#i'd say he's just more sensitive and aware than usual

[not-poignant]

hola pia! maybe this will come up in Utr but, how are betas affected by alphas/omegas? they cant ‚smell‘ as good as them, but theyre still affected by pheromones? when caleb flared his in the bar, was that a turn on for faber like omegas? im guessing its why caleb did it. but he doesnt get ‚dazed‘ does he? he is susceptible to alpha persuasion, and he thinks omega heat ‚stinks‘, right? and they dont smell ‚special‘ to alphas/omegas? and faber is such a cute name, it fits him so well 😂🥰

Hola, anon! :D

how are betas affected by alphas/omegas?

It depends on the beta! While they can't smell pheromones as acutely as alphas and omegas they can definitely still smell them, and they are still affected by their pheromones! But it's kind of different? A beta doesn't feel any urge to be with an omega during their heat, for example, and they don't smell an alpha's pheromones and think 'oh that person smells delicious maybe I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with them.' They might think 'interesting' or 'I don't mind that' or 'that's an alpha, I'd better be careful' and not give it much more thought.

That being said, Faber is more sensitive to pheromones - much more sensitive - than the average beta, unusually so, to the point where both Dr Gary and Temsen remark on it in Underline the Black:

A quick business-like knock on the door - Faber's knock, Gary would know it anywhere - and Faber stepped into the room and then blanched. He placed a hand over his mouth, and Gary stepped back from Temsen automatically, even as Temsen turned back to the computer screen.  'I seem to have interrupted something,' Faber said hoarsely, and Gary opened his mouth, but it was Temsen who talked across him.  'What is it, Faber?' 'Ah,' Faber said, looking nervously between them. Gary felt some sympathy for the man, given his loyalty was primarily to Gary, and Temsen was his boss right now, and the air wasn't exactly thick with pheromones, but it didn't need to be to crush anyone who wasn't a peak alpha. What Temsen and Gary found easy to withstand was too much for most, and Gary knew his assistant was struggling. 'I- I- ...Yes. Well. That's... I wanted to say that we've arranged a date for Denis Deschamps to meet with Lucien Beaumont and Caleb, Sirs. Sir.'  Faber looked a desperate apology to Gary. Then he closed the door quickly, leaving them both in the room, Faber no doubt rushing to get some air.  'Oh dear,' Temsen said. 'Should one of us go find him?' 'No,' Gary said. 'If he gets overwhelmed like that, he needs time to himself. He doesn't like to be seen at all when he's vulnerable.' 'A strong flight instinct then,' Temsen said. 'He's been ever so helpful. I'm not even really trying to get my pheromones spiked, are you?' 'No,' Gary said.  'He is sensitive,' Temsen said, scratching at a neatly maintained hairline. 'We've both been far worse than that, haven't we?'

Even though Gary admits most people would find it hard, they both note that he's unusually sensitive.

when caleb flared his in the bar, was that a turn on for faber like omegas?

Not exactly? When Caleb flares his pheromones in the bar, Faber already finds him very attractive, and instead he feels additionally weak and overwhelmed. Like, he's definitely impacted! And I think he kind of likes the feeling with Caleb, and he doesn't feel sick like an alpha would. But not all betas would react the same way to someone like Caleb.

he is susceptible to alpha persuasion, and he thinks omega heat ‚stinks‘, right? and they dont smell ‚special‘ to alphas/omegas?

Betas don't really smell special to alphas/omegas at all. They just smell "regular" - like all of us, basically. Though that doesn't mean that an alpha or omega can't like the way they smell, some people do like the smell of body odour / sweat from certain people, after all!

All betas are susceptible to alpha persuasion. And yeah Faber thinks heats "stink" but when you think about it - you've got two people who have been fucking intensely for several consecutive days, with mountains of come and sweat, and that's not going to smell good, if you're the one stripping the bed and changing the sheets. Like, sex marathons just actually don't smell that great in general.

I think on top of that, Faber finds omega pheromones off-putting and there's a reason for that, but we'll find out more about that in Underline the Red later, heh.

[thezombieprostitute]

Good moaning. 😇

A/N: Sorry this took awhile @navybrat817. The muses weren't working with me.

A/N2: Reader is AFAB, Tall & Plus Size; Ended up working through a lot of my own insecurities on this one. Left it open ended because it's a lot longer than it should've been. It was supposed to be open ended but then Hal insisted on showing off.

Part 2

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: Insecure reader. Please let me know if I missed any.

Hal had always been the most notorious flirt in the office. Every woman had been complimented, flirted with, made to blush by him. Except you. When it came to you, Hal was all business. Maybe some friendly gestures, but that was it.

You should be used to it by now. You'll never forget in high school when your crush said, "I just never thought of you as a girl. I don't think of you as guy," he was quick to say, "but I just don't think of you as a girl." And it seems to have been the same for every guy, every crush, ever since.

Dating apps only seemed to make things worse. You'd be really getting along with someone, they'd talk about how personality is more important, but as soon as they actually saw you, their demeanor shifted. They always just wanted to be friends. You were pretty sure spinsterhood was your only option. Especially if even the Hal Carter wasn't willing to flirt with you.

"You should be grateful," some of your friends would chide you. "You don't have to worry about being harassed or assaulted." And you were grateful that those weren't concerns for you. But you weren't bemoaning a lack of problems, you were bemoaning an abundance of loneliness.

"Hey, Y/N," Hal's voice snapped you out of your self-pity party.

"Yes, Hal?"

"Do you have the specs for that Potts order? I need to double check a few things."

"Sure thing," you nod as you go to the filing cabinet. You find the paperwork he needs and hand it to him.

"Are you alright," he asks.

"No different than usual. Why?"

"You just...you seem...um. How do I put this?"

"Hal, please just tell me I look miserable and get back to work? I'm not in the mood for beating around the bush. I'm painfully well aware of how I look." You're struggling to keep the tears at bay and just want him to leave you be.

"Is there anything I can do? I hate to see you like this."

"No, Hal, there's nothing you, personally, can do. I'm just having a self-pity party after yet another bad date and I need to be left alone."

"You're dating?" His face is filled with genuine surprise and it's the straw that breaks you. You stop fighting the tears and just run to the bathroom to let it all out in private.

By the time you're done crying you're exhausted. You should get back to work but you just can't fathom spending more time around people. You get back to your desk, send a note to your boss and head home early. You're just gonna let yourself cry and sleep it out.

When you get to work the next day there's a bouquet of blue hyacinth and white lily-of-the-valley flowers. The card had a simple "I'm sorry" card signed by Hal. You really should apologize to him, it wasn't his fault. It was just really shitty timing. Still, you appreciate the flowers. You can't remember the last time anyone got you any.

You get into the flow of work, catching up on things you missed yesterday, so you don't notice Hal slowly making his way to your desk, like he's afraid you'll lash out. When you finally look up and see him, you give him a soft smile and he takes that as an okay signal to close the distance to your desk.

"Thank you for the flowers, Hal," you start. "You really didn't need to. You did nothing wrong."

"I ask you a question and you leave crying," Hal huffs. "Pretty sure that means I did something wrong."

"Believe me, Hal, if it was something you did, I'd have told you." You shake your head, "it's just me being overly sensitive. And I'm sorry I worried you or made you feel it was your fault. You don't deserve that."

"So, you're single and looking," Hal slowly says.

"For now," you sigh. "Seriously contemplating giving up but I just can never bring myself to ever fully give up hope. No matter how many times I get hurt."

"Maybe it's your technique," he offers. "If you need help with your flirting, just let me know. I can teach you a few things."

Against your better judgment you open up the dating app and the messages you shared from the last guy you met for a date. You show them to Hal and tell him how you could've done better.

"Huh, you're a smart cookie," he says. "Talking to this guy about smart stuff that definitely goes over my head. Why didn't he work out?"

Trying not to lose patience, he is just trying to help, you calmly tell him, "because he saw me. That's how it always goes, Hal. I'm not pretty enough. I don't fit into any of the molds that define 'attractive'. I never hide my build, my picture, but there must be quite the difference between photos and real life."

"Sounds like your problem is that you keeping attracting douchebags," Hal observed. "Just need to find yourself a good man."

"If it were that easy, I wouldn't be so lonely."

"You don't think I'm a good man?" He seems genuinely upset by this thought.

"Hal, please be careful because I don't want to cry at work again," you start. "Regardless of whether or not you're a good guy, you've never once expressed interest in me, so why would it matter if you were a douchebag or not?"

"This is definitely my fuck up," he sighs. "I was trying to be respectful of you. I was trying to treat you differently to show I think about you differently."

"Yes," you agree. "That came through loud and clear. You want to be workplace friends at most. I understand that. It's not a fuck up."

"No, not like that," Hal counters. "I...I flirt with everyone but you because I didn't want you to think I thought of you as just another pretty face. I kept it professional with you so you would know that I am respectful of you as a person. That I appreciate working with you and don't want us to get separated because the boss thinks I'm doing more flirting than working."

"I don't want your pity, Hal," you scold him. "If you're not interested, you're not interested. I don't blame you! But a pity flirt? That's hurtful."

Instead of backing down, Hal puts both hands on your desk and leans closer towards you, neither of you breaking eye contact. Your eyes are filled with a simmering anger and his beautiful blues are steely with determination. "I will prove to you, however I need to, that my feelings and intentions are genuine."

"I need to get back to work," you reply with ice in your voice.

"Challenge accepted, Dandelion," Hal smirks before leaving you to your work.

Part 2

Tagging @alicedopey and @icefrozendeadlyqueen because I promised I would

[cuffmeinblack]

Proposition (v1)

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader x Garreth Weasley

[m!reader version here]

18+, Smut, 4.3k words

Garreth Weasley was well and truly spoken for, by none other than the gorgeous Ominis Gaunt—a worthy recipient of the Gryffindor's affections, but it stung nevertheless. You'd always got along well with Garreth—conversation was easy, silences (the few that happened) were comfortable. The flirting had always been reciprocated, of that you were sure, and interestingly hadn't stopped despite his entanglement with the blond Slytherin.

Whilst you spent less time with him these days, you tended to have Garreth all to yourself during your shared Herbology lessons and the evenings when Ominis found himself occupied with his own best friend. The Gryffindor common room was a cosy sanctuary for you, and the place you first met the self-professed potions prodigy. It continued to be the place where you relaxed after the stresses of exam preparation, and whiled away the hours in the company of your favourite redhead.

He was so easy to be around, and ever so easy on the eye. As was Ominis—they made quite the striking pair, and you liked Ominis very much. Your proximity to Garreth meant you'd spent more and more time in his company over the past few months. He had a wry sense of humour you enjoyed and was exceptionally kind to your best friend.

However, he'd barely spoken to you outside of the company of Garreth, so when you found him waiting for you after your Quidditch practice, your mind immediately started assuming the worst. 

He was leaning against the stands, twirling his wand and looking somewhat distracted, which stopped you in your tracks.

"Ominis? Everything okay?" you asked, clutching your broom tightly.

"Ah, yes," he replied with a faraway smile, "I wondered if you might accompany me back to the castle? I have a…proposition for you."

"A proposition?" you asked curiously.

"Mmm, of a rather sensitive nature. I'm aware of how attracted Garreth is to you."

Your mouth fell open, completely dumbstruck by the admission. You'd always suspected, of course, but for it to be so bluntly spoken by his own partner had you unable to mutter a reply.

"I assume the feeling is mutual?" he continued.

"Oh, well, yes. Of course, I'd never interfere with your relationship if that's what this is about."

Ominis chuckled and shook his head.

"No, you misunderstand me. I'm asking if you'd like to join us."

"Join…you?"

"In the bedchamber."

You inhaled sharply as you watched him, his face giving absolutely nothing away. His expression had returned to one of complete seriousness, and Ominis didn't seem the type to jest about something like this.

"Of course I would say yes, if the invitation was genuine."

"Oh yes, very genuine."

"What's in it for you?"

Ominis came to a stop in the courtyard to face you, his head tilted as he considered the question.

"I enjoy how worked up Garreth gets around you," Ominis replied with a smirk, stepping forward. "I'm quite curious myself."

The back of Ominis' fingers glided over your cheek with a featherlight touch, leaving you weak at the knees as you lost your frantic thoughts in his cloudy blue eyes.

"So, will you?" he prompted.

"Yes. Yes, of course," you muttered quietly, almost a whimper as his hand drifted along your jaw.

"We'll be seeing you, then. I look forward to it," he said, withdrawing his hand and turning to leave.

You were left standing alone in the courtyard feeling dazed, like you'd just been offered the forbidden fruit by a very enticing snake. There was no doubt in your mind that you'd take it, and relish every second.

-

The evening after the strange encounter, you found yourself curled up by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, your head resting in Garreth's lap as it often did and his hands idly stroking your hair. It wasn't usually anything more than a comforting gesture bestowed upon a friend, but your conversation with Ominis had certainly thrown it into a new light. 

You were now painfully aware of every one of Garreth's reactions to you—his every blush at your flirtatious remarks, his lingering gaze that followed you and scanned your body as you lay on the sofa. The fact that your head was now situated in his lap, right next to his…well…with any luck, you'd be exploring that part of him later that evening, something which filled you with nervous anticipation, but more so, giddy excitement.

You'd not actually spoken about the proposition other than setting a time and place (the Room of Requirement, of course)—rather, you'd spent your evening in much the same way as you usually would have, except now there was an almost unbearable tension between you. You were inexorably drawn towards him, and your closeness hadn’t gone unnoticed by your housemates who gave you curious glances and raised eyebrows.

"Should we go and meet Ominis?" you said, looking up at Garreth, who ceased his gentle stroking.

He nodded and swallowed thickly as you sat up, fixing your hair. It wasn't like Garreth to be so quiet, but he was completely attentive to you, following your every move. You couldn't resist biting your lower lip, his gaze falling to your mouth—he wanted you, that much was clear by the way his eyes dragged lazily back to meet yours, glittering and full of fire.

Exiting the common room through the awkwardly small hole in the wall, you walked together to the Room of Requirement situated up several flights of steep steps in the astronomy wing. Ominis was already waiting for you as you arrived, casually leaning against the wall, looking as if he was waiting for nothing more interesting than Charms class.

“Hello, you,” Garreth said, crossing the hallway to Ominis.

Ominis made a peaceful hum in his throat and smiled as he pushed off of the wall and Garreth slid a hand around his waist to greet him with a tender kiss.

“Good evening,” he greeted.

Garreth glanced at the blank wall, then back at you, waiting.

"You want me to call the room?" you asked.

"Well, you know it best. And…you know what we need."

You nodded, muttering an agreement before you started pacing the corridor, picturing the layout of the room in your mind. You needed…complete privacy, obviously. Comfort. A large bed. Soft lighting. The romantic image flooded your thoughts and the door shimmered into existence in front of you, the ornate detailing snaking through the brickwork. 

Ominis was the first to approach, with no hesitation he pushed open the door and you followed behind him, with Garreth at your heels. 

"I hope this is okay," you said, blushing furiously.

Ominis ran his hand over the plush bedspread and smiled as Garreth gazed around the large bedroom, his eyes eventually falling on Ominis' as he approached.

"Well, no time like the present, hm?" Ominis said, snaking a hand around Garreth's neck and pressing their lips together.

Garreth was caught off guard but sank into the kiss quickly, his head tilting with a soft moan, his hands pulling Ominis closer.

You'd seen them kiss before, of course, but the raw passion they displayed in front of you now was deeply arousing. Gone were the chaste kisses they exchanged in the school corridors, now their bodies pressed together with not a sliver between them. 

Ominis' hands were already busy undressing Garreth, who seemed preoccupied with messing up Ominis' hair as much as possible as they shared the deepening kiss. You weren't quite sure what to do with yourself until Ominis held out a hand towards you.

"Don't be shy, you're not just here to watch, I hope," he teased.

With a deep breath, you took his hand as Garreth watched you approach, now bare-chested and flushed. His broad shoulders and chest were smattered with hundreds of freckles just like his face, and you licked your lips as your eyes ran over him unashamedly.

Ominis guided you next to him, his delicate hand wrapping around your neck, tracing your jaw to find your moistened lips. With a smile, he leaned in to meet them with his own, kissing you gently. 

You'd not thought about what it would be like to kiss Ominis nearly as much as you'd fantasised about Garreth, but you were by no means disappointed. His lips were soft and inviting, his kisses gentle but exciting—your stomach flipped as he flicked his tongue over your lower lip, seeking entrance into your mouth.

You tilted your head and parted your lips, meeting his tongue with a soft moan as he began unbuttoning your shirt. His attention was now completely on you, apparently eager to undress you—whether for his own or Garreth's benefit, you weren't sure, and didn't much care. 

You sneaked a look over at Garreth, your lips breaking from Ominis who began attacking your neck instead as your shirt fell to the floor. 

Garreth was watching you both, his breathing heavy as his fingers traced the growing bulge in his trousers. You let out a whimper at the sight of him and he took it as an invitation. His warm hands were suddenly all over you, in your hair and massaging your exposed breast as his lips met yours with a fierce hunger.

Ominis had made his way round behind you and was working to rid you of your underwear, his slender fingers teasing the fabric off of you. You moaned into Garreth's mouth as they slid down your legs to the floor, Ominis wasting no time in reaching around to replace them with his hand. 

Teasing his fingers through your folds, he coated his digits in your arousal, drawing them back to your sensitive nub.

"Mmmph, you're soaking, darling," he whispered.

You squealed from the gentle pressure as he stroked the area before beginning to steadily circle your clit. The relief was instantaneous—you hadn’t realised just how tightly wound you were until Ominis had started to unravel the tension with his delicate touch. 

The kisses you exchanged with Garreth grew sloppier, heated and tongue-heavy as your moans filled each other's mouths. You worked to release his straining erection from his trousers as Ominis' own hard length pressed into your behind, your hips instinctively shifting backwards to tease him.

As Garreth pulled his trousers down, his cock finally sprang free and you chanced a glance down, whimpering as you set eyes on him. His hand on your breast grabbed hungrily as you placed a firm grip on his length, your fingers nowhere close to touching as they wrapped around his girth. Your head was dizzy with desire, wanting nothing more than to take him into your mouth to taste him.

“Oh, Garreth,” you whimpered.

Ominis nibbled the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and causing a jerk of your hand. Garreth groaned as you squeezed his length, his fingers digging painfully into your behind as you spread his sticky precum over his head, dragging your fingers down his length before starting a slow and steady rhythm that matched the one Ominis was currently playing between your legs.

Ominis had released his own erection from the confines of his trousers, gently thrusting against your bare behind, seeking that friction by gliding between your cheeks. You felt his sticky precum leaking onto your back, and the image made you salivate, eager to find out how Ominis looked underneath those immaculate clothes.

You could feel yourself approaching your climax as Ominis’ fingers continued their steady pace and Garreth’s fingers teased your stiff nipple. You were drowning in pleasure from all angles, unable to take in any individual sensation.

Lips and hands were on your skin, building your orgasm with almost practiced ease. Moans, gasps, sighs and groans filled the air like the swell of a beautiful chorus. The scents surrounding you; musk, tea, cinders and something distinctly sweet, mixed with sweat and arousal, created a heady and intoxicating assault on your sense of smell.

Your head fell back onto Ominis’ shoulder as you were overwhelmed, barely able to hold your weight up—your legs began to shake as you watched Garreth with hazy eyes.

Garreth's eyes flicked from you to Ominis, seemingly torn by the choice. With a lick of his lips, he leaned his torso forward and reached behind you, pulling Ominis into a deep kiss. Their faces were almost pressed against yours as you were sandwiched between their warm bodies and you whined at the sight, pumping Garreth’s cock faster in reaction.

"Hah- oh, fuck," Garreth moaned, his hips jerking into your hand.

"Come for me and you can put Garreth out of his misery," Ominis whispered in your ear, his slender fingers continuing to work miracles around your sensitive nub.

His melodic voice sent a shiver down your neck, settling in your abdomen where the pool of tension finally exploded. You moaned loudly without inhibition as you met your release, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your weakened body. Ominis continued circling his fingers as you squirmed and rocked your hips against his hand, desperately wishing it would never end.

Garreth was watching you with parted lips and an intense gaze as your hand around him faltered and he pulled your wrist to guide you away, instead pressing his lips to yours as the blissful pulses slowly ebbed away.

Ominis met your moans with his own soft sighs and his fingers slowed and eventually stilled as you came down off your high. His hand retreated to your hip, holding you tightly as his cock continued thrusting against you gently, his lips grazing your neck.

"That was amazing," you gasped, your head swimming.

Ominis grabbed the flesh of your behind and gave a final hard push against you before releasing his grip and stepping back with a sigh.

"I think she's ready for you, my love," Ominis said.

Garreth had already shed the remainder of his clothes and fallen back onto the bed, frantically scrambling into the centre.

"Come here, I need to feel you."

You stared at him as he waited for you, your mouth agape. His skin was flushed, chest heaving and cock twitching with desire. This is what you'd thought about for so long, wasn't it? Granted, it hadn't involved Ominis but you absolutely weren't complaining about the addition of the assertive blond Slytherin.

Ominis sensed your…was it trepidation?...and gently felt for your arm, running his fingers down to clasp your fingers together. He gently led you to the bed and sat on the edge as you climbed onto the mattress and across to Garreth's waiting lap.

"Turn around," Ominis said quietly. "Trust me."

Garreth hummed as you obeyed the command and hovered over his lap, facing away from him. You peered back at his face as he chewed his lip and stared shamelessly at your behind. His hand roamed the soft flesh around your hips as he reached underneath you with his other, gripping his stiff and dripping erection.

His head parted your folds as you shuddered from the sensitivity before he rested at your aching entrance. Keeping your eyes on him so you could watch his reaction, you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, gasping as his swollen head stretched you so satisfyingly. The groan that left his lips was one of sweet relief as you took his length inch by inch, until you were sat flush against his skin.

Garreth gripped you tightly as you began a slow rhythm—the angle was fantastic, absolutely perfect, hitting you just right and drawing soft moans of ecstasy from your mouth with every shift of your hips.

You’d thought your attention would be focused solely on Garreth, but Ominis was making it very difficult not to divert your lustful gaze. He'd finished undressing, discarding his creased shirt and tie to the floor, and you could just now appreciate his slender form. Your eyes drifted over the beauty marks that flecked his chest, following the fine blond hair down to his navel, landing on his lengthy manhood, standing proud and glistening with arousal.

Ignoring his twitching erection, Ominis made his way to your side, feeling his way along the bed and trailing warm fingers up your body, your rhythm faltering for a second as you inhaled sharply at his touch.

Ominis' mouth found yours in a breathy kiss as his fingers laced through your hair and your hips slowed, gently grinding on Garreth as you were distracted by Ominis' lips.

"That…you…look amazing. Both of you," Garreth spluttered behind you, his strong hands keeping a tight grip on you.

You smiled and Ominis chuckled, his tongue swiping your lip before delving into your mouth greedily, drawing a helpless moan from your throat. Merlin help you. 

You hadn't expected him to be so teasing, so assertive, so…well, Slytherin. You'd always seen the calm, composed and sweet side of him, despite his sharp tongue and witty banter. This was a side you certainly hadn't expected in the bedchamber, but you were absolutely enthralled.

You resumed your previous rhythm as Ominis finally released your mouth with a devilish smirk, his hands trailing down your collarbone to your breasts. Pinching your perked nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, he gently teased the peak as he licked his lips.

"Tell me how good he feels," he said.

"He feels incredible, fuck, he's so big."

Ominis chuckled knowingly in response.

"I knew he'd like you this way." He whispered. "I thought he'd enjoy watching his cock impaling you."

Your face burned and head dizzied at Ominis' sultry voice uttering such sinful words. You looked back at Garreth, who was doing exactly as Ominis had suggested, completely entranced watching you sliding up and down his length.

"Mmmph-ah, yes, yes," Garreth muttered as you gave your hips a teasing wiggle.

Garreth gave your behind a hard smack and you yelped, your skin stinging, only further spurring you on. You picked up the pace, slamming into his lap harder and harder until he was groaning so loudly you could no longer hear the slapping of your skin—it was music to your ears.

"Uhh-mmm, you feel so good."

With renewed vigour, he gripped the flesh around your hips hard, holding you in place whilst his hips bucked, fucking you mercilessly with lustful growls—you only managed to keep your balance as you leaned against Ominis, your body almost limp and full to the brim with sheer euphoria.

Ominis tugged your hair to tilt your face towards him, his tongue delving into your mouth as you struggled for breath. The cacophony was exhilarating as your ears filled with the wet slaps of his hand pumping his cock amongst Garreth's low rumbles and your muffled mewls. 

"Uhhh… I'm so close," Garreth moaned, drawing your attention.

You peered back at his breathless and dishevelled form, his copper hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He met your eyes for just a second before they scrunched shut and he tensed, legs shaking, and you felt his cock twitch and explode inside you.

His forceful orgasm filled you as he collapsed and pulled you back on the bed, wrapping an arm around you to lay you over his chest. His pulsing length stayed snugly inside you as you lay together, gasping and feeling thoroughly fucked.

Ominis fell back on the bed next to you, his hand gliding lazily over his dripping wet length, his head swollen, glistening and red. He was in dire need of attention, and your mouth salivated at the thought of his lengthy cock in your mouth.

"Garreth, f-fuck, come here. Both of you," he murmured needily.

Garreth had barely finished emptying inside you before he gently pulled out, groaning together at the sudden emptiness as his cum leaked down your legs and onto his lap. You sighed, shifting yourself off of him and collapsing back on the mattress, elbows propping you up to leer at Ominis as he stroked himself slowly, letting out shuddering moans.

You were exhausted but still aroused, especially watching the usually so composed Slytherin writhing with pent-up arousal. His pale skin was flushed across his cheeks and chest, his lips pink and deliciously swollen from the kisses you'd exchanged. 

"You want to, don't you? The way you're looking at him…" Garreth whispered in your ear, breaking you out of your haze.

"Yes," you sighed.

You let out a whimper as Ominis' cock twitched and he smirked, holding out a hand for you. Your mouth was on his hard length in seconds, soft moans filling the room as you licked and lapped at his head.

He tasted divine. You took more of him in your mouth, your tongue gliding over the vein that ran along the underside of his shaft. With each bob of your head you took him in further, suctioning your cheeks to create the mind–altering pressure that made him growl and grip your hair hard.

You could have stayed worshipping his manhood for hours, teasing and exploring every inch and angle as you pleased, but he was already close judging by his breathless moans and twitching hips.

Garreth had made his way to his lover's side, his mouth capturing Ominis' pleasurable sighs between loving kisses. The sight was beautiful, and you moaned softly as you gazed up at their growingly heated exchange.

"More, please, just like that…," Ominis gasped.

You continued your rhythm as Ominis tensed underneath you, his hand now painfully gripping your hair and drawing a whine from deep in your throat. The sound seemed to push him over the edge and he met his release with a loud groan and thrust of his hips.

His cock hit the back of your mouth as he finished, strings of hot cum filling your cheeks and shooting down your throat as you gagged and gasped, tears streaming down your face. Despite the unexpected attack on your reflex, you were feeling immensely satisfied as you gazed up at Ominis' heaving chest and burning face.

The last of his release met your tongue with a gentle squeeze at the base of his shaft, your tongue dragging over his sensitive head. He shuddered and finally released your hair, your scalp left sore and hair a complete mess.

Your heart pounded as you finally retreated, wiping the mess from your lips as delicately as possible with a swipe of your thumb. The throbbing ache between your legs had reached a peak again, after being pounded by Garreth and having the pleasure of Ominis' cock in your mouth, you were thoroughly riled up.

Muttering an expletive, you shifted your weight and squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to gain some friction and some relief. Your discomfort was clearly obvious and didn’t go unnoticed by Garreth.

"You're insatiable," he laughed, pushing you backwards and parting your legs with his hands. Your eyes drifted over his freckled chest, taught and unexpectedly muscular, before he dipped his head to press his lips to your skin just below your navel.

You whimpered, hands gripping the sheets in anticipation as he peppered kisses along your hips and thighs, licking the sticky mess from your skin. You swore again as you watched Garreth tasting himself on you, his eyes flicking to meet yours with a mischievous glint.

Tracing down to your centre, his wet tongue slipped between your lips and over your sensitive bundle of nerves as you moaned his name, over and over. Pressing his face amongst your folds, he sucked and twirled his tongue around your clit until you were on the verge of tears, your heart ready to explode in your chest. 

Ominis was simply listening to all of this unfold with a satisfied smirk, leaning casually against the headboard and lazily stroking your hair as his boyfriend pleasured you. He shushed your hysterical wailing and you clamped your mouth shut, peering up at him.

"Tell him what a good job he's doing, sweetheart," Ominis said softly.

You tore your eyes back to Garreth who was watching you intently through his beautiful red hair, his tongue now lazily circling your nub.

"F-fuck, oh, Garreth. You're amazing…so, so good."

With an upward tug of his lips, he closed his eyes and delved deeper between your thighs, licking down to your slightly sore and swollen entrance as he pushed your legs back. His tongue plunged inside you, curling, circling and lapping at your combined fluids with deep groans.

It was more than you could bear, too much, far too much. You were completely gone, your brain addled and exhausted as you climaxed, only able to gasp and whimper as your walls clenched, sending more of those astonishing waves through your body. 

"Please, stop, stop!" you cried out, now overly sensitive.

Garreth smiled and pulled his tongue away, kissing your thighs as you caught your breath. Exhaustion had well and truly hit you, your heart pounding and head swimming as Garreth collapsed next to you. Draping your leg over him, you snaked your hand around his waist and rested your head on his burning chest, slick with sweat. 

You'd almost forgotten Ominis was there, until he hummed contentedly and settled behind you. Pressing himself into your back, he draped his arm over both of you, his fingers stroking circles on Garreth's stomach.

"You were fantastic," Ominis muttered in your ear, planting soft kisses on the back of your neck.

"You were," Garreth agreed, pressing his lips to your damp forehead.

"I'm not sure what my expectations were but I think that surpassed even my wildest ones," you said with a grin.

"I…wish we could do that again," Garreth murmured.

"Can we not? I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed myself," Ominis replied.

You let the question hang in the air as you lay entwined together in the post-sex haze with drunken smiles on your faces, exchanging kisses until you were too tired to keep your eyes open. With deep sighs, you fell asleep one by one, each wondering if this was the start of something much more permanent than either of you had expected.

[nezukiya-yesha]

Muichiro x F!reader (your 13)

"After a long day"

(reader insert warning! fluff)

It was quite a long day with you, Muichiro's disciple training to use your sword.

"your doing good with your swinging. All you need is a little more reaction time and speed."

Says Muichiro.

You nod your head as you land back on your feet, and yeah, the reason why you couldn't leave the mist hashira's training is because of how fragile and sort of slow you are, but you are slowly developing of course👏

"Yes Mu!"

You call him 'Mu' as short cut for 'Muichiro'! Funsies!🙃

Oh and he doesn't mind because-

🖕: Your a year younger than him (he respects your spirit)

✌️: Your in good terms with him

👌: He likes you (I'm crazy, you don't have to remind me)

💅: (so pretty) You know about his training with the Obanai and Sanemi so he lets you observe and watch him till you know his moves

🖐️: You usually visit him in his mansion to give him the randomest food, yeah food😏

Now Anyway let's timeskip after the training (it was kinda like Tanjiro's)

IT'S NOT MY FAULT I'M JUST TOO LAZY TO WRITE WHAT HAPPENED BUT YOU HIT YOUR HEAD BECAUSE YOU TRIPPED AND YOU WERE A LITTLE DIZZY OKAY.

You followed Muichiro to their training place as usual, but you however felt like someone was eyeing on you, and yes you can hear millions of footsteps once you take off your earbuds, but the footsteps weren't spiders nor ordinary animals (you had sensitive ears which results you to hear things 5 minutes away. SBG things *Ashlyn Banner*)

-

Of course, you wanted to tell Muichiro but you didn't wanna ruin his training with the other hashiras so you kept quiet, it wasn't that serious, or so you thought.

TIMESKIP I'M RUNNING OUT OF BATTERY

At the time you both reached it to the place where the hashiras trained, like usual you took one earbud off just in case and observed how they fought.

But this time

Obanai and Sanemi asked you to join, to test your skills

"Oi, I think I'd had enough of you just staring at us like that."

Said Sanemi

"Join us."

Said Obanai

"I agree with them Y/N."

Happily said Muichiro

You stuttered on your answer but of course, you couldn't turn down, so you took both your earbuds off for better awareness of the soroundings.

"Yes."

you said

"Come at me kid"

says Sanemi with a grin.

But of course, you weren't very reckless to attack, you knew that you would immediately lose once you dont pay attention to your soroundings so you used your breathing technique instead.

"Bunny breathing... second form: Agility."

(I made it myself😍)

Your Bunny breathing gives you the abilities of a rabbit such as high jumping, speed, reaction time (that basically needs leveling up) and you can dissappear in the air and leaving a bunny as trace.

(So good right😏)

Thanks to your hearing you were able to avoid any of Sanemi's attacks while running around him as Obanai and Muichiro just watched from the side, drinking water that you bought for them.

You were almost gonna land an attack on Sanemi but he used his Wind Breathing to throw you away.

But before that...

"Bunny breathing, seventh form:Trace"

You manage to escape from Sanemi's sight once again while a poor bunny was being thrown into the air but suddenly, Muichiro disappeared and caught the bunny and bought it back, petting it(I can imagine it being so cuuuteeee😩)

Timeskip you lost and went bavk yo Muichiro's mansion😔

After you arriveeed

"Y/N I like you."

LIKE WE WENT STRAIGHT TO THE CUDDLING HUNS

He was the small spoon, his face on the crook of your neck while you two fell asleep.

In the more you were both caught by Mu's students, including Tanjiro.

FINNALY AFTER A LONG DAY YOU WENT BACK TO REST WITH HIM IN HIS MANSION. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

[thelostgirl21]

Okay, someone wrote that they thought Jaskier had ADHD in some of my tags, and I've just GOT to address this, because asfjasfljadsflasjd;dlasja;slfjd;as...

@aro-tarot , OMFG YES!!!

As someone with ADHD, I've got such strong ADHD vibes from Jaskier like you wouldn't believe!

(That, plus I tend to headcanon that Jaskier suffers from Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD), a condition strongly associated with ADHD, but more on that further down...)

I mean he's usually got no freaking impulse control whatsoever, and no filter on his mouth!

And even when he HAS that filter on, and some vague awareness that opening his mouth further and speaking his mind might get him into yet more trouble…

Well, the frustration he feels in the now is apparently so strong that the possibility of having to pay a price later is but a too distant and abstract concept to be enough to put a stop to that mouth!

I mean, that moment right here?

Someone without ADHD would have stopped themselves at "Am I going to say it?" because of the "Yeah, if I antagonize him, he might decide to keep me away from getting on that boat and I'll jeopardize my safety as well as the safety of the people that are currently counting on me," that should normally logically follow...

Someone with a very strong case of ADHD however... Well, they might just have to say it!

Same thing in Season 1 with the elves. Jaskier's bound and tied ,and he just keeps antagonizing them because he's angry, and the need to express his anger somehow screams louder than the punch or the kick he'll be receiving 2 freaking seconds later if he keeps verbally lashing out at them!

Self-soothing and impulse managing are two skills that Jaskier doesn't quite have a good mastery of.

Like, don't let him get his hands on a djinn while heartbroken, drunk, and deeply wounded (because his best and very possibly queerplatonic friend just insulted his singing, while implying that it was likely why his other friend/lover had just left him, no less)... He might just start wishing Valdo Marx dead!

Generally, I'd strongly advise keeping him away from anything that could potentially become a weapon if he's highly emotional.

That's never a good combination.

Jaskier might do something he'll regret, and realize it was awfully dumb and stupid only once he's deeply in trouble, or has finally calmed down.

ADHD isn't a mood disorder, but it's been described as a "failure to self-regulate moods disorder".

Meaning that people with ADHD feel the same emotions as anyone else most of the time (RSD is a bit of an exception; again, more on that later), but they'll just have a harder time avoiding openly expressing them, and stopping themselves from acting upon them.

They can succeed most of the time (thankfully); and I highly suspect that Jaskier might be at his most focused and emotionally measured around Ciri, because he feels responsible for her.

Adults often have this instinct to sacrifice their own needs and wants to give priority to those of children (including sometimes teenagers, and/or grown children they've adopted as part of their family system and are still mentoring through life).

People with ADHD also tend to have a blast playing aunt/uncle, because we can super easily connect with the sense of wonder, excitement, and defiance of authority of children and younger people - be very impulsive and silly with them and act like children and teens ourselves, at times - while still remaining responsible and protective of them when we need to be.

It's like suddenly flipping our "adult switch" on, because we're aware they need us to be the adult.

But fellow adults don't need us to "adult" for their sake.

They typically have their own shit together way better than we do! So, we're just that almost full time impulsive dumb kid that they need to constantly watch out for while around our adult friends.

UNLESS they make it extremely clear to us that they need our help and/or for us to focus. We can "adult" if the stakes are high, and/or they need our support, too.

But that's not our default mode!

We'd rather be chasing butterflies and playing videogames / writing songs (or meta... Meta's good... My brain loves meta because it's always over-analyzing things!), doing whatever keeps us interested and stimulated in the now, than carefully planning things and being responsible.

And there's also that scene where Jaskier is in the Witcher lab with Yennefer, while Ciri's possessed by Voleth Meir (you know... going around killing people, lives are at stake and all that...).

But, since all of this is happening in another room, Jaskier can't quite emotionally connect with the gravity of the situation, so he's eating whatever he finds his hands on while randomly talking about nipples because Yennefer said "oriole", and his brain thought it sounded like "areola" (yeah, our brains are always making a bunch of connections that aren't relevant to the situation)!

Yet, as soon as Yennefer makes it clear that she needs him to focus, he's 100% in the moment with her, and has flipped that "adult switch" on.

We can go there, but it typically requires a strong enough emotional incentive for us to ground ourselves, and it's a state that gets draining when sustained for a too long period of time.

And given how we're at our best when highly stressed, Jaskier's probably the person you want there with you when things start really going to shit!

He's at his best when he's got no idea what he's going to do, and he has to think fast and improvise to respond to whatever is happening in real time.

Oh, and I'm about 99.9% sure that he suffers from rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD), too (yeah, we're finally going there).

I discovered what RSD was about 5 years ago, how it tied into my ADHD, and that it had been something that I'd been struggling with (and often doing everything I could to hide) my whole life without really understanding it.

One thing that people with RSD tend to do, sadly, is constantly downplay our own hurt and pretend everything is fine - do our best to keep others constantly entertained and happy with us, even at our own expanse at times - so that they won't perceive us as a burden, and will continue to want to have us around.

Since a part of us is deeply aware that our emotional response to real (and/or even perceived) rejection, and the pain it causes, feels way more intense than it normally should be, we tend to be ashamed of it, and unable to fully discuss those feelings with those we love.

So, even when we do speak up for ourselves, we are afraid that we might be exaggerating, and/or making the issue much bigger than it is.

Thus, we almost regret it right away, and/or feel guilty for it afterwards, and we'll be almost desperate to let our friend "off the hook" as quickly as possible so they'll love us again.

Therefore watching Jaskier's behavior in Season 2, and the way certain characters (except Yennefer, that genuinely surprised me) responded to him, was actually physically painful for me to watch at times.

Some of the most triggering moments for someone with RSD include:

Jaskier brushing off Geralt's sincere apology - attempting to hide the depth of the emotional devastation he'd caused him - to avoid being perceived as being too much trouble and risking abandonment again.

Jaskier humorously pretending that Ciri going past him, as if he didn't exist, didn't hurt, while joking "Like father, like daughter".

Him going "Right, yeah," when Yarpen Zigrin dismisses him - having chosen to turn that constant rejection into some kind of game between them - because it's much easier to be under the illusion that they're just good-naturally teasing each other, than facing the possibly that Yarpen might genuinely consider him an unwanted nuisance he'd gladly do without, and that having excluded him from the word "friend" was 100% done on purpose!

That same little heartbreaking "Right. Yeah" after he tells Lambert "Look at us. Just one big happy family, eh?" and Lambert goes "No." While pushing him out of the way.

Jaskier is a sweet, loving, empathetic, highly sensitive bard that's on the freaking aromantic spectrum!

And aromantics can most definitely love their best friend in the whole wide world with an intensity, a depth, a sincerity, and a level of devotion that can easily match - and perhaps even surpass - any romantic couple.

Heck, I don't consider myself to be quite on the aromantic spectrum (given that I do experience primary romantic attraction towards people), but I also have a tendency to form friendships that are more emotionally (and sometimes physically, and even sexually) intimate than many of the romantic relationships I've had (except, perhaps, my current one, that is definitely on par).

I think the only reason why I've managed to remain with the same romantic partner (that I do consider the romantic love of my life) for 17 years now - and would gladly spend the rest of my life with him - is because of how deeply supportive and respectful he's been of those friendships I have.

I've built my own found family over the years that I wouldn't want to live without. And I've broken up with prior romantic partners that couldn't agree to "share me" with those other people I love (in a non-romantic way, but that doesn't make it any less tangible or real!) without regretting a single thing.

So, I wholeheartedly believe that Jaskier does love Geralt and always has loved him.

And I know that, if I'm right about this, and if Jaskier is indeed prone to RSD, then the level of emotional and physical pain that Geralt's rejection put him through would have been absolutely soul wrenching.

"I've also survived, no thanks to you," sounds just about right.

Jaskier is human, while witches and witchers are frozen in time. He's been loving Geralt and travelling alongside him and singing songs about him for about 20 years.

20 years, in a human life, is a lot of one's life to devote to someone...

Then, the moment that Geralt's romantic love interest (Yennefer) leaves him, he turns on Jaskier and basically tells him that he's brought him nothing but bad luck and misery for two decades, and that what would please him ,above everything else, would be for life to rid him of him!

Why don't you just take a sword and run Jaskier through, Geralt? I think that would have been less painful to watch!

So, I think this is one of the reasons why Season 3 has been so freaking cathartic to watch for me!

I've been literally crying my eyes out each time people made Jaskier feel loved, wanted, said thank you (even Yarpen!!! Freaking Yarpen stopped to thank him, and called him by his preferred name, Jaskier)...

And of course, there's Radovid...

I could go on and on about how good it felt to have a character that finally treats Jaskier with the same care, attention, and empathy that Jaskier offers others...

But, I think one of the things I loved the most, with Radovid, is how Jaskier himself responded to him.

He's not trying to please him, quite the contrary.

When Radovid asks "Have you come to sing us pretty songs?", Jaskier answers "No. I don't do pretty".

And then, when Radovid says that, while he appreciates the information that Jaskier has brought him, all he really wants is a song, Jaskier responds by saying that "he's not really in a singing mood."

Because yes, he's a bard. Yes, he sings about people he's encountered on his travels, and yes, he sings about people he loves...

But he doesn't want to sing "pretty songs" about Witchers, fairytales, heroics and heartbreak for the entertainment of a Prince and his court!

He's not there so that "Prince Radovid" can sing the praises of "Jaskier the Bard" 's triumphant private performance at the palace!

That's not what pleases Jaskier anymore.

I don't think Jaskier feels like he's got anything to prove performance-wise anymore and, sadly, I believe that, instead of giving him a sense of finally being seen and loved - of belonging...

At times, all this singing and performing - often for the benefit of others - has made him feel even more invisible and isolated.

And that's the beauty of him singing "Extraordinary Things", because that song is all about Jaskier.

It's vocally raw, vulnerable, filled with a fragile hope for love and for someone that makes him feel like he is seen for who he is... For someone that can help Jaskier finally believe that who he is is enough.

For someone that makes him feel like he doesn't have to try so hard to pretend to be happy, and fine, and give others what he thinks they want, so that maybe they'll love him (or keep on loving him) back.

Because it's not just Geralt...

Geralt is the one whose rejection hurt Jaskier the most, because he's the one Jaskier has loved and trusted the most...

Geralt is the one that broke something in Jaskier - his ability to feel safe in the belief that his closest friends would never abandon him.

Thanks to Geralt outburst, Jaskier is likely now being cursed with a little voice, in the back of his mind, that will continue to pop up from time to time whenever he feels safe and happy in his relationships, to make him wonder if his friends and family don't secretly wish that they could get rid of him.

Rationally, I'm sure that Jaskier understands that what happened with Geralt was caused by Geralt's own issues, and that his own behavior wasn't the cause of the rejection.

Rationally, I'm sure that he can trust in their relationship, and feel confident in the love they share.

But emotionally? Although trauma can be managed and kept at bay the vast majority of the time, there are always moments where you're bound to be more tired, stressed out, and where you don't always have the energy to push back against all of those nasty voices that wait for you to let your guards down to be heard and make you doubt.

However, besides what specifically happened with Geralt, Jaskier sadly has a very long history of having had to deal with rejections of all kinds, and been made to feel like he was never enough.

Even Valdo's obstinated refusal to learn Jaskier's name is like he's constantly trying to symbolically murder Jaskier by denying him the very right to exist, for fuck's sake!

After watching those scenes, I thought "Yup! It's really no wonder this happened:

So, while having gotten Geralt back - and obviously having built strong emotional ties with Yennefer and Ciri since the end of Season 2 - has likely tremendously helped easing some of the pain rejection has caused Jaskier throughout his life, he still has those moments where it deeply hurts him.

And I think that Geralt knows...

Jaskier might have been trying to hide it - and Geralt might not fully understand why Jaskier was hurt as deeply as he was (I doubt RSD is something that people often talk about in their world) - but he knows that a part of Jaskier still fears being rejected or abandoned again.

He's just being so soft and patient with Jaskier this season; making it immediately clear that he's not angry with Jaskier, and that their relationship is not threatened the moment that he senses his discomfort.

Or, you know, just reassuring him that the separation between them is only temporary, and that he's going to be the first person he comes looking back for as soon as he's done dealing with Rience.

If Jaskier truly is someone that tends to see people as they really are - not as they pretend to be - then it's easy to see why Jaskier did fall in love with Geralt.

That level of perceptiveness is both a gift and a curse for Jaskier, though.

Because when the person you love is set on self-destructing and unable to embrace who they really are, you might find yourself caught in the blast.

Still, when Geralt is allowing himself to be loved, and to openly love people back, he's an absolutely wonderful (platonic, alterous, romantic...) partner to have.

He's shown as someone who is able to not only apologize, but also recognize the impact that his mistakes have had on others, and take full responsibility for them.

Jaskier may have been quick to brush his apology off and pretend that all was good, but Geralt apparently knows better and, more importantly, is showing that the apology was sincere.

He's making efforts to better communicate with Jaskier and he's doing everything he can to not only alleviate some of the pain he's caused him, but to avoid triggering his insecurities.

Sadly, RSD is not something that Geralt alone can fix, especially not when Jaskier has been exposed to a number of different patterns of interpersonal rejections throughout his life.

And, while Jaskier has a tendency to pretend being fine even when he's not, his eyes almost always tell the truth.

Makes you wonder just how emotionally smart and insightful Radovid is...

Because when someone sings to you those lines...

The greatest songs are made up of unspoken words of love Of them I have had enough With you, I have enough With you, I am enough I am, I am enough

Then looks at you with those eyes...

Well, it's rather easy to understand that Jaskier has been made to feel like he wasn't good enough for those he loved, and/or still loves in the past.

And, given the success of "Burn Butcher Burn", I wouldn't put it past Radovid to have guessed that - athough they were back to being close friends - Geralt might have had something to do with the enduring vulnerability and the hurt he saw reflected there...

Thus, leading him to taking an educated guess as to what might have happened, and ask Jaskier "Does the Witcher know how lucky he is to have you?"

Somehow, with that simple question, Radovid has achieved two very important things...

He's just told Jaskier that not only does he, indeed, believe him to be enough, but he would consider himself lucky to have him...

He's just told Jaskier that whatever Geralt might have said or done to make him feel unwanted in the past, it had been wrong.

And, judging by Jaskier's answering smile, our beloved bard just got himself a fresh new (and quite princely) voice in his head to help him drown out the sound of all the other voices that are occasionally trying to convince him that he's a barely tolerable burden to those he loves.

Radovid has thrown just enough shade Geralt's way to avoid insulting their relationship; while at the same time sort of giving Jaskier the permission to mentally go "Ha! See?! There are people that want and love me, and would consider themselves lucky to have me in their lives! God, you used to be such an asshole, Geralt!" should he still need to go there to help himself manage his pain.

As a victim of Geralt's harsh and cruel words, Jaskier is entirely entitled to have moments where he needs to be a bit petty about the way Geralt used to treat him, and to call him the "family goat".

It's a very healthy way of coping with the residual hurt and anger because it puts the blame in the right place (Jaskier didn't do anything to deserve the way he was treated by Geralt nor to provoke that rejection) with just enough humor to keep that pain and resentment from growing into something that could actually be damaging to their relationship.

Radovid is an impressively good and attentive listener - at least as far as Jaskier himself is concerned.

And maybe that's one of the (many) reasons why Radovid asking to borrow Jaskier's lute, and singing the song back to him, touched me as much as it did.

It stood in sharp contrast to people singing Jaskier's songs back to him while thinking it makes THEM special for knowing a few lines! That Jaskier should be grateful to THEM for being fans, supporting his art, etc.

The entitled patrons that believe Jaskier's singing should be about what they love to hear without being really interested in what Jaskier wishes to say.

Like that obnoxious guy at the docks who started singing "The Golden One" with Jaskier, basically going "See! I'm a big fan! That totally makes us buddies now! And, as such, here are my artistic input, so that maybe you can do better next time! You know, it's good, but it's not good enough for me. Here's how you can improve!"

Basically sending Jaskier the message: "You, the artist, the message and the feelings you are trying to convey through your art don't matter. You are but invisible. Sure, you have a name, and now I'm excited at the opportunity of making my friends jealous by saying I've met you! But you're just a tool that I can now use to make myself more important and interesting to others! Your job is to stay in the shadow of your songs! Your job is to make me happy, to entertain me, to please me, to sing what I want to hear the way I wish I could hear it and to make your art all about me."

Instead, Radovid simply borrows Jaskier's lute, and humbly starts playing the song with a sense of reverence, gratitude, respect, and desire to offer Jaskier something in return for the gift he's offered him by sharing a part of himself with him through his song.

Radovid said that he had long wanted to meet Jaskier in person and presented himself as someone that is a fan of his songs, but that's because they fascinate him.

He genuinely cares about what Jaskier has to say and communicate to others (and/or about others) through them, not about what he wants to hear.

In a world where Jaskier has had to constantly fight to fit in, where he's often made to feel like he's "barely tolerated" (and it usually takes a long time for people to get to genuinely appreciate him, and openly love him back the way he loves them)...

Radovid is someone that comes along showing him that love is not supposed to be earned.

Love is a gift. You love people for who they are, not for what they can do for you.

And what Radovid heard, through those songs, was something so special, intriguing, and irresistible to him that his own response was a genuine desire to get to know the man behind the art.

He tells Jaskier that the unique way he sees the world, and his need to express it, does not make him hypersensitive or annoying - it makes him special.

I don't think the hurt in Jaskier's eyes will ever 100% go away, and that his RSD can ever be completely resolved, either...

But it doesn't need to, because it can be managed and shouldn't get in the way of one's ability to experience joy and happiness, too.

Pain is a natural and healthy part of one's life, as long as it doesn't stand in the way of everything else - as long as there's balance, and room for healing whenever it comes along.

As as long as Jaskier's found family continues to love and accept him the way he is - to let him know that he's an important part of their lives - I believe Jaskier's going to be fine. REALLY fine...

Even the moments when he's hurting are going to be fine, because that's not all there is, and he's got people loving him and offering comfort.

And maybe I'm too hopeful about this, but I think there's most definitely hope for Radovid and Jaskier to make a relationship work between them, too.

Even if it turns out to be a somewhat unconventional one, and completely different from what people might have in mind when they think of a classic "romantic couple", they can find a way to make it work for them.

My advice to them would be to leave all expectations and social conventions at the door, allow themselves to be creative in "loving outside the box", and to build something together that addresses most of their respective needs, while acknowledging and respecting the other responsibilities and emotional attachments each other have.

Oddly enough, Jaskier is one of the few people that I could imagine clearly understanding that Radovid's existence is a bit of a tragedy where he'll never be free to fully belong to himself.

In the event of his brother's untimely death (for example), should Radovid decide to give up his claim to the throne to live a less complicated life, any Redanian ruler could still try to have him assassinated "just in case" he was to change his mind, and later come challenge them.

The palace is a golden cage, and I think Jaskier would not hold it against Radovid, or grow resentful towards him, that he would only be able to offer Jaskier what he is actually free to give without risking both their lives in the process.

He might grow frustrated with all the circumstances that are creating some significant challenges to their relationship, but I could imagine Jaskier wishing to face those as partners, and avoiding to be angry at Radovid for what he can't magically change.

This is where Jaskier's ADHD brain might become an asset by helping him make unique connections, and find creative solutions to allow Jaskier to - as Batey suggested - still find the light in the darkest of places for them two.

So yeah, I definitely tend to headcanon Jaskier as having ADHD (with some significant amount of RSD), too.

[noirandchocolate]

With Donald Trump being formally charged with 37 counts alleging he illegally retained classified government documents after leaving office and then obstructed investigations into this activity, you may be interested in learning more about U.S. federal criminal procedure so you can understand what's already happened so far and how the case will proceed going forward.

The Department of Justice's website has a nice section outlining the different parts of a criminal case prosecuted in federal court, from investigation to sentencing and appeal. The descriptions of each segment of a case's life are in basic, layman's terms so little to no prior knowledge of legal concepts should be needed to understand.

Just thought I'd share, since folks are throwing around legal terms like "indictment" and "arraignment" that not everyone might be familiar with!

Also a few more points to be aware of:

A grand jury is called that because it is bigger than a trial (petit) jury, not because it is more important. A grand jury voting to indict someone is just the beginning of a case!

To obtain an indictment the government must show that there is probable cause to believe the defendant has committed the crime(s) sought to be charged. This is a much lower standard than the beyond-a-reasonable-doubt one used to convict a person. However, the grand jury is a very key step, particularly with highly publicized, politically sensitive cases like this one. It's meant to prevent prosecutors from just going after anyone with any charges without any proof--to, for example, stave off the kind of political "witch hunt" Trump continuously claims is happening. So the fact that a jury of average citizens has found that there's even enough evidence to charge a former President with federal felonies is huge.

Trump was arrested, but he is not currently being detained pretrial. This is not unusual.

Discovery, the pretrial period during which the parties gather and exchange evidence (in particular, the government must share anything it plans to rely on with the defendant) can last quite some time. So it may be a while before the case proceeds to trial.

Ditto the above regarding pretrial motions. It's very likely Trump and his legal team will be seeking to have evidence thrown out or even have charges dismissed. This is the part of the case during which the judge (who is unfortunately a Trump appointee) will be making crucial decisions about what evidence will eventually go before the jury.

Juror selection may well also be time-consuming since the usual goal is an unbiased jury that knows nothing about the defendant and, well...yeah.

Following trial, if Trump is convicted, it is extremely likely he will appeal to the Circuit court (the level between the District court and the Supreme Court). Additionally, although the charges against him do carry the possibility of serious prison time, there are ranges within which the judge can choose to set the amount of that time. I haven't researched this issue in detail.

In conclusion, it's a very big deal that Trump has been indicted in federal court, but there are a lot of things that still have to happen before he goes to trial. If you're interested on how cases proceed, check out the link above!

Disclaimer: I'm an attorney but for ethics purposes nothing I say on here is legal advice.

[mlmxreader]

Trust In Me | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

anonymous asked: Hey! Could I please request the following for Alfie Solomons X male!reader: "Tell him, tell him that I-"+"Y'know what? Nevermind"+"Never wanted anybody more than I wanted you" Just an idea, maybe they've known each other a while and reader is in love with Alfie but he doesn't think Alfie feels the same way and boy is he wrong! Thanks so much, seriously I appreciate it so much! 🐍anon

summary: you and Alfie have always trusted one another, more than willing to put your lives in each other's hands without needing to think about it. But maybe it's not just trust.

tws: swearing, mentions of war and violence, depictions of shellshock/trauma

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

You never thought that Alfie would look at you the way that you looked at him; you didn't expect him to, either. Even if he was there when the war crept back in on you, holding onto you gently and trying to reassure you that the war was over. The treaty had been signed.

You never had to hear another shell or mortar.

You never had to take another boy's life.

He was there when you screamed and broke, able to see the greenish yellow gas slowly creep through the streets of Camden, desperate to scramble to higher ground and cover your mouth, nose and eyes. He was there when your hands shook and you wept, weeping for all the schoolboys that had joined the war; staring at your hands and wishing the blood would wash away.

Alfie was there, even in your worst times. He was always there. But he was also there for the good times, too. When you hummed marching songs as you cooked in the shared kitchen, he would sit at the table reading his papers and smiling to himself.

He was there when you would be making the beds and telling him all about some subject you had read about in a book; always listening so keenly and offering the odd grumble to let you know that he hadn't stopped listening. If there was any constant in your life, it was Alfie.

But you knew that a man like him would never want to be with a man like you.

After all, he had hired you to look after his office; you cleaned it, you organised documents and appointments, you ensured that the legal was separate from the illegal. You never batted an eye, and Alfie trusted you enough to handle the more sensitive documents and information.

Alfie would surely never look at you as anything more than a friend, perhaps a brother but definitely a comrade; you fought alongside one another often enough during the war to be sure of that much. Alfie trusted you.

Of course, two men living together in such close quarters was often frowned upon to say the least, but when it came to you and Alfie, it was different; they understood that you had certain reasons to keep close to someone who had been through the same things through the war.

Many soldiers lived together afterwards, when the shellshock got to them. It helped in certain cases, so people turned a blind eye.

Things were different than usual today, though.

Your breath was trembling and shallow, hardly able to breathe in and more than unable to breathe out; you crashed into Alfie, arms around him tightly as you buried your face against the side of his neck.

Confused, Alfie frowned as he clung onto you.

"You alright? Somethin' happen?"

You nodded. "They, they, they said I'd, I did, I didn't, I done something bad."

He clenched his jaw. "Who?"

You could only whimper as you fought for the comfort that only he could provide; Alfie's jaw loosened, and he licked his lips as he sighed heavily.

He had an idea of who it was already. The same pricks as always; they had come from Birmingham, answered to some cunt Alfie didn't care about too much.

They always tried to pick you apart to get under your skin; they were more than aware that you were Alfie's weakness. He growled under his breath, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright, I got you," he reassured. "I ain't gonna let 'em hurt you, don't worry."

He would make sure that they paid. He knew what they were doing.

Telling you about the blood on your hands that wouldn't wash off, the bite marks that lice had left on your skin, the scars from barbed wire and bayonets. Telling you that, by fighting in a war you never supported, you were somehow to blame for the bloodshed.

It wasn't your fault, Alfie knew that. You had to join, just as he did.

If you had not joined, you would have been branded cowards and forced into social exile; his business would have failed, you would have been out on the streets. You would have both starved to death.

"C'mere," he huffed, guiding you over to the living room and pulling you onto his lap once he had sat down. "I'm with you, I ain't leavin' you."

Alfie couldn't bear it. He never wanted to leave you alone as it was, he never wanted to be far from you; the nights when you cuddled into his side were always so warm and so gentle.

The sight of your smile made even the most burnt toast smell like rosemary.

The sound of your smile was better than any music he had ever heard. Alfie adored you, if he was honest, and to see you so shaken and so panicked was just… he hated it.

He blamed himself, more than anything.

"C'mon, sunshine," he murmured. "Tell Ole Alfie what's goin' on - in your own time, though, mind. I got all fuckin' year when it comes to you."

You were trembling. He knew the signs all too well.

Those cunts, those absolute bastards, had sank so low that they had forced you back to the war; they had tied you to a rock in No Man's Land and left you for dead.

His jaw clenched, and it took everything in him not to get Ollie to keep an eye on you so he could hunt them down himself; but you were more important.

You were always more important.

It didn't matter when or where you called, Alfie always answered. He always would.

"They told me to tell you," your words were slow, like there were razors in your throat that only dug in further against the flesh with each syllable, "they said to… tell him, tell him that I-"

"Y'know what? Nevermind about it," Alfie told you gently. "Don't worry about them cunts. I'm gonna do to 'em what you did for me in Verdun. So don't you fuckin' worry."

Shakily, you nodded. "Alfie…"

"You don't have to tell me you love me," he mumbled. "I already know. Figured out the day you fuckin' looked at me differently after we managed to get away from those fuckin' shells. I know. I know that."

"But I…"

"You thought I didn't return it?" Alfie tutted. "Mate, I've never wanted wanted anybody more than I wanted you… but I never fuckin' told you 'cause I never wanted you to fuckin' worry about more shit. You got enough on that plate of yours."

"Alfie listen to me," your voice broke as you sniffled. "I don't… we can't be together…"

"Why?"

"My head," you whispered. "Something's wrong in my head."

"So we'll see a doctor," Alfie told you. "I'll get you the fuckin' best there is, and we can work together, innit? Get you stable. Everythin' else can fuckin' wait. I'd wait for you for a thousand years if you asked me to."

"I don't want you to wait..."

"Well..." he let out a soft sigh. "Why don't we go see my mum for a few days? We can stay with her, see if bein' alone, just us, helps... and I know how much you fuckin' adore her cookin' in all."

You dared to crack a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he hummed, giving your leg a soft pat. "Go on, pack your bags. I'll ring her and tell her we're comin'."

[yvtro]

It’s me again. (The anon that just asked you a billion questions about Jason’s death.) Also wondering: what do you think of the Killing Joke and Babs’s role as Oracle, and how do you think her and Jason’s “rebirths” can be compared? (Sorry for all the English class ass questions. I’m just so interested by your post. I never thought about the classicism behind Jason’s return as Red Hood but now all the wheels are turning.)

it's so immensely curious to me, because there's this parallel of both babs and jason being essentially fridged (well. jason got boyfridged. sidekick-fridged. sonfridged. i'm aware this term is usually used in relation to women.) but barbara's trauma stops being a plot device for other characters. it becomes a set off for her own storyline about healing and reclaiming her life instead. and the thing is, she succeeds! her life might have been altered by the joker, sure; but she refuses to believe that he made her in any way that matters. she refuses to let her whole life be dictated by it, and she recognises that she's so much more. she lives up to her potential, no matter the constraints.

and then you have jason. jason who is relentlessly victim blamed through decades after his death. jason's death never stops being vital for how other characters are written. this creates a sort of tension in which jason's voice as a victim cannot be central to the story. he has to remain a ghost, even alive; bruce's reminder of his "biggest failure".

and so, jason's act of assuming the red hood identity might be intended as a reclamation of what he fears, but it ironically reduces him to his trauma. let's be honest; this is not some neat bruce being afraid of bats -> taking batman as his name parallel. and you see, maybe jason's action of reclamation could work if it was used for catharsis; if he could later abandon it and go on, reinvent himself, as barbara did. but it's been years and it doesn't happen (even with countdown attempting to kick this off). he never gets to really learn that he is more than what happened to him; he's stuck in a vicious cycle of trying to free himself from his trauma, failing to understand that what he's actually doing is centring his whole life around it.

the reason for which this is how it plays out is def influenced by classism. the whole 'rebirth' (as you called it) itself is already affected by it; to go back to our comparison, for barbara to make a comeback, there was no need to retcon and rewrite her whole character. for jason, some "fatal flaw" was needed – and winick did not even care to make any of his original personality traits into it (like his love. kindness. sensitivity. it would work, goddamit, jason crossing the line because he cares too much and can't stop caring and has to do everything in his power to try to fix the world, no matter the cost, no matter the blood on his hands). instead, we get jason being overly aggressive and quick to anger; something very conveniently consistent with framing poor people as inherently likely to become criminal and somehow evil.

so i'd say, barbara's invention of oracle is a rebirth, while jason's invention of red hood is more of a reburial.

[edgarallen-foe]

23. Were they sensitive at all? Were temper tantrums or crying spells frequent? 31. If your character is neurodivergent, is there any ways it interfered with their life that was noticeable to them? Were they aware of it?32. Were they picky eaters? Did they ever outgrow it?

childhood questions

ah...yeah. i don't know if i'd call it being sensitive, but i picked a lot of fights with paul when i got old enough to have opinions. haha. lot of screaming in that house.

i didn't have the words for it until i started talking to juno. i definitely have adhd, i might have autism, i haven't been to a doctor for either. i dropped out of highschool and i've never been able to keep a job for more than a few months. i just...get bored.

yeah. it's more like i grew into it. paul didn't give us any slack about eating what he gave us. what i will say is that he usually gave us what we wanted. if we wanted mcdonalds, we'd get mcdonalds. you didn't get anything else until you ate it, even if it was the next day or later, but you got what you asked for. i avoided textures and shit that bothered me without thinking about it. then i met juno, and i found out how much wearing gloves helps, and the noise cancelling headphones...i learned that what i'd already been doing, the sunglasses, were a sensory tool i'd already been using. i learned that i wasn't being a baby for hating the feeling of grease and i didn't have to muscle myself through it. it wasn't being brave or whatever, it was just hurting myself.

[thewholecrew]

does my muse(s) get jealous?

grant - yes, grant is a very jealous person when it comes to someone he loves romantically. he often tries not to show how jealous he is and will try to deny it but it's quite obvious. not only will he be jealous usually if he sees someone flirting, talking, dancing with the person he is interested in, he can also grow quite jealous of their close friends as well. he's not above intervening and it can range between him attempting to be subtle, protective or if it's clear the person he likes is very uncomfortable with said attention, he can even get physical. one of the reasons he tries to hide his jealousy is because more times than not he puts said person at a distance therefore has no right or real reason to be jealous even though he is.

kassy - no, kassy does not get jealous. though she's usually not one for titles when it comes to dating, i'd say she views herself as polyamorous. she can definitely be quite possessive but that is more for the enjoyment of the power dynamic rather than needing others to keep their hands to themselves (unless that touch is unwanted of course). she has no problem sharing her friends, subs, situationships (to those she deems worthy of her people*) if that is something they'd like too since to kassy, the more the merrier. she also knows that she cannot provide her partners with the kind of relationships and future some may want therefore she will often encourage them to seek other connections. plus, she's very confident about herself and in what she can offer to people.

trinity - yes, and while usually she can contain herself, once she gets a little bit of alcohol in her system trinity can want to fight someone if they look at her partner the wrong way let alone come up to them to flirt or touch them. she can become extremely jealous and possessive of her partner if she feels threatened and go between cursing someone out and trying to fight them, and trying to make said person hitting on her partner jealous by being extremely possessive (kissing them, having their partners hands very obviously on her and vice versa, essentially claiming them as hers and her as theirs). so though trin might come off as shy and quiet most of the time, she can absolutely lash out against someone if they try to get between her and her partner, she's a little crazy.

alec - yes and no, alec is polyamorous and simply loves love too much to be jealous a lot of the time. i'd say he's more likely to be envious of what others have rather than jealous if someone he likes is with another person or flirts, etc. he also doesn't feel as though he is allowed to be jealous because he has issues himself with being completely committed to one person and is very overly friendly. he's aware that he can make any of his potential partners jealous so he tries to be sensitive to that. but i'd say 99% of the time he does not feel that same jealousy others would feel.

rev - yes, they are extremely jealous and possessive. they can become very aggressive towards just about anyone they think is looking at their partner or talking to them too much, let alone if they were to touch them even if it was friendly and not flirty. most of the time they're able to scare people away but a part of them knows it's not necessarily healthy to be so possessive and i think if they were to have a steady partner that they would try their best to work on that but they very much want to protect their partner and not let anyone think they can take advantage of their partners kindness. also they want their partner to choose them and want to be with them as much as rev does their partner.

nate - not really. i'd say nate is also a pretty confident guy and that while he can be protective, i wouldn't say he often gets jealous. not unless specific situations where there is a girl he really likes/loves that he cannot be with and has to watch be with someone else. but with his partner by his side nothing can upset him because she has chosen him and no matter what chatting or flirting goes on he knows that she wants to be with him. i mean i can see him getting jealous if it gets to be too much to the point it feels disrespectful but overall he will let his woman do what she likes and only step in if to protect her or make other people jealous, because they would be since his partner is a complete knock out and he's madly in love with her.

[corallapis]

I don't know whether you're still fascinated by Prince George, the Duke of Kent anymore, but you cannot imagine how relieved I was to find your blog and discover that I wasn't the only person who had P.G. on my mind. Bit of a mess as a person, but very interesting

i'd like to direct you to the diary entry chips channon wrote on the 6th september 1942:

A lovely sunny morning. I woke refreshed, replenished with energy. I have been thinking about the poor Duke of Kent: his death is a loss to me and to the country. Nobody knew him better than I of recent years — particularly the past six or seven . . . Fundamentally frivolous, he was fitful, fretful, both moody and unreliable in small matters. Yet his painstaking kindness was immense and equalled, even surpassed, by his surface treachery. For he could be very treacherous: no man was ever more disloyal in conversation, and no man was a better friend in action, or at heart (this curious and often disturbing contradiction in his complex character was the reverse of the habits of the Prince of Wales who always ferociously resented conventional condemnation, or even gossip, about his friends yet was never known to do anything for anyone except the reigning favourite, whether it was Freda Dudley Ward, Audrey Field, Fruity Metcalfe, or Wallis Simpson). But it was this puzzling trait to the Duke of Kent's Franco-Semitic make-up which first stopped people from loving him wholeheartedly, for as one began to be fond of him, he would do, or say, or commit some small little act that chilled one, and again, just as one began to mistrust or be indifferent to him, he would be so thoughtful, affectionate and disarming that one would genuinely like him more . . . unstable, sensitive, volatile he had beauty, wit and worldly wisdom as well as considerable culture. He read, collected and was a musician, but only people were of real importance to him. He was good and gracious with people, and avidly interested in their morals, incomes, food and vices. (He happened to sit next to old Mr Bland, the Guinnesses' trustee, at a banquet in Swansea and spent an hour trying to find out my exact income.)

Fair, with the extravagantly youthful figure and looks common to the male members of the royal family, he always looked and seemed ten years younger than he was. The Duchess and he must have been the most beautiful and dazzling couple in the world! It was only recently that deep lines began to show under his prominent turquoise eyes. And his tics nerveaux had grown: his exquisite hands knitted incessantly as he talked quickly and irritably. He was plagued by boredoms. His walk was an impressive shuffle. Being an ardent sun-worshipper, his small and trim figure was always bronzed and bleached. Naked he was magnificently gold and copper. And his head — his fair, untidy hair in the rain! — was aristocratic, even fin-de-race . . . He liked jewels, bibelots, snuffboxes, expensive china, Georgian furniture, pictures and les élégances. But more than the actual objets de vertu he collected, he liked buying, selling and exchanging them. His life was a long tussle with antiquaries; for he was a dealer at heart. He was a gourmet, even a connoisseur of food, and always personally supervised every domestic detail of his establishments. Alone of the royal family he had social sense and a flair for society and entertaining. His parties were always enjoyable and usually brilliant . . . In his off-time he would garden relentlessly, or he curled up for hours in the sun! Extremely soigné he was nonetheless unsuccessfully dressed.

Of course he had a secret of which he rarely talked and was ashamed. I was long aware of it. Later his conscience, too, tormented him about his eldest brother, whom he treated very shabbily, indeed. To lull his conscience he ended by hating the Duke of Windsor who was au fond the only person he cared for deeply. (He was even jealous of my spasmodic intimacy with Edward VIII who occasionally telephoned to me.) In his cups the Duke talked of little else, and it was a mixture of abuse and love and Schadenfreude. Latterly he was also extremely unhappy and haunted by the tragic position of Prince Paul, his brother-in-law. Except for Queen Mary, who admired him, and to whom he was devoted, the Duke had no feelings for his other relatives. From her he inherited his love of collecting, his artistic bent and his methodical habits of correspondence. He liked writing letters, which he always answered punctually, in his beautiful handwriting. He actively disliked the King, and more particularly the Queen. He said that they were little more than civic functionaries now and was sarcastic about her to anyone who would listen, calling her 'grinning Liz'. Although since the abdication crisis they were rather more intimate, he secretly resented her non-royal origin. Once he said to me, 'Do you know what Bertie does with his money? Why, he invests it!', and his high voice trembled with scorn. The Gloucesters, he thought, hopeless bores, and his sister, the Princess Royal, a somewhat pathetic turn. The more remote relatives were a constant target for his gibes and eighteenth-century malice . . . . He was flirtatious in manner and in his conversation which was always good and stimulating. He could never hide his deep and infinite desire to please and to carp. Probably he felt frustrated and cramped in his position. He hated Alec Hardinge, whom he accused of trying to poison the King against him. He said that he was not given sufficient scope for his latent and many gifts . . . He proposed himself recently to lunch with old and dying Mrs Greville (I was present). Next day he attacked her soundly in my hearing, and did not add that he had sent her a pair of white satin cushions on that very morning, which I knew to be a fact. He had many weaknesses and peculiarities: he drank to excess during the long pre-dinner interval, usually gin and fruit mixtures; at dinner and afterwards he drank nothing at all. He gave a somewhat effeminate impression by his furious knitting, his too many bracelets and rings. He was wildly extravagant in his purchases, lavish with his presents, but shrewd with finance generally. Often he exchanged or sold or passed on presents that had been given to him. Sometimes he would select his Xmas presents and send me the bill afterwards: it was the safest course.

Devoted to his attractive children, particularly to little Alexandra, to his dogs, he was often embarrassingly querulous — less so, of late — with the Duchess who idolised him. His brain was quicker, better-informed and more instinctive than hers. Somewhat out of focus for this prosaic age, he was nevertheless extremely popular and had a Perrault quality for the people at large which is lacking in other members of his family. The Duke's sad and dramatic death is the end of an epoch: London and life will be more colourless and less gay without him, that elaborate, eager, excited elf. And I shall miss his gossip, his maniacal laugh, his rich presents, his haunting personality, coral and lapis.

[beansterpie]

B, D, J, L, T, U

Thanks for the ask moth!! <3

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

LMFAO Agohiru from ES21 😂 I remember when I first got into es21 back in highschool, Hiruma was my fav, but I didn't think much of Agon other than 'wow what an asshole!' and didn't like him. (Also I was a big Hirumamo shipper at the time, and I'm the type who clings onto One Ship for a character and isn't too interested in anything else lol) It wasn't until I got back into it in the last couple of years that I've come to appreciate how much fun it is to bat that asshole around, and just how loaded Hiruma and Agon's ~history~ is.

Though I guess no one person specifically changed my mind, unless you count past me vs present me lol. OH actually, what changed my mind was the fic "Independent Variable" on ff.net. I think I got back into es21 and was like 'you know, hiruma/agon totally has potential' and so was looking up fics of that pairing, and then I read that fic and was lost.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

Hmmmm oh, Merther (Merlin/Arthur) lol. Their set up as a ship is extremely juicy (two sides of the same coin?? fate ties them together??? conflict because their initial world views are diametrically opposed????) and there's soooo much fic for them, but. I just. I don't like Arthur 😭 Like, I mean, he's FINE. But the writing of the whole show is so inconsistent and there's entire seasons where he's just so shitty to Merlin for no damn reason in a way that I'm supposed to take as funny and silly which pisses me off more.

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr. (You don’t have to care about it or follow it; it just has to be something that Tumblr made you aware of.)

I mean, most shows that have mainstream popularity that I never checked out lol, though I think one that I've seen a lot of shipping art for on my dash is Star Wars? I've seen the main movies, but I think this is from.... Clone Wars, or the Obi-wan show or something. I see a lot of Obi-wan shipped with... one of the clone guys I think lmfao.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

Hmmmm this isn't even a character I dislike, but whatever-- Judeau! I like him a lot tbh but I also find him shady 😂

I like how his 'friend who gives good advice and just has your best interests at heart' vibe is subverted by his personal biases and emotions, even if he'd probably deny that lol. He's flawed and it colors the advice he gives, and he even has moments that I'd argue are kind of judgy. It's what makes him interesting!

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

Yes! Main one coming to mind rn because I've been thinking about Hiruma (ES21) a lot, is that Hiruma is on the ace spectrum! I'm usually pretty take-it-or-leave-it when it comes to sexuality headcanons, like I can buy most interpretations but I generally don't feel strongly about them, but with Hiruma I really struggle to see him as anything else.

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

OOHHHH. Well in Berserk, it's legit a tie between Guts and Griffith. I wouldn't like either one of them as much without the other in their orbit, and Berserk is one of those rare stories where both characters are really complex and compelling in their own way, and bring a lot of significant baggage into their dynamic lmfao. With Guts I love how sensitive he is, and the various ways in which he subverts and deconstructs the Macho Male Power Fantasy™ archetype, how at the end of the day he just wants someone to care about him and find worth in his existence. With Griffith, I love his ideals and his fragility in the face of the sacrifices those ideals demand from him, I love how much he cares and how much he gouges himself for caring, and how all of his stress and guilt and obligation still aren't any match for his love for Guts. And with both of them, I love how their upbringing informs their decisions so well to ruin everything even though they care about each other so much :')

w/ ES21, it's Hiruma lol which might be basic because he's everyone's fav, but for good reason! He's just fucking fun! I love how unhinged and demonic he is, I love the borderline slapstick loony-tunes tyle antics he gets up to, and I love his shamelessness. But I also love how accepting and realistic he is about his limitations, and how that doesn't stop him from striving for the top and going for what he wants. And like, for such an anime-level strategic genius type character, I love that such a core part of what makes him great is that he brings people together and uses teamwork and creativity to overcome everyone's various limitations. He's just-- so much fun!

And because this list is depressingly male lemme throw in a wild card-- Chase from Midnight Furies! It's a webcomic that I recently read for the first time, and Chase is the deuteragonist and a Hiruma expy lol. Which you can definitely tell, they both have the unhinged vibe and shark teeth, as well as the mysterious past and having a lot of cards up their sleeve, but I also think they're quite distinct. Obviously, Chase is a butch lesbian (which really does just add to her cool factor), but also I feel like Midnight Furies is a more grounded story compared to ES21, despite there being supernatural elements lol, and so Chase feels more grounded and realistic as a character. She's a bit more raw in her relationships to other people, and she shows vulnerability more, but she's also much more of a direct physical threat than Hiruma is. Because of that, she has moments where calculation gets thrown out the window in favor of a good ol' beat down, which of COURSE I love to see. And I think she has the capacity to be more ruthless. ANYWAY, awesome character, A+++ (please read Midnight Furies)

[alphabet ask meme]

[cuffmeinblack]

Proposition (v2)

Ominis Gaunt x m!reader x Garreth Weasley

[f!reader version here]

18+, Smut, 4k words

Garreth Weasley was well and truly spoken for, by none other than the gorgeous Ominis Gaunt—a worthy recipient of the Gryffindor's affections, but it stung nevertheless. You'd always got along well with Garreth—conversation was easy, silences (the few that happened) were comfortable. The flirting had always been reciprocated, of that you were sure, and interestingly hadn't stopped despite his entanglement with the blond Slytherin.

Whilst you spent less time with him these days, you tended to have Garreth all to yourself during your shared Herbology lessons and the evenings when Ominis found himself occupied with his own best friend. The Gryffindor common room was a cosy sanctuary for you, and the place you first met the self-professed potions prodigy. It continued to be the place where you relaxed after the stresses of exam preparation, and whiled away the hours in the company of your favourite redhead.

He was so easy to be around, and ever so easy on the eye. As was Ominis—they made quite the striking pair, and you liked Ominis very much. Your proximity to Garreth meant you'd spent more and more time in his company over the past few months. He had a wry sense of humour you enjoyed and was exceptionally kind to your best friend.

However, he'd barely spoken to you outside of the company of Garreth, so when you found him waiting for you after your Quidditch practice, your mind immediately started assuming the worst. 

He was leaning against the stands, twirling his wand and looking somewhat distracted, which stopped you in your tracks.

"Ominis? Everything okay?" you asked, clutching your broom tightly.

"Ah, yes," he replied with a faraway smile, "I wondered if you might accompany me back to the castle? I have a…proposition for you."

"A proposition?" you asked curiously.

"Mmm, of a rather sensitive nature. I'm aware of how attracted Garreth is to you."

Your mouth fell open, completely dumbstruck by the admission. You'd always suspected, of course, but for it to be so bluntly spoken by his own partner had you unable to mutter a reply.

"I assume the feeling is mutual?" he continued.

"Oh, well, yes. Of course, I'd never interfere with your relationship if that's what this is about."

Ominis chuckled and shook his head.

"No, you misunderstand me. I'm asking if you'd like to join us."

"Join…you?"

"In the bedchamber."

You inhaled sharply as you watched him, his face giving absolutely nothing away. His expression had returned to one of complete seriousness, and Ominis didn't seem the type to jest about something like this.

"Of course I would say yes, if the invitation was genuine."

"Oh yes, very genuine."

"What's in it for you?"

Ominis came to a stop in the courtyard to face you, his head tilted as he considered the question.

"I enjoy how worked up Garreth gets around you," Ominis replied with a smirk, stepping forward. "I'm quite curious myself."

The back of Ominis' fingers glided over your cheek with a featherlight touch, leaving you weak at the knees as you lost your frantic thoughts in his cloudy blue eyes.

"So, will you?" he prompted.

"Yes. Yes, of course," you muttered quietly, almost a whimper as his hand drifted along your jaw.

"We'll be seeing you, then. I look forward to it," he said, withdrawing his hand and turning to leave.

You were left standing alone in the courtyard feeling dazed, like you'd just been offered the forbidden fruit by a very enticing snake. There was no doubt in your mind that you'd take it, and relish every second.

-

The evening after the strange encounter, you found yourself curled up by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, your head resting in Garreth's lap as it often did and his hands idly stroking your hair. It wasn't usually anything more than a comforting gesture bestowed upon a friend, but your conversation with Ominis had certainly thrown it into a new light. 

You were now painfully aware of every one of Garreth's reactions to you—his every blush at your flirtatious remarks, his lingering gaze that followed you and scanned your body as you lay on the sofa. The fact that your head was now situated in his lap, right next to his…well…with any luck, you'd be exploring that part of him later that evening, something which filled you with nervous anticipation, but more so, giddy excitement.

You'd not actually spoken about the proposition other than setting a time and place (the Room of Requirement, of course)—rather, you'd spent your evening in much the same way as you usually would have, except now there was an almost unbearable tension between you. You were inexorably drawn towards him, and your closeness hadn’t gone unnoticed by your housemates who gave you curious glances and raised eyebrows.

"Should we go and meet Ominis?" you said, looking up at Garreth, who ceased his gentle stroking.

He nodded and swallowed thickly as you sat up, fixing your hair. It wasn't like Garreth to be so quiet, but he was completely attentive to you, following your every move. You couldn't resist biting your lower lip, his gaze falling to your mouth—he wanted you, that much was clear by the way his eyes dragged lazily back to meet yours, glittering and full of fire.

Exiting the common room through the awkwardly small hole in the wall, you walked together to the Room of Requirement situated up several flights of steep steps in the astronomy wing. Ominis was already waiting for you as you arrived, casually leaning against the wall, looking as if he was waiting for nothing more interesting than Charms class.

“Hello, you,” Garreth said, crossing the hallway to Ominis.

Ominis made a peaceful hum in his throat and smiled as he pushed off of the wall and Garreth slid a hand around his waist to greet him with a tender kiss.

“Good evening,” he greeted.

Garreth glanced at the blank wall, then back at you, waiting.

"You want me to call the room?" you asked.

"Well, you know it best. And…you know what we need."

You nodded, muttering an agreement before you started pacing the corridor, picturing the layout of the room in your mind. You needed…complete privacy, obviously. Comfort. A large bed. Soft lighting. The romantic image flooded your thoughts and the door shimmered into existence in front of you, the ornate detailing snaking through the brickwork. 

Ominis was the first to approach, with no hesitation he pushed open the door and you followed behind him, with Garreth at your heels. 

"I hope this is okay," you said, blushing furiously.

Ominis ran his hand over the plush bedspread and smiled as Garreth gazed around the large bedroom, his eyes eventually falling on Ominis' as he approached.

"Well, no time like the present, hm?" Ominis said, snaking a hand around Garreth's neck and pressing their lips together.

Garreth was caught off guard but sank into the kiss quickly, his head tilting with a soft moan, his hands pulling Ominis closer.

You'd seen them kiss before, of course, but the raw passion they displayed in front of you now was deeply arousing. Gone were the chaste kisses they exchanged in the school corridors, now their bodies pressed together with not a sliver between them. 

Ominis' hands were already busy undressing Garreth, who seemed preoccupied with messing up Ominis' hair as much as possible as they shared the deepening kiss. You weren't quite sure what to do with yourself until Ominis held out a hand towards you.

"Don't be shy, you're not just here to watch, I hope," he teased.

With a deep breath, you took his hand as Garreth watched you approach, now bare-chested and flushed. His broad shoulders and chest were smattered with hundreds of freckles just like his face, and you licked your lips as your eyes ran over him unashamedly.

Ominis guided you next to him, his delicate hand wrapping around your neck, tracing your jaw to find your moistened lips. With a smile, he leaned in to meet them with his own, kissing you gently. 

You'd not thought about what it would be like to kiss Ominis nearly as much as you'd fantasised about Garreth, but you were by no means disappointed. His lips were soft and inviting, his kisses gentle but exciting—your stomach flipped as he flicked his tongue over your lower lip, seeking entrance into your mouth.

You tilted your head and parted your lips, meeting his tongue with a soft moan as he began unbuttoning your shirt. His attention was now completely on you, apparently eager to undress you—whether for his own or Garreth's benefit, you weren't sure, and didn't much care. 

You sneaked a look over at Garreth, your lips breaking from Ominis who began attacking your neck instead as your shirt fell to the floor.

Garreth was watching you both, his breathing heavy as his fingers traced the growing bulge in his trousers. A groan snaked its way up your throat at the sight of him and he took it as an invitation. His warm hands were suddenly all over you, in your hair and gripping your waist as his lips met yours with a fierce hunger.

Ominis had made his way around behind you and was working to rid you of your underwear, his slender fingers teasing the fabric off of you. You moaned into Garreth's mouth as they slid down your legs to the floor, your throbbing erection exposed, Ominis wasting no time in reaching around to replace the shedded garment with his hand. 

Wrapping his fingers around you, he slowly tugged the base of your cock, precum leaking from your head with every firm squeeze. He dragged his thumb over your head to spread your arousal, humming against your neck all the while.

"Mmmph, you feel good," he whispered.

The relief was instantaneous as he started pumping your cock with a steady rhythm—you hadn’t realised just how tightly wound you were until Ominis had started to unravel the tension with his firm grip. 

The kisses you exchanged with Garreth grew sloppier, heated and tongue-heavy as your moans filled each other's mouths. You worked to release his straining erection from his trousers as Ominis' own hard length pressed into your behind, your hips instinctively shifting backwards to tease him.

As Garreth pulled his trousers down, his cock finally sprang free and you chanced a glance down, whimpering as you set eyes on him. His hand on your waist grabbed hungrily, his fingertips digging into you as you placed a firm grip on his length, your fingers nowhere close to touching as they wrapped around his girth. 

Your head was dizzy with desire, his cock so tantalising you wanted nothing more than to take him into your mouth to taste him.

“Mmmph, Garreth,” you moaned.

Ominis nibbled the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and causing a jerk of your hand. Garreth groaned as you squeezed his length, his fingers digging painfully into your behind as you dragged your fingers down his length before starting a slow and steady rhythm that matched the one Ominis was setting.

Ominis had released his own erection from the confines of his trousers, gently thrusting against your bare behind, seeking that friction by gliding between your cheeks. You felt his sticky precum leaking onto your back, and the image made you salivate—you were so eager to find out how Ominis looked underneath those immaculate clothes.

You were drowning in pleasure from all angles, unable to take in any individual sensation. Lips and hands were on your skin, building your orgasm with almost practiced ease. Moans, gasps, sighs and groans filled the air like the swell of a beautiful chorus. The scents surrounding you; musk, tea, cinders and something distinctly sweet, mixed with sweat and arousal, created a heady and intoxicating assault on your sense of smell.

Your head fell back onto Ominis’ shoulder as you were overwhelmed, barely able to hold your weight up—your legs began to shake as you watched Garreth with hazy eyes.

Garreth's eyes flicked from you to Ominis, seemingly torn by the choice. With a lick of his lips, he leaned his torso forward and reached behind you, pulling Ominis into a deep kiss. Their faces were almost pressed against yours as you were sandwiched between their warm bodies. You whined at the sight, pumping Garreth’s cock faster in reaction.

"Hah- oh, fuck," Garreth moaned, his hips jerking into your hand.

"I think perhaps we should put Garreth out of his misery," Ominis whispered in your ear, his slender fingers continuing to work miracles on your swollen length.

His melodic voice sent a shiver down your neck as his free hand made its way behind you, gripping his erection and parting your cheeks with his head. You yelped in surprise as he grunted and spread his own warm, wet precum around your entrance.

"Hm, naughty boy," he teased. "Do you want Garreth's cock inside you?"

"Yes, yes. More than anything."

"Pay attention to him."

Your eyes lazily fell back on Garreth who was watching you with parted lips and an intense gaze as he closed the distance between your faces, pressing his lips to yours. Oh, his lips. So soft and inviting and everything you'd hoped for. Your heart fluttered as he drew your lower lip into his mouth, sucking gently.

Ominis had found his wand and you heard him muttering an incantation behind your back. His fingers once again slid between your cheeks, this time warm and sopping wet as they circled your tight hole. With slight pressure, a digit pressed inside you as Ominis resumed the gentle kisses on your neck, willing you to relax.

You let out a sigh and Ominis slowly slid another finger inside as his cock twitched against your behind. Your hand almost faltered, jerking slightly and causing Garreth to moan into your mouth, his hand flying to the back of your neck to grip you tightly.

Ominis' fingers pressed inside you, stretching, curling and teasing until you were limp and gasping for more. You'd thought it was an internal thought but apparently you really had been begging, out loud.

"I think he's ready for you, my love," Ominis said, chuckling.

Garreth had already shed the remainder of his clothes and fallen back onto the bed, frantically scrambling into the centre.

"Come here, I need to feel you."

You stared at him as he waited for you, your mouth agape. His skin was flushed, chest heaving and cock twitching with desire. This is what you'd thought about for so long, wasn't it? Granted, it hadn't involved Ominis but you absolutely weren't complaining about the addition of the assertive blond Slytherin.

Ominis sensed your…was it trepidation?...and gently felt for your arm, running his fingers down to clasp your fingers together. He gently led you to the bed and sat on the edge as you climbed onto the mattress and across to Garreth's waiting lap.

"Turn around, on your hands and knees," Ominis said quietly. "Trust me."

Garreth gave a low moan as you obeyed the command and knelt in front of him, facing away from his face with a slight longing regret. You peered back at him as he chewed his lip and stared shamelessly at your exposed behind. His hand roamed your hips as he pushed you gently forward, gripping his stiff and dripping erection.

His head parted your cheeks as you shuddered before he rested at your entrance. Garreth kept his eyes on you, watching for your reaction as he slowly pressed his swollen head into you, a moan leaving your lips as he stretched you so satisfyingly. The groan that fell from his mouth was one of sweet relief as you took his length slowly, inch by inch, until you were sat flush against his skin.

You gave Garreth a small nod and he gripped your hips as he began a slow rhythm. The angle was fantastic, perfect, hitting you just right and drawing soft moans of ecstasy from your mouth with every thrust of his hips.

You’d thought your attention would be focused solely on Garreth, but Ominis was making it very difficult not to divert your lustful gaze. He'd finished undressing, discarding his creased shirt and tie to the floor, and you could just now appreciate his slender form. 

Your eyes drifted over the beauty marks that flecked his chest, following the fine blond hair down to his navel, landing on his lengthy manhood, standing proud and glistening with arousal. Ignoring his twitching erection, Ominis made his way to your side, feeling his way along the bed and trailing warm fingers up your body as you inhaled sharply at his touch.

Your fingers gripped the bed sheets and you whined as Garreth began picking up the pace, pulling you back just that little bit harder at the bottom. Ominis' cock was almost level with your head, and you reached out with one hand to grasp him, almost falling off balance.

Ominis chuckled at your eagerness, instead sitting on the bed and shifting towards you until your mouth hovered over his cock. Lowering yourself into your elbows, Garreth groaned at the new angle as you kissed Ominis' length, working your way down to his tight balls.

You were practically drooling, kissing and lapping at his sac as he inhaled sharply, his cock twitching eagerly. His slender fingers ran through your hair, tugging you off of him with a whine.

"Tell me how good he feels," he said.

"He feels incredible, fuck, he's so big."

Ominis chuckled knowingly in response.

"I knew he'd like you this way." He whispered. "I thought he'd enjoy watching his cock impaling you."

Your face burned and head dizzied at Ominis' sultry voice uttering such sinful words. You hadn't expected him to be so teasing, so assertive, so…well, Slytherin.  You'd always seen the calm, composed and sweet side of him, despite his sharp tongue and witty banter. This was a side you certainly hadn't expected in the bedchamber, but you were absolutely enthralled.

You looked back at Garreth, who was doing exactly as Ominis had suggested, completely entranced watching his length slide inside you.

"Mmmph-ah, yes, yes," Garreth muttered as you gave your hips a teasing wiggle.

Garreth gave your behind a hard smack and you yelped, your skin stinging, only further spurring him on. He picked up the pace, slamming into your behind harder and harder until you were groaning so loudly you could no longer hear the slapping of your skin. 

"Uhh-mmm, you feel so good."

With renewed vigour, he gripped your waist hard, holding you in place whilst his hips bucked, fucking you mercilessly with lustful growls—you only managed to keep your balance as you leaned on top of Ominis, your body almost limp and full to the brim with sheer euphoria.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you reached your climax, pleasure rippling through your entire body, from your feet all the way to your dizzying head. Your cock dribbled with every undulating wave as they washed over you, whilst your face pressed into Ominis’ hip, giving you a glorious view of his manhood.

Garreth was muttering expletives behind you as he continued to thrust into you, the spasms around your entrance gripping his length hard.

“Mmmmph, fuck, I’m going to c-come…,” he groaned.

You peered back at his breathless and dishevelled form, his copper hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He met your eyes for just a second before they scrunched shut and he tensed, legs shaking, and you felt his cock twitch and explode inside you.

His forceful orgasm filled you as he collapsed onto your back, wrapping an arm around you to grip your neglected length as he slowed his thrusts. With a few rough tugs, you shot the last of your seed all over the bed sheets, making an unholy mess beneath you. 

Ominis’ hands were still tangled in your hair, stroking and pulling as he waited patiently for you both to recover. Your mind was hazy, having just experienced the most mind-boggling orgasm of your life, but you were brought out of your reverie when Garreth pulled himself out of you with a groan, collapsing back on the bed.

You peered up at Ominis, tentatively lifting yourself up on shaking arms. Feeling your hot breath on his face, Ominis tugged your hair to pull your face towards him, his tongue delving into your mouth as you struggled for breath. The cacophony was exhilarating as your ears filled with the wet slaps of his hand pumping his cock amongst Garreth's breathless gasps and your muffled moans. 

You were exhausted but absolutely captivated watching Ominis—the usually so composed Slytherin now writhing with pent-up arousal as he tugged at his length. His pale skin was flushed across his cheeks and chest, his lips pink and deliciously swollen from the kisses you'd exchanged. 

"You want to, don't you? The way you're looking at him…" Garreth whispered in your ear, breaking you out of your haze.

"Yes," you sighed.

You let out a whimper as Ominis' cock twitched and he smirked, holding out a hand for you. Your mouth was on his hard length in seconds, soft moans filling the room as you licked and lapped at his head.

He tasted divine. You took more of him in your mouth, your tongue gliding over the vein that ran along the underside of his shaft. With each bob of your head you took him in further, suctioning your cheeks to create the mind–altering pressure that made him growl and grip your hair hard.

You could have stayed worshipping his manhood for hours, teasing and exploring every inch and angle as you pleased, but he was already close judging by his breathless moans and twitching hips.

"More, please, just like that…," Ominis gasped.

You continued your rhythm as Ominis tensed underneath you, his hand now painfully gripping your hair and drawing a whine from deep in your throat. The sound seemed to push him over the edge and he met his release with a loud groan and thrust of his hips.

His cock hit the back of your mouth as he finished, strings of hot cum filling your cheeks and shooting down your throat as you gagged and gasped, tears streaming down your face. Despite the unexpected attack on your reflex, you were feeling immensely satisfied as you gazed up at Ominis' heaving chest and burning face.

The last of his release met your tongue with a gentle squeeze at the base of his shaft, your tongue dragging over his sensitive head. He shuddered and finally released your hair, your scalp left sore and hair a complete mess.

Your heart pounded as you finally retreated, wiping the mess from your lips as delicately as possible with a swipe of your thumb. Exhaustion had well and truly hit you, your heart pounding and head swimming as you collapsed onto the bed next to Ominis.

Garreth fell beside you, all three of you breathing heavily. Draping your leg over him, you snaked your hand around his waist and rested your head on his burning chest, slick with sweat as Ominis hummed contentedly and pressed himself into your back. He draped his arm over both of you, his fingers stroking circles on Garreth's stomach.

"You were fantastic," Ominis muttered in your ear, planting soft kisses on the back of your neck.

"You were," Garreth agreed, pressing his lips to your damp forehead.

"I'm not sure what my expectations were but I think that surpassed even my wildest ones," you said with a grin.

"I…wish we could do that again," Garreth murmured.

"Can we not? I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed myself," Ominis replied.

You let the question hang in the air as you lay entwined together in the post-sex haze with drunken smiles on your faces, exchanging kisses until you were too tired to keep your eyes open. With deep sighs, you fell asleep one by one, each wondering if this was the start of something much more permanent than either of you had expected.

[beingdreeyore]

I'm raw today. I haven't cried, but several times I've wanted to.

Today was one of those days where the frustrations created weren't from my own actions, but the response inside me is all mine. Perhaps I'm pre-menstrual? Then again, it's well-established by now that I'm a sensitive soul at the best of times.

I started the day with a phone call to a mother. I was asked to call her to just tell her to restart a certain medication her son had been on. Simple. Easy. I'd never met her. Never met her son. I was relaying a message. It took her less than twenty seconds to unleash at me. I'd gotten no further than saying where I was calling from and the yelling and crying - both from her - began. It went on for over twenty minutes before I calmed her down. Or maybe she calmed herself down. But it was twenty minutes of being abused by someone I had never met. Finally I met her needs on some level. The yelling stopped. When I called her back an hour later to update her on the crisis steps I'd put in place given her complaints, she cried again but this time thanked me. She apologised. It was too late though. My skin was already on fire. My muscles were already tensed too much to be able to relax again in any reasonable time period. My guard was up. I was on the defensive. Ready to see the attacks coming from everywhere.

A consultant from another specialty then attacked our management plan of a patient who was only mildly unwell. The plan - a psychiatric plan - was simple. Standard. Usual practice. It had already been implemented and was working well. My boss and I had discussed it. Then this random doctor decided to write a note in the patient's medical record that was a thinly veiled sermon on his personal beliefs regarding antipsychotic medication. But he chose to attack me personally as mine was the name in the computer that had written the plan. He's never met me before. I doubt he'd heard my name before today. Then again, I have a pretty generic basic white bitch name, so maybe he'd heard my name before, but he didn't know it was mine. He doesn't know me. But he came for me as if I somehow represent psychotropics. I bit my tongue. I took a lap of the block. I kept my eyes down. I breathed deeply.

My team leader saw the note a short time after I did. He appeared in my office, checking I was okay, aware of just how personal the words had been. But it was too late. That was two hits now. There wouldn't be a third. Or, rather, I know myself well enough to know that if a third person appeared, they wouldn't be getting away with it as easily as the first two had. I knew that if a third person came for me, the warrior woman inside of me, the impulsive and reckless side, it would wage war on whoever was brave enough to be the third today before I'd had a chance to stop myself.

Please don't let there be anyone else...

The phone was quiet all day. It's Wednesday. The phone shouldn't have been quiet all day. It's the day Dad calls. But he didn't. He'd gotten distracted by something else. It was something important. I get it. But I felt like an outsider. Alone in it all. Like I didn't belong anywhere.

There was someone else I'd expected to hear from. A man. But the phone has been quiet. I think that's the final straw. Would I normally care? Probably. I don't do well with being letdown or with broken promises, but I probably could've managed okay. But now, in the evening with the phone quiet, it's all a bit much. The silence is better than the contact that is rejection though. At least today. I doubt I could've controlled my response today. So no message is a message but it won't trigger anything inside me. It's awful and painful and also some kind of small mercy. If I don't hear from him, then I can't impulsively lash out in anger.

It's funny. I can rationalise it all. I understand it all. That doesn't mean the world feels any less alone though. I wish it did. I wish intellectualising allowed it to sit more gently. To take up less space inside me.

I saw Z today. It's been so long. He didn't see me. I was thankful. I didn't want him to see my weight gain or the dark circles under my eyes. I saw him. He's gained weight too. He looks older. Worn out. It was the first time I've ever seen him with his hair in need of a cut. I wonder if everything is okay? He looks like trash. Like he's not sleeping either. What is happening for him? Is something happening in his life that's making him feel the same kinda way...? I wish I could will him into smiling my way again. Not that it would get me anywhere, even if I could. If he'd said hello, there's every chance he would've been on the receiving end today. He's never apologised. He's a fair target. Right?

I'm alone today. But I understand this is best in some ways. I don't trust myself to regulate my anger after being so defensive. I'm home now. It's quiet. It's lonely. Again though, it's some kind of small mercy.

It's just harder some days than others. The things that are fine some days can just not be fie the next. I'm okay. For goodness sake, we all know by now that one way or another I'm always okay, but today is a tough day.

It was a really tough day and I hope tomorrow is better.

[misc-obeyme]

Heya!

Ask!

Relationship/personality

5/6/10

+ imagine voice and clothes style!

For Arsenios!

Hello! Thank you for asking!!

05: Do they openly show affection? What is their love language? [platonic or romantic]

Generally speaking, Arsenios doesn't have a problem with openly showing affection. If he cares about someone, it's pretty easy to tell. He's not showy, but he's quietly confident and he isn't shy.

I really had to think about what his love language is. And I think I'd have to say quality time. It means a lot to him when someone goes out of their way to spend time with him.

06: Are they interested in romantic relationships? Do they have any experience? Are they proactive or would they rather be persued?

Yes and no. He's not looking for a romantic relationship, but he's also not going to avoid one if something happens to come along.

He's experienced, but he hasn't had any sort of lasting relationship. A lot of short flings and one night stands with only a handful of things that lasted a little longer. Most of the time this had to do with him traveling between the Devildom and the human world a lot. He wasn't ever really in one place for very long. Later, I think it's because he develops some trust issues so it's hard for people to deal with that.

Arsenios is definitely proactive. However, he will hold himself back a lot due to the previously mentioned trust issues lol. He can only resist that for so long though. If he really has feelings for someone or wants to be with someone, he will actively pursue them.

10: Do they wear their emotions on their sleeve, or do they try to hide them from others as best as they can? Do they try to hide them from themself, too?

For the most part, he hides his emotions. Of course, once he starts to trust someone, he opens up more. He starts showing them little glimpses of how he feels. But in general, he keeps that stuff to himself.

Fortunately, no. Arsenios is usually pretty aware of how he's feeling. He works through that kind of stuff regularly because he's always writing songs about how he feels.

06: What is their clothing style? Do they out a lot of effort into their appearance?

Well when he's not forced to wear his RAD uniform (which he hates by the way), most of the time he's wearing a lot of black. He likes to look nice, but in a casual sort of way. He wears a lot of button up shirts, but kinda sloppily - like untucked, partly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up half the time. He generally wears dark colors, occasionally some accessories, but nothing too crazy. UNLESS he's performing music on stage with a band or something where he wants to stand out more. Then he'll still wear a lot of black, but he'll get more creative with things like accessories and makeup. But other than that, he likes comfort and practicality while still looking somewhat neat.

I would say he puts a normal amount of effort into his appearance in general. For special occasions, he does more, but for the day to day it's just the regular routine. I'd say it's a medium amount of effort.

07: How do you imagine their voice? Are they loud?

Okay. I've thought a lot about Arrie's voice. Due to the whole music thing, he sings a lot. And he has a really good singing voice with a large range. His natural register is baritone, but he can go high into the tenor range and low into the bass range. His singing voice is versatile, he can really sing loudly if he wants to, but he can also get quiet and haunting when necessary.

His normal speaking voice, then, is still in the baritone range because that's the natural location. It's deep and low in tone, but not abnormally so. I wouldn't say he's loud. He probably can be if he wants to be, but generally I'd say he actually speaks softly most of the time. He's sensitive to sound and that includes spoken words. They have a melody of their own. And I think he naturally keeps his own speech quiet because it would like... disrupt himself if he was too loud lol.

Oh boy okay I wrote a lot again, but really this is the way it is with me and my OCs. Thank you so much for asking about him, these questions are so fun. I've thought about a lot of this stuff, but I haven't written it down anywhere, so it's nice to get it out of my head!

MC & OC Ask Game

[thatscarletflycatcher]

#okay i was literally just thinking that one of the ways henry could reform#was to suffer some kind of crippling accident#so that ending was satisfying#i think perhaps there's too much emphasis placed on that 'ruined early in life' bit#because austen is clear that he could have made the right choices and chose not to#yes he had formed bad habits that made it hard#but it doesn't necessarily follow that he was doomed#he still has culpability for his actions#(incidentally one of the reasons i loved rawdon crawley in vanity fair)#(was that it gave us someone worse than henry trying so hard to have a reformation arc)#(and in some ways getting it)#but anyway this is always a fun topic#mansfield park#jane austen#henry crawford via @fictionadventurer

You are right that I didn't elaborate enough on that. I'd put it more like this: in a virtue-ethics framework, specially an Aristotelian one, each choice is not completely free, but one is fully responsible for each. That is because habits once acquired have a certain automatism; we have explored this more modernly with theories and research on addiction, and even simple, non-moral habits follow this pattern (when a lighbulb dies in a room, one keeps flipping the switch upon going in every time, despite knowing the lightbulb is broken).

Basically we are all responsible and aware for the beginning of our virtues and vices, but once they are set in motion, our voluntary control over them is diminished; we are still responsible for them because we did set them in motion. But it is much harder to subvert an acquired habit that to just acquire one.

So we do have Henry Crawford, who has moral intelligence to discern good when he meets it, who comes to have the means of change, who has drafted a plan of change and is on his way to execute it, and in his mind he does want to... why doesn't he do it, then? Well, because of vices he acquired due to his poor upbringing and early independence, says Austen. It is just one line, but it is the line that opens the account of how the elopement with Maria came to be. Unlike Willoughby's choice to refuse to do what was right when pressed to do it by his relative -and with financial motivation too- in a very clear-cut one-answer way, Henry Crawford is dragged by his vices one step at a time, from what is seemingly innocuous -he was pressed to stay for a party, he was flattered into remaining- to what was on principle just vain flirtation -seeing Mrs. Rushworth and being galled by her coldness- to outright doing something truly scandalous and indefensible -he bit more than he could chew, and before he knew it Maria had made her move in an irreversible way.

It's less a deliberate choice as we usually conceive it -an unbiased agent picking between two options with a cool head- and more of a tragic choice, the same way an alcoholic is responsible for hitting someone with a car while under the influence, even if their addiction has rendered their choice of getting drunk much less voluntary than that of the person who does the same but isn't an alcoholic.

What I think Austen is grappling with here is conscience. Fanny says that we all have a better guide in ourselves if we listen to it, but is conscience really truly innately right and good, or is it formed and deformed by the influences we receive in our education? How much of conscience is an innate sense of right and wrong, and how much of it is shaped by our life experiences and socio-cultural context? How much power does conscience have to effectively change our behaviors? Fanny herself has had an education with Edmund that has forged a good, if perhaps over-sensitive conscience (especially when it comes to duty and gratitude towards her uncle's family); but Edmund himself is easily guided away from the dictates of his conscience, and he does a cartload of rationalizations before he hits the breaking point. Julia, Maria and Tom are also people without good consciences; all they got from their education was hatred of home and dislike for each other. Then we have the Crawfords... but also then we have Susan, an example of a right conscience struggling against an upbringing that wouldn't have fostered it.

I don't think Austen has a full, definitive response to this; I do think the Crawfords, specially Henry, are a more tragic, questioning approach to a moral pessimism that goes by unremarked in her earlier works (the villainy in NA, P&P and S&S is very solid and the people that embody it very inflexible; the errors of the erring heroes and heroines are mainly a matter of judgement -such is Darcy's prideful principles, Lizzy's prejudice and Marianne's free romanticism), and more refined in later works: Emma and Wentworth's faults are more on the brand of "sometimes good people do bad things influenced by passions and circumstances while deep down knowing they should be better", but none of the villains are tragic -Mrs. Elton is silly, Mr. Elliot is cruel, and Frank Churchill who wants to be seen as tragic is seen as weak and childish -but then it is true that his parental figures did not give him scandalous example, and that he wasn't given early independence like Henry.

Perhaps I'm twisting the twist too much on this, but I do feel as a general rule that Austen doesn't believe metanoia in the strongest sense to be possible. Good people may make mistakes through errors in judgement and the blinding of passions and circumstance, but the moral adjustment is a relatively mild one. Darcy was always doing good but pridefully, now he does it humbly. Emma always meant well, now she does it with more self-awareness and prudence. And so on and so forth. Rakes and gamblers and flirts and misers and gold-diggers are morally blind and so cannot change, and those who aren't morally blind don't in practice have the strength to effect real change. Not saying it is undebatable, but that is what I get from her novels at this point.

The problem with discussions about Henry Crawford is that there are two different questions being asked at the same time: 1) Can Fanny reform Henry? and 2) Can Henry reform?

Austen answers negatively to the first one, but I'd argue she's very ambivalent in her answer to the second.

Austen is not in the habit of "punishing" her villains; none of them are struck by accidents of fortune or anything the like, but we commonly perceive the downgrade between what they could have had and what they end up having. Edward Ferrars is an infinitely preferrable husband to Robert Ferrars, but Lucy Steele never seems to become aware of that fact. Isabella tries to get Captain Tilney over James Morland. Mr. Elliot is not crying by the corners over the fact that he lost Anne Elliot. Even Willoughby's regret is not about Marianne's actual goodness, but his personal convenience. Austen's "villains" as a rule are morally stupid people.

When Aristotle says that no one can be good who is stupid, he doesn't have in mind things like being good at Math or being well read or quick-witted; he's thinking of a certain intuition, clear-sightedness about what is good, what contributes to human flourishing, and this seems to be a strong component of what Austen calls sense. Sense is almost convertible (if not completely) with prudence, and prudence is a rather intuitive virtue, as it regulates the when, the how, the how much, etc of the other moral virtues. (and there goes my first thesis topic that I never did!).

In that way it is interesting that only 4 characters are said to possess sense in Mansfield Park: Edmund, Fanny, Henry, and Tom (and Tom doesn't even fully count, because his is expressed negatively: instead of having sense, he doesn't lack it). Here are the Henry instances:

"He did not want them to die of love; but with sense and temper which ought to have made him judge and feel better, he allowed himself great latitude on such points." "Henry Crawford had too much sense not to feel the worth of good principles in a wife, though he was too little accustomed to serious reflection to know them by their proper name; but when he talked of her having such a steadiness and regularity of conduct, such a high notion of honour, and such an observance of decorum as might warrant any man in the fullest dependence on her faith and integrity, he expressed what was inspired by the knowledge of her being well principled and religious." "That punishment, the public punishment of disgrace, should in a just measure attend his share of the offence is, we know, not one of the barriers which society gives to virtue. In this world the penalty is less equal than could be wished; but without presuming to look forward to a juster appointment hereafter, we may fairly consider a man of sense, like Henry Crawford, to be providing for himself no small portion of vexation and regret: vexation that must rise sometimes to self-reproach, and regret to wretchedness, in having so requited hospitality, so injured family peace, so forfeited his best, most estimable, and endeared acquaintance, and so lost the woman whom he had rationally as well as passionately loved."

(I'm not counting the one time Edmund calls him a man of sense, and the one time Sir Thomas does the same, for obvious contextual reasons).

It's not only interesting that he is the only rake to be called a man of sense by the narrator (Mrs. Smith calling Mr. Elliot a man of sense in Persuasion is clearly not meant to be taken straight), but that it is always specifically tied to moral perceptiveness; he was morally perceptive enough to know he shouldn't have played the way he did, and he chose to ignore it. He perceives Fanny's moral worth, and it is the core reason why he wants to marry her.* He also perceives William's moral worth as something both good and desirable:

"To Henry Crawford they gave a different feeling. He longed to have been at sea, and seen and done and suffered as much. His heart was warmed, his fancy fired, and he felt the highest respect for a lad who, before he was twenty, had gone through such bodily hardships and given such proofs of mind. The glory of heroism, of usefulness, of exertion, of endurance, made his own habits of selfish indulgence appear in shameful contrast; and he wished he had been a William Price, distinguishing himself and working his way to fortune and consequence with so much self-respect and happy ardour, instead of what he was!"

Both here and at the end of the novel, Henry's moral perceptiveness leads to remorse for his own moral wrongdoings. Compare this to Willoughby's regret over Marianne:

"Willoughby could not hear of her marriage without a pang; and his punishment was soon afterwards complete in the voluntary forgiveness of Mrs. Smith, who, by stating his marriage with a woman of character, as the source of her clemency, gave him reason for believing that had he behaved with honour towards Marianne, he might at once have been happy and rich. That his repentance of misconduct, which thus brought its own punishment, was sincere, need not be doubted;—nor that he long thought of Colonel Brandon with envy, and of Marianne with regret. But that he was for ever inconsolable, that he fled from society, or contracted an habitual gloom of temper, or died of a broken heart, must not be depended on—for he did neither. He lived to exert, and frequently to enjoy himself. His wife was not always out of humour, nor his home always uncomfortable; and in his breed of horses and dogs, and in sporting of every kind, he found no inconsiderable degree of domestic felicity."

This sense/moral perceptiveness of Henry Crawford, and his experiencing remorse for his own wrongdoings sets him apart from the other Austen rakes. He's also not a drinker or a gambler; he does take at least minimal care of Everingham ("Everingham could not do without him in the beginning of September. He went for a fortnight") and did some modifications to it as soon as he got it. The same way Darcy's character is revealed as we see Pemberley, so the inflexion point of Henry's redemption attempt is his trying to become a better master of his estate:

For her approbation, the particular reason of his going into Norfolk at all, at this unusual time of year, was given. It had been real business, relative to the renewal of a lease in which the welfare of a large and—he believed—industrious family was at stake. He had suspected his agent of some underhand dealing; of meaning to bias him against the deserving; and he had determined to go himself, and thoroughly investigate the merits of the case. He had gone, had done even more good than he had foreseen, had been useful to more than his first plan had comprehended, and was now able to congratulate himself upon it, and to feel that in performing a duty, he had secured agreeable recollections for his own mind. He had introduced himself to some tenants whom he had never seen before; he had begun making acquaintance with cottages whose very existence, though on his own estate, had been hitherto unknown to him. This was aimed, and well aimed, at Fanny. It was pleasing to hear him speak so properly; here he had been acting as he ought to do. To be the friend of the poor and the oppressed! Nothing could be more grateful to her; and she was on the point of giving him an approving look, when it was all frightened off by his adding a something too pointed of his hoping soon to have an assistant, a friend, a guide in every plan of utility or charity for Everingham: a somebody that would make Everingham and all about it a dearer object than it had ever been yet. She turned away, and wished he would not say such things. She was willing to allow he might have more good qualities than she had been wont to suppose. She began to feel the possibility of his turning out well at last; but he was and must ever be completely unsuited to her, and ought not to think of her.

I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property. I was not explicit enough with him before. The mischief such a man does on an estate, both as to the credit of his employer and the welfare of the poor, is inconceivable. I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?” “I advise! You know very well what is right.” “Yes. When you give me your opinion, I always know what is right. Your judgment is my rule of right.” “Oh, no! do not say so. We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.

This is even more hammered in by the narrator: "Had he done as he intended, and as he knew he ought, by going down to Everingham after his return from Portsmouth, he might have been deciding his own happy destiny."

All these elements seem to point towards his being redeemable; he almost managed it! If only he'd gone to Everingham instead of London, catastrophic failure would have been averted! And yet at the same time we are told this:

Henry Crawford, ruined by early independence and bad domestic example, indulged in the freaks of a cold-blooded vanity a little too long. Once it had, by an opening undesigned and unmerited, led him into the way of happiness. Could he have been satisfied with the conquest of one amiable woman’s affections, could he have found sufficient exultation in overcoming the reluctance, in working himself into the esteem and tenderness of Fanny Price, there would have been every probability of success and felicity for him. His affection had already done something. Her influence over him had already given him some influence over her. Would he have deserved more, there can be no doubt that more would have been obtained, especially when that marriage had taken place, which would have given him the assistance of her conscience in subduing her first inclination, and brought them very often together. Would he have persevered, and uprightly, Fanny must have been his reward, and a reward very voluntarily bestowed, within a reasonable period from Edmund’s marrying Mary.

Ruined by early independence and bad domestic example. Mansfield Park is in a way a rather pessimist novel: it is a novel about education, and once your education has "set", your character is fixed, and your fate determined. Much of Maria and Julia's disgrace was also directly caused by their upbringing in a household where all importance was given to superficial qualities, and very little effective affection was shared; one can compare the restrained calm of Mansfield as a reflection of Sir Thomas' own unwillingness to see reality and give himself some discomfort in making others comfortable, with the bustle of the Musgrove household, and connect the dots to what makes the relationship between sisters Maria and Julia so different from the one between Louisa and Henrietta in similar situations.

In the end, it's a bit of a Schröedinger's cat situation. Can Henry reform? Yes, says Austen, he has the qualities needed for moral improvement, but no, his upbringing ruined him, and his character is fixed.

While this idea is the strongest in MP, it is present one way or another in all Austen's novels. Characters reforming is usually more about one specific quality or moral tone not being fine tuned than proper metanoia. Darcy was taught to do right, and did right; what he needed was to add proper humility and kindness to his practice. There is an exception, though, the one thing Charlotte Brontë and Jane Austen agree upon: a close brush with death is the best recipe for moral cure in the otherwise incurable.

Maybe the key is to wish Henry a good pneumonia, or a strong horsefall-induced concussion.

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*On a side note, it's interesting that before he proposes, he considers how attached Fanny is to Mansfield, as undeserving as he thinks the Bertrams to be of her affection, and even draws a plan that contemplates giving her pleasure that way too: "I will not take her from Northamptonshire. I shall let Everingham, and rent a place in this neighbourhood; perhaps Stanwix Lodge."