#my brain is just all verbs now all the time

[broke-on-books]

Gritting my teeth doing rom lang homework: what a rich morphology 😤😠😥

[crescentmp3]

ehehe...

[superfluouskeys]

i had to take a nap i was so tired i couldn't remember the lyrics to it's the hard knock life from annie

[cryptidghostgirl]

Lovely (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Description: Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

Warnings: Same angst, new target.

Word Count: 1,631

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N This fic is inspired by Spud Cannon's song Lovely. Also don't mind me and my silly little Latin obsessed brain (Lucifer translates to light bringer and is a combination of the latin verb ferre, to bring, and lux, light. I fuck around with that in this.)

That was what had drawn her to him first: the elegance. Lucifer was a graceful man, a beautiful man, a terribly sad person. In retrospect, that should have been Y/n's sign to take a step back but, it is always so difficult to find the right path in the moment. He had seemed so utterly heartbroken, because, as she now knew, he was so utterly heartbroken, and Y/n had thought: maybe I can help?

Her motivations had just been that at first, helping. It wasn't her fault that he was charming and funny and did things that made her want to be more than friends with him with such alarming regularity that it felt like her life was the worst rollercoaster at an amusement park. The one with eight billion sharp turns and uncomfortable seats that left rider's tailbones bruised. It was almost too much to bear.

Lucifer had heard rumors of the demon who had been gifted with the ability to alter people's memories. It had never been gossip that had interested him much until Lilith had left. Suddenly, his mind had felt like a curse. In the throws of despair, he had looked for her, hunted her down. It hadn't take long, he was Lucifer after all. When he was the one asking the questions, few dared to defy.

The shop was a hole in the wall, drenched in the smell of incense and covered in crystals and other odd objects of curiosity. Lucifer could've sworn he recognized the imp horns on the wall but, ignored it. He was there for a reason and asking questions like that were not the path to his end goal.

The demon herself, the famed mystery, was statuesque. She had sat her table in the back of the shop, draped in jewelry made of bones and gold. She had gifted him the first session free of charge.

In order to keep the pain at bay, Lucifer had been required to come to her shop at least once a month. Y/n was a comfort to him, he associated her with the feeling of relief. The two became fast friends.

"Light bringer." she would beckon him in with a smile, "Still counting those forget-me-nots?"

She spoke to him in Latin, in his first eternal language. She weaved images in the air with the smoke from her fires. She was amazing, a miracle worker. Lucifer was grateful for her, for her skill.

Y/n knew the truth behind it. She tried to ignore it, tried to still her raging heart. She knew it was doomed, had seen with her own eyes the way he was still so in love with someone else. Still, when he had asked her on that first date, a year into them knowing one another, she hadn't been able to bring herself to refuse. He had been so sweet, so earnest, so cheesy. He had asked her to be his and she had told him the truth: she already was.

It was a constant state of denial, one big, overwhelming lie she convinced herself was true. In the beginning, Lucifer had been a doting partner. He surprised her with flowers, he always tried to make her smile. It had all stopped the day she had told him she couldn't use her gift on him anymore.

"Why not?" he has asked, alarmed.

"Because, Ferende Lucem (man bringing light), it's not healthy. I can't make things go away forever, just hide them. You still need to deal with them eventually."

Y/n had thought it was time, had figured that two years of dating and three years of knowing one another would be enough. She had been wrong. Lucifer had ceased in his affections in all but name. No longer was she whisked away to the palace, no longer did she wake to one of his creations on her bedside table.

After about a month, she had decided to take things into her own hands. She refused to recede into the gaps he was creating, refused to just let this all go. Y/n loved him, truly. She wouldn't let the love die without a fight.

The palace guards knew her well, had let her in without question. After some searching, Y/n had found Lucifer locked away in his office. The place smelled of despair. He didn't turn from his empty desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Light Bringer." Y/n hummed softly, rapping a knuckle on the already open door, "Counting your forget-me-not's?"

She hadn't asked him that in years, not since before they had gotten together. He lifted his head from his hands, looking over his shoulder just the slightest bit.

"Malefica (witch)." he replied, his voice low and hollow.

Y/n smiled softly at the pet name and entered the room, letting the door stand open in her wake. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his tired shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Please." Lucifer's voice cracked, "Please take them from me. It's too much, they're too heavy."

Y/n didn't reply, simply nestling her chin into his hair.

"Y/n, please."

"You know I can't do that." she sighed, "It's not healthy."

"This is what is not healthy."

Y/n let go of him and turned his chair so they faced one another. She kneeled down on the ground before him, clasping his hands in her own. His eyes were ringed with red. In that moment, they weren't a fallen angel and a demon, they were just two people. Two people in love and two people housing broken hearts they lied to themselves to stitch back together.

"Lucifer." her eyes searched his face.

It was rare she called him by his true name. The gravity of the moment clung to their skin.

"Lucifer, what am I to you?"

He looked away. Y/n sighed, her heart cracking straight down the middle within the confines of her chest.

"Can I..." she cleared her throat, steeling her nerves, "Am I ever going to be what you're looking for?"

Lucifer's eyes snapped back to Y/n.

"You are what I'm looking for." he insisted, taking his trembling hands from hers and cupping them gently around her face, "You, Y/n, are my sweet little magician, my salve."

"My magic is, you mean."

Lucifer had always been a terrible liar. It was one of the things Y/n loved about him, the way the truth bubbled to the surface of his being. Right now, she wished he could be the best liar on the planet, the best in all of Hell. Right now, she wished she could've been born blind.

Y/n got to her feet, Lucifer's hands hanging in the air where they had held her last. There was no more running, no more hiding from the truth. This was the precipice, the breaking point, the fall.

"You're my salve." he repeated again, his voice soft and sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact as much as he was trying to get through to her.

"Don't lie to me." Y/n demanded, tears pressing behind her eyes, "Don't. Just... just don't."

Oh how she wished she could turn back time, set the clocks to zero.

"You never loved me, did you?"

The question hung unanswered in the air. Y/n had known it for a long time, had known it since the beginning to be perfectly honest but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She was dazed, spinning, out of control.

"You don't love me."

"I wish I could. I'm..."

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and holding back tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll see myself out, I guess."

She hoped he'd call out for her, run after her into the hallway, ask if they could try again could start over. Of course Lucifer did no such thing.

For all the things she had helped her clients forget over the years, Y/n understood them even more now than she ever had before. It was complicated. Now she was going to have to reshape her life. If she ever saw him in the street, it would be her duty to pretend she didn't know him. The memories spawned the terror of potential futures, dreams where things worked out, where everything was okay. They sent her mind reeling.

She had known, all along she had feared the worst and feared confirmation of her knowledge. That was the worst part, it hadn't even been a surprise. It had simply been just that, a confirmation of the truth.

The world caved in around her as she walked home, houses and shops and people all blurring together into something undistinguished and undefinable.

Lovely, that's what he was. In all his misfortune, in all his despair, in all his grace. Lovely but oh god, oh god he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted him to. Not the way she loved him.

Y/n pulled the curtains shut to her little shop, moving methodically and without thought. She sat down at the table in the back, before the pot of incense. She lit it.

Not once in all her years had she ever tried to do use her magic on herself. It seemed like a line in the sand, something utterly forbidden. Y/n shut her eyes.

When she reopened them, the world felt different. Time had passed, she could tell it had but her mind refused to give shape to the years.

"So this is what it must feel like." she mumbled aloud, noticing the remnants of her ritual spread out on the table before her, "I wonder what happened."

[homunculus-argument]

Sometimes I get songs stuck in my head in the way that it's just one line of the lyrics repeating over and over. This time, it's one line of the finnish lyrics of Colours of the Wind, from Disney's old Awful Taste But Great Execution classic Pocahontas. Specifically

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Ja sä kuuletko jo sudenhuudon täyden kuun?

I know that the song translators work with the added challenge of having to reverse-lip sync to make the translation at least somewhat match the movements of the characters' mouths to look natural, I'm still fascinated with the word choice huuto to describe the vocalisation of a wolf. While bad singing or needlessly loud bawling can be degoratorily referred to as howling in finnish as it can be in english, the word huuto is for human voices only. In finnish, the Edvard Munch painting The Scream is simply known as Huuto. And I don't know what the blue corn moon is, and I don't think the finnish translators did in the 90s, so the finnish line translates back to english as

And can you already hear the wolf-call of the full moon?

Which isn't really that dramatically different from the original lyrics, now that I think of it. But I still felt the need to type this ramble out of my brain, and I wanted to note that this is the one and only time I've heard anything in finnish refer to wolf howling with the verb that's exclusively used for human voices, and it's an unreasonably fucking raw line to come from a lyric translation of one of the most Probably Should Not Have Been Made disney films of all time.

[spanishskulduggery]

Baldur's Gate 3 - Non-binary Translation in Spanish

A while back I had mentioned that when I learned how to change language settings for Baldur's Gate 3, I was curious to learn how they would adapt the non-binary [no binario] option into Spanish since Spanish (like many Romance Languages) is very gendered

What I saw actually surprised me a bit

Usually in game translations with different genders, English tends to treat you as a "they" even though it's usually male or female; and in Spanish most of the lines are gendered, or phrased in a very ambiguous way in translation like speaking of your character as una persona "a person" rather than "he" or "she", or "they"

This is one of the first times I've seen the gender neutral -e endings used in an official setting

-

For the purposes of this, and any future posts on this, I decided I would try to play as a non-binary gnome cleric. I should also mention that when you start up the game in Spanish and you do the character customization, everything starts you with the base word (i.e. masculine by default, or possibly agender but looks masculine)... as in you can choose to be elfo "elf", semielfo "half-elf", humano "human", semiorco "half-orc"... choose between bárbaro "barbarian", mago "wizard", brujo "warlock" and so on

My default character creation screen read gnomo, clérigo for "gnome cleric"

But the way your character is addressed by others is what changes

The first NPC you interact with is "Us" a little brain thing you can choose to help. If you do it calls you "friend":

Nosotros: Somos libres. Tenemos nuestra libertad. amigue Us: We are free. We have our freedom. Friend [nb].

The word used is amigue

For the sake of understanding Spanish grammar, you probably know amigo/a "friend". The G here is a hard G. The gender neutral ending is E... but the combination of GE is pronounced like an H sound in Spanish [la gelatina "gelatin" for example is like "hel-a-ti-na"]. To preserve that hard G sound, you have to add a UE to it... so amigo/a becomes amigue for non-binary

[if you study Spanish this is the exact same grammar you'll see in turning -gar verbs into subjunctive forms; why pagar would turn to pague]

The next person you come across is Lae'zel:

Lae'zel: Tsk'va. No eres une sierve. ¡Vlaakith me bendijo en el día de hoy! Juntes, tal vez podamos sobrevivir. Lae'zel: Tsk'va. You are no thrall [nb]. Vlaakith blessed me today ["on this day of today"; emphatic]. Together [nb plural], we may (yet) survive.

Interestingly, there's first siervo/a meaning "servant" or "serf" or "thrall"

What I found very interesting was that you have une... un and una being "a" are used for indefinite articles; the non-binary form seems to be une

What threw me off though was seeing juntes... now junto/a is "together" [lit. "joined"] but juntes implies a non-binary plural.

I don't know if this is because in Spanish grammar it would imply that non-binary trumps feminine [the way amigos "friends" could be male+female or multiple male, as opposed to amigas "friends" being all female]... or if it's maybe an error or something else; the game treats Lae'zel as a woman in every other regard so I think it's the first one which is a situation I somehow hadn't considered. I had just assumed it would be juntos ...or juntas if you played female

Next I decided to rescue Gale first because he uses a lot of adjectives/professions and I wanted to see what they looked like:

Gale: No serás clérigue por casualidad, ¿verdad? ¿Médique? ¿Cirujane? ¿Increíblemente hábil con una aguja de tejer? Gale: You wouldn't happen to be a cleric, right? A doctor/medic? Surgeon? Unbelievably skilled with a knitting needle?

First is clérigo/a "cleric" being used in non-binary as clérigue. Similarly we have médique which is the non-binary médico/a for "medical doctor"

[just like above C turned to QUE to preserve a hard C/K sound; you'll see this with subjunctive and even preterites of -car verbs... why atacar "to attack" will turn to ataqué "I attacked" and ataque in subjunctive... because CE has a soft S sound in Latin America, and can be lisped in Spain]

And next is cirujane... the word cirujano/a is "surgeon"

Finally important note - hábil being "able" or "skilled" is a unisex adjective, so there is no change in any gender - masculine, feminine, or non-binary

*Note: I did miss it but at some point someone used the article le to describe my character. The el and la "the" are the masculine and feminine definite articles; le is non-binary "the" which still catches me by surprise because it looks French to me

-

I've been told since I made the original post that people have seen the non-binary E ending used in other things, but this was special for me to see. I'm curious how the other gendered languages available treated non-binary options

It was a fun surprise for me, especially for some modern day Spanish linguistics in a VERY big modern game, with non-binary word choices being heavily prominent. It's a bit of a learning experience for me

If I find any more fun examples of NB language being used I'll let y'all know as I go

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 3

Summary: you had rules.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, teasing, The Verb, grinding, spanking, tension, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Lloyd didn’t lie. Being an early riser, you thought you would see him, but alas he had already left. You walk into Lyla’s bedroom, and see her still sleeping soundly. Her little lips pucker out looking all comfortable and cozy. Her fingers twitching makes you watch her a bit longer. Seeing her already relaxed in this very new environment. Unaware of whatever her mother did to get her here. It’s refreshing to think that she won’t ever remember the life before now.

How could a mother do that to her child? Well, a baby. And Lyla is the sweetest little thing. You had heard her cry a few times in the middle of the night. Even woke up. Listening as Lloyd walked to her room and soothed his daughter. The part that got you was after her cries had stopped he lingered in there a bit longer than you thought necessary. Thinking that maybe he had just been watching her.

It is foreign and yet still one of the sweetest things. You had heard about daddy’s girls, and father��s that adored their daughters. But in this world, you’ve never seen it. Why was he so different? And why did his behavior intrigue you so much? And the dumbass brought up your daddy issues. You did not have daddy issues. Your mother did a great job. And you had a stepfather. He wasn’t terrible. But he did treat you differently than your brother.

You didn’t have daddy issues. That much you know is true. You just had a soft spot for…something. You aren’t even sure what you’re feeling. What you’ve been feeling since being in his apartment, but you are going to blame it on Lloyd. It truly was him. What the fuck even was that last night?

Softly closing her door you venture into the kitchen for some coffee. You need it this morning. What even was that? Why did you — feel? That was the weirdest experience. Something that should have made you uncomfortable, or at the least pissed you off, but it did not. In fact you went to bed confused, and uncomfortably turned on. That shouldn’t have happened, and it did. And you’re left with lingering questions that you have no brain capacity to answer currently.

You couldn’t believe that you allowed this man to command you. Not just you physically but also mentally. Because yes, you had stayed up way too late running the events through your head. He made you ramen noodles. You had pasta with him twice. In one day. And now you’re being such a girl and overthinking everything.

But how could you not? He called out your lack of panties. Was he offering sex when he said if you wanted more than a dildo? That is what it seemed. Thoughts run rampant in your mind as you take a sip of the bitter brew. Moaning at how just the smell alone was waking you up. Sleep evaded you because of these fucking thoughts. And he had to know what he was doing. He mentioned spanking you!

Was he on a power trip? Or maybe it was more than that. And you sound crazy again. You were here to do a job, and that’s what you need to do. Hearing Lyla squeak out some cries, you pour the rest of your coffee down the drain, and walk towards her room. Giving her a big smile when you walk in, and she answers by pouting that lip out and whimpering.

“Oh my goodness. Did Miss Lyla Bee not sleep well, princess? Come here,” leaning over the crib, you pick her up. Holding her close to your chest, you bounce the baby around until her little cries stop. “Are you ready to get you changed and ready for the day? We have such a big day, you and me. We’re going to have some belly time, and we’ll go on a long walk in the park. And you’re probably going to sleep and drink your milk all day.”

She gurgles up at you, and even though she can’t talk, you just know you’re going to enjoy being here with her. There is a thing or two you could learn about yourself by keeping Lyla.

“Peekaboo!” Leaning over Lyla, you pull your hands away from your face waiting for her squealing laugh as the cutest toothless grin smiles up at you. Using your hands to tickle her sides before you hide your face again.

”Peekaboo!” She giggles so loud, kicking her feet around. Eyes shining up at you. She is adorable. All dressed up in her luxurious baby outfit that is full of pink. She may look sweet and adorable, but this is already her second outfit for the day, and she couldn’t even crawl. “You are a messy little thing, you know that?”

She laughs again. Clenching her fists together. “But you are cute!” More laughter rings out from this tiny little thing on the floor. Using her body to roll over onto her belly, and she lifts up her head to look at you, “I am new to this, and I don’t know if this is normal, but I want to celebrate you rolling over! Oh my gosh, that is so cute. Do it again,” you flip her body over, and she quickly rolls back onto her belly.

Lifting up to look at you with a gummy smile. “Why are you so cute?” You squeal, laying on your belly to look at her. “I think you are the most adorable and smart baby in the world, did you know that?” Her mouth opens and closes a bit. Giving you a look of pure adoration, and you soak it all up.

“You don’t do much, but what you do do is incredible. And,” you give her a quick boop to her nose, and she lets out what you could only assume is a giggle, “Yes, you are so cute, and you have your daddy wrapped around your little finger. Yes you do. Do you know if your daddy is dating anyone? He’s a bit…he’s different, ya know?”

“Lloyd!” Ari shouts behind his colleague, and the man turns to glare at him. “What are you doing looking at your phone?” The wider man grabs the device out of his hand, and starts laughing as he looks at Lloyd, “Oh, I see.”

“You see my daughter. Now give me the fucking phone back.”

“No, I see creepy Lloyd watching his daughter’s au pair. Laying on the floor with her ass perfectly placed. Imagine she was naked looking back at you with those innocent eyes. Lifting up that perfect ass for you to rail into her,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. Locking his phone as he settles down in the chair in front of Ari, glaring at him.

“You haven’t thought about fucking that?”

“‘That’ like she’s a possession.”

“Oh, come now, has Lloyd Hansen grown a conscience? You’ve got to be kidding me. You got you a baby girl, and now you want to value women? She’s living in your fucking apartment, and you haven’t even tried?” Ari didn’t need to know exactly what happened. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Didn’t say that,” Lloyd begins, but shakes his head no. “It’s fucking complicated, you know? She’s Roman’s spawn. And she has a job to do, and none of that requires bobbing her mouth on my cock. She is there to watch Lyla Beatrice when I can’t,” Ari smirks, nodding his head, and not believing anything that Lloyd says.

“She’s not a whore wanting to be used.”

“How do you know that?” Lloyd didn’t know that. In fact what he did know was you were obedient, and reacted to him. He could feel the heat wafting off you. Could smell your scent change when he set you on fire. The Verb could not possibly give you all that you deserved in any way shape or form. There is no way that he could treat you like both the princess and slut that you craved.

“She’s got a,” Lloyd wants to retch for even saying the words in the same sentence. “A boyfriend,” Ari lets out a long chuckle, framing his beard with his fingers as he watches the usually in control Lloyd. “And he’s a damn problem.”

“Why is that, sunshine?”

“Because he wants to assert dominance over me. In my fucking house! They’re mine.”

“Who is yours Lloyd?” Ari’s mouth turns up into a devilish smile, and Lloyd pounds his fist on the desk. Ari truly didn’t understand the predicament Lloyd had placed himself in, “Easy there. You wouldn’t want to show your dominance by your temper tantrums.”

“Lyla and her au pair are mine,” he speaks through his teeth. Contemplating on the ways he could get rid of The Verb. It wouldn’t be long. He couldn’t handle staying away from you. He couldn’t possibly know what it takes to be a man that has to be away. He’s young and needy. Stupid and impulsive. It was a matter of time before he messed up.

“So you just want to own her?”

“I pay for her,” Ari purses his lips as he squints at Lloyd, “And I sound like an ass. No, I don’t want to own her.”

“You want to devour her.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd is never the one to concede an argument, so Ari lets it go. Realizing there is much more to whatever is bothering Lloyd, and his lingering obsession with watching you.

Just as he starts to speak up, he gets an alert on his phone, and he grabs it up immediately. Having nothing to do with his job, but there he is. The Verb. The ingrown hair on his perfectly round ass. Standing at the door of his apartment while you hold a slowly drifting asleep Lyla. You stare up at him with a bit of fear in your eyes.

“I will enjoy slowly murdering that boy.”

“You could just show him who is boss,” Lloyd places a finger over his mouth as he turns up the volume. He needs to see your reaction to The Verb being there.

You gulp as you stare at Chase. Giving Lyla a quick glance as you rub a finger over her soft cheek. You need to remember you have a child in your hands, and unfortunately she is about to be used as a barrier.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you don’t even fully open the door. Lloyd was very clear on his rules, no Chase in his home. “I’m working,” you add in, looking back down at Lyla who had fully drifted to sleep. What could you do to wake her up? Keep her interfering in this conversation that wasn’t going to end well for someone.

“Is the weirdo here?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Fine, is the neurotic nut job that was staring at you like a personalized sex doll here?” Chase had no idea what had transpired between you and Lloyd last night, but you couldn’t forget, and feel a bit annoyed that Chase would use such words against your employee.

“Well, no, he’s not, but,” Chase pushes past you into the front door, and you check the baby to make sure she is still sleeping. “Chase, you can’t be here. There are rules, and…”

“You always follow the rules precisely as they're given,” he falls back onto the lush couch, pulling up the remote. He even turns on the TV. This isn’t going to be good. You just knew Lloyd had cameras all throughout Lyla’s room, probably everywhere you would be with her. Most definitely had a camera on the front door.

“You are always the type to shut up and listen when it comes to a man in authority. Do you know why?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me,” Chase always fancied himself the smartest person in the room. He graduated a few years ahead of you as a psychiatrist. He always assumed that you wanted him to diagnose you. You didn’t. You wanted to have fun, and let off some steam. You didn’t care about his psychoanalysis bullshit. You were doing just fine.

“Because your father left you. Your mother never took up for you concerning your step father, and now you want to be perfect. Hoping that one of the three will not only notice, but will praise you for your good work. It’s why you took this job. You’re in no way equipped to raise a child, but daddy asked you to. So you obliged, and here you are. Of course he stuck you with some weirdo that was looking you up and down, and all I see is my girlfriend being in a place where she is going to let a man she doesn’t know dictate what she needs to do because he’s become your replacement for your father who never loved you apart from being an accessory. And a step father who loved his son, and tolerated you, and a mother who looked at you like a burden because she couldn’t have her perfect life with her new husband.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? All of that was not necessary. I didn’t even ask for it. You just opened your arrogant mouth and told me, and it's not true,” he throws both arms over the couch, giving you a cocky little grin and it infuriates you. “It’s not. And I told you months ago I didn’t want to be analyzed.”

“Because you know I’m right. Poor little rich girl. You’re no different than the rest of us. Our parents fucked us up in the head, and now we’re doing what we must to survive. Except you have become a glorified babysitter, and if that jerk has it his way, a blow up doll for his enjoyment,” how could he even say something like that? Like you didn’t even have agency on what you wanted.

“The man pays well, but you’re still under the thumb of a man in power.”

“Is this what this is? You don’t get to power me, so you’re trying to wear me down in hopes that you can?”

His bright blue eyes stare too long at you, while you look at Lyla. Despite the conversation at hand, she remained sleeping peacefully. “Put the baby up, and quit using her as a shield. You know that I’m right, and you’re now refusing to make out with your boyfriend because of the man in charge told you I shouldn’t be here, huh? It’s not your rules, but his. And you’re going to make sure you follow every single one of them. Now, put the baby in her room, and talk to me like an adult. Or are you too scared?”

“She wasn’t held enough when she was with her mom, and she sleeps better when she’s being held.”

“Excuses. Excuses, Dolly,” he almost sneers at you when you pop your sight in his direction. “Go on, go put the baby up. I love when we get into our little debates, and I don’t want to wake the sleeping cherub. Go on,” you didn’t want to have the conversation, or wake her up. And with the way Chase is right now, you’re going to have to do one of them.

You spin on your heels, and walk towards her bedroom. Giving her forehead a kiss before walking back into the living room, and Chase rubs his thighs. Rebelling just enough you sit on the couch beside him, but pull the remote out of his hand, turning off the television. “I told you that you shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re debating.”

“No, you are. And Lloyd doesn’t want strange men in his house. And…”

”I’m your boyfriend. I think it’ll be okay. It’s not like I’m some stranger. We’ve had fun this past year. And,” he pulls your legs over on top of his, running a smooth hand up your thigh before he lifts himself up. Pushing you to lay flat on your back while he hovers over you. “What are you scared about?”

“Losing a job.”

He presses his mouth against your neck as you start to melt a bit. Feeling the heat from his body, coupled with the intense tension you still felt from last night you weaken, “Daddy dearest won’t let that happen,” he whispers against your neck, and you throw all caution into the wind. Lloyd is at work. You aren’t doing anything in front of his daughter. He couldn’t keep you from Chase.

Chase’s thigh goes between your own, and he chuckles when you start to grind on him, “You’re always so needy, sweetheart,” you want to cuss him, and tell him to just get a quickie in. Anytime he talks the paranoia slightly kicks back in. Paranoia, frustration, and being horny isn’t the best combination.

“Shh,” you moan, pulling his mouth towards yours while your fingers fiddle around with his stupid pants. Who needs pants anyways? Stopping a bit to rub over his growing bulge while you mewl his name. “Chase, I…”

He has your panties and leggings halfway pulled down your legs. His hand running through your slick when the front door to the apartment slings open, “I thought I gave you very explicit instructions. The Verb goes immediately!”

“Lloyd,” pushing Chase off your body, you sit up, and stare down at your bare legs. Biting at your lip, and looking between the men. “He was — he was just visiting, and…”

“I said no!” He leans towards Chase getting his face inches away from your boyfriend’s, and his whispered threat is more menacing than any of his yelling, “I said go immediately,” Chase looks at you, saying your name, but you shake your head, “Now!”

He screams so loud you can hear Lyla’s pitiful whimpers from her room. It takes Chase a beat too long to stand up. He buttons up his pants, and gives you a regretful look, but you stare down at your legs like a scolded child. Still afraid to move even though you're exposed when Chase walks out the door, leaving you alone with your neurotic boss.

“I thought I told you…”

“I’m sorry,” your voice is meek and hardly audible, and your eyes never meet his. “He barged in on me. I didn’t ask him to, and he was insistent, and — Lloyd, I’m sorry,” he takes a step back from you. Glancing down at your pants, and barely there underwear before he looks back into your eyes. “I didn’t…”

“I can make sure he never bothers you again.”

“I don’t want you to kill him!”

“And I thought I told you not to be out of your room with no panties on,” your body straightens up, and you glare up at him. Daring to make due on the promise he made you last night. “Stand up,” you shake your head no, and before you can count to three Lloyd is sitting on the couch, and pulling your body over his lap.

Your hands cover your backside, in hopes of not being so exposed, but he swats them away. Gritting through his teeth before he holds both your hands behind your back, and your ass as naked as the day you were born right there for him. “Please, Lloyd, don’t.”

“You knew the rules,” his voice growls as he slaps your left cheek hard. “Count,” you stay silent, and he smacks the other cheek, “I said count, goddammit.”

“Two!” You cry out only to hear him laugh. “Two!”

“You missed the first time, so we’re starting all over again. Let’s make this quick, Dolly, my daughter needs you,” smack! You blubber out one, and his hand smooths over the sphere of your ass with a smile, “Good girl. Now let’s get to five, and I’ll let you get Lyla Bee, so we can have a little talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whine, and he spanks you again, “Two.”

Slap. “Three,” this is humiliating, and the worst part is you didn’t hate it. He is giving you more attention than your father or stepfather ever did. Smack. “Four,” it stings, and burns, but when you look back at him, he has a proud smile on his face, and you arch your back to push your ass more into his view.

Spreading your legs a bit so he can also see between your thighs, and you get the hardest slap yet. His hand lingers on your ass, and those large fingers stroke the tender skin softly, “Five,” you weakly say, and he pulls you into a standing position right in front of him.

His face completely facing your exposed core, and he pulls up your panties first. Grinning up at you before the black leggings are pulled up your body, and he taps your hips a few times, “There, there, you did such a good job,” he isn’t even flinching, or looking up at you. He continues to stare at your covered pussy, taking slower, deeper breaths as he inhales your aroma.

“I believe Lyla is still crying. Why don’t you go fetch her,” his voice is so even and deep, showing no emotions as to what just transpired. How is he so calm? “Dolly, you have a job to do,” those eyes look up at you, and his pupils are so wide, very little of the blue is peeking through. Just deep pools of black. Giving him the appearance of being high from spanking you, “Dolly, I need you to get my daughter.”

Giving him a nod, you walk into Lyla’s room, and her sweet face is turned up, and she swishes around trying to find someone that is normally there to comfort her. Been with Lloyd for such a short time, and is already spoiled on touch, “Hey, miss Lyla Bee,” her lips tremble as she looks up at you, trying to calm herself.

It isn’t until you pick her up, and hold her close to your chest that she starts snuggling into you. Calming down even more, “Oh, honey, I’ve got you. I’m right here,” Lloyd listens to your sweet words to Lyla as he cracks his neck. You were going to be the death of him. Twice he took things too far.

But he did warn you what would happen if you didn’t have panties on. And dammit you were right there looking so pretty and…he shouldn't have looked, but he did. Delectable is the perfect word to describe that moment. And you weren’t all innocent in it. You enjoyed it. He could tell from the heat pulsating off your core, and the wet spot that lingers on his leg. You wanted him to see your cunt, so he did look. Trouble. You were the devil for him.

“There’s your daddy,” you coo, bringing Lyla into the living room with you, and she gives Lloyd a sweet smile. “Tell him that you were asleep the whole time.”

“Dolly, do you know why I don’t want that boy here?”

“Because your jealous? Oh — um,” you press your hand over your mouth, wondering if putting your foot in your mouth was an option. “I mean…what I meant to say is…”

“I don’t get jealous. I can have whatever the fuck I want. And what I want is for my daughter to be safe. You may not know it because I’m keeping you and her away from my business, but I am a feared and known man. I have many enemies, and people willing to pay millions of dollars to see me crumble. They want my weaknesses. They want to see me tortured slowly. And do you know what my weakness is?” You shake your head no as you look at the coffee table. Unable to stare at him, and you’re not even sure why.

It is hard to even look at the sweet girl’s face that you’re holding. You feel ashamed. You did have the one rule, and Chase was seeing to it that it was the one that was broken. “My weakness is that tiny little girl in your arms. And you by extension. I have to trust you.”

“I get that, I really do, but —“

“There’s no buts here. There are real people who will not hesitate to kill you or Lyla. Do you understand that?”

“I do. But Chase isn’t one of them, and you want me to break up with him, and —“

He is always interrupting you. He never lets you finish a thought before he tells you what is going to happen. “Keep the fucking asshole. I just don’t want him in my damn house. And just for the record,” Lloyd reaches over towards you to get the baby. Moving his gaze to her instead of you. Almost like it pained him to see you. “You deserve more than that boy can give you. He’s an asshole.”

“You don’t know him,” you only feel like defending him because hearing someone call Chase an asshole reflected on your choice for keeping him. It is silly, but it’s the truth. Chase had his flaws, but he wasn’t all bad.

“I heard what he said to you,” you look up at him, figuring he had cameras in the main rooms, and Lyla’s room. It shouldn’t surprise you, but realizing Lloyd heard Chase’s psychoanalysis was heard by Lloyd is infuriating. “Even if it's true, he shouldn’t have said that to you. You’re not his patient, so don’t let him treat you like one,” he slowly stands up. Leaning over to hand Lyla back to you. “I’m going back to work. Don’t make me regret not spanking you five more times. I mean what I say. Panties off in the bedroom. Panties on out here.”

Lloyd stomps back towards the door. Never giving you and Lyla another glance as he hurries out of the apartment. Sighing as he adjusts his jeans. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had dwelling between his legs. He wouldn’t allow that moment to be a weakness. You had no effect on him. None.

Lloyd’s dark gaze finds you as you walk out of your bedroom. Wincing on your way into the living room, but you walk past him and into the kitchen. You didn’t know what to say to Lloyd. You had betrayed his trust. He saw you a bit more intimately than he needed to. There’s a lingering embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, and your damn ass hurts.

Grabbing out the things to make a quick snack, you turn around, and there he is. Still glowering at you. His brow is still low on his forehead as he watches you get out different noodles than the first night. Clearly, you and Lloyd had a noodle thing. “Would you like some butter noodles, too?”

“If you’re offering,” he responds solemnly, and you answer with a curt nod. He won’t apologize to you, of that you’re sure of. You just would have to put your foot down a bit more concerning Chase.

“Where do you all have cameras?”

“Anywhere that Lyla will be,” there’s no emotion in his voice, it's just the factual evidence. You aren’t sure where to take the conversation from there. Standing in silence is crippling. It’s like the air in the kitchen is so thick you can’t even breathe. “How is your, um, your ass?”

You snort as you glance back at him. He isn’t as quick with averting his gaze from the subject at hand. “It’s sore,” well, what else are you supposed to say? It feels amazing, thank you for showing me who is boss. I promise to never disobey you ever again.

“Do you understand why I did it?”

The spoon falls onto the counter loudly and you saunter over to the kitchen island where he resides, and lean over it, demanding he looks at you. He does, but his chin is still jutted up. He’s still in control, “Please, don’t try to parent me. I’m a grown woman.”

“People who say that are often trying to convince themselves of that. I’m not parenting though. I have my rules, and I expect you to follow them. That’s strike one. The only reason you’re still even here is because of Roman,” you begin to speak, but he smirks, shaking his head, and you immediately stop talking.

“You do know how to listen, even if it’s not words, I’m impressed. You are Roman’s daughter, and he has been loyal to me. I really don’t give a fuck about him not being present in your life,” his mouth twitches, and you slowly retreat from him. He stops you by wrapping a hand behind your neck, holding you in place. “He knows who I am, and trusted me with his precious daughter.”

“He was just a sperm donor.”

“And for some unknown reason, I like you,” your eyes brighten, and a slight smile pulls up your mouth, “Don’t get to excited, Dolly,” he slides over a tube of cream, and you glance down at it confused, “It’ll help your ass,” is he giving you some form of relief? He sees you uncomfortable and is offering aftercare. Not at all what you had assumed of Lloyd Hansen.

“I should finish the noodles,” you finally pull away from him leaving the cream untouched on the island as you separate the noodles into the bowl. You slide over his bowl, but remain standing as you take a bite.

“Are you struggling to sit down?”

“I think that’s quite obvious, Lloyd.”

“The cream would help.”

“Then why don’t you put it on me since it was you that caused it?”

Lloyd takes a slow bite of his buttery noodles, and then another. Keeping those cool blue eyes on you the entire time he finishes his bowl before letting his fork drop into the bowl with a clink. He stands up, walking around you as he cleans up the mess you made before his body towers behind you.

Leaning his head around you until his mouth is right at the shell of your ear, “Put it on yourself,” he starts to walk back to his bedroom before stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, “Make sure you clean up your mess,” even though you can’t see his face, he smiles. He still had control. And if you want him to put anything on you, you need to learn how to ask with manners. He wouldn’t be commanded. He was the one in control. Despite the strain in his pants. Fucking nymph.

You exhale, not even realizing you had been holding your breath. Sweat beads around your hairline, and you struggle to control your breathing. What is he doing to you to make you feel so…weak? Did you actually want him to see your ass again?

“Ugh,” you groan as you put away your dishes, and grab up the cream. Stopping outside of Lloyd’s bedroom when you hear the shower on, and an angry groan. Moan? You aren’t sure. He sounds like he’s not happy with his shower.

If he wanted to ice you out while also exposing you, you could do the same. You let a phone call from Chase go to voicemail. You weren’t in the mood for his games, or even whatever brand of medicine he had to offer. You are sore, and still left —

Wanting.

Needing.

Fuck Lloyd Hansen.

Next

Masterlist

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[corollaservant]

The Host // Chrollo x f!Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Chrollo likes you, you remind him of someone he knows. Better yet, you might just be her. He's hosting a show tonight and you're starring in it.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation/coercion, knives, oral and penetrative sex, psychosis/schizophrenia, stalking, Sarasa mentions (Chrollo's childhood friend), spoilers for the manga, would add more but it kinda ruins it.

A/N: inspired by Phantom Troupe's flashback in the Succession Contest arc and my love for Chrollo. Played intentionally with the verb tenses.

The party. That’s right, you were at a party, a drink in your hand and your friend with you. Where was the party? A sharp pain pierces your cranium and you wince. What ever happened to your friend? You decide you can't show empathy at present time.

It was commonly assumed that memory followed a chronological sequence, that the human brain could recall memories exactly like they unfolded but in all honesty, memory recalling happened in fragments for most. The party. Your friend. The colors of the light. A man. 

A man. Who was the man and what were you talking about, you try to think but it’s kind of hard when you can’t see, you’re blindfolded and tied to a chair. Earthy odor, smells like soil, you note. Not that this takes you far. You had definitely been drugged, you felt weak and nauseous (it was a wonder the stills popped in your head) eyes so tightly folded, the little shapes and colors from the pressure increasing your fatigue, your heart palpitating. Was this date rape? You couldn’t touch yourself to find out but you felt intact. This was also not a date. Then why the abduction and ropes? To offer something, you think. But you didn’t have much to offer for the record. You try calming yourself down but the thought only stresses you further. Fuck, how long was this going to take?

Chrollo never did things without reason. Never talked without it, stole without it (debatable, but they were in need), never acted without it or killed without it. You being there was no mistake, he was wondering how you felt at the moment, not very familiar with human emotions, they all seemed wary, he thought, so he often brushed them off—he didn't care enough to dig deeper. Chrollo listened, he never talked. He could sit through a Troupe meeting actively hearing the members, knowing fully well when stupid proposals and ideas were spouted as they all patiently waited for his final word. He didn’t mind, he thought it was funny how people unraveled without him trying.

His decision on you, he had to admit was made on impulse. He didn’t mean to drug you. He didn’t mean to abduct you. Unlike you, he remembers details. Him and the Troupe were in a club (silly to assume for entertainment, a stolen prize now decorating the heist gallery in one of the Troupe's hideouts) when he saw you. You weren’t far, a couple inches away, drinking clumsily and conversing with a person he presumed was a friend by the proximity of it. You had her eyes, he thought. Of course he could see perfectly in the dark, well, he could pretty much use any of his senses to a higher extent, he wouldn’t be a Specialist after all. Your wide eyes gleamed, they squinted when you couldn’t listen. To make matters worse, you had your hair in pigtails, loosely falling down your shoulders, long hair divided by two black hair ties. Just like hers, he thinks.

Now, Chrollo is not sentimental, he really isn’t, but the optic parallels cloud his judgement and he wants nothing more but to be by your side, to reminisce the part of him that died a long time ago. He can’t cry, not unless he has a reason; he does nothing without it, but feels touched merely by your presence. Once the decision is finalized, he makes a move.

-

‘’Excuse me, miss.’’ A voice rings behind you. A tall man with dark brown hair and gloomy eyes holds out your house keys, you always shoved them in your pockets, as you considered it safer than your purse, not directly attached to your body. 

‘’T- thank you.’’ You stammer, you’ve had a couple of drinks as the club lights hit on your face making you stumble against him, the guy behind you dancing so carelessly, you’re being pushed left and right either way. 

‘’Be careful.’’ He smiles as he extends his arm to hold you upright, a mournful look on his face as he walks away. The keys. The man. The drink. Dark. There is no memory of what happened after. 

It’s the same voice you hear entering the room, was it even a room? The sounds echo as if you are in a cave.

‘’Finally, here you are darling.’’ He smoothly says as you scream the first thing that comes to your mind ‘’What the fuck do you want?’’. Your voice rips through the "cave" but you are certain it makes no difference. Whoever this is, doesn’t worry about the helpless sounds you’re about to make.

‘’Darling, please don’t yell, I’m right here.’’ The voice of the man inches closer, as the blindfold is being removed from your hurting eyes. Your heart races when you see him in all his glory, ominous stare and a tattoo decorating his forehead (did he have this at the club?), blue orb-shaped earrings, a peculiar attire that reminds you of a Victorian vampire—a long coat with feathers all the way down his ankles and some funny boots. His calm expression while supposed to be relaxing, just increases the nausea in your stomach, he seems familiar with such processes. As for the place, it isn’t coming to your aid either, you can’t recognize what this used to be (a warehouse? a prison? an actual cave for outcasts in the city suburbs?). You feel the known sensory feeling well up in your eyes, it’s starting to become serious. 

‘’W-what to do you want?’’ You stutter, unable to scream; you could but see no point.

‘’Are your hands in pain my darling?’’ His eyes look over your tied wrists with concern and he flinches looking at the knot. ‘’I told Feitan to go easy on you.’’ ‘’Well.. he just never listens.’’

‘’What do you want from me?’’ You want to scream and beg him to let you go, he didn’t assault you so what does he even want? You had no use to a person, as far as you knew, an unessential addition to people’s lives.

‘’My sweet darling..’’ He murmurs as he prolongs the sentence, his words making a bile travel to your mouth; your nausea from the drugging never really went away.

What sick game is this?

‘’Please excuse the sudden change of heart after our brief encounter at [ ]. I was hoping you can understand that I wanted you here today for a very special reason.’’ He starts and your heart’s thrumming, you silently beg him to get to the point. You want out of there immediately.

‘’Please!’’ You yelp frustrated ‘’Just tell me!’’

‘’How about I show you? Hmm?’’ He responds, his velvety voice making you gag. ‘’Shalnark!’’ He calls and a blonde guy (boy?) makes an appearance holding a.. tripod and a digital camera, which he sets right next to him, adjusting the tripod’s legs and connecting the mounting head with the camera.

‘’Everything's set up, anything else boss?’’ This guy literally beams as your eyes widen, was this a perverted farce? What did the guy mean with fucking boss?

‘’W-what is this?’’ You ask but ‘boss’ has his a attention directed at the blonde guy. 

‘’Think you’re forgetting something, Shalnark..’’ He playfully scolds and the boy’s eyes light up as if having a sudden godlike revelation. 

‘’You’re so right, boss!’’ He widely smiles as he exits.

‘’W-what are you gonna do?’’ You are crying, anxious and can't think straight—the psychotic simulation suddenly makes you wish it would’ve been a date rape.

The boy comes back and this time he is holding a wireless microphone, which he passes to the ‘boss’, his name unknown and not your concern at the moment as he wordlessly leaves you once again to his mercy.

‘’Now, sweetheart,’’ You flinch at the choice of words. ‘’I would like for you to hold this right here.’’ He tells you indicating the microphone ‘’I’m going to untie you, please think carefully of your next move.’’ He says as he comes close to you, removing the ropes and freeing your bruised wrists. Your eyes flicker, should you try this? He knows. He sees you. He is a Specialist after all, he has a reason. The split second your left foot is turned towards his right, a wide knife with a sharp blade is pressed to your neck, while you’re being headlocked to his sides. This happens so fast you hardly have time to comprehend it.

‘’Sweetheart.’’ He sighs. ‘’The knife’s not just sharp, it’s also poisonous, so please behave.’’ He goes about it as if he deals with things like that daily, you feel your legs trembe and almost snap but he lifts you up and places you back to your initial spot. What kind of a psychotic freak has a poisonous knife on them? And why are his reflexes so fast?

‘’Will you please hold this, darling?’’ He patiently asks again, as he hands the microphone over, your hands shake but you take it, eyes wide in fear.

‘’Now..’’ He smiles. ‘’We’ll go over the script, oh..it’s been such a long time since I’ve done this!’’ He exclaims looking...happy?

He hands you over a paper with a language you can’t understand and small dialogues—you take it it’s a German variation, as there’s these funny dots over the vowels but also has some incomprehensible words and you can’t make the distinction. On the bottom there’s this image of some superheroes with cleaning devices, one holds a broom, the other one a mop. Nothing makes sense and you feel exhausted as you try to negotiate a way out. Maybe he is just a freak who wants a stupid script played out, maybe it’s that. Maybe you will be able to be free, to see your cat again. Maybe. Logic has left you, but you don't seem to notice.

‘’W-will you..please..let me go after?’’ You whisper, ready to hear the worst.

‘’My precious, of course! Please grant me this favor and I will set you free immediately, I ask for you to forgive previous gestures on my behalf, it just happens that they mean so much to me..’’ The words linger as you suspiciously eye him up. This is not a time for bargains or reason so you’ll comply to the freak’s needs. 

You start reciting as he cuts you off. ‘’More passion, my angel, you need to say it aloud, shout out the line!’’ and you sniff, what a fucking weirdo. 

He makes you retake the incoherent dialogues multiple times, cutting you off, correcting you, shouting at you for not waiting for his part. Of course he assigned himself the leader role, must've been some god complex—no wonder from a perverted mind like his.

It is around the middle of the play, when you mispronounce a word that he seems agitated as he approaches you. He slaps your face with malice, an ominous stare, his eyes burn as you let the microphone fall from the impact. 

‘’You mispronounced this, she’d never do that.’’ He spits and you start feeling a new round of tears forming in your eyes, who she is and what you had to do with her not making any sense in your mind. You sob as you brokenly stutter.

‘’I-I'm sorry, w-we can redo this, please..’’ He stares at you, the same pitiful expression on his face. He doesn't look upset anymore, all that pent up anger left him, the more he looks in your pretty eyes, how could he stay mad at you? You were after all the person he used to care for the most. A veiny hand approaches your now disheveled pigtails (pigtail in actuality, as one hairtie fell off during your abduction) and his fingers twirl around it. His lower half close to your face as you look up at him. He is absentmindedly staring at your hair when he kneels down to your height. 

‘’I’m sorry.’’ He smiles. ‘’Would you forgive me, my darling?’’ His breath fans on the red mark and your parted mouth. Tears are staining your cheeks as he brushes a thumb to 'clean' you. The proximity is eerie, you hesitantly avert your eyes as you gulp.

‘’Y-yes, sir,’’ You whisper, ‘’l-let’s continue this.’’ You're eager to be set free, eager for this twisted game to end. 

‘’No, we shall not occupy ourselves with my play anymore, Sarasa.’’

Sarasa? Who the fuck is this and what did you have to do with her? 

You don't like the new proximity, it makes you anxious, his hands still cup your jaw before he stands up and tugs at the loosened pigtail.

A bulge now decorates his pants and while you try to avert your eyes, you can't help but notice it. His finger grazes over your lips as he slides one in your mouth, observing you from above the whole time. A sigh escapes his lips when he hears you gag.

‘’Suck on it...’’ he orders, ‘’please, darling.’’

There's no plea in this tone, only authoritative command. You do as asked and he readjusts his legs. You can guess what's next and you just want this to be over—there is no escape but if sucking him off means you get to be free, you’d be more than willing to do that.

He unzips his pants, sliding them down together with his boxers as his cock springs free, he is probably the biggest you've seen and you panic thinking of him in your mouth. He must’ve noticed because he chuckles and approaches you. You are about to shut your eyes and start the lewd act when he steps aside and ties your wrists behind your back again. Left with your mouth hanging open, a victim to merciless desires, he puts his fingers in your mouth. Your saliva coats the digits, which he removes and cautiously places on his cock, stroking himself to the sight of you, stricken with fear and quivering, his good Sarasa, how he had failed to protect her, as he continues to jerk himself off in front of you. The scene is lewd: his naked torso protrudes over his ridiculously oversized feather coat, his cock oozes his precum and makes wet sounds coming in contact with your saliva and a tormented face; his head's arched back and slow ‘’im sorry’’s exit his mouth. You feel a sting in your core looking at him and the vague bile you had in your throat makes you audibly gag. How can you be thinking like this right now? But your body isn't run by your superego, your moral compass doesn't dictate your physical instincts and your legs are unconsciously brought together to alleviate the pain.

He is getting himself off, glancing at you, knowing you drink him in. His strokes become faster when he suddenly touches your lips with his thumb and parts your mouth only for an angry cock to slam against your throat without a warning. He hisses and grabs your head to push your mouth and nose all the way down, he wants his release and wants it now. You can't breathe or shout or protest in any way, only wiggling your tied hands and crying out in pain, which comes off as groans that reverberate on him and he crumbles— falling apart, moaning and shooting all his release down your throat. Snots and tears fall on his cock and he slowly removes himself.

‘’What a mess you made, darling.’’ He exhales too composed, looking down.

You were responsible for this? 

‘’I hope the camera is still on, because I am intending to punish you, Sarasa.’’ He continues. ‘’You only had one line, my angel, one line in the entire play and you couldn't make it. You know how much this upsets me?’’ His voice almost breaks, the ordeal messes you up even more.

You can’t understand him, you want to get out, your throat already hurts from his penetration and you fear for the next part. You know it must involve sex and shudder at the realization he'll have to touch you down there. The thought that you had been wet up until he came in your mouth, the fact that he would soon enough know this, the fact that you have been involuntarily aiding his mission by complying to his cruel needs makes you feel vile but you have no time to process this as you feel two arms cutting the ropes quickly, letting you free from the chair you were tied to. 

You jump up before realizing it, you’ll run you think—(you really don't have time to think, you act solely on instinct) but his agility prevails once again, fast reflexes have your neck choked as he grabs you from behind, the knife with the black handle against an artery as you halt. 

‘’This was my last warning, sweetheart, please comply before it’s too late.’’ 

He is dragging you back, forcing you to turn around, his cock still free and half hard, is he seriously turned on by your futile attempts for freedom?

What a sick person.

He languidly sits on the chair with his coat draping and touching the floor as he positions you on his bare lap. You draw a sharp breath, as you feel him under you, a disgusting cock rubbing your clothed entrance —he sighs and pulls you in an embrace. He smells like cedar, you think, cedar and sweat as he brings his lips to yours, connecting them softly. You keep them shut, your eyes open and he knows it because he quickly pulls away. ‘’Darling, why don’t you kiss me?’’ he murmurs. You feel a sharp blade trailing down your spine, his knife moves to your sides and pokes at the flesh as he brings his lips close again. Your skirt reminds him of hers and it makes him desperate for closure, he'd protect her better this time, he thinks as a stiff cock touches your panties, connecting your heat to his and making you softly whine, sounds you can't control. ‘’Please..’’ he whispers and you finally do it. You let yourself get lost in the moment, your freedom is close but the more you think about it, the more anxious you become and sadistic tendencies like his leave no space for slip ups. His mouth clashes against yours, tongue overlapping your own, of course he'd be in control, while the knife rests on your lower back. You start grinding down his length, hands digging at the roots of his hair as you feel yourself lubricated against your will, you want this to be over, that’s what you tell yourself. 

With a hand behind your back holding the knife and the other one free, he decides to feel your silky softness, test it for himself, his good girl, how obedient she is under his touch, how eager to be punished for her wrongdoings. He teases your entrance, as he smears the wetness gathered around, you choke on a moan, your still functioning conscious and pride making you want to stay silent but that's impossible with a hand around your clit and a finger sliding with ease inside your walls. The knife also doesn't leave you with another choice.

‘’I want you to call out my name.’’ He hums as he continues his rhythm, you are slowly coming undone on his fingers.

‘’W-what’s your name, sir?’’ You manage to breathe out in between thrusts, you’ve been trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, instinctively guided by a pressure within.

‘’Chrollo.’’ 

What a funny name. 

‘’P-please..Chrollo.’’ You whine, it's when he decides to remove his fingers from you. 

‘’Oh, Sarasa,’’ he sighs, ‘’you’ve misbehaved enough today, I really wanted to punish you, you know that?’’ 

‘’N-no, p-please, Chrollo..’’ You practically purr. At this point calling you Sarasa doesn't even bother you, you got accustomed to it some time ago. 

Something in the way you hum his name makes his eyes flicker and he wordlessly drops the knife behind him, as he squeezes his cock to line up with your slit.

‘’Don’t think I don’t have other means to restrain you, darling.’’ He mutters and pulls you down on him, giving you no time to adjust to his girth, the head slamming against your insides as you let out a lewd moan. 

‘’S-sir!’’ You moan, as you're sucking him in, taking every inch as best as you can given the circumstance while large palms viciously grope your behind, smashing your hips down his groin. Your pretty face bouncing atop him, wide eyes, oh these eyes, looking at his now fully darkened ones and he watches his pretty girl come apart, soft moans leaving your smudged lips, pigtails now fully disheveled; your hair bounces freely on your delicate shoulders. He observes your mouth, how beautiful it looks each time it curves and smiles at him, each time you’d tell him ‘’Look at what I found!’’ excitedly, a tape among the junk, a broken toy—you were his favorite companion. Chrollo feels himself jerk within your walls, you're trapping him inside and he won't last long. 

‘’Come for me, please...’’ He needs this, he needs you. You grip his hair fervently as you let out small ‘’fuck’’s (involuntarily, you convince yourself).

He is inching you closer to your relief despite your disdain and you can tell he is there with you, parted mouth leaving shaky, pleading blabbers, as he grabs your hair and twists it in his palm, tugging at it harshly. You are forced to throw your head back so it gives him the opportunity to assault your neck, sucking and biting on it, the sensation tingles and arouses you as you come apart, digging your nails in his arms.

‘’C-chrollo–agh!’’ You sing, it pleases him and makes him groan—he is cumming for you, your core spasms and tightens, clit pulsating and muscles taut as he thrusts upwards to fill you up as much as anatomically possible. Semen starts falling down his thighs but he still holds you tightly. He's marked you his twice and doesn't think he'll ever forget.

‘’My good girl...’’ He exhales shakily, ‘’my precious, little girl.’’ He continues, rubbing your back, as your weight falls on him, the knife tossed behind him looks at you and you shut your eyes.

-

Chrollo lets you go. He doesn’t order you a ride or have the blonde guy escort you. You have to walk 45 exhausting minutes to find a bus stop and even then, you hardly recognize the area. 

He leaves for the next 6 months, not communicating anything to the rest of the Troupe, people overestimate their closeness. He replays your video every night while he’s away fighting and earning (stealing) abilities, your beautiful, expressive eyes haunt his dreams, Sarasa would like you if she met you. Sarasa would make friends with you. Sarasa, you. What's the difference? 

Chrollo comes back only to find you sleeping, so peacefully he rejoices at the sight. Absolutely perfect and innocent, he tainted you and you didn’t even care? He smiles. He tells himself you're a bad girl for sleeping with your doors unlocked, just like Sarasa liked to wander on her own and look where that got her. Maybe the door wasn’t unlocked, it’s something he finds irrelevant now. He had kept his promise, he thinks. You should be grateful he’s honest.

[writers-potion]

said is NOT DEAD. our brains have seen it so much that when reading dialogue, it just glosses over it. if you don't want to detract from the dialogue, USE SAID. other words might ground the reader a little too much and lose a bit of immersion.

--this comes from my old tutor who now has a phd in literature

Said Is Not Dead

Of course not! "Said" should still be your go-to speech tag, the benefit being that it flows best. I find it nice to have a larger working vocabulary when it comes to expressing speech, though, and I think many writers would agree! It's one thing to use "said" because you know it's the best word choice and another to keep using it because you can think of no alternative.

Having said that:

". . . Don't tell me your character 'excaimed,' 'stated,' or 'replied.' When in doubt, just use 'said.' That's all. Maybe they 'answered.' They certainly did not 'retort.' You can use 'said' more often than you think . . . it's one of those words that takes a while before it starts sounding repetitive." -- Ariel Gore, How to Become a Famous Writer Before You're Dead

"The best form of dialogue attribution is 'said,' as in 'he said, she said, Bill said, Monica said." -- Stephen King, On Writing

"Mr. [Robert] Ludlum . . . hates the 'he said' locution and avoids it as much as possible. Characters in The Bourne Ultimatum seldom 'say' anything. Instead, they cry, interject, interrupt, muse, state, counter, conclude, mumble, whisper (Mr. Ludlum is great on whispers), intone, roar, exclaim, fume, explode, mutter. There is one especially unforgettable tautology: '"I repeat," repeated Alex.' The book may sell in the billions, but it's still junk." -- Newgate Callender, in The New York Times Book Review

"Editors and critics often refer to melodramatic dialogue tags as 'said bookisms.' They know that these phrases give our story an amateurish look. Your readers might not know what the darn things are called, but chances are that they'll notice them, too . . . In most cases, the word 'said' would work just fine, and using said bookisms detracts from the dialogue." -- Ann M. Marble, "'Stop Using Those Said Bookisms,' the Editor Shrieked."

"[Say is] just too simple and clear and straightforward for many people. Why say something when you can declare, assert, expostulate, whine, exclaim, groan, peal, breathe, cry, explain, or asseverate it? I'm all for variety and freshness of expression, but let's not go overboard." -- Patricia T. O'Conner, Woe Is I

"In journalism circles, said is a virtue--simple, precise, and unadorned--and alternatives to it are considered frilly and silly. You don't have to agree, but be aware that lots of editors hold this view. Choose your alternatives to said with great care." --June Casagrande, It Was the Best of Sentences, It Was the Worst of Sentences

"We're all in favor of choosing exactly the right verb for the action, but when you're writing speaker attributions the right verb is nearly always 'said.' The reason those well-intentioned attempts at variety don't work is that verbs other than 'said' tend to draw attention away from the dialogue." --Renni Browne and Dave King, Self-Editing for Fiction Writers

Side Note: After a month-long hiatus while this uni writer struggled with exams, internships, interviews and multiple mental breakdowns, I am going to resume answering questions that have piled up in my inbox! Get ready to be bombarded with writing QnA!!!! :)

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[tyblackthornsheadphones]

Hiya! Maybe some hurt and comfort fic with the moon boys after the reader got hurt in a street scuffle thing? :)

i reread this only once and yes, i did notice the inconsistent verb tenses but honestly i don’t have the energy to go back and change it. i tried to keep physical descriptions of the reader to a minimum so it should be gender neutral and any race. if not, please let me know so i can fix it.

i also kind of forgot the reader was supposed to be hurt and wrote it more emotional but i hope it’s fine anyway. (i’m so bad at following requests i’m so sorry)

if you wanna support me you can buy me a ko-fi.

the two men had come out of nowhere, forcing you into an alleyway under the dark cover of the night. your only comfort was the thought that your boys were watching the city for these exact types of people, maybe they would come save you. and if you managed to hold off the two men for just long enough, you could get out of this alive.

you weren’t a fighter. marc had taught you basic self-defence, but even so you wouldn’t have been able to take on two big, buff men with guns and eyes that spoke of deranged thoughts and lack of care for any life but their own.

the rest was a blur. a white caped hero throwing punches, a body jumping in front of your own, blood on the concrete and on gloved hands.

“let’s get you home, amor.”

jake was angry, you could hear it in his tone, but you were still frozen in fear from the encounter, your mind buzzing yet simultaneously unable to string together any coherent thoughts. so you didn’t respond, and he carried you home in his arms, jumping into the loft through the window you always kept open for him on nights like these, the one you’d forgotten to close before leaving.

you have a routine for when your boys come back from their duties as moonknight. the suit heals their wounds, but it doesn’t wash away the blood. you run a warm cloth over their skin until the blood and grime is all washed off, a slow repetitive process that gives their mind the time to deal with the violence they committed and store away the memories somewhere far back.

it’s easy to let your muscle memory take over.

“you don’t have to do that tonight,” jake says, “let us take care of you. we want to make sure you’re alright after that.”

you shake your head. there’s still a part of you that’s numb, and you don’t think you could put your feelings into words, you don’t think there’s any real way to voice the way you were convinced you were going to die, the way your brain flashed through everything you regret and your friends you haven’t seen in a while and the goals you’d never accomplish.

the suit falls away and it’s just your jake. not the hero of london or the fist of vengeance, just your worried boyfriend.

you clean his knuckles of the blood that always somehow manages to seep through the bandages that make up their suit. his body tenses, and when you look up, you meet marc’s eyes. his jaw is clenched in a way that you recognise, he wants to speak but doesn’t quite know how to say it, he’s worried talking about it might not be what you need right now.

“i’m sorry,” you say finally, “for going out. a friend needed my help and i thought i could walk back home after. i didn’t think…”

“not your fault,” marc replies, “we should’ve gotten them before they even had the chance to touch you.”

“it’s not your fault either, you know,” you put the dirty cloth down.

he shakes his head. there’s no point in having this argument, it’s the same every time. you argue that it’s impossible to save everyone, that london is a huge city and they’re just one body that can only accomplish so much. marc’s dumb guilty conscience convinces him that any person he can’t save in time is blood on his hands, not the fault of the criminals who committed the act, but his for not being able to save them.

you understand why, and the fights always come back to the same thing.

the last remnants of adrenaline are fading and your hands grow shaky. marc leads you to bed, but you know this is the part where he leaves, back into the headspace while one of the others (usually steven) hold you under the safety of the blankets. he likes to take care of you, to provide, but he still struggles to be soft.

“i was so scared,” you finally admit when the lights are turned off and the room is dark and the boys can’t see your face. it’s easier to admit when you don’t have to look into the eyes of the men who act as london’s protectors, constantly in dangerous situations. you don’t have to deal with the feelings of inferiority, like comparing yourself to marc’s strong and brave ex-wife who would surely have been able to defend herself.

you don’t even know which one is fronting. maybe they all are. when the tears start to fall, all you care about is the comforting familiarity of the strong arms around you and the scent of the men you love.

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

Conner and bizarro finally meet

on a random lonely day in the Kansas country side, Conner is rocking in a rocking chair reading a book lex got him. it's a big fat comic collection about this guy who works with the FDA for some reason and he's honestly just enthralled. there's a whoosh sound and suddenly Jason and bizarro appear, Jason has his arm over the shoulder of bizarro as he waves over to Conner. Conner is pretty confused who the other guy is.

Conner: hi Jason, who's with you?

Jason: oh this is bizarro, he's kind of my son.

Conner: since when?

Jason: since ages, lex basically was going to kill him but we accidentally broke him out of his containment. long story short he's here he's my son.

bizarro: *waves* bye! I'm bizarro

Conner: hi bizarro

Jason: don't mind him he's words are a bit backwards, something about the programming didn't quite work. all negative verbs and such are positives and all positives are negatives. we are working on it right buddy?

bizarro: I'm resting on it!

Jason: speech therapy is hard, he's perfectly normal he just has some mixed up brain functions. lex actually managed to reverse alot of the degenerative disease problems, so you know bizarro is just struggling with a few things. he's doing way better than before though right buddy?

bizarro: I'm not fine, I'm doing bad! red is doing a bad job

Jason: aw, thanks. I try, we really have to work on the negative verbs, but it's fine we can try again later. anyway I wanted you to meet your brother bizarro!

Conner: *holds out hand* nice to meet you bizarro, what do you like to do?

bizarro: I hate… reading books and watching movies, it’s not fun.

Conner: oh! I love reading books, I have some if you want one.

bizarro: I’m not interested, I hate reading. No thanks!

Conner: wait here I’ll go get one!

Conner runs into the house to go grab some books, he didn’t really know he had a brother but this was kinda cool. Even if it came out of nowhere.

Conner: I have.. Julia Gillard’s cookbook, pride and prejudice, moby dick, and.. bionicules? Honestly I don’t think I’ll read them again so you can have them, my gift!

Bizarro looks at Conner and smiles, he takes the books and starts reading them on the floor of the patio.

Jason: I know I should have called you, but we never have the chance to meet up.

Conner: it’s fine, honestly. I was just reading some comics, been a long week. Just wanted to soak up some sun, since Lex was nagging me about it.

Jason: Lex??

Conner: oh I didn’t tell you, yeah we are kinda trying to fix things between us. I think it has something to do with the whole kryptonite induced cancer, thing. He surprisingly actually does not mean any harm to me, it's so weird.

Jason: damn, even Lex of all people is trying to mend his relationships. Never thought I’d see the day.

Conner: oh it was weird, he came up to the house and actually apologised to me. Lex. APOLOGISED

Jason: NO WAY, I don’t believe you *crosses arms*

Connor: I wish I had it on tape, but no he did. It was so weird, then he told me he actually was pregnant with me.

Jason: wait… *murmurs* when would that have been.

Conner: oh a couple years ago as I’m about 4-5 now.

Jason: oh yeah he did basically disappear for a whole year one year, kinda thought he had some sort of horrible injury or assassin on his tail. Didn’t really think he was having you?

Connor: honestly I would not know, because again didn’t exist yet.

Jason: that’s actually around the time bizarro was made actually, well a year or 2 beforehand.

Connor: yeah makes sense, wait. bizarro is older than me?

bizarro: I'm younger than other superman.

Connor: true I do think your older than me, does lex keep saying anything about dissolving DNA to you guys?

Jason: on yeah that's what originally happened to biz over here, right buddy?

bizarro: me DNA re- reconsti- reconstituted.

Connor: oh damn, that most be why he is motherhen'ing so bad. "you really should be checking for it every 2 weeks" as lex says to me fortnightly now. ugh annoying.

Jason: really? guess I'll take his advice that does unironically sound like a good idea. Connor, well this has been nice. but we have to go or we are going to miss family dinner. see ya

Connor: honestly nice that you dropped by, nice to meet you bizarro!

bizarro: hi other superman!

Connor: you can call me Kon if you like

bizarro: hi Kon!

Connor: see you both enjoy the books! I'm sure bizarro will enjoy them

Jason: oh totally pride and prejudice is my favourite, I was looking for a copy for biz actually it's a wonderful gift, nice seeing you! see you next time for the space pirates?

Connor: always, those fucking space pirates though

bizarro: I love space pirates, they are the best

Connor: lol you're so right, bye guys!!

bizarro + Jason: bye!!!!

prev | current | next

[thecapricunt1616]

Chapter 2 The Bear & His Honey

Chapter Inspo: Quote - "The only heaven I’d be sent to, is one where I’m alone with you." Summary: (18+ ONLY FIC) Carmy gets heated in the kitchen, makes Winnie lunch, & Meets the famous Sugar. A/N: Heyooo!! I am so proud of myself for like not having writers block and actually continuing a fic I started LOL! I think this one is longer than the last, like 7k characters or smth. I can't make promises abt. when I'll post next, but I can try to make it this week! I hope you're all enjoying so far. Warnings: Swearing, Yelling, smut, alcohol, tad angsty if you can even call it that, and then just overall feminine yearning!! ***As per usual; Reblogs, Likes, Comments, & Constructive Critiques are not only welcomed, but much appreciated! Without further ado, here we go! Woooo!***

𝒞𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉!

Chapter 1 Here

__________________________

I followed him in to the screaming, bustling pit that was his kitchen. “BEHIND!- Jesus Christ, Tina, watch it - I said Behind! Should I just drop this, huh Chef?!”  Someone cried out, the intensity of the atmosphere causing my chest to tighten as if clawed hands were achingly squeezing ever so slowly around my lungs. 

 “Gosh” I muttered, trying my best to take everything in, every sense of mind becoming slightly overwhelmed. Carmen briskly showed me to his small office, the insanity of his kitchen not even strumming a nerve for him it seemed. He showed me to a desk covered in too many papers in the corner, before thumbing through them until he found what he was rummaging for. “Ah! Yes. Here we go!! Alright. You look at this” he turned to me, handing it over. 

“With that big-booky-brain of yours, sure you could figure some changes to make the dishes sound extra special ‘mm?” He mused. I glanced over the piece of printer paper, nothing more than a piece of plain white paper adorned with dish names and descriptions of them followed by pricing. 

“Uhh…sure thing. ‘M not that smart, slutty books about muscley guys with wings and mind reading abilities only get you so far…” I said jokingly, my eyebrows furrowing as I my eyes glaze over the intricate ingredients I’d never heard of. 

“Alright, uhhh.. you’re gonna have to go more into detail about what you’re getting up to at the bookstore when I get back” he teased and closed the door to the office behind him as he headed to the kitchen. 

I continued reading over the ingredients, adding an appetizing verb here and there, hoping that was what he was looking for. I lean on my hand, looking over the other papers on the desk. Mostly food shipment orders, different labor receipts, jumping in my seat a bit when I hear a huge crash and what sounds like a bunch of aluminum clattering. 

“FUCK, JESUS! ” Carm yells, his voice booming through the kitchen and it was suddenly silent, as if every single thing stopped. “How many times have I told you guys, do, NOT leave empty FUCKING pans ON THE EDGE OF YOUR GOD DAMN STATION. Everyone look over your FUCKING station, RIGHT THE FUCK NOW - if there is an something that needs to be washed- it goes IN THE SINK. NOW. Move!” 

The only response is a chorus of “Yes Chef!” 

“Marcus get the fuck over here deal with this these fucking sheet pans!” He barks. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat, contemplating if I should just grab my purse and go. My eyes flick to the door when I hear the handle, and Carmen walks back in, his face a bit flushed from his outburst I’d assume. 

“Hey” he said casually and smiled a bit, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was holding a plate that honestly, looked amazing. “So, not chilli, so sorry, but- we do have Mac salad, and then this fire pork stew type deal, oh, and your onions, and a burger, and a hot dog- feelin frisky today, Winnie?” He puts the plate in front of me with a soft smile. 

All tension I was feeling vanished like sand between my fingers. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips and I look up at him. “And my ketchup?” I asked and he rolled his eyes, taking the ketchup and mustard bottles from his apron and setting them down in front of me. “Sorry, your majesty.” He teased.

I take the ketchup, squeezing a good amount over the top. “I guess… I am feeling frisky” I said, doing the same with the mustard. “Yea? You reading up on more winged muscle man porn while I was out there?” I laughed as I cut up the hot dog and burger on top, a real laugh. Not something someone could usually drag out of me since my brother. But for some reason, Carmen seemed to be very good at it. 

“Ohhh yeah. I was just all spread out here on top of your desk rubbing one out - the yelling you were doing really did it for me. Finished right before you came in.” I teased with a feline smirk, watching as his cheeks heated slightly. “Yeah- sorry about that” he rubs the back of his neck. “Uh- Marcus he just left all these fucking pans and Syd ran right in to them - keep tellen ‘em to put shit where it goes.” He sighed a bit. 

“No, no, no need to be sorry. A book store and a kitchen are 2 very different places to work, just glad everything’s alright” I took a bite, my eyes widening at the amazing flavor. It definitely wasn’t home, but that was okay. It was fucking amazing. I bring my hand up to my mouth to cover it as I speak, unable to wait another second to tell him. 

“That? Is Fuuucking heat dude. Wow.” I said swallowing and immediately going for more. “Really? You are…unbelievable” he chuckles, sitting back with a small smirk on his lips. “No you are unbelievable, Chef, great work. 5 stars on yelp” I giggle and he shakes his head rolling his eyes in amusement. 

“Why thank you, your review is valued” he gets up and leans in. I swear I feel my heart stutter in my chest when his chain brushes my temple as he reaches around me and grabs the menu I had been scribbling notes on for him. I could smell the musk of his cologne, a bit of tobacco from his cigarette, and a tinge of salty sweat from being in such a hot kitchen all morning. It was intoxicating. I wanted to bury my nose in his chest and just inhale, I could get drunk off the scent.  “Sorry” he said softly, sitting back down and looking at the menu. 

My cheeks had to be on fire, and I’m sure if his chain grazed my face again, its icy touch would sizzle at the contact. I swallow the bite I had forgotten about in my mouth when he was so close and look over at him. He was still looking over the menu, eyebrows raised slightly, “mm, like that” he mutters, rubbing his chin in contemplation. 

“Wow, look at what your slutty books taught you, ‘opulence to the core in your mouth’ hmm? What were they describing?” He smirks, his eyes meeting mine. I swear I could burst into flames and be left as nothing but a pile of ashes. I can’t remember a time that I’d been so melted by the attention of a man. 

“Uh-“ I stutter, clearing my throat, trying to rack my now empty brain (other then that pesky vision buried deep, of him rage fucking me over his desk. Sending waves of soaking warmth to my core, so strong I’m more petrified of the vision of me getting up and his chair being wet with my arousal) “Oh, you know…” I trail off with a shrug, my gaze finding my plate again and taking another bite to avoid embarrassing myself any further. 

“Well, I just may have you edit these more often little miss vocabulary” he continues reading over. “I like this, exactly what I wanted. Thank you” he smiled softly, setting the paper down on the desk. Our hands brush, and goosebumps immediately rose everywhere from my shins to my jaw. 

I look over at him, to find him looking right back at me. “This is…like so good” I said to take my mind off the ache growing between my thighs and he grinned. “Glad you like it. Swing by anytime I’ll make one for you, on the house of course. Gotta make sure we treat our official menu editor well” he rested his hands on the top of his curls with locked fingers. His biceps looked much more pronounced this way, the tattoos I hadn’t been able to see on the back of his arms making an appearance. 

He looked as if he was a fucking statue, a Greek god carved from the masterful hands of Myron. He is beautiful. He has such a strong nose, a muscular jaw and neck, god his fucking neck. Those veins, I can imagine when he gets all fired up they protrude powerfully. I trail back up to his nose, god that fucking nose. My core clenches around nothing at the sudden dirty image of messily riding his face comes to the front of my mind, his beautiful blue eyes darkened in lust due to his blown out pupils, his beautiful sexy nose nuzzling my bundle of nerves, my arousal dripping down his neck and chest as he drinks up all he can. Flushed at the Hollywood porno in my mind, I quickly shut it out like slamming a door and my eyes flick to his beautiful blues, a satisfied smirk on his blush pink lips. 

“What?” I questioned, my cheeks growing hotter. “Mm. Nothin’. Enjoying the view or somethin’?” He questioned and I look at my plate. “No- I mean, well” I stuttered, picking up another bite and putting it in my mouth to avoid the confrontation as it had worked for me shortly before. 

He playfully smacks a hand over his heart “wow!” He said earning a giggle from me “here I am, slavin’ over the stove like a damn housewife for you to make your- whatever the hell - and you have the gaul to insult me!! In my own restaurant at that!”  He feigned offense, a real smile adorning his features, eyes crinkled, dimples on proud display. 

“You’re cute! There. Is that what you wanted, Carmen? Your ego stroked a little? Awww, Carm, you’re such a handsome little boy” I laughed, leaning in and pinching his cheek playfully. He rolled his eyes, swatting my hand away with a grin. “So you only go out with guys with wings, that it?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Wow!! Look at you, big player!” I gently kick his clog with my boot “you askin’ me out?” I asked, my heart picking up speed once more. “No, I just asked if your preference is a buff dude with wings. But since you mention it, sure, I’d love to go out with you. Thanks for the offer” he teased, a pesky smirk on his lips. 

“Wooow!” I drew out and laughed. “Wow!! Big sexy muscle man can’t ask a girl out, hmm? Need to trick her in to asking you?” I took a sip from the water bottle I’d brought in my bag. His cheeks heat, raising his eyebrows he says “well I’m no big sexy muscle man, I’m just ahh…how did you put it?” He asked. 

I leaned in, gently adjusting the pendant of his chain to face front and center again before resting my hand on his chest, palm flat, and feel the heavy thump of his heart when I speak again “a very handsome little boy” I said softly, my eyes flicker to his lips as he gently tugged his bottom one between his teeth. “Mm” he hummed, I felt the vibration under my hand. “That was it. Yeah” he said just above a whisper, his voice richer, deeper, like the dark chocolate cake described on the dessert menu. 

The door flies open and I jump back in my seat, resuming eating as naturally as I could manage. “Bear! There you are, Jesus Christ. Since when do you take breaks? The fuckin’ glassware company left three boxes of cocktail glasses off- three Carm!” A very loud blonde storms in, dropping her large purse in a slump at my feet and kicking it under the desk like I wasn’t even there. 

“Sorry,” she gives me a sympathetic smile “just restaurant shit.” She looks back at him “who did the order?” He asks. “Syd!! I told you, Carmen, you are putting too much on her plate right now! Stop being such a jagoff” she pushes his arm gently “and fucking divide the work!! Fuckin- fuckin’ teach Manny how to order!! I don’t know!” She said exasperated and frustrated. 

“Sugar I’ll call them, I’ll fix it, I fucked up.” He admitted with a sigh and rubs his face. “Yes. You did. And you better fix it. Or else how in the fuck are we gonna do your stupid little house cocktail on family night in three days?!” She asked, holding up 3 fingers and waving them in front of his face as he shook his head. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He muttered and ran his fingers through his curls. “Sorry should I-“ I grabbed my purse from the back of the chair and motioned to the door “ahh fuck. Ye’ I’m so sorry I-“ he blinks hard, thinking. 

��What time do you get off?” He asks “5:15 usually” I said and got up, my plate of food mostly gone. “Shit…uhh..” he rubs his chin in contemplation. “Can you swing by at like- 10? If not, it's totally fine, we- we can have a drink? If you want..” he offered. I nod, a soft smile gracing my features. “Sure thing, I’m a night owl anyway. See you at ten, Chef, thanks again for lunch, it was great”. But before I leave the office, I lean in and whisper in his ear. 

“Be a good, handsome little boy while I’m gone. No more yelling over dropped trays, mm?” I rub my hand over his bicep giving a gentle squeeze and my eyes flicker to his lips, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, bright red flushing his cheeks.  “S-see you at ten” he stuttered in reply. I shut the door behind me, giggling quietly to myself as I hear who I now knew as ‘Sugar’ saying “Where’d you meet that pretty thing?”

Read Chapter 3 Here!

[winningismyjob]

5 Proven facts to learn a new language faster

Hey all, as an experienced language learner, having learnt two foreign languages to fluency in a relatively small amount of time, and having a lot of experience with tons of other languages, I would like to share with you my 5 tips, which are supported by science, to learn a language faster.

Language learning is important for multiple reasons, one of which is that it stimulates your brain in new ways and can prevent mental diseases like Alzheimer's and dementia. Another reason is that it makes you see the world in a different light and gives you access to new countries, cultures and people.

After reading this blog you will be much more secure in your language learning and will have access to a faster way to mastering your preferred language, so make sure you implement all of these in your next study routine.

Now without further ado, let's start.

  1. Set clear goals

We all like to be ambitious, but it's important to be realistic as well. Learning a language takes time and even if you optimise your study sessions, it'll still take some years to get fluent (although it depends on the language you're learning and which ones you already know). The reason most people give up on language learning is because they set too high goals and don't reach them, so they become demotivated. Instead of telling yourself to learn 20 words a day, which is a lot, reduce it to 100 words a month. 100 words is still significant progress and is definitely doable even if you're busy, since you would only have to learn 3-4 words of day, which would require about 10, 15 minutes max. In a year you would learn 1200 words, and if you have more time, you could even double it to 200 a month.

It is scientifically proven that people that set reachable goals are more likely to stay motivated and get fluent in the language they're learning.

    2. Immerse yourself

The second way to learn a language in a faster way is to immerse yourself. I myself have always used this, going to different countries and staying there for some time, and it's always very rewarding since I come back with much more control and fluency in my language.

If you don't have the time and resources to go or move to a new country, which is definitely understandable, you could immerse yourself in different ways, like watching tonnes of YouTube videos, listening to podcasts and talking to natives online. You can use apps like Spotify, Tandem, HelloTalk and Slowly for this.

You could also go on subreddits like r/language exchange to find yourself a language partner.

    3. Use language learning apps

Although there's a lot of discourse about whether you should or shouldn't use language learning apps, and whether or not they're a waste of time and teach you enough to not use actual textbooks, it can be said that there definitely are certain language apps that help you get closer to your language learning goals faster. Using apps like Anki or Quizlet to learn vocabulary consistently, and Busuu and Babbel for grammar, can significantly help you reach a higher level in your language. Just make sure you don't use just one app, and that you focus on all aspects of language learning.

A possible combination of apps: Anki for vocabulary, Busuu for grammar and Tandem and YouTube for immersion.

Also, you can still use traditional tools for your language learning and combine them with apps. You could use a textbook for grammar and download an app for practising verbs and another one for cases (or use certain websites). Either way, language learning apps are proven to help you learn a language quicker, since they keep your progress organised and keep you motivated. Sometimes they can have an addictive interface like Duolingo so that they make sure you learn something everyday.

    4. Learn everyday

As for my fourth tip, it's crucial you learn something every single day and not skip a day. Skipping a day can quickly turn into three days, and then a week, which can make you demotivated and harder to start again. You don't have to study for an hour everyday, but just 5 minutes will keep you on the right track and keep you motivated.

You can also try to incorporate language learning in your daily life, like putting sticky notes with vocabulary on your desk or fridge. You can set your background of your phone to a list of 20 new words you have to learn for the week. If you're very serious, maybe consider dating someone who speaks the language you wanna learn, since you can immerse yourself this way naturally.

If it's needed, turn on an alarm or reminder on your phone for language learning or make it a habit to study everyday after you wake up, before you go to sleep, during breaks etc.

    5. Track your progress

This might sound simple, but it's one of the things that makes people demotivated and stop learning their language. When you get to a certain level, you'll feel "stuck"; you'll feel like you're not progressing. By writing down what you've learned everyday after you study, you'll stay motivated to learn again the next day and the next day and the next day. You'll learn your language faster since you'll stay consistent and since there's less of a chance of you becoming frustrated and feeling stuck and maybe even giving up.

    Bottom line

There are multiple ways to learn a language quicker, supported by science, like setting clear goals, immersion, using language learning apps, making sure you study everyday and tracking your progress. With these 5 tips you should be ready to take your language learning to the next level.

Thank you for reading and I hope this blog has helped you come closer to your goals. If you want to read more content about studying, language learning, culture, travel, history and countries, definitely don't hesitate to follow my account since I'll post a lot more.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hiya, I hope youre having a good day!

On your advice for stiff writing, you said to 'avoid purple prose'. Im just wondering what that means? Sorry if I missed something from an earlier post.

Purple Prose and How to Avoid It

"Purple prose" is what we call writing that is "flowery" or ornate to the extent that it's melodramatic and pulls the reader's focus away from the actual story. Some things that contribute to purple prose:

1 - Overuse of Elegant and Elaborate Words

Normal Sentence: Clara stepped to the balcony and looked out over the crowd, finely dressed and buzzing with courtly gossip.

Purple Prose: Clara traipsed to the wrought iron precipice and gazed upon the throng, opulently clad and susurrous with scandalous hearsay and scurrilous palaver.

The problem: One of our biggest goals as writers is to effectively communicate the stories inside our heads, and we do that by making sure our prose is generally clear, direct, and precise. The overuse of elegant and elaborate words in the second example defeats the clarity because the reader is constantly having to think about what each word means, and maybe even look them up. When you read "balcony" you don't have to think about what that is. But "wrought iron precipice" requires a little more time to work out. "Crowd" is straightforward and clear where "throng" isn't. Everyone knows what gossip is, but "susurrous with scandalous hearsay" is just... whut.

The Solution: Most of the time, try to use the clearest, most direct words to communicate what you're trying to say. Don't constantly run to the thesaurus to find a fancier word. Ornate words should be saved for times when you really need the special impact.

2 - Overuse of Long Sentences

Normal Sentence: The finely dressed crowd buzzed with courtly gossip. (8 words)

Purple Prose: The throng was opulently clad and susurrous with scandalous hearsay and scurrilous palaver. (13 words)

The Problem: A variety of sentence lengths creates a cadence that helps your story flow. Since purple prose usually adds unnecessary words ("susurrous with scandalous hearsay and scurrilous palaver" takes seven words to say the same thing as "courtly gossip") you end up with more long sentences than short or mid-length sentences, if any at all, so not only do you not get that cadence, you often end up slowing the flow of the story.

The Solution: Keep an eye on your sentence length. If you see a lot of long sentences, see which ones you can tighten up. Not only will this help eliminate purple prose, but it will give you a nice variety of sentence lengths that will give your prose cadence and improve the flow of your story.

3 - Overuse of Figurative Language

I'm fudging the example here because I'm tired and my brain can't do figurative language right now, but it's things like metaphor, simile, hyperbole, idioms, symbolism, onomatopoeia, euphemism, and alliteration.

The Problem: Figurative language isn't usually the clearest, most direct to say something--though once in a while it does add much-needed clarity--so it's definitely not something you want in every sentence. Another issue with figurative language is it can be tricky to come up with something new or not over used, so a lot of figurative language falls into cliché territory. ("Their muscles were hard as rocks," "It was the calm before the storm," "They woke up on the wrong side of the bed...")

Solution: Make sure figurative language is used with intention and purpose. Before you use it, ask yourself what the figurative language accomplishes... how does it enrich the story or the reader's experience? Is it being used in a place that needs the added impact?

4 - Overuse of Adjectives and Adverbs

Normal sentence: She tiptoed down the steps and melted into the crowd, hoping not to be seen.

Purple Prose: She walked gently down the steep steps and quietly melted into the bustling crowd, desperately hoping not to be seen.

The Problem: Quite often, adverbs can be replaced by active verbs. There's no point in saying "walked gently" when you can say "tiptoed." No need to say "said loudly" when you could say "shouted." No need to say "drove quickly" when you could say "sped." And sometimes adverbs just don't add anything. If she tiptoes down the steps and melts into the crowd, isn't it kind of obvious that she's really reeeally hoping not to be seen? Describing that hope as "desperate" doesn't necessarily tell us anything useful. And in much the same way, while adjectives can certainly help paint a picture, when they're being over used, it's a good bet a lot of them aren't doing anything important. Why do we need to know the steps are "steep"? Is that going to be important later?

The Solution: Make sure you replace adverbs with active verbs whenever possible, and try to save adjectives for when they serve a purpose--either to flesh out description in important ways or tell the reader something they need to know for later.

5 - Overuse of Emotional and Sensory Description

Normal Sentence: She hoped no one saw her but couldn't fight off the feeling someone had. The fear made her heart pound and left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Purple Prose: She was absolutely desperate not to be seen, would pass out from shock if anyone saw her. Sweat streamed down her neck and pooled at the small of her back. She was so nervous she shook like a leaf, tasting bile in her throat as her heart pounded in her chest. The incessant chatter of the blathering crowd was almost drowned out by the frightening rush of blood in her ears.

The Problem: There's just too much going on. I love sensory description, but it doesn't have to be ALL the senses. And emotional details are great too, but she's desperate, potentially shocked, frightened, nervous... it's too much emotion. It's melodramatic.

The Solution: Use emotional description only when it's necessary, and don't forget you can also illustrate emotion by using physical and internal cues. Sensory description is great, too, but don't feel like you have to include all the sensory details in every description.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[allthingslinguistic]

Language Guinea Pig Diaries #2: Highlights & Troubleshooting

I'm trying to improve my skills at four languages in preparation for summer travel: Italian, Dutch, Finnish, and Estonian.

Italian and Dutch I've studied a bit a while ago and I'm now trying to "activate" so I can hopefully have a conversation or two in them, while Finnish and Estonian I'm trying to pick up some rudimentary bits in. Here's the previous post in this series describing these goals and strategies in more detail.

Highlights

I've progressed from my menu of only gelato-making videos in Italian to other recipes in general, and in particular to lots of cooking videos from this popular Italian home cooking channel which was in the recommended videos after another one I watched. Maybe I'll branch out again at some point to other speakers, but for now it's nice to be able to stumble into more videos without having to think up new keywords to search. Also, I might need to make some of these recipes now...

The Dutch podcast listening is going well (though see weird issue below) and I especially like that the podcast I chose because it's the only podcast I knew in Dutch contains a mix of adult-to-adult and adult-and-child speech, which is a fun way to mix it up.

In Estonian, so far I have learned one (1) highly useful word, "tere", which this video tells me is an all-purpose neutral greeting (neutral with respect to both formality and time of day). Ooh, I've just realized while writing this post that it's probably cognate to Finnish "terve", a greeting I learned from Duolingo! (Yes, I just looked this up, seems like they both mean something to do with health.) So I've already learned one neat thing!

I'm also recognizing a few Estonian cognates from the Finnish Duolingo lessons, especially the verb "on" (which means "is"). I'm not recognizing many other words though, and I'm wondering how much of that is differing vocab and how much of that is not having learned many common words in Finnish yet (I've been especially chafing at how few verbs we've learned yet, it would be really useful to have a word like "I want" even if it's unanalyzed because the grammar is more complicated than they want to introduce early).

Youtube's algorithm has, after about a week, adjusted to the fact that I now want to watch videos entirely in Italian, and started recommending further Italian videos on my home feed (it was already doing so at the end of previous Italian videos). Tiktok's algorithm, so far, has not done this yet, and is still recommending me stuff in English, despite me aggressively liking basically all of the Estonian videos I watch and nothing else.

Troubleshooting

I've noticed that it's been easier to remember to do the podcast listening in Dutch and the youtube videos in Italian because I already have habits related to opening those apps, whereas I don't have habits around using tiktok so I kept forgetting to open it and look at some Estonian videos. But a couple days ago I moved the tiktok app on my phone to a more visible location, and now it's getting easier to remember.

Something else very weird that I noticed about listening is that when I play the tracks on my phone fairly loudly, it's relatively easy to focus on trying to listen to them, sometimes while playing a simple visual game on my phone for something to fiddle with (I've already noticed that unfamiliar languages need to be played louder than familiar ones). But when I beam the podcast over to my speaker at a distance, suddenly I very quickly start tuning out the unfamiliar language and opening up apps that involve reading and completely ignoring it. I have no problems listening to podcasts on speakers in English; in fact, it's my preferred method when I'm at home, but for some reason this causes my brain to reclassify Dutch as background noise to be ignored, even if it's the same loudness as it would be when it's played right near me. Super weird, has anyone else ever noticed anything like this?

Previously in Language Guinea Pig Diaries:

Summer 2024 travel plans and Language Guinea Pig Diaries

[astercontrol]

I probably shouldn't go off on a rant about this because 1. I definitely am not an expert, I'm just someone who read absolutely anything i could find as a child and internalized the linguistic patterns in a lot of what i read, and also 2. I am very much not a prescriptivist and in nearly all cases I am 99.9% fine with people screwing around with language in whatever way they want

but

the 0.1% that actually gets under my skin is people using archaic forms of English in ways that there's no historical record of them ever ever EVER being used

like. adding "eth" on the end of absolutely everything. replacing every instance of "my" with "mine." things that just scream "you skimmed through one page of shakespeare once and picked out 2 trends that caught your eye as looking the most iconically old-fashioned and you decided these are the defining characteristics of what you will now call Ye Olde English (the inaccuracy of that term is 3 whole other rants though)"

and i think that the reason my descriptivist, anti-prescriptivist linguist brain still gets so ticked off by this, is that… descriptivism is by definition describing language the way it is.

which usually, most of the time, means describing the living, currently growing and changing language that we speak. which means allowing for all the different ways people actually currently use that language-- as opposed to "prescribing" a "correct" way to use it, based on grammar rules that were already a little out of date from actual usage by the time they got nailed down in style manuals

but when you're describing a language that is not currently growing and changing-- the language of a particular range of years in history, which we currently know only from writings that survived from that time?

then the only approach that makes sense is to describe what we know from those writings.

otherwise, if you just make up a way to talk, and claim that's how people talked back then? that feels (at least from the viewpoint of my own personal and probably ill-advised outrage) a lot closer to prescriptivism.

and again: disclaimer that 1. this is still not a serious problem, compared to god knows what number of other more important things i should complain about, it's just a thing that irritates me… and 2. i am not even an expert by any means on what is the actual "right" way to use older forms of english

but here's like. a couple very basic details that are just the entry-level stuff that a literate child learns from (as i said before) reading absolutely anything they could find and internalizing the linguistic patterns in what they read.

"eth" is the third-person-singular ending for verbs. which means it's like the "-s" on the end of a verb that "he" or "she" or "it" is doing. He has a name = he hath a name. She lives here = she liveth here. It comes and goes = it cometh and goeth.

like probably at least 90% of the time you can tell whether "eth" is appropriate to use by asking yourself, "could I imagine this is just someone with a severe lisp using an s-ending verb here"

-st, on the other hand, is the "thou" form. Thou dost, thou livest, thou speakest. and "thou" doesn't just mean "you," it's the informal version of "you" that's used with close friends and family.

This is one that i admittedly got a cheat code on by being a kid who was raised speaking german as well as english. modern german still has separate formal and informal "you" forms, and the informal one still takes -st endings in german, so i had an unfair advantage there.

and there are also exceptions, irregular verbs where these rules won't work.

(like "be." The second-person thou-form of the word "be" is "thou art," it's not "thou ast" or "thou ist" or "thou beest.")

(the third person singular he-she-it form of the word "be" is the word "is," and i am fairly sure there's no time in history when it was "ith.")

(i could be very wrong though. like i said. i am NOT an expert)

"my" and "mine" are used just the same as we use them now, EXCEPT that "mine" can also be used instead of "my," if it comes before a vowel sound.

this is the same deal we currently still have with the words "a" and "an." the general rule here is that you can use "mine" where you could use "an." An eye? Mine eye. An uncle? Mine uncle. An old house? Mine old house. it goes by the sound that comes immediately after.

(of course, these things can be plural, unlike things referred to by "an." So there are cases where you would not use "an" but you would use "mine." Mine eyes. Mine uncles. Mine old houses. same deal just plural.)

"thy" and "thine" are possessive forms of "thou." they are used just like "my" and "mine," except they're for the person you're talking to (informally). Thine eye. Thine uncle. Thine old house.

"thee" is the object-pronoun form of "thou." It's the informal you, when the informal you is the object of the sentence-- when something is being done TO you, or in relation to you.

I see thee. They love thee. He gave thee a gift. "Thee" is to "thou" basically just what "me" is to "I," or what "him" is to "he."

so anyway that covers probably the majority of misuses that get on my nerves. but i am still not prescriptivist and i sure as heck am still not telling you how to talk or write. you can take it or leave it.

(side note. if you're creating a fantasy world and you include a speech pattern that's based on archaic english but doesn't follow how it was actually spoken or written, this won't necessarily bother me as long as it follows its own internal rules, especially if it's done in a creative way.)

(or if it's influenced by one of the actual lesser-known dialects of archaic english. that's cool too.)

(you know how T'Pau talked in the episode Amok Time in Star Trek TOS? at first it didn't even annoy me that much, how she kept saying "thee are" and "thee has," because it wasn't even one of the boring old misuses, it was a fresh new way i had actually never seen "thee" used before! ….and THEN, i gained a whole new level of respect for it, later on, when i found out it's actually based on a specific way that a Quaker dialect of English used to use "thee.")