#of course i would not make him say 'i love you most ardently'

[riewritten]

i am having so many thoughts about erwin smith being a jane austen pride & prejudice character........

[reverieblondie]

Finding the Tiefling Bachelors Smut

A/N: I really hope everyone enjoys these hcs. Now these are just my ideas if you have ideas or things you feel like should be added please share! I would love to hear what you think! Huge shout out to @f4iryt3a for letting me use their Cal screenshot! I really appreciate it!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader

Rolan: Scholarly romantic, who endeavors to seek experience outside his books

Now I love the idea of Rolan accidentally finding smut/erotica. That dork would get embarrassed so quickly, but I know he would be intrigued as the new master of Razamaths tower. Rolan, of course, has made it his mission to quickly understand all the tomes and books found in its grand libraries. Through his cataloging, he discovered that not all the books are necessarily history books or grimoires, but there is a collection of books that are stories. Needing to flip through for a rough summary of the story quickly, it's when he scans the pages and pauses…

Ardent eyes trail over her shivering skin. His lips come over to caress her body, his hands sliding up her belly towards her breast. Rough fingers pinch and twist at her sensitive buds, making her tremble with a breathy moan. All while his lips trail down lower and lower…biting softly, licking down her mound. Her skin is like silk against his fevered tongue, and no doubt the lower he wonders, the sweeter the taste… 

"And to think you thought me intolerable…now look at you, love. Panting like a bitch for my tongue…" 

Rolan slams the book closed, his face burning a bright crimson hue. Now, Rolan isn't dumb; he knows what smut is, but he's never actually read it before…And now, as he keeps looking through the books near this one…it seems Rolan has acquired a bit of a collection. He keeps the collection of his newly acquired smut in a locked drawer on his desk.  

Now, on late nights, while he's been in his office for hours, his back is tense, and his neck and shoulders are filled with knots. He needs to let out all this unreleased tension, so his hand wanders down to that locked drawer to finish reading that last chapter… 

The book has been discarded but not forgotten as it lies on the desk. Rolan's breath is labored as he is hunched over his desk, feverishly fisting his cock, whimpering, and throwing his head back as he lets the images flash in his mind. Doe's eyes stare up at him, his hand with a tight fist of their hair…their tongue rolling and lapping at his ridges, tail rubbing their wet sex as he approaches his high. Fuck How he wished it wasn't his hand but their mouth eagerly sucking him, desperate to take all of him. Rolan's thoughts spur him on more, your nails digging into his tights, your throat so fucking tight, just like he is sure your pussy is. And where would you want in? Your gorgeous face? Your breasts? Or would you swallow?

Rolan's hips buckle faster, his loose hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his neck as he lets out a groan. He would give you all of it; he would make sure to show you everything he could do, how he would study your body just to get you to cum. How he would remember every moan, every tremble, and the way you feel wrapped around so tightly, your sweet voice trembling all those words he dreams you would say.  That's when he feels that wave rushes over him, his legs tremble, and a whimper "ah, a-h!" leaves his lips. Rolan has to brace his hand on the desk as he cums in fast spurts in his hand. Catching his breath, he looks at his mess… "Zurgan…" 

You and Rolan are friends, but you two still manage to argue most days, and you wouldn't like it any other way. Something about that grumpy attitude just makes your head spin. You want to get under more than just his skin; getting under him would be ideal. It's good that you're patient because you're just waiting for the snap where this teasing finally pays off, and he becomes yours. 

You find yourself waiting for Rolan to ask about some magical artifact you found. Honestly, you could care less; you just want an excuse to talk to him and tease him. Unfortunately, you must wait for him…might as well snoop a little. And what do you find in your snooping? A locked desk drawer, intriguing…with a trick you picked up astarion you get it opened to see books? 

Oh….smut books…with a clear theme, enemies to lovers; it looks like Rolan likes to argue as much as you do…you can work with this. 

Rolan walks through the door, "Okay, what do you have for me?" His voice catches as soon as he sees you sitting on his desk (something he says he hates), watching you read through his smut. 

You flick your eyes up to him, "Rolan… I never took you as a smut reader; I would think the Great Master would be too busy…" Rolan approaches you quickly and tries to snatch the book from you, but you hold it behind yourself, not making it easy for him. 

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you about privacy!" He stands right in front of you now, his flushed cheeks on full display for you. "Why are you embarrassed?" you taunt; Rolan sighs irritatedly as he struggles for the book. His body leaning in so close, his chest brushing against yours, his hips between your spread legs, his face getting so close to yours. Rolans is so desperate to get the book he doesn't realize how close he is. 

"Someone needs to teach you proper decorum!" his voice grumbles. "Is that an offer…" Rolan pauses as he hears you whisper in his ear; he turns to face you, his face already so close your noises brush together. Rolan swallows as his eyes flick from your lips to your eyes. " You're teasing me," he says lowly, dropping the book behind you; you wrap your arms around his neck. "Not unless you want me to." 

Rolan lets out a shaky breath before he places his hands on your hips, guiding you to wrap your legs around him. "Must you always have a comeback every time?" 

"What? I thought you liked my smart mouth. Perfect for arguing." Rolan gently lays your body down against his desk, his body over you, making your breath quicken, and your arousal ruins your panties with want. "How about I put that mouth to better use?" 

You two don't miss a moment to start stripping on one another. "What use? Oh, great master Rolan?" Rolan smiles and leans his now bare chest down, his lips pressing hungrily against yours. Before you can slip in your tongue, he pulls back, relishing in the whine you give from missing his lips. "Like making you moan my name." -Damn that cockiness… 

The next few moments are a blur of sloppy kisses, sharp bites to your neck, and the feeling of his hot tongue tracing over your nipples, making your thighs clamp tighter around his waist in a whine. Rolan eggs you on to say his name as his textured cock runs slowly up and down your wet sex. His body shudders with a groan from the feeling of your slick all for him. 

Rolan slides into you, whimpering along with you as you finally moan his name, "Rolan~" you can't help but arch yourself as he pumps into you deeper and deeper with every thrust. The more he rocks in you, the rougher he gets, as his nails dig into your ass, lifting your lower body off the bed as you keep clamping down on him from the praise he rewards you.

His cock hitting your G Stop, you feel yourself squeezing down on him as his hazy eyes look down at you with a lazy smirk; he's read enough to know what's happening to you, "Oh? About to cum? Come on… Don't hold back, cum for me."

It hits you like a wave making your whole body tremble as your orgasm on his cock, with a scream of his name. Rolan is quick to silence you with a moan of his own as he leaves a rough kiss on your lips. 

Zevlor: An Experienced Romantic

Okay, but can we all imagine Zevlor's shirtless body littered with scars and a nice set of reading glasses low on his nose as he reads some smut/erotica. (Ugh, the dream!) Zevlor, our oldest of the bachelors, has seen his fair share of smut; back in the day, it wasn't odd for some of the guys to hide erotica under their bunks. Though their books were quite different from Zev's. Sadly, those books have been lost to time and the descent. Maybe it was curiosity or the fact that a certain someone has been making his heart race every time they say his name. Now, here he is in the romance section of the library, trying to find one of those old books he used to own. Unfortunately, he only sees books he's not familiar with, so on a whim, he opens a random book…  

If someone walked by, it would tarnish her reputation. A high blood in the gardens this late with a man will surely cause gossip. Especially with her legs spread so wide and her guard positioning his cock so deep in her. Her soft voice moaning so heavenly, only causes his cock to throb more. He's meant to be guarding her…If anyone finds out… She's too important, too perfect to be with a man like him…

"I love you." Her voice, like sweet honey, draws him to hold her tighter, to rut in deeper. He drags his lips across her slick skin, tongue lightly licking the sweat from her neck. Finally, he reaches her ear, "Darling flower…I love you more than you can possibly know…" She clenches and flutters with a whimper, and his hips start to move faster…

Zevlor ended up checking out that book, along with three others the lady behind the counter recommended for him. It turns out they had similar tastes…He made sure to rush home so nobody saw what he had, and Zevlor made sure to put the books in a safe place…in his dresser drawer. 

It's another one of those sleepless nights. His eyes just won't seem to close, and his body won't relax. Maybe he should read a few chapters in his new book…just until his eyes get heavy…

Zevlor can't help but grunt as he feels his balls twitch, begging himself to stroke his girth faster, but Zevlor is patient… he knows what his body can take, so he continues his slow build. Zevlor spits on his other hand to lube his cock, making it slip faster within his hand. His grunts get louder as his hand moves faster, building up to his release. Zevlor shuts his eyes, focusing on the approaching wave of pleasure, his thoughts immediately going to you. Your body is bouncing beautifully as you ride the old hellrider. Gods, he wants to talk you through it and be your guide to your sweet pleasure before he fills you up. How he would dig his hands into the soft plush of your hips to help roll you deeper, cooing softly to you as you begin to babble, your pleasure starting to build to its peak. Gods, how he wants to hear your voice trembling his name… Zevlors hips start to roll at the thought of your snug cunt and your sweet voice chanting how it's too much and how you're coming to cum. The thought of your cum coating him is enough for his cock to throb as he lets his cum shoot against his abdomen. Zevlor sighs coming back down from his high. As he cleans himself up, he wonders, would you clean him up? Perhaps with your tongue? Zevlor shakes his head and chastises himself for the lewd thought. 

You and Zevlor developed a strong bond after everything; you two were supported by each other through getting past everything. Even though Zevlor decided to retire to a small farm on the city's outskirts, you two kept in touch through letters and visits. Part of you wishes that Zevlor would one day invite you to stay at his farm with him permanently…though you are unsure if that is just a silly dream of a lovesick girl… 

During one of your impromptu visits to Zevlors farm, you were helping him wrangle the goats, it turns out Philp the Ram is not a fan of yours… So that is how you found yourself crashed into the water trough after running from a grumpy goat. Zevlor was a slew of apologies as he helped you from the water and told you that you could borrow some clothes from him while yours dries. So, while you were looking for a shirt in his drawers, you found a book? Maybe a peek wouldn't hurt…

Turns out that Zevlor is quite the romantic…maybe it's time you confess…but you need to have a plan…

Zevlor was done setting up the tea, but you still hadn't emerged from his bedroom. Perhaps nothing fits you, right? Or maybe you are embarrassed? Zevlor sits pondering for a few minutes before he decides to walk to the room and check on you. You hear his heavy footsteps before you hear his Knock. "Tav? Are you alright?” With a deep breath, you tell yourself it's now or never. "Zev? I'm fine, but could you ... come in, please?"

Zevlor, never one to deny a request from you, opens the door; when he sees you, he thinks his heart stops at the sight of your bare thighs sitting on his bed in his favorite mauve shirt. Then he sees the book on his dresser, and his face turns an impossibly deeper shade of red. Great, you think he's an old pervert. Zevlor is about to explain when you cut him off, patting the spot beside you on the bed. He watches your face blush, "sit with me?" Zevlor sits beside you. The tension is thick in the air as both your minds reel, Zevlor panicking that you think he's a gross pervert, while you are working the courage to make your next move ... something romantic to impress him.

"About the book I-" It was so quick .... but you forget Zevlor was a paladin, a well-trained one at that. So when you turned to kiss his full lips, Zevlor caught your face between his hands. His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at your squished cheeks and puckered lips. Your face reddened, "I'm sorry, I was trying to be romantic... I should have asked to kiss you.” You manage to tremble out through your squeezed lips ...His eyebrows furrow and a slight laugh leaves him “you... Want to kiss me?” He lets go of your head, and it's your turn to laugh. “That and more... if you're willing?" 

Zevlar was definitely willing, willing to run his hands over your soft body, while you do the same to his hardened one, tracing his scars with tender kisses as you sang sweet praises into his crimson skin. His Kisses were so soft as your lips pressed together, slowly building up your hunger for more.

It could have been minutes, hours, hells, even days as you two explored each other's bodies. "Slow ... ride it slow ..." his deep voice whispers in your ear as you slowly roll your hips ."Beautiful ... look at you ...” His lips return to kissing a bruise to your neck as you look into the mirror. Your legs spread wide over his thighs, one of his hands on your hip as the other is wrapped around your waist, holding your front as steady as possible as he thrust So slowly into your drooling cunt. You can see your arousal dripping down his ridged cock as he moves it through your snug cunt, stretched so taut for him. Your hands are holding onto Zevlor for dear life as he molds your insides to his shape.

Zevlors pace steadily builds as your insides start to clench on him tighter, and your cooing gets higher pitched. He smiles and meets your eyes in the reflection as he slips his hot fingers to your twitching clit, rolling over it in quick circles So desperate to watch his lovely Tav squirt all over his girth again.

What could be more romantic than watching the one you care for come undone on you?

Dammon: A lover of erotica through and through

It is canon that Dammon likes smut, which inspired this whole thing. Damon isn't one to shout out from the rooftops what he enjoys reading, but he isn't shy about it, either. He enjoys reading smut/erotica, and he isn't going to be embarrassed about that. He finds that his favorite works are Bondage and Corruption Kink-based. Sure, the stories are undeniably hot, but the trust, the communication shared between two people engaging in that level of intimacy he's utterly addicted to…and his library will only grow. Still, he always returns to his rarer favorites…

His hand is cold compared to the burning flesh of her ass. She leans into the touch, losing her grip, but that only earns her a swat that furthers the rosy flesh to a fiery blush…" keep holding your ankles.." his voice is stern, and she wishes he would talk to her for hours like this, She grabs her ankles tighter mumbling a soft apology. He smiles and kisses down her spine in approval, "Good girl. Now, what's your safe word?" She feels his hand sliding across her ass, the tightening in her gut coiling further. "L-lavender…" she can't help but tremble, feeling his hand spread her blushing cheeks. "When do we say that word?" she's fully spread to him now, feeling dizzy in anticipation. "If-if I'm feeling overwhelmed, hurt, or just ready to stop." 

He muses at her, bent over, ready for him; he runs his oiled fingers over the metal plug keeping his eyes on her tight entrance…he feels his cock throb from the rush, she wants to slam himself into her ass, but he calms himself with a breath. "Very good, now I'm going to put the plug in, remember to breathe and that it will be cold…"

Dammon only occasionally has guests in his small house, so he has never felt the need to hide his books. So what does he do? He proudly displays them on his bookshelf, rotating out his favorites for a nice reread on his nightstand. 

No matter how many times he might read this book, it always excites him. After a long day of pounding away at scorching hot metal it can get a person tightly wound up…and what's better than an excellent book to help wind you down after a long day…

Turns out that winding down is not what his body had in mind for him tonight. It started off as it usually does, his hand lazily stroking his cock, while he read from his book, but as he kept reading, he couldn't help but think about when he saw you last, bright smile, tight trousers, and your shirt barely containing your breast. You always looked like a vision, and he wouldn't mind getting his mouth on if you only asked. Dammons thoughts go to you bent over his anvil as he pounds into your warm heat, his hands keeping your wrist behind your back as you moan for more to show you all he knows. Dammons bites his lip at the thought, continuing to ram his cock into the crease of his pillow folded between his legs. His hand is not enough, and neither is the pillow, but if he thrusts fast enough, he can almost trick himself. It's your plush thighs he's ramming against. Dammon lets out deep moans as he gets closer, his cock weeping at the tip as he thinks of how deep he could go… how he could explore all of you for him to devour. Gods, to feel you cum all over him, to demand more from you till your body shakes from overstimulation. The pleasure he knows his rigid cock could give you. The surge of his orgasm washes over him as his cum shoots into his pillow with a low groan at the instant relief. Dammon throws his pillow off the bed as he catches his breath, so much for relaxing…

After the end of everything, it only makes sense that you would keep in touch with Dammon; every good hero needs a good blacksmith, and Dammon is yours. He was always so reliable and fun to talk to. It only makes sense that you were running his way whenever your sword or armor was nicked. You two slowly boned and found yourself spending hours just sitting and talking to him, telling him your adventures while Dammon just smiled and worked. Watching Dammon work was also an enjoyable experience; he was always so passionate about what he did… you wonder if he's as passionate in other ways

Dammon had told you to come by his place to pick up your weapons, which he was repairing. Having to do some last-minute things, he had set tea out for you and had you wait in his quaint little home. You waited and waited, but he was just taking so long, so you decided to walk around. While you were walking around, you saw Dammon's bookshelf and looked to see if you two shared the same taste in books…

As soon as you picked up one of the books and started to read it, you just couldn't stop. You didn't know if it was shocking, curiosity, or interest ... but what you were reading was so intense, and you just couldn't help how your thighs were pressing together to help ease your growing arousal. "Enjoying the book ?" his voice chimed, making you jump. Slamming the book closed and trying to stumble out an apology, Dammon just looks at your increasingly flushing face, and his smile grows.

Finally, Dammon gently places his hand on your lips, his face completely unfazed as his calm voice asks, "Want me to show you my favorite parts? "- How could you refuse?

What turned into him reading them to you led to you reading it yourself as Dammon ideally played with your hair as he watched you; he Turned to you, finally sharing in a passionate kiss, to where you are now ...

Both of you stripped down to your underwear, straddling Dammons thigh as he leaves slow, sloppy kisses on the column of your neck, "We will start slow...to show you …"

Your hands are holding on tightly to his broad shoulders as his hands slide down your waist to squeeze your hips. His bright eyes take in your blush as he asks if you're okay if you're ready. With a shy yes, you two start as he starts to guide your hips to grind on his thigh; the feeling of your clit rubbing against him makes warm pleasure rush down your spine to spread through you. Dammon just watches your beautiful face contort to the pleasure, listening to your soft moans and trembling Whines, his cock growing stiff as the arousal drips from your panties to leak on his thighs. God, he wants to trace it with his fingertips and have you taste yourself, but he contains himself, telling himself to go slow with you. Dammon moves his hands up to your breast, groping you softly as you continue your soft grind.

You keep rocking back and forth, feeling the tightness in your stomach as you gradually build your pace. From how wet you feel. Dammon knows you are so close to that high, so he decides to help you more. His left hand lowers your bra as his lips kiss your perked nipples before his tongue carefully traces the sensitive skin, making you moan so softly. Then With his right hand, he slips two fingers through your soaked panties to play with your swollen little clit. The feeling of his rough fingertips toying and then pinching softly is enough for that coil to break within you as you squirt on his lap.

"I'm so sorry …" You say in a gasp, but Dammon only shushes you as he holds you to his chest, his expert fingers guiding you through your orgasm. "You have nothing to apologize for ... that's so beautiful, which makes me want you to do it again ... "You whine and bury your face in his neck from his sultry words. Damon can't wait to teach you more things.

Cal: Innocent but wants to learn

There is not enough smut about Cal, which is a shame; he is a cutie and deserves to be included in the Tiefling Bachelor lineup. Cal always thought that there was only one way to get sexual stimulation from a book and those erotic art books people hid in their homes. He had heard of the desire to seek them out. Well, now Cal's grown up, he has needs. It's while Cal is trying to discreetly find one of these books when he comes across smut. Curious why a book like this would be in this section. That is when he figures it out… 

He couldn't help how her strong body roused him. It was an accident coming across her during her bath, but even the warrior jumped to action and could pin him down beneath her foot. He just stared at her bare body, shining in the moonlight as the water dripped down her skin. He swallowed his suddenly dry throat as the need to lick up every drip off her body to quench his thirst, but only if she wished it. How he would be a dog for her… "Why are you spying on me during my bath? Are you an assassin or just a pervert?" His rehearsed lines over why he joined her on her journey evaporate from his mind.

"My lady…lady, I wish to serve your every whim…I wish to be your hand…it would be an honor to travel with a noble hero like yourself…" Her eyes narrow before she swiftly drops down to his prone form…Gods, please don't sit on him and reveal to her his aching erection… "careful with your wording… you could easily end up as a squire… or my chew toy.." he tries to steady his breath… "whatever my knight wishes…" she smiles…this should be an interesting addition to her travels… 

Of course, Cal quickly bought the book and immediately packed it for home as soon as he left the store. As soon as he got to his room after sneaking past his siblings, he needed to find a place to hide it. The last thing he needed was for someone to see that he had this book. So, after a quick scan of his room, he shoved the book underneath his mattress. Nobody will find it there, right?  

Cal was completely immersed in the story; any time he had time off, she was sneaking off to his room to read another chapter or two. Then, late one night, he found that the plot was thickening, and it was starting to stir something within him. Cal springs from his bed and quickly decides to take a cool bath; that should help cool him right…

The bath did little to ease him; all while he was in the bath, his thoughts kept wandering to his book… and you. Now here he is, his fevered skin feeling the sharp bliss of the bathroom's tiled wall against his back, groaning lowly as he fucks his fist. Cal knew it was wrong to think of you this way, your beautiful legs spread open… your hand teasing yourself as your sweet arousal drips more and more. Cal knew he shouldn't be doing this, but that didn't stop him from shutting his eyes tighter, buckling his hips more desperately as he chased his high. All those previous feelings of shame melt away as your sweet voice calls his name, your eyes lidded, telling him to "Watch me, Cal…taste me…" Fuck, his breath picks up as dose his pace mumbling to himself how much he wants you… what he would fo got "Ah, just to taste you… to have you cum on my tongue…" Cal stroked faster, whimpering and moans growing louder at the thought of you pushing him down and sinking your soft cunt onto his cock. The way you would ride him as you screamed for him was the final straw that had his cock spasming, "Fuck, fuck, Fuck!" Cal couldn't help but chant like a prayer as he made a mess over his clean body. Cal looked down at his ruined body, "Dammit… I need to rinse off again…" 

Cal was always a pleasant person to be associated with; your friendship started when he thanked you for helping end a squabble between his siblings. After that, you two kept running into each other. First, he sought you out for combat advice, which made you two have friendly chats. You two both find each other to open up about your troubles with one other. Cal says he admires you and all the incredible heroic acts you have done, but you admire Cal and his cheerful, never-giving-up attitude. The world always seemed just that bit warmer when Cal is near…  

When you saw that Rolan and Lia were out at the tavern without Cal, you were instantly worried about him. They had told you he was not feeling good, apparently, and that immediately made you need to go see him. So, with a key from Rolan, you made your way to the tower to check in on Cal. When you reach outside his door, you hear a sound that makes you worried…   

The air in your lungs ripped from your throat, causing you to let out a gasp as you saw him fisting himself under his blanket. You and Cal locked eyes; he immediately stopped and quickly apologized to explain himself as he was trying to get untangled from his sheets. Poor Cal fell out of his bed, crashing to the floor in a tangled mess of his bedding. Walking over to him, you crouch Where his arm hides his face. "I .. am so sorry ... I ... didn't mean - ""Cal?" Cal Swallows, "Yes ?" You carefully move his arm away so you can look into his eyes. "Do you want me to help you ?" Cal looked up at you with wide eyes before nodding quickly.

Cal's breath was labored as his sweaty hands gripped the sheets as he looked at you in awe. Your hands wrapped around his length as you -Kissed and licked his peddling tip, your eyes watching his adorable face. Then with a final smile and a whisper to relax and enjoy, you start sucking around him, your soft tongue - licking around his sensitive underside making his hip twitch and buckle. Cal thought he must have fallen and cracked open his skull, passing on to the next heavenly realm; how could it be that you, perfect beautiful you, are sitting on your knees eagerly, sucking and slurping on his cock; it just couldn't be real.

Then he felt his cock push to the back of your throat, and he couldn't help from throwing his head back and moaning your name. You relished in the feeling of his trembling as he came in thick spurts down your throat. You had to hold back from laughing as you heard him apologize. Standing up, you smile at his hazy expression and slight smile. You swallowed him down and caressed his cheek, giggling as he pressed frantic kisses on your palm, saying a thousand thank yous. Grabbing his chin, you smile at him as he asks those words you were hoping for. "I .. um. I have never done it, but could I help you ?' Turns out Cal is very good at following directions.

[charliekomori]

Like fear, like love.

Summary: Some of the diaboys comforting you when you have an anxiety/panic attack.

Characters: Shu Sakamaki, Ayato Sakamaki, Laito Sakamaki, Subaru Sakamaki, Ruki Mukami, Kou Mukami, Yuma Mukami, Azusa Mukami, gn! reader.

Tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of anxiety.

❀ Shu Sakamaki.

“The grounding warmth of a blanket in the cold hours of dawn; vivid sun hues on the dull horizon.”

When you are scared or anxious, Shu is the type to pull you down into bed (or whichever random place he happened to fall asleep at) with him. Even if he seems unbothered, his heart literally breaks when he sees you going through trying times.

So he tries to do for you what works for him; trying to get you to rest, even sharing his earphones with you, the soothing notes of a classical melody lulling you into dreams with him.

And you can’t see it, but his ocean eyes soften when you finally calm down, having fallen asleep with your hand still in his.

His free hand brushes stray hairs away from your eyes,

“Sweet dreams.” He murmurs. 

Even though he doesn’t like to see you suffer, he’s happy he can take care of you.

❀ Ayato Sakamaki.

“Sparks of a crackling fire, propagating against the rain, brighter than lightning.”

At first glance, Ayato might not seem like the mist detail-oriented guy, but he is pretty perceptive and intelligent despite his silly moments (and he is not given enough credit for it!)

Especially, when it comes to your feelings and little shifts in your mood.

Initially, he tries to lighten the mood with his usual “Oi, you should be happier to be in the presence of Ore-sama, why are you looking so depressed?”

But when all you give him is a meek hum, then you can see a concerned crease between his brows, that cute expression he does where he goes wide eyed and pouts a little.

The redhead wraps his arms around you, leaning his head on your shoulder, a silent invitation to play with his hair, to keep you distracted.

“If something’s happened, you know I, the great Ayato, will protect you.”

❀ Laito Sakamaki.

“The language of wordless lips over heated skin, the unholy touch of deft hands in the dark.”

Laito’s probably the most versed in understanding another’s feelings out of everyone here. A subtle change in the way you move and carry yourself, the small crease in between your brows, or the way your jaw tightens; those speak volumes to him, and he knows right away that something is not right.

He tries to distract you in the way he knows better: sultry words whispered in your ear, in the dim light of his bedroom; his hand sneaking beneath your shirt, lingering dangerously low on your hips; his sensuous lips trailing your neck and shoulder, pointed fangs sinking in your skin, the afterglow of his kisses ardently addictive.

You try to stop him at first, not because you dislike what he’s doing, but rather that you don’t want to burden him.

To bring back the memories.

To make him feel like you’re just using him to relieve your tension.

Of course, he notices that, too.

“You’re nothing like her, bitch-chan.” He whispers in between lovebites. “So for tonight, give into me, okay? Nfu ~”

❀ Subaru Sakamaki.

“The tender brush of white rose petals scattered into the night, their familiar sweet scent fending off eternal shadows.”

When you’re upset or dark thoughts have you overthinking, the first thing that crosses Subaru’s mind is “is this my fault?”

For a moment, he starts fearing for the worst himself, did he upset you in any way? Did his tainted self hurt you? Would you be better off without him?

However, all of those ideas die out as soon as you cling to him, your face buried in his chest, his cheeks blooming in pretty rose.

Subaru hesitates for a moment, but then he holds you, even if a little awkward at first. 

Needless to say, he wants to punch anyone and anything that made you feel so anxious, but you need him now, in the same way he’s needed you on endless nights when all he knew was despair.

“I love you.” He whispers softly, crimson eyes closing as he nuzzles into your hair, leaving the softest of kisses there. “I’m here.”

❀ Ruki Mukami.

“The soothing truth of irrefutable words set in stone; the softness of blackened feathers; white crows guiding you home.”

Honestly, Ruki is one of the best people to assuage the intrusive thoughts plaguing your mind. Not because he is the most affectionate or soft, far from it, but because the logic he uses to make you see you’ll be okay is pretty much absolute.

Your own doubts scatter away, washed away by the night reflected in the deep ocean of his eyes. Somehow, he always has the power to make you feel like you’ll be safe as long as you stay by his side.

Of course, Ruki won’t leave you alone either. He’ll pull you into his lap while he reads a book, even read it out loud for you if you ask him.

“You’ll be safe with me, livestock. As long as you have your master to protect you, no harm will come your way.”

❀ Kou Mukami.

“A happy melody with lyrics that accompany your tears; not in tune, but a game of opposites, as if understanding you, setting your sights on blue skies after a downpour.”

Kou is another one who will notice right away if your mood shifts. Not just because of his eye; he doesn’t quite need to use it when it’s you.

Even if he now stands on the brightest stages, he knows pain like no other, and he doesn’t like that look on you.

You are his bluest sky. To see it covered by stormy clouds… It makes him sad. Though because he is a performer, he knows how to distract you from your endless night.

He brings you roses or any little gift he noticed you eyeing another time; similarly to Laito, he’ll resort to physical affection and naughty touches if you’re in the mood. 

But you always told him you love his voice, so now, he sings for his favorite audience: you and only you. He’ll teach you to dance like he does if you’re in the mood too, catching you securely in his arms when you trip, teasing you.

“My M-neko-chan is the cutest when they smile… You are my favorite sky, okay? Never forget it.” He tells you, as he kisses the corner of your lips.

❀ Yuma Mukami.

“The familiar scent of a fireplace in the home you’ve so longed for; he is the warmth of the sun on your back and the hues of rustling leaves in late summer.”

“Oi, sow, why do you look so depressed?” 

His rough voice is blazing sunshine amidst thick tree canopies. 

He’s noticed you staring at nothing and probably thinking about too much as you help him in the garden. 

He’s noticed the iron grip you have in the basket of tomatoes, the one now in your hand threatening to be crushed.

He’s noticed the trembling of your form.

He’s noticed you are not acting like yourself right now.

And Yuma can’t stand it. Like the unforgiving freeze of a clouded dawn making flowers wither, he won’t allow for the rose petals you put in his life to never bloom again.

So, as he always does, he lets his actions speak volumes. 

Taking the basket from your trembling hands, he gently throws you over his shoulder. Bathed in the last of the sun’s golden glow, he begins the short trek back to the manor.

“I won’t let anything happen to ya, ya hear me? So stop bein’ so sad, I’m here.”

❀ Azusa Mukami.

“He is the softness of clean gauze over your sore hands; a flutter of butterfly wings brushing your cheek as you wake from a sweet dream.”

Azusa is very attentive, so he can tell the little shifts in your mood when fear wraps their cruel claws around you.

At first, he’ll try to distract you, showing you his knife collection and telling you about the story of each one.

That helps a little, gentle smiles tugging at your lips every now and then as you see him excited to tell you about them.

But he knows that is not enough, that you’re still worried; your mind, a tapestry of criss-cross throbbing wounds.

So he’ll patch them up, no matter how long it takes for the turbulent flow of blood to stop.

He’ll hold you from behind, his ever tranquil heartbeat warm and soothing against your back.

“Eve… You deserve to be happy… My Eve is always beautiful… But I like you happy the most…”

[beneathstarryskies]

Word Count: 1,285 Warnings: fem!reader, pentration (p+v), oral (f recieving), fluffy Summary: You reunite with Halsin after the events in Baldur's Gate. A/N: This is just a little thing I had some inspo for

The moon shines over the water, bright and silver as the pieces in your pack. It’s been a long journey, one most ardently taken so you could be reunited with Halsin at last. He’s still awake when you cross the bridge to Last Light Inn. He peers out the window to see you, and a small smile tugs on his lips. 

You hardly recognize the lands that used to be shadow-cursed. Lush greenery grows along the side of Last Light, covering it in vines and flowers. Moss and grass have begun growing between the stonework at your feet. It used to be trodden down by the activity of the Harpers but has since slowed down since the area is in relative peace. 

Halsin comes out the door at the same time you’re approaching it. Without hesitation, he wraps you up in a warm bear hug. You giggle as your feet lift from the ground, and he spins you around. 

“My heart, I’ve watched the horizon for you,” he declares as he carefully sets you down on your feet again. He cups your cheeks gently and smiles down at you with such warmth. 

“I came as soon as I could,” you say before leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him sweetly. “I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“It’s no matter, my heart. I only thank the Oakfather that you’re here with me now.” 

He reaches down to take your hand in his, and he leads you inside. You’re surprised he’s taken up residence in the inn, but he explains that the Tiefling children had already come to see this place as home so he decided to take up residence here as well while they worked on building their little homestead. 

“There’s a place for you, of course,” he says as he leads you upstairs to his room. “That is if you intend on staying.” 

That is something you’ve thought about at length. Whether you would choose to stay or continue your adventures. However, the decision was made the moment Halsin took you into his arms again. You were home. 

“I would love to stay, and embark on a new adventure at your side,” you say gently. 

“I would like that too,” he confirms before ushering you inside his room. He guides you to sit on the bed, and before you have time to ask he’s kneeling before you. His deft fingers begin undoing the laces of your well-worn boots. He slips them off carefully and sets them aside. Then his warm hands are rubbing your legs through your pants. He can hardly wait to get his hands on you after so long apart, but he knows you’ve been traveling for a while. He wants to assure you’re comfortable before even considering making a proper move on you. “Do you need anything, my heart? A bath? A meal?” 

“A bath would be lovely,” you let out a blissful sigh. “I must smell horrible.” 

He chuckles softly, “If it was day we’d bathe in the lake, but I suppose you’d like me to fill the tub instead for the night?” 

You nod eagerly. As he goes to fill the tub, you stand from the bed to begin to take off your clothes. It feels so good to free yourself from the weight of your armor, and finally stand bare. Halsin uses magic to heat your bathwater, then turns to you. His eyes widen as he sees your body bared to him. He comes closer to you, and his breath is shaky as he places his hands on your hips. 

“Oh, how have I forgotten how beautiful you are? Could it be my memory is not as strong as the vision before me?” he whispers. 

You lean in to kiss him passionately, raising once more onto your tiptoes. You tug at his clothes. 

“Join me in the bath,” you say with the slightest plea in your voice. 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” 

You help him out of his clothes, then you allow him into the bath first so you can settle yourself between his legs with your back to his chest. His hands are on your body under the guise of washing you, but the soap in his hands is merely a flimsy excuse to feel you up to his heart’s content. 

“I missed you,” he whispers against your ear. 

“I missed you too,” you smile softly before laying your head back against his shoulder so you can see his face. His eyes are fixed on you with unbridled adoration. 

He presses soft kisses on your cheek and along your jawline. His hands are gentle, but reverential, on your skin. He kneads and caresses with care, but he is holding back. You can tell by the way his breath feels slightly heavier and he keeps adjusting his position slyly hoping you won’t feel how hard he is just from washing you. 

Finally, you can’t help yourself anymore. You turn around in the bath and move to straddle his lap. His eyes light up with excitement as you lean in to kiss him deeply. Your tongues rub together in a sensual dance of longing. He caresses your sides gently, and guides you to grind against him. His cock throbs against your core. 

“Should we get out?” you whisper against his mouth as you pull away from the kiss. 

“Oh, yes. I think we should.” 

He helps you out of the bath and leads you to the bed. He’s kissing you deeply as he lays you down, and hovers over your form. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. He awaits your eager consent before continuing. 

His lips travel the curves and dips of your body like a leaf sailing across the river. He moans just from feeling your body again. His heart races in his chest with pure excitement. Finally, after what seems to be a hundred kisses, he spreads your thighs. He lays between them, and you hear a low growl escape his throat as he smells the musk of your arousal. He leans in to drag his tongue along your slit before suckling on your folds. 

“Mm, delicious,” he grunts before returning to his task with increased fervor. You throw your head back against the pillows as he flicks his tongue against your clit. You roll your eyes back with pleasure, and resist the urge to grind against his face. 

The dim candlelight falls over the room, casting intimate shadows on the wall. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are lit up in shades of gold. You caress his cheeks. 

“I need you,” you whine. 

“Then you’ll have me.” 

He sits up on his knees, and gives his cock a few gentle strokes before guiding himself to your entrance. You watch his face contort with pleasure as he slides into you. After so long apart, your walls stretch around his girth as though it’s the first time you’ve taken it. When he bottoms out, you let out a gentle whine. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, ready to pull out if the answer is yes. He lets out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you shake your head. 

“No, it’s just been so long.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises as he lowers his body against yours. He kisses you soothingly as he starts moving slowly, his hips rocking in a gentle rhythm. 

“H-halsin,” you moan.

“Mm, yes?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“It feels so good.” 

“I know, my heart,” he whispers. “I’m already having to hold back.” 

“Don’t worry about holding back,” you giggle before kissing him again. “We have plenty of time now.”

[moonstruckme]

Hey, I read your James potter fic where reader is insecure about her acne and I was wondering if you could do a similar one where reader has a big nose? (Kinda like a Roman nose?) totally not self projecting!—yes I am— anyways thank you!

Hi gorgeous, thank you for requesting!

Small disclaimer that I imagine James as desi so him also not having a non-euro-centric nose is a part of this :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

When James walks in on you brushing dark powder onto your nose, you feel caught. 

“What the hell is this?” he asks. His tone is more comically curious than accusatory, but your face heats anyway. “Babe, I swear every time I leave you alone, you acquire some new makeup thingy I’ve never seen before. And I lived with Sirius, so I ought to know most of them.” 

You do your best to blend the powder, sending James a smile in the mirror. “Sounds like you shouldn’t ever leave me alone,” you say. 

“Seems the only solution,” James agrees, bringing his arms around your waist. He sets his chin on your shoulder. “What’s this one?” 

“Contour,” you say lightly. 

James’ eyes cloud with confusion behind his glasses. He regards you in the mirror. “I guess I have heard of that one before,” he admits. “You’re using it on your nose?” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah.” 

“What for?” 

“Just, like,” you’re trying to sound casual, but you can’t really look at him, “to make it look a bit smaller.” 

For a minute, James just watches you. You brush at the powder on your nose, unsure whether you’re trying to use it or make it go away. It seems like it looks bad no matter what you do. 

“Why do you want to do that, angel?” James’ voice is tender. It tells you he already knows. 

“I’m just trying something new.” 

“But why would you want to make it look smaller?” 

You sigh, and he kisses your shoulder, comforting you even as he interrogates you. “I don’t always love the way it looks,” you murmur. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder. You abandon your efforts with the contour, your eyes sticking to your bathroom counter as he moves to your side. Somehow, voicing the insecurity feels worse than the insecurity itself. You’re awash with shame. 

“Sweetheart,” James says. “Hey, look at me.” 

You tilt your head up. He’s giving you one of those smiles that seems more for your benefit than his, not at its full capacity but beautiful nonetheless. He taps his nose. 

“Think you should put some of that on me too?” 

You feel your face contort before you can check it, mouth and forehead pinching. “No.” Your voice comes out incredulous. “Of course not.” 

“My nose is about the same size as yours,” he says. It sounds like he’s pleading rather than arguing with you, the way he’s speaking so gently. “Why do yours and not mine?” 

“B—because,” you sputter, “it’s not for you.” 

“Why not?”  

You shake your head. You feel backed into a corner. You don’t know why, you just know the way it is. 

“Angel,” James says softly. “Look, I know things are a bit different for you than they are for me. No one tells guys we have the wrong nose. But does it seem fair to you that you should feel like you have to hide yours?” He works his hand behind your ear, thumb stroking at your jaw, and you want to argue that you’re not trying to hide it, that you’re just tweaking it if anything, but you’d be lying. “Your nose is perfect,” he insists. “It’s part of the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. You really want to mess with the prettiest face I’ve ever seen?” 

He cocks an eyebrow at you, and you try to fight your smile but it wins out in the end. Your boyfriend’s grin magnifies in response. 

“I’m waiting for an answer, sweetheart,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes. “No,” you mumble. 

“Correct,” he laughs, taking your face between his hands.

He squishes your face together so your lips push out. When he kisses you, his nose slides against your own, big and bumpy and perfect. Part of the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. His mouth pushes on yours with an ardent sincerity. 

You remember the contour too late. 

James comes away with a smearing of dark powder on his dusky skin. You lick your thumb, wiping at it. He pays you no mind. 

“Are we ready to go? Sirius’ll be all moody if we’re late.” 

You laugh. “You did this on purpose,” you accuse. 

“What?” He glances past you into the mirror and gives an insouciant shrug. “Is this not the look?” 

You roll your eyes again, trying and failing to look vexed. “Come here.” 

He steps forward gamely to let you rub makeup remover over the smudges on his nose. When you’re done, you do yours too.

[maevelin]

Seduction is the trap... here comes temptation:

In order to "entrap" someone you will first have to seduce him.

WELCOME TO MY TED - POLIN -TALK!

So here we have a trapped man in the claws of a ruthless temptress!

And it has been OBVIOUS FROM THE START!

We just didn't see it but now it is clear!

So...We have all seen how it was Colin who practically became chaotic once he realized his feelings for Penelope and crushed the ball to stop the proposal, went into the carriage, proposed in 2 seconds and so on. So basically if anyone was set on trapping the other that would Colin - MY WIFE IS HOT I MUST TRAP HER FOREVER - Bridgerton.

BUT....and here is the INTERESTING PART.

IT WAS NOT HIM.

IT WAS HER!

I HAVE PROOF AND SO DOES COLIN -VICTIM BY TEMPTRESS- BRIRDERTON!

Soooo...

Why would Colin even think Penelope had trapped him? Anger clouded his judgement sure. At this moment he is in shock, he feels betrayed, his emotions are on a high and he is not thinking clearly but HOW DID SHE DO IT? In his mind anyway.

So...How did she seduce him?

Because right now we know that Colin keeps reliving every moment in his head.

So here we go.

Lessons on how to ENTRAP an already in love OBLIVIOUS Bridgerton drama boy:

Step 1:

He returns, he looks for her. She is not there.

He has to search for her while in the past he was at his disposal and then she is cold. She wears yellow, she has not been returning his letters, she is now indifferent and...IT HURTS.

Ok rewind it in his mind, because you know he feel betrayed so:

She was playing hard to get! IT WAS A TRAP!

(At this point our lovely moron has realized (or not) there was always romantic context between them so he filters every moment through this revelation...so playing hard to get would require for him to actually want to get her...I am just saying.)

So he had missed her and she did not seem to have missed him.

A SET TRAP!

Step 2:

She enters the opening ball of the season with a new PARISIAN STYLED dress (ok, this might have been a small little subconscious trap because when our girl heard of France she just knew how she wanted to dress to get his attention LMAO)

Now, supposedly at this point he is not paying her any romantic attention. Only...HE DOES. When she enters she makes him pause. She walks past him. She does not pay him any attention. He NOTICES the lovely dress, OF COURSE and in his mind right...

:IT WAS A TRAP!

She wore green (WHO DOES THAT?), it was the first time he saw her as a woman (WHAT???), of course it was meant to TRAP HIM.

Then she ...rejects him by telling him he is cruel (she was not even responding to his LETTERS).

So IT WAS A TRAP! (SHE DARED TO CALL HIM MR BRIDGERTON!!!....Shocking him to the core! ...MISTER BRIDGERTON! IT WAS PREMEDITATED!)

She was playing hard to get (yes even then he wanted to get her. That does not correlate in his mind but I digress lol)

Step 3:

He proposes to teach how to flirt and since he knows her he is CERTAIN that she knows how to use the fan to charm and bat her eyelashes.

Only how can he be sure she knows? Because HE HAS SEEN HER DO IT....To whom? TO HIM (duh!)...(and between us she had...she just didn't know it LOL)

But then he realizes that she can't do it with anyone else. BUT she had been doing it with him. SHE PLAYED HIM! IT WAS PLANNED! SHE DID IT ON PURPOSE!

His mind: IT WAS TRAP (SHE WAS SEDUCING ME ALL ALONG. SLOWLY. SURELY. ARDENTLY!)

At this point our girl has been working at it FOR YEARS, right?

As lady Whistledown she has eliminated the competition (Bye Marina) but as PENELOPE she has been replying to his letters and every time he was mesmerized by her ...wll now has an EXPLANATION....She was SEDUCING HIM ALL ALONG...It makes sense...FOR YEARS, THE TRAP WAS SET!

Step 4:

He is the one to propose the lessons but she is the one who:

"Your eyes the most remarkable shade of blue"

SOMEONE SEND HELP!

OUR BOY CHOKES ON HIS DRINK!

No..no wait...SHE CAN'T BE THAT GOOD. THAT WAS DIRECT! (Direct HIT!)

That was SEDUCTION, TEMPTATION, THAT WAS...A DIRECT TRAP!

We know he is reliving the moment and he tastes that lemonade AGAIN! Never mind. TRAAAAAP!

Step 5:

She is bandaging his hand after READING HIS SMUT.

Boy is bleeding, on his knees, seeing directly at her boobs.

IT IS A TRAP, TRAP TRAP,TRAP!

Step 6:

She is the damsel in distress. Lady Whistledown could never be the damsel in distress but PENELOPE WAS.

He kept saving her! He had too! She was in DISTRESS! And he was a gentleman and he was not really enjoying HIMSELF SAVING HER!

AND HE RUN AFTER HER! EVERY SINGLE TIME.

She knew how to make him run!

She made him.

IT WAS A TRAP.

Say it with me! ENTRAPMENT!

STEP 7 - the EXACT POINT OF ENTRAPMENT

She ASKED HIM FOR A KISS!

The AUDACITY that only a TEMPTRESS WOULD HAVE!

He KISSED HER because SHE ASKED!

A pity kiss...he was doing her a favor...

Now that WAS THE TRAP living rent free in his mind ever since!

Because in that moment (Siri play the book quote:) HIS WORLD AS HE KNEW IT WAS OVER!

And the most mind-blowing, earth shuttering, out of the world KISS EVER!

How would she KNOW HOW TO KISS LIKE THAT TO BEGIN WITH?

IT WAS A TRAP!

And...HE FELL STRAIGHT RIGHT INTO IT! Deep down he went.

Step 8:

HE KEPT DREAMING OF HER. Damn SIREN!

She knew what she was doing guys! She made him weak with (just as her mother wise PORTIA said) whatever wiles she had and he could not get out of bed because of her!

And WORSE there was LEGIT COMPETITION!

How could ANYONE ELSE BE INTERESTED IN HER, when he was dreaming of her?

And he had a TITLE, WEALTH! He would give FREEDOM to be Lady Whistledown (only she let that one go because she was trapping COLIN so...) and she JUST SEDUCES!

Like...LOOK AT HER GO!

And she had Debling propose to her in what? A week? Two weeks? SO SOON?

SHE IS GOOD! SHE KNOWS HOW TO TRAP MEN.

It was a TRAP!

Step 9:

HOW DARE SHE EAT THAT PASTRY?

LIKE THAT?

Now...THAT....WAS SEDUCTION!!!! SHE DID IT ON PURPOSE!

DAMN IT...IT WAS A TRAP AND SHE LICKED HER FINGERS AND WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

Innocent Penelope right? Not right! THERE WAS SUGAR ON HER LIPS! THE TEMPTRESS IS TEMPTING!

SUCH A TRAP!

Step 10 and is sizzling:

She as Lady Whistledown has written things that ONLY AN EXPERIENCED WOMAN COULD HAVE WRITTEN!

DID SHE EVEN?????????????????????????????

What does that mean? She KNEW WHAT SHE WAS DOING?

Where they OTHERS? Secret OTHERS? What a fool he had been! She was not only an accomplished writer who mocked him with her hidden success but she knew about rakes and affairs and she could not be that innocent right?

No wait...she was a VIRGIN...no WAIT that was the TRAP!

BUT she was an EXPERIENCED VIRGIN because there was the carriage and there was the mirror and there was the settee and what was he thinking?

Oh yes, HE HAD NEVER FELT LIKE THIS BEFORE!

A TRAP!

And he has every right to feel like that, betrayed, JEALOUS, ENTRAPPED.

So as a gentleman he will ALLOW THE DEVIOUS WOMAN TO TRAP HIM and when she falters at the aisle he will smile to her encouraging her to TRAP HIM!

Because you know...what is marriage if not an entrapment to bind those two together forever? LOL

By the way, he can now be a drama queen all he wants but she is his wife and a Bridgerton and he can't let her go so it is okay. He is secure.

The trap is trapping!

P.s: Not my gifs

[artigas]

imo, many of jane austen's novels do not easily lend themselves to generously queer readings but i do think there's something intrinsically queer about women writing romance novels. like, conceptually. jane austen was a woman writing novels that were being primarily consumed by women. this reality of the romance genre has not changed. and yet, when you think about it, romance novels that center on relationships between men and women are abstractions by women for other women's pleasure.

the most beautiful (and sometimes heartbreaking) aspect of romance novels, fanfiction, and other forms of writing associated with women and queer people is how generously they characterize men. i mean, just take a second to compare the stories women tell about men to the stories men tell about each other. we live in a world that beats emotion out of men. we live in a world that teaches them that love, affection, and vulnerability are defects, not gifts. but in pride and prejudice, darcy is a man who betters himself after lizzie rejects him and he does so with no expectation of romantic reciprocity. he changes because he loves her and because loving her in the way she deserves requires self-betterment. in emma, mr knightly volunteers to absolve himself of land and property because he knows that emma's happiness is intrinsically linked to caring after her (imo, disabled and/or disability-adjacent) father and that their marriage would necessitate that emma abandon him. instead, knightly denounces what is socially and legally entitled to him because her supreme happiness is infinitely more important.

in romances, men are generous with love. they speak in poetic terms. in all of austen's novels, she gives men the most romantic and immortalized lines ("if i loved you less, i might be able to speak about it more", "in vain I have struggled, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you"). in these stories, men love tenderly, to the point where love might very well be their unmaking. i cannot tell you how many fanfictions i've read where men cry during sex or where they yearn to the point of heartache.

so many romances are a matter of women imagining men behaving in a way that is more in keeping with feminine socialization (except, of course, that's bullshit. women aren't inherently more attuned to emotions or expressions of love. with these stories, we're imagining men allowing themselves the full breadth of human experience, gender norms be damned). in our stories, we imagine men for all they could be. these fantasies are so generous. they're so kind. they imagine more for men in fiction than some men imagine for themselves in real life.

i worry this makes absolutely zero sense. but i think there's something queer about that. there's something queer about a woman offering a fantasy of a man who can behave, feel, and speak in ways that are more associated with women. and there's something queer about women saying: this is the fantasy of a man that would melt me. i know it isn't real. i know such men are nearly impossible to find. i'm offering this to you anyway, so we can delight in this projection together.

[autisticlancemcclain]

previous chapter

———

Coran’s final word rings through the ancient room. For a moment everyone stays frozen, relaying Coran’s haunting story in their heads, reeling from the severity of all they’ve learned.

Then that moment turns into another.

And another.

“Okay,” Hunk says, when it’s clear that Coran is not giving any further instructions. “How do we go about this…search?” He looks pointedly at the various floating balls of light around the giant room, impossibly high shelves, and incorporeal artefacts and literature. “Is there some sort of ancient Altean database search?”

There’s a poorly faked cough from beside Keith, Lance rapidly looking away to hide his grin at Hunk’s dry comment. Coran looks at the two of them judgementally, eyebrows raised, before answering.

“Of course not,” he chides, as if its obvious. “The Lions were the first piece of technology to successfully work alongside concentrated quintessence. This place has been around long before that.”

“Right,” Hunk says, throwing his hands up in exaggeration. “Of course. How stupid of me to ask.”

The sarcasm flies right over Coran’s head, who looks pleased at Hunk’s concession. Despite his situation, and the time limit he’s sure he’s on, Keith has to fight down laughter.

“I think what Hunk is looking for is instructions,” Shiro says diplomatically when Coran once again lapses into silence. “The specific kind, if you don’t mind. Reminder that when the castle first started construction there was only single-celled life on Earth, so we’re a little behind.”

Coran snorts. “No need to exaggerate, Number One, I’m happy to explain.”

The humans make brief eye contact with each other, visibly and wordlessly communicating, before simultaneously deciding to drop it.

“Everything here, as you can observe, is related to quintessence,” Coran begins to explain. Finally. (Keith loves the man, seriously, but he’s not known as one to get to the point.) “As, of course,” he nods at Keith, “is your problem. To solve a problem relating to quintessence, you need to use it.”

“So it’s a fight fire with fire situation,” Lance surmises.

Coran nods. “More or less. Now, join hands and close your eyes.”

Pidge grabs Keith’s left hand and squeezes, smiling, which along with making him feel especially supported and loved — Pidge is most definitely very affectionate, but rarely is her affection so unmasked, it means a great deal to Keith that she knows he needs it and she’s being so brazen with it now — reminds him quite ardently that Lance’s hand is still tangled with his. He smiles wider.

“Pay attention, now,” Coran says, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. “All of you must sink into each other the same way you do when you’re forming Voltron. When you do so, your quintessence will be entwined as one, and your desires will no longer be of one individual person but instead of many presences, as one.”

“That makes no sense,” Hunk mutters.

“Your face makes no sense,” Lance shoots back.

“Shut up, goober.”

Allura laughs. Shiro shushes the lot of them, but Keith knows he’s holding back a smile himself.

Adept at dealing with the lot of them — they are, objectively, annoying — Coran continues right on. “All that raw energy in one place is attractive to all other energy in the area. If you were all to hone your energy on one specific desire, one specific type of quintessence, it would be easier to attract. So after I finish speaking, all of you are going to focus as intently as you can, on yourselves and each other, as you are used to doing, and then together you are going to search for what will become clear.”

As usual with anything to do with quintessence, the instructions are vague, contradictory. But more pressing than any frustrations at unclarity is Keith’s fear — that this will fail, that his quintessence will remain warped, that he will lose Lance again and again and again, that there will be nothing he can do to stop it. The fear eats at him; angry almost at being held at bay for as long as he’s held onto Lance, bubbling right under his skin. His breathing picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly, and his gloves become slick with sweat. Memories of Lance flash through his mind, rapidly, never lasting even one full second; Lance, face down on the floor of an Empire warship, hole through his head, Lance, covered in spatters of blood in the training room, skin torn and ripped, Lance, incinerated into nothing. Bile rises in his throat as images of Lance, dead and injured and dying, are all he can see; copper floods his mouth as he remembers the scent of iron in the air, blaster fire rings in his ears, his heart rate skyrockets —

You are your own worst enemy, a voice chides, and then something cool and crackly and something else Keith can’t put a name too envelops his mind, cutting off the string of memory, filling his senses with the smell of lavender and sunshine and the sound of constant humming.

Lance.

Lance is barely established as a chiding presence in Keith’s mind before five more surges of energy come rushing in: the most familiar to him, strong and steady and goofy , a smaller, sparky surge of energy, a buzzing energy that gives the impression of an old, impossibly huge Redwood, an energy that feels like the first bite of a warm cookie, and one that Keith can only describe as hot pink.

Shiro. Pidge. Coran. Hunk. Allura.

His family.

The six of them encircle him, crowding his mindscape, forcing out the strangling memories of his deepest fears. They entangle themselves with him, strung up like a wired earbuds left in a pocket; their quintessence, entwined as one, no longer one individual person but many presences, as one.

It feels like strength. It feels like hope. It feels like family.

It feels like Voltron.

There’s not so much a verbal or mental command so much as there’s a universal desire for one thing. Outside of their mortal bodies, outside of a physical realm, they’re capable of more than is possible, and suddenly sifting through all the quintessence in the massive, ancient room is no longer an impossibility but simply a reality. In a way that Keith can’t quite process but is aware that he is doing, they surge their energy forward, in some way, comparing it instantly which every other ball of potential in the area, searching for what they’re looking for.

The Answer is at the near ceiling of the cave; dark, heavy, not much a presence so much as a lack of one. It’s foreboding, not as bright as everything else nor as dark as maligned energy feels. Something separate, something they have never felt before.

Instantly they wrap around it, pulling it back down, to where they stand. They pull back away from each other, gently untangling and sinking back into themselves. It’s extremely disorienting, like walking up tangled in bedsheets and trying to pull yourself free while only half awake. Keith’s vision is blurry when he’s finally home in his own body again, and it takes him several blinks too clear it.

Floating in between them, still and unmoving, is the fix to his clusterfuck.

———

next chapter

[princesssarisa]

I have a few questions for Jane Austen fans about one important scene in Pride and Prejudice.

I still remember the post that circulated some time ago about the fact that when Darcy makes his first proposal, he finds Elizabeth alone because she's stayed behind with a headache while the others have gone to Rosings for tea. A stress headache caused by her overwhelming rage at the reveal that it was Darcy who persuaded Bingley not to marry Jane. Which gives her even more reason for responding to his insulting proposal by verbally ripping him to shreds.

I was surprised by how many people responded to that post by saying that they always thought Elizabeth just pretended to have a headache to avoid seeing Darcy at Rosings.

The text doesn't seem ambiguous to me: the omniscient narrator states that Elizabeth had a headache caused by her stress, which combined with her reluctance to see Darcy to make her stay behind:

The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned brought on a headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that, added to her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea

But some people would argue that Austen is just being playful. She often makes sarcastic statements that blatantly aren't true, so maybe the above is just her playful way of stating that Elizabeth faked a headache to avoid seeing Darcy. It doesn't come across that way to me, but then I'm on the autism spectrum and don't always understand subtext either in real life or in fiction.

I already wrote a post asking people how they interpret this passage, but I thought I'd ask it again. Real headache or fake headache?

Then, of course, Darcy arrives. I've been wondering: how do other readers interpret his choice to visit and propose to Elizabeth then and there? Here's the text:

In a hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began:—

“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

In the small amount of commentary I've read so far, I've come across three interpretations of Darcy's actions at this point.

(a) The most generous: He visits out of genuine concern for Elizabeth, and upon seeing that she's feeling better, he decides that now is as good a time as any to propose.

(b) Slightly less generous: When he hears that she's alone with a headache, he decides to seize the opportunity to go and propose, using "inquiry after her health" as an excuse.

(c) The least generous: When he hears that she's alone with a headache, since he thinks she knows his interest in her and has been encouraging him, he assumes she must be faking the headache to give him the chance to find her alone and propose.

Unless I'm forgetting some line or other, the last suggestion seems a little bit far-fetched to me – not that he thinks she's been encouraging him, that of course is true, but that he should think she's faking the headache just to make him visit her.

But I could believe either the first or the second interpretation. Does anyone else have any views on the subject?

@anghraine, @bethanydelleman

[gabessquishytum]

Okay hear me out cause I have a headcanon I DESPERATELY need to share with SOMEone so-

Dream is naturally very quiet in bed. He's not repressing anything, or holding back, just when he's relaxed and having a good time he's not very vocal. But he gets insecure with Hob because it's been so long since he's had a human lover, and his only real point of reference for human sex is sex dreams or porn, both of which tend to be exaggerated and unrealistic and LOUD.

So he tries to mimic those things, like super overexaggerated moans and dirty talk etc, but he's not very good at it and it just ends up making Hob laugh, and Hob's not trying to be mean or laugh at him or anything, it's just funny! And luckily he manages to keep Dream from disappearing in anger and embarrassment and is like "Dream, babe, what are you doing? Why are you trying to sound like a bad porno?" And it takes some patience but eventually Dream admits that he's worried Hob is unhappy with how quiet he is and he doesn't want Hob to think he's not having a good time. And Hob is just like "??? Sure you're not loud, but you're not silent either. You make these sweet soft sighs and gasps and because you're a weird cat you sometimes purr which is adorable and I am tuned in to every single hitch of your breath because I <3 you." And Dream is flustered of course but manages to accept that he doesn't have to try to be a certain way in bed as long as everyone is having a good time

oh Oh OH this is so!!!! Lovely!!! I love the idea of Dream being insecure because he’s not human and he feels like Hob might not like him as he is!!! Assdfgjjjgg <3

Hob gets Boyfriend of the Year for this, though. Because he tries so hard to let Dream do his weird over exaggerated pornstar bit. He doesn’t want to criticise so he tries to roll with it, but… Dream doesn’t even look like he’s having a good time. That’s why Hob ends up awkwardly laughing, because it’s just weird and ok, a little funny. It’s fine, if Dream wants to moan Like That then cool, whatever. Hob just wants to understand why.

Because really? He wants Dream to be the happiest and most satisfied he’s ever felt. And Dream is just like… oh. Oh. And it occurs to him that Hob is in fact the most gentle and generous of lovers; that he would never want Dream to pretend.

So, with a little adjustment to his pride, Dream returns to his happily quiet self. He notices that Hob now often tells him how good he sounds, how pretty his little whimpers are. It means the world to Dream, even if he never says so, and he makes sure to whisper how ardently he loves Hob, every time they have sex from then onwards.

Silly boys. They’re perfect for each other.

[lemonhemlock]

Sansa says to Tyrion: “You’re afraid of her.” And Tyrion replies: “Every good ruler needs to inspire a bit of fear.”

Is that true? Should every good ruler do that?

Should Sansa be afraid of her and was her behavior towards Daenerys smart?

I feel like it was, Sansa's stance against kneeling to Daenerys was not just about defiance; it was a strategic move reflecting her commitment to Northern independence and sovereignty. Sansa's refusal to kneel to Daenerys wasn't about provoking her for the sake of it. It was a calculated decision to assert Northern autonomy and ensure that any alliance with Daenerys was on equal terms. Kneeling would have symbolized submission, potentially compromising the North's ability to negotiate from a position of strength. Sansa understood the risks but believed that standing firm was crucial for preserving Northern identity and security.

What an interesting question! Unfortunately, I was taught only one seminar class on Machiavelli during my one History of the Middle Ages course,* so I'll not insist on the discourse on whether he was writing satire, was being deceitful, opportunistic (my teaching assistant at the time certainly thought he was!) or was genuinely writing a <mirror for princes> in the hopes of Italian unification as he may have seen tyrants as an effective political typology who could achieve that goal. Others more well-read than me can comment much more in-depth on this topic.

*I know this is the Renaissance, it was an expansive course, alright. :)

The question should at least begin with a discussion around Machiavelli IMO because he is very obviously the most famous source for the quote and the majority of the population familiar with this quandary have most likely heard it in association with him. But it's very telling that the idea of being feared is the one D&D latched on to, no? This reminds me of that Twitter meme of red flag books you see in men's houses after going on a couple of dates and the list contained titles like The Prince, American Psycho, Atlas Shrugged, How to Win Friends and Influence People etc.

Even so, even if you take the text at face value, that's not exactly what the man says, is it? He is pondering several options. In fact, let me whip out my copy of The Prince I bought way back in the cretaceous period for Year 1.

Even if you believe he is being genuine here and not just sucking up to (or trying to placate) Lorenzo di Medici, he is saying that love & fear > fear > fear and hatred. So, whatever you do, make sure you are not hated. And what is a sure-fire way to getting hated? Taking people's stuff! "Above all, a man must refrain from seizing the property of others, because a man is quicker to forget the death of his father than the loss of his patrimony"! And how does Dany answer Sansa's question of "what do dragons eat"? What does she say? "Whatever they like." Does whatever they like perchance include the assets of the Northerners, like cattle and sheep? Hmmm.....

In any case, Machiavelli was an ardent Republican, so why is he giving advice to princes? There is a contradiction that lies at the heart of this question and in how fandom perceives some elements of ASOIAF as well. Authoritarian rulers and tyrants can be very effective. It doesn't mean we should accept or normalize authoritarian rule. These two things are not in contradiction. Machiavelli doesn't have to believe, in his heart of hearts, that tyrants are preferable; he can simply write about how to make them efficient. And, again, I'm leaving the conversation about his true intentions to others who have genuinely studied the issue, because it is still under debate.

How I'm redirecting this back to ASOIAF is by pointing out that a lot of critiques of Westerosi rulers are hesitant to characterize any kind of imperious or strongman ruler as efficient, even when the text doesn't point to any material issue that might undermine their rule. Tywin Lannister and Walder Frey are examples of this. To my knowledge, there is no real contestation of their rule by their bannermen or smallfolk and they are not exactly the warmest individuals. Yes, they die, because they are the playthings of the author and he is killing them to make a thematic point. Not because they were overthrown by their underlings or in a peasant revolt. Tywin is killed by his own son in an act of personal revenge that has nothing to do with politics. Walder Frey is killed similarly by Arya in the show (in the books he is still alive). But, that doesn't mean that, in the real world, rulers like Stalin don't exist and are not successful and always pay for their crimes.

I would thus advance the proposition that GRRM does think that tyrants might be effective, but not that they should be endorsed and definitely the endgame of the series will not involve another tyrant on the throne, because he has power over these characters and he can eliminate whomever he wants from the narrative if he doesn't believe they fit the profile for the type of ruler he is looking for.

Ping-pong-ing back to the show, the question is ultimately a misunderstanding of the themes by D&D. They conflate being effective with being a "good" ruler. And it is important to define that efficiency in the first place! Machiavelli talks a lot about how to maintain your seat as a prince once you've got it. And the discussion on love vs fear happens in the context of how to prevent oneself from acquiring the ire of the population / one's subalterns and prevent being ousted. But would that truly be the trait GRRM is looking for in his ideal model of a king? A good king being one who efficiently held onto the crown? What about policy? What exactly is Dany's policy for Westeros? She has none in the show. In the books she has none as well, but at least she hasn't reached Westeros there yet, so there may be time for her to formulate something.

Regardless, the population shouldn't be afraid of its rulers, who serve for them. The only reason one should feel fear in relation to one's rulers is because they are judicious applicators of the law and would mete punishment accordingly if one has committed a crime. This is very much an idealistic manifestation of the relationship between the two, but it is not an entirely new concept. Even in the context of the divine right of kings,* there existed paternalistic notions of benevolence (noblesse oblige being one such manifestation), the idea that the upper classes have social responsibilities to care and protect the vulnerable and those less fortunate. So the idea of the elites being indebted in a way (or more like having a duty towards) the populace has always permeated political thinking. Of course, in the case of unjust rulers, philosophers like Thomas Aquinas also condoned tyrannicide (legally permitted in Ancient Greece, too). So, I would so as far as to say that there is basis enough to argue that a "good" ruler is one who cares for their people and doesn't abuse them or incite negative associations such as fear - and that it's probably what GRRM also has in mind when writing these godforsaken books.

*although I suppose I should mention that the idea that God granted monarchs authority to rule predates the coinage of that term, which is essentially absolutist in phrasing, because we are LARP-ing medieval times here and that predates the absolutist monarchy, contrary to what viral posts will have you believe (no, I will never shut up about this).

As for the second part of your question, yes, I would say that in the context of the show, Sansa refusing to kneel to Dany would be consistent with the goal D&D gave her, namely Northern independence. So it wasn't about antagonizing Daenerys the person or playing mind games, it was about achieving her political objective and implementing her own policies, as Sansa was one of the only characters shown to care about the logistics of survival, ensuring the needs of her population and caring for them as best as she could. Had she failed, Daenerys would have kept asking for her armies and money in order to fight in her world domination tour - a loss of resources that Sansa wanted to prevent.

Please bear in mind, though, that a lot of this is coloured by the weird decision to have Cersei be the final villain to defeat, whereas it's much more likely that in the books the battle against the wights is going to be the final, major battle. It's likely that the dynamics in the books will be different - not saying that Dany and Sansa are going to be bffs, but Jon, for instance, could have a much greater political involvement, one would hope, instead of being reduced to moodily repeating 3 lines. Also, Dany's public perception might very well change if she, IDK, murders her alleged nephew Aegon VI or engages in other endearing brouhaha.

[sorendeimos]

Some of the fics I’m working on

Enjoy some snippets of the fics I'm working on below! Most of these are Explicit or Mature due to multiple reasons, from sexual themes to graphic violence to just being heavy and difficult to wade through topics. Please read ahead and speculate with that in mind!

Eternal Damnation, Explicit, (Sexual)

The soul between them looked back down at his mangled corpse in front of Them all, at the crowd gathering around the mutilated bag of broken bones and bleeding flesh, at the bus he had been pushed in front of by his sobbing friends nearby. “Do I get to pick where I go?” He asked softly, and his voice shook a bit, as if he were scared of the answer. The two men looked at each other over his head, locking gazes, before Severus waved a hand coated in pitch and sharply clawed in dismissal. Lupin smiled a dazzling, straight and white smile back that had the other man rolling his eyes. “Of course you can, sweet soul. There’s no reason you couldn’t, really. It explains why both of us got the same assignment,” Lupin reached his own hand, stark white and finely manicured, into his waistcoat pocket to extract the golden watch. He gazed down at the face, clicked his tongue, and snapped it closed. He spoke as he placed it back away. “We should make this quick, however, as you may fade within, say, an hour.” “An hour and a half by My estimation.” “And you’ve never been wrong before, isn’t that right, Severus?” Lupin drawled, trailing his golden gaze back to lock with the narrowed one looking at him. “That was one time,” Severus hissed between clenched teeth, lips curling back in a snarl that showed off sharp pointed fangs. “So he’s the angel? I thought… well… I-it’s just.”

Becoming God, Severus POV, Mature (Heavy Themes. Sexual)

I have never been a privileged child. I never grew up with the assurance that my parents loved me and would protect and defend me to the ends of the earth. I grew up with no such illusions that this was a reality I lived within because if it were, She wouldn’t have cowered when he turned his attentions from beating Me for the infraction of the hour to Her. She would have already been between us, defending Me as best She could have. That doesn’t mean I don’t love them. As much as I hate to say that, I love them and I wish they were better. I wish that the God My father so ardently claims to worship would fix him so he was kind, or simply smite him dead. But God doesn’t exist, so I suppose I will have to take matters into My own hands.

Becoming God, Sirius POV, Mature (Heavy Themes, Sexual)

It is never easy to let go of your own upbringing. It’s never simple to accept who you are in the face of family looking down on you and sneering at what you’ve become, despite their best efforts to make you something - someone - that you aren’t. And by God did they try. Mother poked and prodded, snipped with words laced with poison meant to erode away all the “unseemly behaviours for someone of our ilk, Sirius” that came with being myself. But She never succeeded, and it was the worst day of My life when She said She had no eldest son. When She disowned Me and blasted My name off the family tree as I ran from home. It was also the best day of My life because I was finally free.

Coping, Lucius Chapter, Explicit (Sexual)

“This is unhealthy, Severus. Look at what I do to you.” Lucius ran soft fingers over the bruised flesh of Severus’ wrists. He pressed a kiss to one, then the other, and sighed. “You won’t let Me heal these, will you?” “Of course not, they’re to remind Me.” “Of what?” “That I’m alive.”

Mr. Loverman, Mature (Graphic Violence)

“Last chance.” Harry says, his eyes are dead, no longer sparkling green but flat and dangerous. He hasn’t been the same since Draco. The man panics, thrashing in the chair and trying to shake Harry off. He screams, yells that he knows nothing, that he wasn’t there, that he never hated Draco, that he wasn’t even in the country, anything to get Harry to hear him. By the time Harry is done with Pucey, the man has no teeth, a broken jaw, and the fear of one Harry James Potter engraved into his bones. He turns himself in for the list of charges the DMLE has on him two days later when the jaw pain becomes unbearable, and sobs with relief when they fix it. He refuses to give Harry up. He thanks them when they escort him to Azkaban, and he sobs when they lock him into his cell.

I hope you all look forward to these pieces! Any ideas or speculations on the storylines are ALWAYS welcome, though I reserve the right to confirming or denying them!

[catgrassplantdad]

weekly tag wednesday 🌙

i was tagged by @suchagallabitch and @energievie! 💜

1. if you could switch bodies with anybody for only one hour who would it be and what would you do? stealing evie's answer and saying i'd switch bodies with my husband for sex purposes. insane answer. i love it.

2. whats your most trivial / dumbest hot take? fuck ketchup

3. if you had to teach a college course what would it be in? introduction to primatology

4. season 12 of shameless is suddenly happen and youve been put in charge! what plot point(s) are you gonna make happen? i love this question. most importantly, carl finds his way out of policing and maybe gets into social work or something. i really want happiness and stability for lip somehow. i'd love for him to find a job he thrives in, and tbh i'd wanna see what plays out if the house does get sold. i have nooooo ideaaaa what i'd like to see for kev and v tbh. i wish i could think of something. debbie does go with heidi and regrets it, and i'd wanna see her work her way through that situation in the beginning of that season and find her way back home close to her family, and then become more independent as the season progresses. i don't know where i want liam. i think he starts with lip and tami but i don't know if i'd have him stay there. i know a lot of people like to put him with ian and mickey, but i can't see it. i'd have to think about this. i'd like to see ian and mickey start the process of adopting a baby. i so desperately want to see them work through that. i wanna see how they settle into their home on the west side (i don't think they'd stay there for the long run, but for one season of a show i could see it), how they grow their business, and how they approach becoming parents.

5. who would be your godly parent? (can be any mythology). i don't have enough of a knowledge base in any mythology to answer this question.

6. what’s something you love about yourself? i'm normally quite confident in social situations and can easily connect with new people.

7. describe your day in 5 emojis: ☕📝🐈💕🍞

8. what shameless character do you think you could beat in a fight? literally none of them lol

9. tell us 2 truths and a lie, we’ll try to guess the lie! i can do a headstand, karaoke is my favorite party activity, i refuse to wear sneakers

10. do you have a pet(s). if so how did they get their name? yes i do! i have a cat. i initially gave her a different name that i picked out of a baby naming book, but then it very quickly morphed from that into what her name is now.

11. show us a meme (or picture) that captures your essence

12. whats your typical coffee / tea / beverage order? black coffee or dirty chai

13. use a song to describe the last 5 years of your life? questions like this make me forget every song i've ever heard. i also don't normally find myself personally relating to what i'm listening to very much.

tagging @howlinchickhowl @gallawitchxx @heymrspatel @whatwouldmickeydo @whatthebodygraspsnot @gardenerian @rereadanon @deedala @crossmydna @ardent-fox @tanktopgallavich @creepkinginc @softmick @transmickey if you guys want to play 💚✨

[thewalrusespublicist]

The actual quote for fuller context, “At some time of your life you had a situation where you became scared of a straight relationship, of giving to each other and instead of giving to women, you’d rather spit on the sky or shoot it to the sky kind of thing. I mean you said it, that’s like a strange kind of nihilism of kind of a “fuck you all” kind of thing. It’s avoiding, avoiding something. Avoiding communication. It’s like you don’t want to.” 👀

But I had no idea about the Patti Boyd thing lol there’s something ridiculously amusing about that because it does undercut this aloof image that others project onto her and which she herself encouraged. I think she’s actually as deeply emotionally chaotic as John was which is why although I personally find her unlikable I do think she’s an interesting figure. Like I could be totally wrong but I think the most romantic thing John could’ve done at a pivotal point was reject the lost weekend and May against Yoko’s protestations and proved to her that she was always first priority and that he was willing to fight for her. It’s why she would be jealous of the wife Cynthia and absolutely heartbroken and horrified at being cheated on because much like John, they were telling each other they were special. They really believed they were the main character and constantly tested (and manipulated) people’s love with the ardent hope of being loved and accepted no matter what. Because as much as she is intensely controlling it seems moreso a hurt/defense mechanism and deep down she wanted John to read between the lines. They’re both passive aggressive in that way and the cool detachment he accuses her of in Double Fantasy, she also accuses him of i.e. “when you were angry you had love in your eyes now you’re giving me your window smile”. So they both seemed to deal with issues by disassociating to a degree and it makes me think that although they had real love for each other and probably related to each other’s wounded inner child, their insecurities and mental struggles sort of changed their love into one of functioning toxicity; Yoko micromanaging his life as a way of keeping him close and herself emotionally protected by maintaining the upper hand of ‘steering the ship’ so to speak and John shedding the burden of autonomy by handing the reigns to ‘mother’.

Good god that quote, I’m sorry I couldn’t find it was it Yoko saying that to John? Because lord there are so many layers there either way.

Oh anon if I could FRAME your second paragraph I would because yes yes yes YES. I’ve never agreed with something more in my life. Yoko isn’t cold in the slightest by nature. Just listening to her talk and what people have reported her saying she is warm, chatty, excitable and has a certain goofiness and playfulness to her. She’s also a massive gossip which I find wildly endearing. The problem is she’s also shy, paranoid, self-conscious, self-centred, extremely socially awkward and had a strong streak of narcissism and an … unusual perspective on the world. It’s not a combination that make’s connections easily so I can see how she would come across as cold and why she’d want to feed into that image. (I also think people project their idea of cold Mimi, not even the actual Mimi, onto Yoko for various reasons). 

People always talk about what Yoko brought to John (especially Yoko lmao I can’t get over his official website still) but not really what John brought to Yoko. There’s of course the financial element and exposure but also Yoko reportedly had come from a family where she had never been the priority. Her mother from what we can gather was dismissive and avoidant and her dad also withdrew his affection a lot. She also had to grow up in the horror of WW2 which would have been unspeakably traumatic and dehumanising. Now here was John telling her everything she had ever wished to hear like you said, he loves her most, she’s his number one priority, she is the meaning of life etc. It’s the same wound as John’s and potentially why their dynamic was so intense and juvenile, it was their inner children reaching out and holding hands. 

I so agree with you that both felt that they were the main characters and manipulated people around them to test their love constantly. Both of their childhoods had paved the way for that behaviour. It’s really sad because it meant that in the midst of this geniune sweetheart love was this vein of deceit and manipulation that had been there since the beginning. I am in the camp that John initially was using Yoko against Paul (to what end? I flip-flop) and Yoko did manipulate John to isolate him and keep him entirely hers (her actions against Julian if May’s account is accurate really anger me). To me the Lost weekend was one big manipulation trip from both sides that went very wrong. We are of the same mind that Yoko wanted John to cast aside May, not go through with the lost weekend and declare his undying love, didn’t she say to a friend she thought it would only last two weeks? (God just writing it out what a shit show, how can you come back from this? They’re playing the stupidest games because they’ve bought into their own relationship fantasy that it’s untouchable). She also told Paul that she wanted John to ‘woo’ her again, to make her feel special and a priority. The situation almost makes me want to tear my hair out because this could have been a turning point for them if they had actually honestly communicated and worked on changing their dynamic to be healthier, less controlling and more mature. But they didn’t, they just went even more extreme when they reunited and it made them miserable (people can fight me on that but John on record said that he found the 70s a drag and Yoko said that by 1977 she thought she had been cursed with misery like doesent this just scream a happy couple/s).

By the late 70s/1980 they sort of seem like they are in relationship survival mode with the actions you said (her micromanaging out of possessiveness, to maintain control, keep him close and maintain her position and him giving up control due to his own issues and, I believe, to make it harder for Yoko to leave). Double Fantasy is also a relationship in crisis on both sides and the press for it seems like a longing to return to the magic of their honeymoon phase. I honestly don’t know what could have fixed them in the long-run or what they would have done considering they were both committed to ‘being in hell together’ and remaining on a ship nearly always on the verge of sinking. 

[natequarter]

the use of piety and perceived 'zealotry' in anglophone (typically renaissance) historical fiction is to me a transparent projection of modern protestant values onto the past. protestants are devout and wish to restore the church to its full glory so that people may know the love of christ, but catholics are greedy backwards hypocrites and fanatical in their beliefs. it's particularly odd given how piety can be transformed into fanaticism - in one scenario we may perceive a king's piety as a defence of his moral character, in another we may perceive a bishop's ardent devotion as evidence of his corruption. it's a double standard which varies depending on whether a particular person was protestant or catholic (or sometimes puritan, bringing us back to the same stereotypes about catholics), but it's also a modern belief. no fifteenth century person would have seen a devout catholic as fanatical in their beliefs; they would have seen it as a mark of morality and something to respect. it's only in a significantly more secularised age that we tend to interpret piety as fanaticism - even though the difference between the two seems to come down, essentially, to 'do we like this person or not?' if we do, it's piety; if we don't, it's fanaticism.

it particularly seems to shape how we see historical figures - most famously mary i for her burnings of heretics. this is understandably seen as extreme - cool it, mary - but we routinely forget to mention that burning at the stake was the standard punishment for heretics and would have been viewed as acceptable in early modern england. mary was cruel and vicious towards protestants who preached what had only a few years ago been moderate and acceptable views - i don't think this is unfair to say - but was she any more fanatical than her brother, who also doggedly pursued religious reforms, or her father, who oversaw the destruction of monastic life in its entirety and, funnily enough, also burnt people at the stake?

i don't know. fortunately, tudor media can answer this for you: henry was an unscrupulous brute with no manners who used religion to get his own way. never mind his desire to be perceived as pious - we like to think of henry viii as uncultured to uphold our pop culture view of him, so unreligious it is! not that henry's religious views made any sense, but that's not what i'm interested in. we can again see the influence of anti-catholic stereotypes of zealotry and persecution (with a healthy dose of misogyny and stereotypes around overbearing mothers) in the characterisation of margaret beaufort. never mind that being a devout catholic was expected and indeed normal for her time, she was religious and a supporter of The Evil Tudor Usurper (who is apparently not henry viii, which sounds fake, but okay), and also have i mentioned that she was a mother-in-law from hell and do you see what i mean about misogyny? god forbid she care about her son. that would just be weird for a catholic bigot who doesn't care about anything except superstition and prayer. good thing that we have katherine of aragon to show us how to be obsessive about catholicism in a good way!

my point is, modern british and american historical fiction uses anti-catholic prejudice as a way to make caricatures out of what was for the medieval and early modern period a fairly normal part of life - religious devotion. nobody would have told a medieval catholic, well, you're being too catholic. in fact, the church tends to like it when you're very catholic! of course, there are always some good catholics in historical fiction - like everyone's beloved more versus the evil protestant cromwell. i suppose you have to mix things up every so often. regardless of the people involved, it's very annoying, so please stop.

[iknowhatheydidinleeds]

Joha how are you? I hope you're well. What fic have you read recently?

Hi! Well, I had better moments for sure lol but I guess can only get better.

Going to better topics: Fics!

♥ your memory over me by shimmeringevil

The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

♥ Leave Your Mark On Me by kingsofeverything

When Chef Harry Styles’ unbonded Omega designation threatens to derail his career, he does the only thing he can, and goes in search of a black market bond.

♥ You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee

His mum is going to kill him!

Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something.

She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha.

But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater.

Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to.

He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

♥ where i should be by ifthat

“That’s the difference between you and me,” Louis says. “I loved him. You liked him.”

Harry, far too interested in shattering Louis’ ardent loyalty to Wynn, says, “Such a waste.”

“Who are you to decide?” Louis breathes, craning his neck to glare.

“Who better to decide than me?” He leans imperceptibly closer. Wanting, waiting for him to close the inch of distance.

ENJOY!