly. Alina mouthing over your throat and collarbone, delicate lips pressing firmly as she sucks blooming marks there. The scrape of Aleksander’s facial hair against your cheek, his teeth dragging over your jawline and nipping at your earlobe. Hot mouths. Eager tongues. Sweat rolling down between your breasts. Cunt tightening, a steady beat of pleasure, climbing higher with every drag of friction against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

The climax that hits you has stars sparkling behind your closed eyelids, pleasure thrumming beneath your skin. As you slump your head back against your bed, pressing your face into the curve of your arm, a greedy urge tugs at your hand, as your body perks up again at the prospect of another orgasm.

Squeezing your eyes shut tighter, your sighs and moans become whinier, higher in pitch as your fingers chase your next climax. Curses, pleas, whimpers of their names, they all tumble from your lips, merging together into an almost incoherent mess. You end up hiding your face into the crook of your elbow, biting down on the flesh there to quieten your desperate noises.

Unbelievably quickly, you feel your body stumbling towards the edge of your pleasure, teetering on the precipice of another dizzying climax. The moan that shudders through your body is obscene, your breathy gasps borderline pornographic as you whimper their names one final time as your cunt clenches frantically around nothing.

With shaking hands, you stop the recording and send the footage without any hesitation. There’s no reply from Alina, though you aren’t too conscious of it as you clean yourself up in the bathroom and slip under your bedcovers.

Head still fuzzy with pleasure, you’re dozing lightly when there’s a soft ping that rouses you from the haze in your mind. Blinking sleepily, you reach for your phone, unlocking it and clicking on Alina’s message.

“For fuck’s sake,” you whine, dropping your face down into your pillow.

Taking the image itself into account, it’s more likely that Aleksander had sent the photo, and the response to your video has need blooming in your abdomen once again. What a vicious cycle. Very briefly, you contemplate slipping a hand down to touch yourself again.

The photo is taken from Aleksander’s point of view, as he sinks his cock into Alina’s cunt. A thick ring of arousal is coating his length, smearing messily over both of their thighs. From the soaked state of Alina, he must have been teasing her while you were recording your video for them. Unable to fashion any sort of response, you simply stare at the image until another one arrives.

This one is also taken by Aleksander, though he’s holding the phone to one side so that the majority of their bodies can be seen. Alina’s arms are stretched up to the headboard, while his other hand is curled around her throat as he thrusts into her. Her back is arched against the mattress.

Eyes fluttering closed you imagine their bodies crashing together, the gasps and moans, the slapping of skin against skin. Inhaling deeply, you wish you could hear them yourself, smell the scent of sex fill their room, and taste the sweat on their skin. It’s hard not to touch yourself again, forcing your body into overstimulation just to know that you might climax at the same time as them. But you manage to resist, though your hips grind gently against your mattress.

The last photo is taken by Alina. It’s a mirror picture taken in what you can only assume is their bathroom. She’s completely naked, cheeks and chest flushed a pretty shade of pink, with marks dotted over her neck. Butterflies swoop in your stomach at her beaming smile, filling your chest with a giddy feeling. By the time you’ve finished admiring her, there’s a text underneath the image.

Alina: Don’t forget to pee!! And Sasha said drink some water before you go to bed

You: I’m surprised you can type out full sentences after all that

Alina: I’ll tell him you said that ;)

Alina: And yea I’m concentrating very hard rn

A soft laugh falls from your lips.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Let’s see it then,” Nikolai remarks, taking a sip of his drink before he sets in down on the glass coffee table in front of him.

A frown creases at your brows as you watch him lean back into the couch, draping his arm over the back of the furniture piece.

“See what?”

“Whatever Aleksander has made for you.”

Genya smiles widely in anticipation, settling down beside Nikolai before she tucks her leg up to her chest. Her eyes scan over your body intently and you blush. Nerves flip in your stomach at the weight of so many eyes falling on you.

Aleksander and Alina watch you from the other side of the room, where they sit in an armchair together with Alina draped over his lap. Their dark eyes make arousal pool in your panties and a flustered blush burns over your skin as they both smirk.

Swallowing hard, you shift your weight slightly on your feet.

“Go sit with Zoya and show her first,” Aleksander instructs you.

There’s a knowing glimmer in her eyes as you sit down on the couch next to Zoya, opposite Nikolai and Genya. David tilts his head curiously from where he��s sitting in the armchair, leaning to rest his elbow on the arm of the couch next to Genya.

Taking the hem of your shirt you tug it upwards over your head, revealing your bra to everyone in the room. Nikolai grins and Zoya’s gaze roams hungrily over your skin. She reaches out, hooking her finger under the strap of your bra to snap it playfully against your skin.

The sting of pain sends a pleasurable thrum down to your nipples, reminding you of what they’re about to see. Sending a glance over to Aleksander, his eyes darkening as they meet yours, you breathe in shakily and unclasp your bra. The fabric falls from your breasts, revealing Aleksander’s creation to the group.

There’s a collective sound of inhaled breaths and low murmurs of praise, which has you squeezing your thighs together.

“Good girl,” Zoya says with a smirk, cupping your breast to admire the jewellery.

Nikolai leans forward, resting his elbows onto his knees, cocking his head aside as his lips quirk into a boyish grin that makes you blush.

Alina peers over eagerly, as if she doesn’t have an ample number of photos of your breasts saved on her phone. Almost every day, you’ve ended up sending her a picture of some aspect of your body at her request. The thought of her using those photos to touch herself to makes your panties wet.

“Come here, love,” Nikolai says, beckoning you to him. As soon as you stand, Zoya grasps at the waistband of your jeans, bringing them - alongside your panties - down with a few determined tugs.

Nikolai sets you down on the glass coffee table, facing Zoya, goosebumps rising on your bare body from the chill of the glass and the heat burning beneath your skin.

“Let everyone see how pretty you are,” he murmurs low in your ear.

Zoya smirks widely, continuing to play with your breasts. Her fingertips dance over your skin, brushing delicately against your hardened nipples.

“And what a lovely job Aleksander did.” Her voice is an admiring purr that makes your blush deepen. “I think this one of your best, Sasha.”

He inclines his head slowly in appreciation, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. David asks him a question about the metal used and conversation begins to flow as easily as it always does. Everyone is so dynamic and interesting, they understand one another so instinctively. How can a group of people merely talking to one another make you this aroused?

Aleksander’s voice is your favourite to listen to. Smooth and decisive, every word is pronounced intentionally with confidence in every syllable. Alina is the most expressive with her voice, amusement and interest colouring whatever she’s saying. Genya’s is a soft balm, soothing yet there’s something hidden in her words. Whilst David might not be as articulate as Aleksander, or charismatic like Nikolai, everything he says is insightful. There’s no hope of you understanding what he’s saying, but his enthusiasm has you wanting to listen for hours.

Zoya’s nails scape over your thighs, dragging your awareness back out of the haze that has clouded your mind. A breathy whine heaves at your chest, your eyes snapping up to meet hers. Deep chocolate brown, allure swirling in the dark depth of her gaze as she smiles at you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, prickling in anticipation as Nikolai shifts his body to the edge of his seat, leaning over so that his chest is mere inches from your bare back. His arm curls around your waist, not touching you until his fingers brush lightly over your navel.

A whimper catches in your throat, as Zoya presses her nails harder into the soft plush of your thighs. Her smile twists into a devious smirk. Her nails are always perfect, a decent length, painted whatever shade will match her colour palette for the week ahead. This evening, blood red nails bite into your skin and you squirm over the table.

Nikolai clicks his tongue in warning. His fingers drag up your stomach, tracing a feather-light path between your breasts. When his hand encircles your throat, the pressure is a wonderfully familiar sensation that has you sighing as he squeezes once in reassurance - an encouragement for you to submit to them both.

Their touches are knowing, well learnt through hours spent in one another’s beds. Luckily for you, the length of Zoya’s nails means she prefers to use her mouth to pleasure you and Nikolai. Excitement prickles over your skin as she parts your thighs. The need thrumming through your body ensures you’re unable to focus on anything except Zoya’s lips lowering to kiss over your thighs.

Conversation continues, though you’re unable to decipher anything being said. Occasionally, Nikolai will chuckle, the motion of his chest jostling you slightly. Zoya’s mouth moves over your skin, licking the scratch marks left by her hands and the sting of pain makes you whimper.

At some point, David must have moved over to the couch, sitting beside Genya to press lazy kisses over her throat and slide his hands over her waist and thighs. Her sighs are soft as she threads her hands gently through his hair, encouraging him to continue whilst they watch you, Nikolai, and Zoya.

The amount of arousal leaking from your cunt, smearing over the table beneath you, makes your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. Nikolai’s murmurings aren’t helping to curb those feelings either. His words are phrased like praises, but the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit throb with need.

“Messy little girl, dripping all over our table. Do you know how much that cost?” When you shake your head weakly he laughs. “Of course you don’t. Numbers are difficult, aren’t they? I don’t think you could count to ten in this state.”

He’s right. Thoughts themselves are difficult and your mind is fully grounded in sensation. His wife bites a mark into your inner thigh, her nose nudging gently against your mound as she leans closer. Every kiss and touch she’s given you has been pointedly away from where you need her most and your patience is wearing thin.

“Zoya, please.”

The sound of your voice breaking through the conversation has everyone’s attention returning fully to you. Zoya looks up at you sharply, something dangerous glimmering in her eyes and you whimper at the feeling of being unintentionally disobedient.

“I’m sorry, please,” you beg, turning your face to hide against the space between Nikolai’s collarbones. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Nikolai runs a hand soothingly down your side.

“Tell us what you want, lovely. Ask politely, like a good girl, for everyone to hear.”

Chest heaving with anticipation, you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt at suppressing some of the embarrassment burning over your face as you say,

“Zoya. Will you please kiss my cunt?”

“Just a kiss?” she teases.

Shaking your head, you whimper in protest.

“Don’t be mean Zoya,” Nikolai remarks, though his tone is light and he smiles over at her whilst stroking your cheek gently. “She’s being good.”

She hums quietly, tilting her head as she appears to give his words some thought. Then she nods to one side.

“Look at Aleksander.”

There’s a knowing glimmer in her eyes as you hold her gaze and her smirk widens. Zoya and Nikolai share a look, smiling at one another. They know you well enough to see how much you like Aleksander and Alina.

Swallowing hard, you turn your head and the breath leaves your lungs in a sudden rush as Aleksander’s pitch black eyes meet yours. You can almost see yourself reflected in them, a messy wanton being writhing in front of him.

His tongue traces over his lower lip before he smirks, his gaze lowering to admire your breasts, still adorned with his jewellery, and your messy cunt. Zoya presses her lips against one of your nipples, a delicate kiss to the pinched nub. Then the other.

Then, finally, she ducks her head down between your thighs, mouthing over your soaked cunt. She laps eagerly with her tongue, and the sensation has you throwing your head back against Nikolai’s shoulder. His arms curl around your body to keep you upright.

The desperate cry that escapes your lips attracts Zoya’s attention and her lips press together in disapproval when she sees your gaze has left Aleksander, shifting back to her.

“Keep looking, or I’ll stop,” Zoya says sternly.

A small pout puckers at your lower lip, but you do as she says. Aleksander’s gaze is too intense, and you move your eyes over to watch his hands wandering over Alina’s thighs. He squeezes the clothed flesh smoothly, ignoring how she shifts her weight over his lap, grinding slowly. Her eyes, half-lidded, meet yours and a thrill runs down your spine.

When Zoya’s mouth returns to your cunt, your hands reach for her hair to urge her closer, wanting to chase the prickle of pleasure that is buzzing in the back of your head. Before you can touch her, Nikolai is curling his hands around your wrists, guiding your arms backwards so that your palms are settled on each of his thighs.

“Hold onto me, love,” he suggests.

Despite having very little control of your body and its reactions, you grip onto the fabric of his trousers, nails digging into the muscle beneath. He smiles widely, nose nudging against your cheek as you gasp and whimper.

Aleksander is murmuring something into Alina’s ear, his hand curling around her throat to keep her attention on you. Bliss is running through your veins, heating your entire body as Zoya begins to suckle on your clit, swirling her tongue over the sensitive little bud. Alina bites down on her lower lip.

“Nik, please,” you whisper weakly.

He hushes you, pressing a kiss to your temple as you continue watching Aleksander and Alina, they bodies melding into fuzzy shapes as your gaze becomes unfocused. The drag of Zoya’s tongue and the movement of her lips against your sensitive cunt has you nearing a climax with an almost frightening intensity.

“That’s it, love. Come on, show everyone how pretty you look when you come undone.”

He whispers more praises into your ear before grasping your chin lightly to hold your head up and meet Aleksander’s eyes once again.

“Sasha, tell her what a good girl she is.”

You won’t survive this. The climax that is building inside you is too much. Aleksander’s words are smooth as he encourages you in a doting voice that has your mind sinking through honey.

“You’re a very good girl, milaya, and you’re going to cum for us, aren’t you?”

Obediently, you nod in agreement.

“Yes, yes Aleksander, please, oh fuck.”

Overcome by pleasure, you grasp tightly onto Nikolai’s wrist, writhing between him and his wife as your climax throws you off a cliff, plummeting into the wild waves of bliss. The muscles in your legs shake, your hips jerking against Zoya’s face as your climax shudders through your body.

Weakly, you slump back against Nikolai, whining quietly when Zoya continues to lick your twitching cunt. When your breathing hitches and you try to move away, she stops and you feel boneless now that the sensation has been removed. Bliss has made your limbs heavy and your body is still reeling.

For a long moment, you keep your eyes shut, admiring the colours that swim over your closed eyelids. The need that had been clouding your thoughts has now dissolved completely, leaving your mind a puddle.

While your eyes remain closed, you’re aware of someone lying you down, some gentle touches and murmurs, as well as a warm cloth being dragged between your thighs. It’s much easier to keep your eyes closed, settling your heart and breathing into something more comfortable. Slowly, your eyes begin to flutter open again.

“There’s our girl,” Nikolai coos with a bright smile. “Welcome back, love.”

His hands smooth gently over your thighs and you hum at the soothing sensation of someone tracing their fingers over your forehead. Blinking up at the person, you realise your head has been placed in Genya’s lap.

“Hello, down there,” she says softly, tapping you on the nose with her fingertip. A bashful expression fills your features as you whisper a quiet response.

“Hi.”

David reaches over towards the coffee table, picking up a large crystal pitcher filled with water that hadn’t been there earlier. He pours a small glassful while Genya helps you into a somewhat upright position.

They seem to know your hands would be unable to hold the glass, still shaking from the remaining adrenaline in your body. David holds the water up to your lips and you drink eagerly. His firm hand at the back of your neck makes you shiver pleasantly.

Once you’ve finished, Zoya places a soft blanket over your body and you nestle your face against Genya’s chest. She presses a kiss to the crown of your head, whilst David traces his knuckles down the length of your spine. His touch is warm even through the fabric of the blanket. It doesn’t take long for you to sink into a heavy slumber.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A chill brushing over your skin is what wakes you and a shiver shakes your body, nuzzling deeper into the warmth surrounding you on both sides. It’s then that you realise you’re now in a bed, in one of Zoya and Nikolai’s guest rooms. With Aleksander on one side, Alina on the other.

Her head is tucked close to you, she appears to have slid off the pillow in her sleep, now nestled in the space under your chin, her forehead brushing against your breasts occasionally as you breathe. One of her hands is placed on your thigh, trapped between them as you lie on your side.

Aleksander’s arm is draped over your body, his hand resting on the limited mattress space between you and Alina. He seems to be a light sleeper, shifting his position as if he’s sensed your state of awareness.

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs quietly,

“Everything alright, milaya?”

You nod. You’re wearing an unfamiliar shirt which you can only assume belongs to Aleksander. After such an intense orgasm, involving so many intimate moments, you’re glad you’re not waking up in a cold and empty bed.

“You stayed with me?”

“Of course.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear. “We didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Reaching for his hand, you intertwine his fingers with your own, giving him an appreciative squeeze as you whisper,

“Thank you.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi @morrigan-crowmwell

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @veescorneroftheworld

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

[perplexingluciddreams]

A “brief” overview of my communication journey:

My verbal communication was always limited to echolalia and scripts (by scripts, I mean pieces of different echolalia that I stuck together to create a new phrase, or longer several-sentence delayed echolalia. But I didn’t learn to do this until I was at least 9 years old). I also had very limited control over what my mouth said - I would regularly hear my mouth say something I completely disagreed with, then had to watch in panic and confusion as the people around me reacted as if it was something I actually thought.

I used to request things that I didn't even want. "I want..." statements were banned in my house because they were "rude". “I want never gets!” I had stuck as a script for the longest time, even involuntarily saying it when other children said an “I want…” phrase.

I was given examples of how to request things by my parents. I used "I would like...", "Can I have... please", etc. But this didn't give me a reliable way to ask for what I wanted - I could only ask for things I had a script for. So I was limited to a handful of foods and objects that as I grew older, I had less and less interest in.

Saying "please" and "thank you" was drilled into me so much that I would often say it at the end of other unrelated scripts because it got "stuck" there by my mouth, without my permission. I got laughed at for this a lot.

I would say "yes" when I meant no, I couldn't reject things because I didn't have a script for saying "no". And I had been told to be polite so many times that it was a concrete rule in my mind - breaking a rule was worse than anything else. Saying "no" was rude, according to the adults around me - if another child said "no" to something, they were told off by a teacher or their parent. I didn't understand tone of voice so I thought it was the thing they were saying that was wrong.

As I got older, and became more aware that other people seemed to have more control over their voices and could say what they wanted (my general awareness of people and my surroundings definitely played into my struggles with communication, but I won’t elaborate on that here) I would sometimes sit in my bedroom and attempt to read aloud from a book, or write a sentence and read it aloud. To my confusion and upset, it would come out garbled with sounds mixed up, words missing, sometimes no sound coming out of my mouth at all. I couldn't make intelligible speech with my own words AT ALL.

I managed to teach myself to manually make some sounds, mostly vowel sounds, by moving my tongue around whilst making sounds with my vocal cords. But clearly this was not enough for using spontaneous speech as communication. Not to mention, any time I even considered trying to get my OWN words out (with speech, writing - even drawing pictures, signs), all words and scripts I knew just disappeared from my mind.

The only time I could even slightly get my emotions out was through movement - I used to throw myself backwards onto my bed repeatedly, bang my head with my hand, pull my hair, spin around in circles. I now know these would be called "stimming", but at the time I used it more for expressing myself. I also had other repetitive movements that I did almost constantly without even realising what I was doing, but I considered the expressive movement to be a different thing entirely at the time.

It took me years to get my own words out, and that was only once I managed to break down (spoken AND written, and both connected) language into individual words and learn the meanings, then learn to build it back up again. (And, this could only happen after I’d lost most of my out-of-control scripted speech. AAC with symbols helped me break down language in this way, because each word has a separate button and I was forced to learn to form sentences without an already-there structure to fall back on).

In order to do this, first I must take the long string of noises, and break it down into words. Then I must take those words and process the meaning of them individually. The biggest challenge, and the thing that takes the most time, is building the sentence back up.

Words often change meaning when they're strung together, and this is the part where that meaning tends to disintegrate into nothing, for me.

I have to build an abstract "picture" of what the words mean in my head. With very complex language, or a lot of language at once, this can take me hours, days, or even weeks.

Written language is a lot easier to process - firstly, the "string of noises" part is completely eliminated from the equation. Secondly, I see written words as entire shapes. Shapes, symbols or signs connect much more strongly to their meaning, in my head.

I learned to write by hand before I could type, because writing by hand is just copying the shape of a word. I hadn't yet learned to break down a word into it's individual characters and sequence them in the right order, not to mention finding the letters on the keyboard. My spelling has always been fantastic because of my tactile memory for words - and I say tactile instead of visual, because I don't "see" anything in my head, but the shapes of words are something solid that I feel I can touch, hold, grab on to.

But typing was a completely different thing, because even though I could recognise and read words in a typed print, it took longer for me to understand how to put letters together in the correct order to create words using a keyboard. The motor plan for typing was much more difficult for me to learn, but now I have that skill it's invaluable to me in terms of communication.

It took me a little while longer to realise that a keyboard gave me the opportunity to use my own words from my own mind, rather than whatever my mouth (or brain, when writing - I had different written scripts than verbal scripts, though, usually from books) happened to blurt out without my control.

I learned to read very early, but my understanding of language was actually quite poor - separately I could recognise the definition of one word, but when many words are put together I didn't understand the meaning of that sentence or paragraph.

The feeling of being able to put my own thoughts into written words like this, and read them back, is such a rush of power. I can have a concrete, physical impact on the world now that I can use a keyboard and get all the things in my head out there. It becomes real as soon as it's outside of me.

I remember that "comprehension" (answering questions on a written passage - we learned to answer the questions in a certain way, with a “blueprint”) in school really helped me with the breaking down of sentences and rephrasing them. Even though at the time, it just felt like it added to my out-of-control scripted speech, it gave me a skill that has been incredibly useful to me in the long term.

Getting to this point, where I can express myself fluently and eloquently through written language, took so much time and work, and still takes all my energy to write something as long as this. I am so grateful for the genuine communication I have now. It took many sessions, over months, to write this in its entirety. I wrote it in separate chunks, all trying to express similar things, then fitted them together and altered some sentences to make it flow better. (Of course with lots of editing to fix my grammar and my tendency to repeat the same sentence structure over and over - I still use my “blueprints” while writing, it’s the only way I can form complex long sentences like this one).

In order to communicate a memory or past experience in words, I had to have been actively translating (or attempting to translate) my abstract thoughts into language at the time.

If I wasn't or couldn't do this at the time it was happening, those experiences, thoughts, emotions, etc. are almost impossible to describe in language now.

And translating my brain takes so much energy and effort, and relies on me being able to understand what is happening and what I'm thinking and feeling. I more often than not don't comprehend my own mind - if this is the case, then of course I can't explain it to someone else.

It still takes so much time, effort and energy to get my thoughts out like this, and I’m very proud of the progress I’ve made. Even just learning to use Tumblr and posting on here as regularly as I can manage (plus reading other people’s words about similar experiences, or even very different experiences), has increased my ability to express myself and the vocabulary I’m able to access.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

I tried to watch mid but I'm really bad at caring about characters I don't know (I know it sounds stupid) I just couldn't bring myself to care.

Do you have anything new to do with Daemos culture (I'm looking at the MID wiki.)

I took forever to answer this, I’m sorry.

Basically, yeah, I have a bunch of culture stuff, but… I want to draw some of it and I can’t find my pen… so I’ll ramble about a few things in particular until I can.

Head wear/crowns.

Aaa

(This is copy pasted off of a discord rant I had about it)

Daemos royalty wear these big elaborate head dresses/crowns which accentuate the height of their horns, to make them ‘more intimidating’ and to basically brag about how rich they are, but due to practical and personal reasons, Asch only has his little ring on his horn

The size/material/colour/style of these head pieces will depend on the person, their status and their general reputation. The emperor will have the largest, most elaborate one, whilst lesser nobility will likely just have horn caps made of gold or something

Asch wearing the ring crown is seen as incredibly humble, and traditional in certain Daemos’ cultures, but he mostly just chose it over horn caps because it was his mother’s. Cultures outside of the few certain ones are not fond at all of Asch’s ring crown, however.

Horn caps, btw, if I’m not being clear, are little bits of jewellery that daemos wear on the ends of their horns. They can come in a variety of shapes and styles, but are typically shaped to fit the shape of the daemos’ horns and make their horns look taller. Some, however, opt for fashion over height, though that’s not very common

For this reason, someone being referred to as having a ‘weak neck’ is kind of a way to say that they’re not a good leader/are poor. Since larger headpieces put more strain on the wearer.

Adding on, other stuff not included in the discord rant;

The ‘weak neck’ insult also carries over into an insult to call certain Daemos ugly, as larger horns are seen as more attractive, and, y’know, larger horns = more strain on the daemos’ neck.

This insult can also go the other way. ‘A neck too strong for the horns it carries’ can be a compliment to say someone is skilled beyond their social class, but it can also refer to traitors, as they often have their horns removed. It’s a way to either say 'youre cool for a poor person' or that someone is untrustworthy. it depends, of course, on context.

Asch wearing only the ring crown is seen as a bit of a bad omen amongst the nobility. He is second in line to be emperor (though many support the idea of him usurping the throne after his father passes, so that it may not fall into Rhal’s hands), and such a small crown implies that he will not amount to much, or will fail in some way. Large crowns imply greatness, and yet Asch’s is small. They worry for what it means.

Lady Grandma is referred to as The Empress Mother in my rewrite. Since… Lady Grandma sucks as a character name but I still wanted to make the idea clear. She’s the mother of the emperor, and thus Asch’s grandmother. If Asch’s father were to pass, she would become The Empress Grandmother (since Rhal or Asch would take the throne, and they’re both her grandsons). I like to think the Daemos still like to give titles to their former monarchs, or, more accurately, their former monarchs have too much pride not to have their own unique titles.

Tw for mentions childbirth, complications surrounding childbirth, infant death and death during childbirth.

Royal children whose mothers die in childbirth are often referred to as Blood Princes/princesses, or whatever their title pay be, due to a small superstition that those who are born through violent births may lead violent lives. It is, oddly, a compliment, and many emperors have pushed their wives to have unsafe births in order to birth a Blood Prince son. In a violent culture, it’s something that is sought after. Of course, this leads to a lot of infant death in royal bloodlines, as unsafe pregnancies are also unsafe for the child.

Asch is a Blood Prince. However, the circumstances of his birth were a little more graphic and violent… and whilst his father can be blamed in some part for it, his father did not actually want a blood child, and so did not seek out a violent birth for his son as many did. Alas, Asch was born through blood and misery anyways.

[unnamednarrator]

💜 for everlark!

me to me: keep it brief

the ghost of victor hugo: *possesses me*

context for this: modern au, college au, best friends to lovers, surprise kiss/impulsive kiss. enjoy!!!

If anyone but Peeta had suggested this, I would’ve run full speed in the other direction. But for some reason, and it’s always been like this, if he proposes something odd, it intrigues me.

So that’s how I ended up cross-legged on the floor in front of Peeta’s coffee table, blindfolded as he hands me bite-sized pieces of new recipes he’s been testing.

‘Be right back,’ he says and I can hear him shifting noisily as he gets up and goes to the kitchen.

I take a sip of water to cleanse my palette. So far, my favourite has been his “new spin” on a pain au chocolat. I don’t know much about the pastry but it was the most chocolaty so I was happy.

Peeta comes back and I hear the sound of bread being torn off. A moment later, the smell hits my nose. I know this one. It’s my favourite. I don’t need to taste test these. He knows I love them.

For the first time since putting the blindfold on, I hook my thumb on one end and draw it up so I can see Peeta with one eye. He’s already watching me, hands frozen on the half destroyed cheese bun. I offer him a small smile and his shoulders sag down as he returns it. I tug the blindfold the rest of the way off and drop it on the coffee table. Then I scoot closer to Peeta until our knees are touching. He doesn’t move a muscle. Doesn’t even blink. Slowly, I lift my hands, inch by inch, until they’re resting on his cheeks and lean in closer to him until the distance between us is truly a technicality. Then, with an almost imperceptible tilt of his chin, his lips brush against mine. The tiny point of contact sends a bolt of electricity through every cell of my body.

And it becomes the start of a full-on thunderstorm.

wrote this whilst waiting for my dinner to finish lmao. excuse any typos. thanks for sending in this prompt @bbrooklynbabe 🧡💚

from this ask game !

[pinkydevil16]

Benedict Bridgerton x reader: part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Benedict was in pieces as he gripped the paint brush, replaying the events of each encounter with Y/n. Each detail working it's way into his painting as he sketched her at lunch, the dark blue dress against the floral garden, her hands lightly holding a plate with a little cake on. His hands coated in charcoal and red raw from drawing and erasing over and over, the light not perfect or the colour not bright enough. His annoyance spiking as he pushed his hand through his hair, letting out a puff of air before dropping into his seat and staring at the painting. Surely this was a form of torture, to constantly be harassed by his mind and body to draw her, to sketch her into existence when the day before she'd been so close he could smell the scent of her perfume. Never feeling like it was enough, every detail was too blurry, not clear enough that he could reach into the canvas and pull her out. He wanted to watch it come to life as his muse became more life like yet never correct, he was a tortured artist like so many before him yet he was sure he was the only one to feel this way. 

"Benedict! We must make haste!" He jumped as Eloise seemed so close but he could hear her voice echo off the walls as she screamed at the base of the stairs, his body feeling exhausted as he covered his art and left the room. Leaning against the stairs as he looked down at his family, Anthony and Daphne arguing over her choice of suitor whilst their mother told off Eloise for screaming and being unladylike.

"I apologise however i cannot attend tonight Mother, send my apologies." Benedict could feel the dark circles under his eyes, his fingers cramping from the lack of took between them, the exhaustion hitting him as he barely held himself up. It had not been 48 hours since he had seen her and it felt like he hadn't slept for 12 years, the life had been sucked out of him as she left with a small goodbye. 

"No! You get your butt down here right now!" Eloise stomped her foot as she spoke, she despised balls and with Penelope unable to attend she needed Benedict to be her buffer from other Mama's or god forbid a potential suitor to speak to her. Benedict gave her a lazy smile as he shook his head, Anthony now paying attention as he scowled at his brother. 

"Yes, get dressed we are almost late." Benedict went to argue but Colin was quick to shake his head as he drank from his glass, Benedict sighing as he entered his room.

"No, no, no! This is not nearly the correct colour for tonight Y/n. You have a suitor now, and he must be unable to look away. No dark colours, how about this?" Y/n looked away from the window to where her Mama held a pale pink dress, her nose scrunching up as she looked at the embellishments.

"I prefer blues and purples Mama, pink is beautiful however you once told me it washes me out under the lights." A gasp came from the older lady as she recalled the mild insult, nodding as she tutted at the hand maid pushing the pink dresses into her arms as she began sorting through the purple dresses. Y/n looking back towards the window as her Mama fussed, setting out a new dress along with a necklace and matching earrings, humming to herself as she smiled at her vision.

"Come, try this on and let me see. Oh i do hope he asks you to dance again, a Bridgerton! It is such an achievement, although most Mama's would not be happy about the second son but he is a handsome man." Y/n stood, allowing Maria to tighten her stays before placing the baby blue dress over her head and begin to button the back, her Mama speaking as she was pulled tight.

"Mama, he is a friend." Y/n's Mama waved her off as she continued speaking of how handsome and gentlemanly Benedict Bridgerton was, how sweet his mother was and each comment made Y/n's mind swirl. She liked Benedict, enjoyed his company and loved his art but she didn't want to marry, she wanted to do as much as she could before she would be sold off to some Lord or old man who wanted her to birth his babes. Her Mama, much like Violet, believed in love matches however she wasn't such a patient woman, she wanted to a love match to happen instantly and for her daughter to be wed by the end of the season. Any Mama's dream, a practical dream which suited the societal pressure of women. 

"Has this gown gotten lower?" Y/n mumbled as she looked in this mirror, Maria pinning her hair back as Y/n frowned before her Mama waved Maria off and began placing jewels in her hair.

"I had some modified, it is nothing to be blushing about, i have heard of the Bridgerton men and how their eyes wander. I am simply ensuring that his eyes stay on you, do not give me that look. When i was younger women wore full corsets and their busts were barely contained." Y/n rolled her eyes as she adjusted her dress, her Mama lightly hitting her hand before Maria informed them of the time.

"Ahh! We cannot be late, come come." Y/n sighed as she followed her chaotic Mama, her Father standing by the door with a whiskey as he waited. Smiling at his wife and daughter before being hurried to the carriage by the older woman. 

Benedict stood next to Eloise, a drink in his hand as always during a ball however now his eyes darted between the dancing couples and entry way, every minute ticking by making his hands grow clammy.

"You look tortured brother. Do try to not act so love sick around her." Eloise commented as she scowled at another man, making his eyebrows raise before turning away and hurrying back where he came from. Benedict almost choking on his drink before covering it with a cough, Eloise grinning as she watched her brother turn red.

"I am not love sick, the only one love sick around here is Daphne unless you count Anthony being sick of love." Eloise rolled her eyes as she leaned agains the wall, looking at her eldest Brother as he once again interrupted Daphne and the Duke.

"I do not see the interest in being married or being a show pony for the ton." Eloise sneered as Benedict rolled his eyes taking a drink.

"I agree, it truly is awful being poked and prodded." Benedict once against tried not to choke on his drink as Y/n appeared next to Eloise, a grin on her face as she watched Benedict, his neck and ears still bright red from Eloise's comment. 

"Finally someone who has a brain!" Eloise almost shouted, watching Y/n as she grabbed a drink with a small eyebrow wiggle to Benedict to mock him.

"If i am the first person you've met with a brain then you should get better company Eloise." Benedict playfully shook his head as Y/n stood between the siblings, the heat of her body seeping into his as he contained the urger to shift and touch his covered arm to her naked one. Although it was warm he could see the small goosebumps along her arms from exiting the carriage, the slight blush to her skin from the change in temperature and windswept hair which looked beautiful against her skin. His eyes suddenly drawn to her chest as he watched her breathe, the dress tightening against her breasts with each inhale, his mind racing as he was sure it was lower than before. He was staring again, but he couldn't stop himself, his eyes slowly covering each part of her body until she spoke and broke his trance.

"Is Cressida glaring at me or you Eloise?" Benedict turned his head to see Cressida glaring in their direction, although he could see her glare was more on Y/n, most likely for being able to find a suitor compared to the blonde girl whose Mama seemed to scare any man away. 

"I believe she glaring at you, it makes a change from the constant glare i receive." Y/n let out a snort making Eloise giggle as Benedict tried to contain his blush, everything she did was like the best drug to him. 

"Hmm well it will be interesting to see how much she will glare when Benedict asks me to dance." Y/n turned to Benedict as he placed down his drink, a big grin on his face as he held out his hand.

"Would you have this dance with me Miss L/n?" Y/n gave him a playful grin as she took his hand, the pair gliding onto the dance floor for the third time since they'd met, and now it was easy, his hands didn't hover or waiver as he confidently placed them against her waist. Her hand fitting against his as he pulled her closer, reminding himself of the proper etiquette although he wanted to feel her pressed against him.

"I can feel the angry eyes of Mama's and daughters putting holes in my head." Y/n whispered, making Benedict laugh as he looked around seeing Cressida and her group of ladies all watching and whispering, although he could see the jealousy. It wasn't because she was dancing with him, it was because she was dancing with someone for the third time unlike many of the other ladies of the ton who had debuted this season. 

"You should try feeling the glares from the men who you turned down last season, i sometimes think i'll be set ablaze by the looks." Y/n let out another snort as she playfully rolled her eyes, making Benedict grin as he watched her, amongst the glares and burning jealousy was Violet and Mrs L/n who were gushing over their children. Two happy Mama's who were conspiring to encourage the pair to admit feelings only one was sure they had, whilst the other was adamant not to feel it. As the dance came to an end the pair bowed, Benedict offering his arm which Y/n took with a small smile, collecting a drink each as they walked around talking quietly. Benedict taking in every little comments, each smile and laugh as well as each quirk of the brow or twitch of an eye. Almost cataloguing her movements to keep in his mind when he wasn't near her, drinking in everything he could. 

"I need some air, i shall meet you in a few moments." Benedict nodded as Y/n walked through the double doors, her glass half empty as she placed it on a tray and disappeared from his sight. Forcing himself to stand by Eloise as he stopped himself from following Y/n and drinking in how she looked under the moonlight. It was heavenly in his mind, but he knew it would be ethereal in real life, potentially maddening. 

Y/n let out a sigh as she leaned against the garden wall, the cold air helping her hot body, when she had been dancing it was like she was on fire. His hand on her waist was burning through her fabric and making her skin, but she didn't want to pull away, she wanted to be closer. Shaking her head Y/n played with her necklace, pulling it side to side as she calmed her nerves. She had danced with many different people and yet none had made her heart pound or body heat the way Benedict did, infact no one had ever made her feel so out of control. 

"Miss L/n, are you alright?" Flinching slightly Y/n turned to see a previous suitor who she could not recall, placing a smile on her face as she nodded and moved slightly away from where he stood too close.

"I am fine thank you, a bit flustered from all the excitement of dancing. Excuse me." Y/n went to pass as he side stepped her, forcing her to stop as he blocked her way, a grin on his face as he looked down at her. 

"You look beautiful tonight, the gown is exquisite, a lovely cut for your body if i might say." She could feel her lip twitch at his comment as she tried to keep her polite smile although she could see his eyes were only staring down at her chest and she cursed her Mama inwardly for modifying it to entice such men like the one before her.

"Thank you for the comment, i should get back before my Mama becomes concerned." The man didn't move instead he stepped closer, Y/n stepping back as she felt the cool garden wall against the back of her legs, her hands coming to steady herself as she gripped the wall to stop herself being rash.

"I am sure if a Mama allows their daughter to wear such dresses she would not mind you being here." The man stepping even closer so his chest almost touched hers as she dropped her polite smile and glared up at him, her hands fisting against the wall as she stood proud.

"A gentleman would never be so inappropriate, i suggest you step back sir." The man let out a laugh as he quickly looked over his shoulder before leaning down to place his hand on her waist, her hand coming to grab onto his, her nails in his skin as he let out a small hiss but didn't remove his hand. Matching her glare as he stared down at her with a sneer.

"You don't even remember my name, i tried to court you for weeks, i sent you flowers and each time i was turned away. Now you're entertaining a second son, an artist whilst i am cast aside. I am owed Miss L/n, and i intend to collect." Y/n closed her eyes as he got closer, her nails breaking the skin of his hand as he pressed into her waist, the alcohol on his breath making her want to gag.

"Marcus! Get the hell away from her." The man was pulled away, leaving scratches along his hand from where her nails had dug in, Benedict pushing his back as the pair glared at each other.

"Ahh if it isn't the lucky Bridgerton." Benedict stood in front of Y/n as she collected herself, watching the door as she feared this becoming a scandal, which would not only ruin her but her whole family.

"You reek of alcohol Marcus, leave before i knock you to the ground." The man let out a laugh as he shook his hand, small droplets of blood coming off as he did making Benedict smirk slightly before stepping forward as the drunken man stepped back.

"She's not worth all this. Don't worry Benedict you'll get knocked down once she throws you on the streets like the rest of us." Y/n could feel tears in her eyes as Marcus walked off, his hand hidden in his pocket before Benedict stood in her line of vision. Squaring her shoulder Y/n nodded and moved to walk around him, Benedict turning and grasping her arm gently as she did, her body turning towards him as he looked down at her.

"You're shaking, please just take a moment Y/n. Are you alright? I'm so sorry i should have come with you." Y/n shook her head, she could feel her hands shaking as she avoided Benedicts eyes, his hand barely holding her arm as he moved to touch her cheek softly. Flinching away from his hand Y/n finally looked up, she could see his heart break as she pulled her arm free and stepped back slightly.

"I am fine Mr Bridgerton, thank you for helping me but i really must return to somewhere far less private. This has already been a close call for a scandal and i do not wish for it to be found out." Benedict wanted to pull her into him and hold her until she didn't feel so afraid, her whole body shook gently as she took a shaky breath, his hand stayed close to her skin before he took a small step forward.

"Take a deep breathe in." Y/n nodded as she followed his instruction, his hand making contact with her skin as she closed her eyes, feeling him closer to her as he moved a step forward. His other hand taking hold of her cheek as he held her face, her eyes closed as he stroked her cheeks helping her to calm down.

"And breathe out." Again she followed his instruction, her body warm from his touch as she moved her hands to hold his wrists, opening her eyes to stare up at him.

"Good, just breathe okay? You're safe with me. I would never...you're safe." Y/n nodded, his thumbs brushing over the apple of her cheeks as he pushed a tear away, her hands barely holding his wrists as she inhaled deeply, holding it before letting it go. Benedict let his eyes drift from her closed ones, dropping to her lips as he continued to caress her face, his thumb moving to touch her lip as her eyes opened. His thump grazing across her bottom lip as he made eye contact, watching the emotion flash across her eyes, concern, fear, want. The latter made his heart skip as he leaned forward slightly, barely an inch but it was close enough that he could hear her inhale sharply, see individual lashes and how they sat along her eyeline. His thumb now moving across her bottom lip to the corner as he cupped her face and moved another inch closer, transfixed by her doe eyes and how her mouth opened a fraction to allow a gasp to escape. Her hands suddenly tightening on his wrists as she pulled away, stepping back and holding his hands away from her face, her lip between her teeth as she took a deep breathe. Cheeks red and hot although in the moonlight he could barely tell the difference, her eyes wide and filled with an emotion he couldn't understand.

"Thank you Benedict." Without another word she was gone, back inside where the music suddenly seemed to deafen him as he leaned against the garden wall, letting out a shaky breathe as he thought about how close he had come to kissing her. He'd been truly possessed, unable to pull away and he was sure if she had not moved he would have kissed her until her lips were red. 

part 4

[miracleandplagueau]

So, here's a thing about Marinette.

She is a kind, rather cultured person, agrees to a lot of things, but also knows when to stand her ground and say no. The averagest of average protagonist models you can write with the exception of her obsessive personality trait. About Derision later, but she might possibly be one of the blandest characters I've seen in popular media

While watching Demon Slayer's finale yesterday, I realized something. Marinette is very much like Tanjiro. She can be both kind and badass when needed, be humble and be confident whenever the writers need her to be. Marinette is like Tanjiro -- written to be liked. She wasn't written to be unique or stand out from the crowd nor was she ever supposed to make a breakthrough in how to write a compelling protagonist to root for. She is a vessel. An empty vessel to watch in the background, because once you start analyzing her, it's over for your sanity

But why is she so hated then... She's so kind, so extremely helpful. A person everyone can get along with (famous people count too I suppose), but she also has her own frustrations like deal with brats who apparently targetted her as their victim for no apparent reason!! She has struggl-- It's nothing new. Look at it a little closer, go in depth and tell me that she has a consistent personality. She's more of a big pile of clay that the writers will model and shape according to their mood and how they want a certain storyline to end. Even Chat Noir has more consistent personality than her despite being neglected by both his own father and the writers. I guess more isn't always the merrier.

Is it actually hard to give YOUR PROTAGONIST a DAMN CONFLICT?! HER ONLY CONFLICT IS WHETHER SAYING "HI" TO ADRIEN WILL RUIN THEIR FUTURE TOGETHER. GIVE HER FLAWS GIVE HER CONSEQUENCES MAKE HER LEARN THE LESSON THE HARD WAY

Actually, I take it back. There is one conflict. Well, "conflict" or rather a turning moment for her is when she loses all miraculouses, which is followed by a nasty panic attack. That's it. That's all I could think of from the top of my head.

The only thing that really makes her stand out is her obssessive nature towards Adrien and we got some insight on why in the season 5 episode Derision and you know what I have to say about that? Fucking BULLSHIT. In a very short summary, Marinette crushed on Kim, but he humiliated her whilst working with Chloe. After that event, she decided she will only confess to someone when she knows them through and through. Putting aside the fact that we only then found out that Marinette had a friend that wasn't Alya, It's actually a total asspull in terms of Kim's behavior. Why would Marinette be friendly to Kim in Dark Cupid when he did something like THAT to her? Why is he potrayed as a funny, a little misguided himbo in the friend group - did nobody actually know about what's happened? I mean obviously they had to so why is everyone pretending like everything is fine? Why is SHE pretending everything is fine? Did she forget?! The answer is no, because Derision was not planned from the beginning. Thomas heard that his beloved protagonist isn't liked and went back to the drawing board to cook up some fake depth to her. Despite what I said, I'd actually love to see an episode like that, maybe Chloe IS the bitch we're lead to believe she is and I could've accepted it as a valid explanation to both Marinette behavior and her cruel, unchanging nature....

IF IT WAS IN SEASON ONE OR TWO

Putting a lore piece like that in the final season of the story is actually fucking ridiculous. Do you really expect me to care NOW?! When we're like 15 episodes from the FINALE OF THE SHOW? Na-ah, absolutely fucking not

Everytime I see a post praising Derision for how well written it is my stomach does a fucking cartwheel this is not an exaggeration

Marinette is like Zoe except Marinette is actually an asshole sometimes. It would be good If she was! I want to see an asshole protagonist where I'll have to see them change before I start rooting for them, but Marinette is neither changing, evolving or facing consequences. Using a miraculous for her personal gain and lashing out as Ladybug on Lila? it was a good fucking moment. I found it uncomfortable and embarassing to watch AND THAT'S A GOOD THING. IT HAD LONG LASTING CONSEQUENCES in form of Lila being a menance in return. Then again, I can't exactly praise Lila because she's equally as stupid- sorry, everyone's brains and common sense seem to evaporate when they're in Lila's closest proximity, but that's where they're similar. Everyone seems to lose their awareness when Marinette does her puppy eyes to break into a house too.

She is genuinely getting harder to watch and don't even get me started on season 5 because I've seen the leaks alright

[fandomwritingbit-main]

King Dice collecting a debt

A/n: just found this on my old computer, it's a little something I wrote two years ago.

Warnings: violence, injury, debt collecting, gang ideology, threatening and aggressive behaviour.

Nothing could describe the fear that would run through people’s veins when King Dice banged on their door. His reputation really did precede him. The whole Isle knew of King Dice, so named because he ran the underground gambling scene sponsored by the Devil himself, his self-proclaimed comrade. In reality, it was more of a one-sided relationship, the Devil getting Dice to do him favours and collect his debts- with Dice more than happy to comply.

Regardless, when the well-dressed kingpin knocked on a door looking for the money someone owed him, it was bad news. Even if he started off with a jaunty showtune, whistled away as he rapped the door frame, even if he was in a good mood, even if they were a pretty little thing that he liked the look of: they were in for a terrible time.

They could try and hide, not answering. Praying that he’d assume they weren’t home and depart. But he could always tell that they were there.

“You know who it is: let me in.” His tone was oddly playful for a man who had come with the intention of beating the frighteners onto someone.

The knock would be brisk and stately, no doubt drawing the attention of neighbours, who would shut their curtains enough to not be seen, leaving only a small slit for viewing. Spying the gangster as he waited. There’d always be a lackey with him, but Dice preferred the more personal touch to debt collecting.

~

“I ain’t got time to mess ‘round.” They must have known that by hiding they were only making it worse, but still the fear prevented them from answering. If they let him in, perhaps he’d have had more respect for their... ‘cojones’, maybe go a little easier on them even. But they never did and so he didn’t need to uphold that end of the bargain.

Sooner or later, he grew impatient, and the distinctively nerve-wracking sound of a door being booted off its hinges alerted the homeowner that their plan had not worked in the slightest.  

His hand smooths back his hair that had been displaced from the act of dislodging the front door and he cast a rather sinister smile at the figure cowering in the corner. At first this Cab Calloway look-alike may come across too dandy for this line of work, but beating, torturing and tax collecting were next to nature to him.

“If you’re playing the ‘I’m not home’ game, next time you may want to take your car off the drive.” He grinned, showing rows of immaculate teeth. “But if you have an intelligent bone in your body - there won’t be a next time.”

“Look, uh Mr Dice. I ain’t got your money, alright? But I will! Just give me two days, I can-” Whilst they pleaded, he walked fully inside the room, having a look at any trinkets, family photos dotted around, anything he could use to send his message.

“It is a lovely place you’ve got here. What a delightful clock.” His white-gloved hand took the piece of decor from the wall, turning it over and inspecting it. The owner gulped, watching the intruder hesitantly.

“Looks too expensive for you. Is it stolen?” He mocked.

The man’s eyes widened in fear as Dice approached. “It uh was a present- for the Mrs.” He said, following the object with his gaze. It was easily the nicest thing in this run-down property and Dice intended to use that.

Dice kept his hand on the clock against the wall, encasing the man for a few moments before letting out a hiss between his teeth. He looked him dead in the eye and the small pupils of the man pleased him.

“You’d think that someone with such a stunning timepiece would know that he was late with my fucking money.” He spoke harshly, his spit flying towards the owner, punctuating the syllables by gesturing with the clock.

Letting his face soften for a moment, a smile began to grace his lips as he shook his head, the man against the wall breathed out a sigh of semi-relief. It was cut short by a fearful intake of breath, when Dice suddenly smashed the object against the wall, mere centimetre from the man’s face. So close his ears were ringing.  

He took the clock, turning it over to look at the face.

“Would you look at that. Its stopped. I’ll leave it here...” He brought his face very close to the man before saying the last part. “That way you can tell the coppers exactly when I arrived.”

The homeowner was about to speak but Dice put a finger to his lips indicating him to shut up.

“Let me guess: You ain’t gonna tell no one, huh? You’re gonna get me my money, right?” He smiled, nodding his head almost pityingly. “Yeah... no it's too fucking late for that.” King Dice stepped back and to the man’s horror began taking off his jacket. Then his waistcoat. Undressing down to his undershirt, hanging each expensive garment on the coat hook, like he owned the place.

“What are you...?” He asked, not even able to finish his sentence, as he just watched struck dumb.

“Oh, please excuse me. That jacket’s new.” He said with half a laugh at the man’s wince: at last, this fool was clocking on. Truth be told, it was part of Dice’s intimidation game and part practical, he certainly knew how hard it was to get blood out of suede. Not to mention a white shirt.

~

Not even 15 minutes later, Dice was walking out the door semi-dressed, with his jacket slung over his shoulder, humming a tune as always. He stopped next to the doorway, using a mirror there to check his reflection. Though his clothes were spared due to his intervention, there was blood splatter down the side of his face. Oh well, he thought, sends a message, don’t it? He checked his teeth, running his tongue over them before looking over a shoulder and shooting the man on the floor a smirk.

“Three days. You ain’t got what you owe then, I’ll come back. Only that time I'll stick around and wait for the family to come home.” The man just stared at him, knowing the threat was simply a promise. He didn’t have the agency to respond, just looked at him, through a black eye, mouth bleeding and his right arm cradled by the other.

“Might wanna get a doc to take a look at that.” He said with a mean laugh, sauntering out of where the front door was, leaving the fella to sort himself and the door out.