#oh god this has been in my drafts so long it's made with the old text editor HELPPP

[threepandas]

Bad End: Actions Speak

"Be Silent."

Those were the first words commanded to me by the High Dragon Prince of the South. He did not want to hear me. Did not want to see me. To even be forced to endure, my obnoxious, insignificant, human presence. Any more then he absolutely had too. If it weren't for the fact that I had magic? He likely would have preferred to have me killed.

Just like the others.

I was a prisoner of war. One, which? I had no choice but to take part in. Had been drafted, by the humans. Only to be captured, by the dragons. All I had wanted? From my second chance at life? Was to live quietly. Study magic. Enjoy what I could not, before. Instead? I got warfare. Fear. The constant threat of death.

They needed me to open confidential human intelligence. Reverse engineer defenses and weapons. My safety and quality of life? Depended entirely on my compliance. And? If those reports and devices happened to be trapped to hell 'n back? By Mages FAR more skilled then myself?

Do it anyway. You are replaceable. Either you succeed... or you die.

You... hah... y-you really...

Really can say, I guess, n-now I know...? That...

That you really DO learn faster, under fire. Enduring pain curses. Fighting lethal curses, for your very life. Fire and drowning attacks. Lightning. Wind spells meant to choke the life of out of me, by sucking out all the air from my lungs. They... they really were creative, weren't they? My old colleagues.

Yes, sadistic, in ways I had never imagined. But also? Very, very creative.

I had the scars to prove it now.

All the while, as commanded, I did not talk. Did not DARE. Still do not. Even as I am shoved around. Dragged from tent to tent, building to building. Hurried along, like an inconvenience. A faulty, inefficient, piece of machinery, that dares eat their food and breathe their air. Slow and lagging, but sadly? Oh, sadly. They could not find better.

But I endure. Survive. I do not talk, so I can not offer. I give them nothing more then they demand. Malicious compliance. Nothing more, nothing less, then EXACTLY as you commanded, oh Wardens mine. My Keepers, foul and wretched. The holders of my chains. Someday... someday, this war will end. Or I will die, my luck running out, at long, long last.

And I?

I Will Be Free.

Once, long before this all, I had heard rumors. They say that talented humans, magically gifted humans, tended to be kept as glorified, pampered little pets, in the Vampiric lands. It... it sounds nice, now. To worry for nothing. To be protected. Adored and provided for, like some exquisite house cat, lounging in the sun. I could study again. Find someone nice.

....I worry.

You see, I... I think...

I may be breaking, around the edges of myself. Hairline fractures, born of stress. It's the isolation. Surrounded as I am. None of them are human, none of them will talk to me, at me. Anything at all. They follow the lead of their Prince. And he? Oh, he has made his distain for humanity clear.

Which begs the question. Why is he here?

Or rather, why am I? Dragged, from the ratty little cloth hovel they call "my tent", by the worn and patched to incoherence cloak I now wear, straight to the central command tent. Where the Prince is. The generals. The beating heart of the army itself. Dumped on the ground at his feet, I was fully expecting that to be it. That this would be the day.

They had found a better, less worn down, mage. A stronger one. A more obedient one. My services would no longer be... required.

I sat there. In the dirt. Eyes locked on his feet and waited. Palms splayed against the floor. Why bother fight? If I did THAT, they'd use me as "an example" for the NEXT mage. No. No, better to go quick. I had been reborn once. T-there was a possibility... however small... it... it might? Happen again?

Please, Gods. Please Gods, let it happen again.

But no. I was told, with judgment in his voice, by some general, to "get up". Ha! As though they were not directly responsible for my beaten down state. How dare. How DARE he judge me? I owed them nothing. Refused to die, in some short sighted tantrum of honor or pride.

I would LIVE, damn it. I MUST live. For how ever long I could. I wanted to be free again. To read and travel, do magic for magics sake. Never... NEVER see another dragon again.

Perhaps that was hateful. But damn it... I... I was so tired.

Nonetheless, I stood. Looked at no one and said nothing. Just an empty, ragged cloak with flesh inside. I am not here. I do not suffer. Unfocus your eyes and be far away. Yes, that's right, I tell myself, far... far away. It's like meditation. Just... ride the flow of magic. Do not call it. Merely observe. Let the colors drag you in. Be washed away. Far, far away.

I hear and do not hear, there. See and do not see. They can not touch me, can not hurt me, there is nothing and everything, in the Magics. It is... so... so BeAuTiFuL.

No wonder so many are lost. Drift and never come back.

I play a dangerous game, here.

But they can not hurt me.

No one can.

In here.

No answer comes then. But I am expected to work. Perhaps it is a show? Or they wish to verify, that I am indeed, doing what they keep me alive for. Nonetheless, I sit, in the corner, silent as I got to work. As old colleagues try to stop my heart, freeze my blood, rupture my organs. As burns roar over my skin and lightning crackles against canvas walls.

I do not scream. That would be too close to "speaking". I am not fool enough to give them an excuse. There is a belt I can bite. I use it often. Will have to salvage another, as this one is falling to pieces. That and a silencing spell? My screaming is muted.

Getting better at healing magic, I think. Either I have learned to numb the pain or I may have nerve damage. I doubt, now, that I will ever win awards. For my beauty. Too many scars. My arms are a wreck. My hands a travesty. It is nothing short of a miracle, that I have not LOST any fingers, to this.

Why am I here? Why? Why?

At least in my little hovel, I can curl up and weep. Emote. Can take breaks between bouts of pain and battles of magic. But here? Like a machine, stacks are dumped before me, and I am expected to perform. Do or die, human. We can always find another.

Through it all, haunting golden eyes watch. My pain, my exhaustion, all observed, giving away nothing, by that impassive royal face. I don't know what he WANTS.

Finally, after weeks of considering me, he decides to tell me. Comes to some conclusion, no input required. Why would it be? Of course. He is a High Prince. His power is great, his honor and name without equal. Why would he need MY input on anything.

"Did I know," he asked me, voice ponderous and musing, "That of all the mages his people have captured... I had lived the longest?"

I had not. But it did not suprise me.

He sat, considering me, splayed back in his chair like it was a throne, every bit the picture of a royal. A portrait of the man he was born to be. But the distain... the distain? Had... lessened. Not gone. Never gone. Gods, no. We peons were beneath him. Especially I, a mere human. But? Apparently I was not longer quite so wretched.

Our dear High Prince decided I should get a better tent. A new cloak. Actual medical supplies. What wonders.

It made me nervous. What cost, did these things come with? What expectation? Loyalty? I had offered none and never will. That would quickly become a problem. Still, I kept my head down. Always, always, keep your head down. Let the dragons die, for their stupid fucking war.

No longer replaceable. I discovered.

In the next big attack, as there was ALWAYS a next one, I wasn't evacuated last. As attacks fell. But FIRST, as the soilders were arriving. I was... was "essential personal". Shoved in an evac cart with the fancy strategists.

They started deliberately capturing mage supplies. Books and spell papers, chalks and high quality inks. Not just to disarm their opponents. Oh no. But to give to ME. I had... I had NEVER gotten supplies. The last time I had actually, truely, desperately, needed ink? I had been forced to use my own blood.

My hands actually shook. Touching such richs now. It overwhelmed, after so long, with nothing. I... I had healing books. Could actually look things up!

Curling up, before the piles of crates they dumped in front of my little tent, I didn't care, if they saw me cry. On my knees like an acolyte before the alter. Finally. FINALLY! Answers, armaments, and supplies. Relief, after so long? Was rain on desert sands. Burned skin left tender and screaming, to the cleansing mercy, of the softly weeping skies.

This, too, the High Prince saw.

No where to store them, of course. A gift given then taken away. Held just out of reach. Just long enough to give hope. All the better to torment you with it. Oh where we would we store, your useless little trinkets, human?

But I refuse to play the game. Fine. Take them. Take it all.

I need nothing.

Retreat into the Magics. They can not hurt me. I am not here. Far, far away. I am far, far away.

The High Prince, lounging and watchful, seems to have decided. No. The human things will go to him, actually, not to the fire. He watches with strange, considering eyes. In fact? I will make my self useful. Show my gratefulness. He is using valuable storage space on me, so I am to come before him and study. Prove it is worth it.

Is he not gracious? Now press your face to the dirt in thanks, human. Bow and scrape. Be glad, be honored, that your Liege is so kind.

He does not disagree, as they tell me these things. Why would he? They are his due. I think... I think I hate him. Hate them all. But the pull of books, of proper supplies, is simply too powerful. Back to that wretched tent I go. Under the staring eyes that dissect me so. Finally, I can heal my aching body.

He watchs me. As I study, improve, learn and grow. As old books are taken from me, shipped away somewhere, beyond my reaching, and new ones arrive. I desperately make notes. Hope those notes will be enough. Work and suffer and bleed. Somewhere, in the camp, I sense others.

The come and go. Bright lights that flare and then dim. Struggling and struggling, before finally going out. Some faster then others. The objects and messages they have me working on now? Are truely nasty. Again and again, I see the crests of Nobel houses and royal seals. How powerful, I wonder, have I become? Or is it simply... specialized?

A gift, for not dying.

Over the camp walls, I have begun to recognize the surroundings. The mountains and the valleys. The trees, in bloom. It seems wrong, that the world should be so beautiful, as everything is ending. The nation I grew up in, is falling. But... but we passed Heartriver two weeks back. And THAT? Was well within the border.

And from HERE... I can see the school.

The University of Magics. All I had ever wished, was to return. But... but not like this, never like this. I'm... gods. Oh Gods, I'm sorry. For my weakness. For not choosing to die. For not running at all, before it all began. I should have. But... but I was a coward. And now everyone else, must pay the price.

I stand outside my pathetic little tent and watch the horizon smoke. Burn.

Dragons are so very, very fond of fire.

Far away... j-just go far away... the Magic will always take you. Is always kind. Towards the tent I go. I remind myself, as I force myself to move, one step in front of the other? That if the worst comes to worst? I can just... Let Go. Go DEEP. So deep that no one and nothing can ever find me again. So far away, my body forgets I ever lived at all.

Just... just a soul. Floating along like a jellyfish, in the beautiful Allthings. The light and void, the far away and gone. I-It wouldn't even hurt. Just be like... like letting go of a balloon. I could be that balloon. Disappear into endless starlight...

But... BUT! I wont.. I can't! Not yet. Not until every other path has burned. Last resort. Only, ONLY, as a last resort.

(I refuse to acknowledge... how comforting the knowledge is. That I have a plan at all. A way out.)

Entering the tent, I head for "my table". At the High Prince' feet like a dog. A lovely little carpet, comfortable little pillows, a low table to work on. It would... honestly? It would be a lovely place setting. A delightful workstation. If it were not the context. The obvious, blatant, demeaning context.

Sit at his feet and behave. Be good and you're rewarded, be bad and you're punished. Brought little treats at HIS command? Sit on a pillow, on the floor, as they talk over your head? Ha ha... I? I half expected to one day show up to find someone holding a fucking collar.

If they fucking tried? I was going to set everything on FIRE. Even I, had limits.

However, it was just the Prince and I. Uncomfortable, but I could ignore him. Walking for my humiliating little seat, I noticed him watching me. Slowed. Why... why was he watching me? Awkwardly I paused. Did NOT want to be kneeling in front of a man that was staring that intently at me. Especially not so closely to a man, staring like that. The vibes were... off.

"Did you know, pet, that we actually have several rather old alliances amoung the Vampiric Royal Houses?" He said, breaking the strange silence.

'Pet, huh? Good to know he's at least fucking AWARE. I did NOT consent to that!' I seethe, in my head.

"It's been bothering me, you see. Your wretched state." He continues, completely unbothered that he might as well be talking to a statue. I stare, seethe, would give a limb at this point, to set him on fire. "You've suffered unbearably and I've done nothing to correct it, even though I could. We needed you for the war effort, you see, but now? Now, pet, we're nearly done. And I can finally care for you properly."

"Reward you, properly." The bastard says, calm and oh so reasonable, as though I had anything to do with him willingly.

"Honestly, it's long over due. The second I realized I wanted you as Mine, I should have stepped up to care for you properly. Officially. But, sadly, it would have been a conflict of interest. An abuse of power. Now, however? Now I can finally call on our allies for their support. Get you the medical assistance you so badly require."

A pleased smile stole across his face as he considered me.

"You'll make a lovely vampire. It was selfish of me, to cheat you of the years turning you sooner would have given you, but I'm sure you'll forgive me with time. Our people needed us. I can swear to you now, pet, you will forever remain my favorite, even if I take a Queen."

Horror was like a gut punch, deliver by a fighter jet. I felt immediately and intensely sick. W-what? Frozen so completely I nearly forgot to breathe, I looked for ANY sign he may be joking. Exaggerating. But... but no. W-WHAT?? How. WHEN? At what point, in my torment? In my UTTER SILENCE? Did this man "fall in love"?!

H-How can you LOVE a women you've never-?! No. No, I KNEW how.

You decide you like the IDEA of them. The shape of their body. You project onto them your OWN narrative and decide it is a love story. Fuck. FUCK!! I was... this was... no no NO! I REFUSED. Like HELL was I could to live, trapped for DECADES if not CENTURIES, the pretty little war bride of a tyrant!

The High Prince gets up and walkes towards me. Sweeps me into terrifyingly powerful arms. When he smiles? There are fangs. Deadly and hardly the comfort he thinks they are. We are a laughable contrast. Richs and rags, power and prisoner, royal and the woman who might just burn the world to escape. Shit. SHIT. I was scared of him before.

And that's BEFORE he decided he loved me.

[recursivetransformarray]

shitty ULTRAKILL moodboard

[airborneice]

can we talk about how @the-hilda-librarians-wife is just out here writing poetry in the tags like it’s no big deal

@sketchbookweek Day 3 - Sun & Moon / Family

you know I had to bring up my sketchbook kid Mattie for this one. in my mind this is like…impromptu midnight storytime bc someone woke up the entire household and now she’s almost settled no one wants to get up or go back to bed

(Kaisa has become a little more comfortable with openly doing magic by this point, partly because of reconnecting with Tildy in season 2 and partly because no matter how shoddy her spells come out, they never fail to entertain her kids, especially her youngest. Kaisa does the best stories in this house. no child can resist magic floating pictures)

[monzamash]

uncool — lando norris

lando norris x you no warnings part of the golden retriever lando/black cat reader universe (need a better name for this little series lol) requested in october last year – i am so sorry it's been that long! this request has been hiding in my drafts and i rediscovered it today so hopefully you're still here, anon 💋 masterlist

“are you having fun?!”

lando looked like a fish out of water in a sea of black-clad metal heads, holding onto your hand for dear life with his hoodie over his head and a grimace on his worried face. it wasn't rocket science – you that knew lando was only there because you asked him, suffering in the mosh pit of your favourite band because he loved you more than ringing ear drums and a couple of fresh bruises in the morning. it also made him feel closer to you being there, in your little world that you kept close to your passionate yet guarded heart. music was the thing that bonded the two of you in the early days when you thought there was no way a stupidly cute formula one driver (and budding DJ) would have anything in common with little old you.

“it’s… hectic! are you okay?”

maybe there was a really small part of him that was hoping you weren’t okay and he could pull you both out of this waking nightmare but when he looked down into your glassy eyes, smile bigger than the moon, he knew you were in your happy place and god, you looked beautiful – smudged mascara and all.

“i’m great! – oh my god they’re playing saviour!” you screamed and lando mustered up his best fake smile and returned to his role as a pretender in a crowd of die hard fans, all singing in sync with you.

you were a mosh veteran, old hat by now and you could sniff out a poser from a mile away. lando’s stiff body behind you, hands gripping the jacket wrapped around your waist, made you feel a little guilty as the crowd began to jump and he didn’t, or at least he didn’t until he figured out the chord progression and attempted to move in time with the beat. you smiled a little to yourself and intertwined your fingers with his, quickly leaning up and pressing a kiss to his jaw as the pyro exploded above in a loud crescendo.

“that was amazing!” you yelled over the house music. the bright floodlights filled the arena and shone a spotlight on your sweet boyfriend who’s relieved eyes were as big as saucers.

“i don’t know how i survived that – fuck me,” lando exhaled, leaning into you for support as you turned towards the exit and wrapped an arm around his waist.

you couldn’t stop the chuckle slipping from your lips as you watched him limp, “baby, if you didn’t want to mosh you should’ve said something – i wouldn’t have minded standing up the back if it meant you would enjoy it more.”

lando shook his lowly hung head and braved your gaze, “how could I do that when you were having the time of your life? i love seeing you happy and being apart of it but i don't think i'm cut out for that moshing, crowd thing… and i didn’t want you to think i’m uncool.”

his confession surprised you a little, much like the cold london breeze did as you stepped into the brisk night air, hand in hand. but deep down you knew this wasn’t his scene, he was doing it for you and you love him for treading out of his comfort zone for one night so you could be in your element. 

“oh honey, i never thought you were cool to begin with,” you teased, earning an eye roll and a coy smile, “but i love that you would risk your life like that for me – you’re so braaave.”

lando playfully elbowed your ribs and pulled you into his side with an embarrassed groan, making you giggle and wriggle out of his tight grip, “uh uh, you’re not getting away with that! i can be cool!” he doubled down and spun you around – the smile you know and loved returning to his handsome face.

“name one time!” you snorted trying to get your breath back from laughing and failing miserably as you held onto his jacket for balance.

“oh, um i dunno, maybe driving a freakin' race car at 350 kilometres per hour,” lando shrugged humorously and you laughed before placing your cold hands on his chest and surrendering with an adoring smile.

“okay, you are really cool and very sexy driving fast cars, i’ll give you that.”

“thank you,” lando sighed with closed eyes, basking in the small victory before looking down into yours with all the sincerity in the world, “and i would risk my life for you every day of the week – all you have to do is ask.”

"oh, you are sooo getting laid tonight," you whispered, tugging him closer and placing a strong kiss to his shivering lips.

"oh yeah?" lando asked, eyebrows suggestively wiggling.

"oh yeah."

request from anon: "saw this one and immediately thought your writing style, it, and a lando desperate to impress were a match made in heaven: “I didn’t want you to think I’m uncool.” “Oh honey, I never thought you were cool to begin with.” 😘

[p0orbaby]

Ass Play

summary: just what is says on the tin really…

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so long. It’s also unedited so pls ignore how bad it is

warnings: SMUT 18+ ass stuff (who’d have thunk it), fingering, oral, pregnant wanda being soft and horny, slight dom vibes

word count: 2k

-

She was insatiable.

There wasn’t any grounds for you to complain. If anything you were thanking the gods, but you had to admit, Wanda was less like a woman than she was a bitch in heat.

Morning, noon and night came with, well, Wanda cumming. There wasn’t a mealtime that wasn’t finished with an orgasm for dessert. Sweating in the kitchen was normal when you were over the stove. But sweating in the kitchen from the vigorous movements your body was making in order to get your wife off was not something you’d find in your typical recipe book.

Your couplings, if you will, have resolutely migrated from the bedroom accordingly. Kitchen counter sex? Great. Bathroom sex? Standard. Sex on a garden chair? Unexpected, but better than anticipated with the breeze cooling down your tacky skin.

There was no off switch. If she wanted to fuck you, she would. Bending down to load the dishwasher. Brushing your teeth ready for bed. Pulling weeds from the garden path. Any possible scenario was a trigger for your wife to get her hands all over you.

And this latest escapade was no different.

It was mid afternoon on a Tuesday, and with nothing else to do you decided to sit down and watch a movie. Wanda was nowhere to be found. Concluding she had gone for a nap it was the perfect time to give your tongue and fingers a rest, and recoup before your wife inevitably wanted you again later on.

The afternoon sun beamed through the windows when the opening credits started. Causing you to settle lazily against the fabric cushions of the couch and bring the snacks you have acquired up to your chest ready for eating.

The film lasted five minutes before you heard faint footsteps from upstairs. You couldn’t say you were annoyed, because you enjoyed the company of your wife dearly. But this was a film that’s been on your watch list for a while and with her now having been roused somehow, it may have to remain unwatched.

As soon as her steps changed from soft pads muted by the carpet upstairs to light slaps of her bare feet against the hardwood, you paused the movie and craned your neck to take a look at her.

Hair once in a perfected messy bun, now askew from sleep. Some strands were even stuck to her face from the apparent heat radiating upstairs. Even though her large stomach stretched the material, she looked swamped in her bedclothes. If you could call one of your extremely oversized university T-shirts and old decorating sweats bedclothes.

“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?” You asked, voice soft and calm as she made her way around the couch and into your lap.

She smelt like her citrus shampoo and the warm scent of freshly clean sheets as you nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck.

“Better now I’m with you”

“I thought it best to leave you alone so you could get some sleep”

“Hm”

“What? Oh c'mon don’t give me that look, what’s the matter?”

The pout covering her face would be comical if you weren’t a fraction worried that you’d done something wrong.

“I had a dream. You were in it”

“Alright. And what was I doing in this dream? I’m hoping it was something forgivable”

“Well, we were in bed. It was the early morning on a cold winter's day”

She shifted in your lap so she was straddling you now. Legs bent and planted either side of your waist as her arms circled around your neck.

“And what were we doing in bed on this frigid winter morning?”

“Oh you know, keeping eachother warm the way any madly in love couple would”. Your hands grabbed at her ass as she started to grind into you. You knew where this was going but you wanted to see how she got there before you took fully over. “You woke me up with your tongue in my cunt you see”

“Did I? Doesn’t sound like something I would do”

“No? Well it made me so sad that I wasn’t woken up with you between my legs, but by your sons sitting on my bladder”

“My sons, hm? We’ll see about that when they’re crying for food and you’re the only one with milk in their tits to do something about it”. Wanda moaned as you brought a hand up to grab at her chest through her shirt. “Even though I’m not looking forward to having to share you with them”

“You don’t have to share me now”

“I don’t”

“And I’m still horny from my dream”

“Why am I not surprised?” Her hips canted against yours without rhythm. Grinding against your leg, praying to find any form of friction through her sweats. “Bend over then. Over the arm of the couch, ass in the air for me like a good girl”

You did have to help her move slightly just because her stomach caused her issues with balance these days. But she was in position in no time, forearms used to keep her upright and knees spread slightly apart.

Settling yourself on your knees behind her you grasped the waist of her sweatpants and pulled them half way down her thighs. Giving you ample room you bury whatever body part you wanted into her dripping hole.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be”

You started with your fingers. Tracing delicate lines against her lips as you coated her with her own want. It was slow and teasing and you knew full well what you were doing, but you didn’t care.

When you’d deemed your teasing enough, you shuffled back so you could finally get to what she wanted. Your mouth on her. So you spread her cheeks slightly and slotted your face in between her legs, your mouth finding her slick and swollen.

“Oh fuck”

You lapped her up. Tongue flicking over her clit, tasting it like you’d never had a decent meal your whole life. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. So you buried your face in further, almost suffocating yourself as you stuck your tongue in her pussy as far as you could reach. So far forward that your nose was practically buried in your wife’s asshole.

“Oh fuck, do that again”

You did, you probed her entrance deeply once more.

“No, not that. When you touched my asshole. That. Do that again”

Hang on a second. Did she say what you just thought she said? You stopped your movements and blinked the shock from your features as you rose to your knees again.

“I- did you just, you want me to play with your ass? Like your actual asshole?”

“Mhm. Please baby”. When you didn’t reply, she turned on her elbows to look at you over her shoulder. Her face was flushed and her eyes were dark. She was serious about this. “Stop looking at me like I have two heads”

“I’m not. I just didn’t expect you to want that. Like, ever”

“Well I do. Like, now”, she mocked. Please can you just get on with it? You’re killing me here baby”

You were tentative at first. Not wanting to overstep. But she did ask you after all, so surely doing this would be okay? Right?

It was your index finger that brushed over her first. Even with your hesitant hand it puckered under your touch. Wanda moaned at the sensation and pushed her behind towards you for further stimulation. You obliged by pressing harder. A combination of circular and up and down movements to gauge what she preferred. Both it seemed.

“Oh fuck that feels good”

“That good? Tell me how you want it”

“Want your tongue, your fingers”

“Hmm, not enough” you mulled. Removing some of the pressure your finger was giving. “Gotta be more specific, baby. Can’t just guess what my girl wants, can I?”

Wanda’s hips stuttered again as she searched for your fingers blindly behind her.

“If you keep moving, I’ll stop,” you warned gently. “Tell me where you want me, Wanda. Tell me what I know you need”

“Fuck, lick my wet pussy. Lick it and use your fingers to play with my ass”

Her words were strained. Tight in her chest. She almost sounded as if she was in pain. Almost. You’d stop if you ever got the incling she was hurt.

“Hmm, that’s more like it”. Satisfied enough with her answer, you gave in somewhat. Yes, you were doing this for Wanda’s pleasure, but you were having just as much fun. There were very few times you’d be reluctant to try new things in the bedroom. Or living room, in this case. But you’d happily give your left kidney to keep this going for as long as she was willing.

“Fuck you’re so tight”. Her hole swallowed your thumb. Slowly sinking in knuckle by knuckle until it was gone. Sheathed in the warmth of her ass. The rest of your fingers splayed flat at the bottom of her spine to keep her steady.

You gave her time to adjust to the feeling before you moved to taste her again. Too much at once might end this sooner than you would hope for. So once she relaxed and her shoulders weren’t so tense, you proceeded.

Ducking your head, you started with a lick. A slow stripe up the center of her. Tasting her on your tongue. listening to her body react to you. Along with a soft moan, you heard her nails dig into the material of the couch. Gripping to keep upright.

Then you sucked. Hard. Pulling her clit roughly into your mouth as curling it with your tongue. All the while probing her ass. Feeling her clench around you.

A sob left her mouth. Strangled and desperate as you went at her with fervour. Sucking and swirling and loving every second of the way she wriggled and squirmed at your actions.

Her orgasm came unexpectedly. Only moments after you’d really gotten into it. But when warm liquid ran down your mouth and over your chin, the speed in which she came didn’t matter. It made this whole thing a game. Now you were determined to make her come as many times as you could.

Abruptly removing your thumb from her now relaxed hole, you replace it with your tongue. Face now slick, the lack of friction was torturous. Lips and tongue gliding over her as she shook from pleasure. Back arched. Right leg now firmly planted on the floor with her toes curling into the shag rug.

It was messy. It was uncoordinated. The wet sounds bouncing off the walls were dirty and you were grateful your house was far enough away from your neighbours that loud noises weren’t a concern.

“I’m close, fuck, please”

At her admission, you stuck your fingers into her pussy. Now puffy and red with arousal. So with a few expertly angled thrusts, she was over the edge again. Shuddering beneath you. Gasping for air as she twitched.

An anticipated arm stopped her from slumping face down onto the couch. Helping her be pulled back so she was sitting against your chest. No doubt creating damp patches on the sofa as she sat naked from the waist down in front of you. No matter. That’s what cleaning products are for.

“I enjoyed that”, Wanda said after a while. After her chest had stopped heaving and she was like putty in your hands. Warm and pliable. “Probably a little too much in all honesty”

“I enjoyed it too. Maybe not enough”

Wanda twisted to look at you, a flash of concern in her eyes as she took in what you just said. You noticed her flushed face. The pink addition to her cheeks, and it was hard to deceive her when she looked like that. Even if it was just in jest.

“If you didn’t like it, we don’t have-“ slight panic had notably set in. Her mind working a mile a minute for ways to apologise for pushing you into something you might not have wanted.

“I think I might need a few more rounds to draw a final conclusion. You know, for research purposes”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, definitely”

[thought--bubble]

But You can Show Me?

Billy Taylor X (Hotel Guest Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,912

Billy Taylor Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

A/N: I have been holding onto this one in my drafts forever, the absolute filth in this had me hesitant to post 🤣 but alas time to release some more Billy Taylor into the world!

Warnings: Cheating, unprotected sex, smut, age gap, corruption kink (if you blink). (I suck at warnings, so if you think I should add something, please tell me!)

Why are all men so disgusting!

That thought has been playing in your head on a loop for the past two days. Since you caught your husband deep in the throws of passion with her. His secretary.

Your husband was supposed to be the love of your life. Your fairytale ending. You were supposed to fill your home with a cacophony of the laughs of children and declarations of undying love and devotion.

A farce. That is what it had been. Something entirely made up in your head. Unfortunately, you were the last one to figure that out.He hadn't even looked guilty when caught. Just annoyed as if you should have had the respect to wait until he was finished to question him about his actions.

Two days staying at a friend's house was long enough. You were thrilled to be spending your husband's hard earned money to stay at a fancy hotel while you figured out a way to get yourself out of this marriage without becoming destitute. He hadn't chased you down. No begging for you to come home. No promises that it wouldn't repeat. Just a "take some time to yourself" and a wave of his hand. Thank God for small kindnesses.

You step out of the town car that your husband paid to bring you here. Your black hair is curled to your shoulders. You wore your cutest cocktail dress. Black with red trimmings. Head held high. You step forward and take a look at the hotel. Big, fancy, just what you deserve after what you've been through.

Two bellboys meet you out front and introduce themselves as Billy and Derek.

Derek lifts your suitcase while Billy takes care of the hotel introduction.

"Hello, Miss, welcome to the Halycon hotel. My name is Billy, and I will be showing you to your room. " he stumbles over his words a little bit, making you smile. It's obvious he is making his best effort to follow the script given to him by hotel management.

"Thank you very much, Billy."

Billy brings you to the check-in counter.

"Room key for -" Billy scratches his chin and then flushes in embarrassment when he realizes he forgot to ask the guests name. He turns back to you, cheeks flushed bright red.

"Umm, M-miss. What is the name for the R-reservation?"

You tell him your name and get your room key heading to the lift.

As you get into the lift, Billy takes your bag from Derek and waves him off. You can tell billy is incredibly nervous. It's endearing.

"So how long will you be staying with us miss?" He asks voice squeaking at the end of the last word.

"Not quite sure yet," you smile at him, and you see a faint blush paint his cheeks.

As the lift reaches your floor, Billy puts his hand out as if keeping the lift door from closing on you as you step out.

You step to the side and wait for Billy to lead you to your room. He struggles a bit with your suitcase, and you stifle a giggle.

"Room 308" Billy stops in front of the door.

"Thank you, Billy." You open the door with your key, and he carries your luggage in.

"Just there is fine" Billy puts down your suitcase and rubs his palms on his trousers.

"Hold on one moment," you say as you start to fish around your purse, looking for some money for his tip.

"Oh that's ok you don't need to give me anything" he says nervously

"It will take just a moment. I know I have something in here," you continue fishing around. "How old are you, Billy?" You ask while continuing to dig through your bag.

"18. Just waiting on my draft papers now" he says proudly.

"Oh, is that right? I feel safer already knowing such a strong kind young man will be out there keeping us safe, " you smile finally, finding some money in your bag. You hand him a little cash and smile.

"Oh..... ummm.... thank you very much, miss, " he says with another flush of red covering his cheeks.

"Oh, I have one more thing for you," you say as you walk over to him and place a soft kiss on his cheek. His body goes rigid, and his face turns a dark red. Even the tips of his ears are red now.

Billy clears his throat, nods, and skates out of the room as quickly as he can.

You quickly unpack, making yourself comfortable in the room, trying not to stay in your thoughts.

You have a meeting with a solicitor in the morning hoping to find a way out of your failed marriage, and your stress level is through the roof.

In the evening, you decide to go out and bring dinner back. The thought of sitting alone in a restaurant is mortifying to you.

As you walk back into the hotel, you spot the adorable bell boy from this morning hat off looking like he must be getting ready to head out for the day.

"Hi Billy," you say as sweetly as possible as you pass by him on your way towards the lift.

"Oh... em hello miss" he says with that familiar blush highlighting his cheeks.

You tell yourself you should end it there. Keep walking up to your room with your lonely dinner and sit around in self-pity. Is that what you actually do? No.

"Did you get your draft papers?" You look at him expectantly.

"Oh, ummm, not yet. Sure, it will be soon. " he half mumbles half stutters.

You scramble around in your head, trying to think up a way to keep the conversation going but draw a blank.

"Oh. Ok then. You have a nice night, Billy. " Your voice is gentle with a hint of sadness as you continue on your way to the lift.

"Oh miss!" Billy follows after you. "A-are you alright?" His brows furrow slightly.

"Oh yes, I'm ok," you say with a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Just off to have supper," you hold up your bag of food.

"Alone?" Billy asks immediately, regretting he had asked "Oh that's none of my business miss. I apologize truly"

"Oh no, it's quite alright Billy, yes supper is a solitary activity for me as of late"

"If you fancy some company, I could sit with ya for a bit. I've got some time?" He sounds entirely unsure of himself, but you got to hand it to the guy. That was brave.

"Oh... sure I wouldn't mind the company. " You smile sweetly at him.

The two of you walk back to your room in silence. Both of you too nervous to say much.

When you get into the room, you sit down at the small table and set up your food.

"So Billy, tell me a bit about yourself?"

"Oh.. ummm...... erm....me? Not much to tell miss." He cheeks are starting to flush as his eyes dart around the room.

"I'm sure that isn't true....... is there a particular station you are hoping to get when your draft letter comes?"

"Oh...oh! Yes. Yes, miss.... I hope to be where the action is." He smiles with pride

"But won't your family and your girl be so worried?" You say as you pick at your food.

His face flushes bright red again. " oh....um...oh I've got no girl, miss..." he looks away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Now your face starts to flush. You thought for sure a sweet boy like this would be matched up with an equally sweet girl. " Oh?..... That's...... that's quite a shock, if I'm honest"

His face is beat red now, and his grin is so wide that you're sure it must be slightly uncomfortable."w-w-why is t-that miss?" He looks over at you with puppy dog eyes.

'Oh boy. This is dangerous.' You think to yourself.

"It's just...." You look at him with mischievous eyes. " You are such a handsome young man. I'm just shocked a lady hasn't snatched you up yet"

His face is so red at this point that you're convinced it must be burning up. "Oh" he says quietly.

You move your chair over so you are facing him without the table between you. He starts breathing a bit faster while fidgeting with his bellboy cap in his lap.

"What are you so red for?" You say teasing.

"Oh miss, I'm not... no, " he says, touching his cheeks, no doubt feeling how hot his face has gotten.

You put your fingers under his chin and lift his head so he is eye level with you.

His breath catches in his throat, and he makes a slight coughing sound.

"Ummm miss? What is happening here?" He looks so lost and excited.

"Why did you want to come to my room with me?" You ask while gently rubbing your thumb on his chin.

" i-i-I.. what?" He asks entirely flustered.

"What made you want to come up here and be all alone with little. Old. Me." You tap his nose three times.

"Well.. i...i...umm.." he whimpers and looks at you helplessly at a complete loss for words.

"Maybe you were looking for a kiss?" You lean in towards him

His eyes go wide, and he stiffens. He opens his mouth as if he is going to speak, but all that comes out is a squeak.

"May I give you a kiss, Billy?" You say leaning in even closer

He nods furiously, his face becoming ever redder

You stand out of your chair and lean down a place a chaste kiss on his lips. You sit back in your seat and smile as you watch him he has a huge smile on his face and has yet to reopen his eyes.

"Billy?"

"Hmmmm?" He hums with his eyes still closed

You giggle "you can open your eyes now"

"No" he chuckles " not yet"

"But you'll miss what I do next," you say seductively as you move toward him.

His eyes fly open. "n-next?"

"What have you......done....with a woman up to this point Billy?" You ask eyes locked on his

"D-done? Lots of stuff, a course, " he answers with genuine confusion, and this basically answers your question.

'Do I really want to be the one to corrupt this seemingly angelic young man?' You think to yourself. As you mull this thought over your eyes, don't leave his, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he makes sense of what you asked him, and you can see the moment where the pieces fall into place.

"Oh... wow, miss." His face turns bright red again.

You sit back in your chair, and he picks up on your hesitation right away.

He scrambles out of his chair and onto his knees in front of you.

"Not much at all, miss. Not much at all... but....but.... but you can show me?" He looks up at you all eagerness and beautiful blue eyes.

'Call me the devil' you think to yourself as you slip out of your chair and onto your knees with Billy.

You grab him by the cheeks and pull his face towards yours as he shuffles closer towards you on his knees.

You press your lips against his, and he eagerly tries to kiss you back he's a bit over excited, and his kiss is sloppy, but this serves to excite you more as you smile into the kiss.

You nibble his bottom lip as he whimpers, and he does the same back to you.

You pull back and smile at him, his face is flushed, and his eyes are almost all pupil.

"Let's get a bit more comfortable, yeah?" You ask as you get up and reach your hand out to him.

He nods as he stands up, following you over to the bed like he is in a daze.

You sit on the edge of the bed and take your shoes off .

"C'mere," you pat the bed beside you. Billy sinks down next to you, breathing fast and fingers twitching.

You lean in close to his ear and whisper, "No shoes on the bed." You then crawl up onto the bed as he tries to get his shoes off as quickly as possible.

You lay back and motion for him to join you. He turns and crawls towards you on his hands and knees. You grab him by his collar, pulling him over you, slotting him between your legs.

He looks down on you, his body slightly shaking.

You start to unbutton his jacket, and he loses patience plucking the buttons quickly and tossing the jacket to the floor. Once it's off he looks down at you smiling as if awaiting further instruction.

You grab his cheeks and pull him down to you, kissing him gently. He kisses back with passion, grabbing the sides of your face and pressing his lips to yours harshly.

"Billy...... take your time, love." You giggle as he presses his forehead to yours.

"Sorry, miss. Got a little caught up in it, is all. " he brings his face down to yours and starts to kiss you this time calmly but still with purpose. He pushes his tongue against your lips, and you open your mouth, enjoying the sensuality.

"You're a quick study," you say as he pulls his face back to breathe.

His cheeks tinge pink again as he goes to kiss you again.

"Let's get these off first," you say, tugging at his waistband. That is all you needed to say. Billy had his trousers off so fast that you thought he very well may have just torn them from his body.

You slide your panties off as Billy crawls back toward you, his eyes like dinnerplates as he watches.

You pull the skirts of your dress up to your hips.

"C'mere" you reach out toward him.

He crawls back over to you, retaking his previous position between your thighs. There is noticeably less fabric separating you two as he lowers himself back on top of you.

The two of you begin to devour each other. He holds your cheek with one hand and your hip with the other. His body slightly shivering as he pushes himself up against your core, the fabric of his boxers, the only thing separating your flesh.

He whimpers as he presses up against you harder and harder, desperate for friction.

"Take them off," you whisper to him

He quickly shoves his boxers down his legs and yanks them off his feet, tossing them to the floor.

"I ummm.... I don't.....ummmm.... have anything with me, " he says nervously as he bites his lower lip.

"That's ok." You were too far gone to care at this point, and judging by his response, so was he.

He pushes himself into your heat slowly as he whimpers.

"Are you ok? Is this ok?" He grips your hip tightly as he continues pushing himself in slowly

" Perfect, sweet Billy," you coo. You were all too aware this was going to be a very quick affair but you wanted it anyway.

Billy bottoms out and doesn't move. He just hovers over you, holding his weight on his elbow, his other hand grasping your hip eyes closed with his bottom lip between his teeth.

You gently trace his jawline with your fingertips, making him shudder.

"I don't think...." he groans." I don't think I can move"

"Shhhh," you pull his face back down to yours and kiss him deeply and slowly. He starts to calm as he slowly starts to drag himself out of you before slowly pushing himself back in.

Just as you suspected, this was short-lived. Billy starts to move himself in and out of you a bit faster, pressing his entire body against yours as he whimpers into your ear.

"Thank you, oh gods, thank you." Just as you feel that band in your lower stomach tightening, Billy reaches his end with a loud groan. He collapses on top of you, his head on your chest, breathing heavily.

"Oh my. Im so sorry...... I didn't mean....oh boy"

You chuckle and kiss his forehead

"Let me show you one more thing," you say seductively. There is no way this man is leaving this room just yet.

He rolls off of you and looks at you quizzically.

You take his long slender hand and bring it to your bud and start to move it in circular motions, applying just the right amount of pressure.

" j-j-just there," you moan out. You lean over and start to kiss him again. The kiss is sloppy and dirty. Billy slides his hands down to your slick folds and gathers some of the mixture of his seed and your wetness and brings it up to your bud, resuming the circular motion you had shown him.

"Ohhh God. Oh god!" Hot waves of pleasure shoot through your entire frame as your body cleches tight. Billy watches on in awe.

You lay back and chuckle.

"Like I said quick study" you say in between labored breaths.

"Too quick....." he says rolling back on top of you.

"Think I need a bit more studyin, ya know. Make sure I got it down"

You chuckle as he moves in for another kiss.

"Just call me the devil"

To be added to taglist click here

[maxwell-grant]

Me, yesterday: Yeah you know, I like M.Bison but I'm really not a fan of him coming back, he's had his time already, he undermines a lot of current characters and storylines by coming back, we really don't need him again, it was always inevitable but I don't know man maybe oh my GOD is that the RAUL JULIA HORSE? 10/10 100/10 bring him back forever

Okay but more seriously: As one of the dead last characters I wanted to come back, the trailer had me totally flip on that stance. I mean yes it helps I'm a mark for the guy, it helps SF6 is infuriatingly good at character presentation even for characters I don't care for, but I actually think they found a very neat way to reintroduce Bison to the series this time around basically by doing to him what they did with Seth: Destroying and rebuilding him as a shell of his former self, with a whole new design, and thus a new personality and angle to approach him from, and in no position to be the Final Boss from the get-go (since it's not like they have much of a story to insert him in). But where as with Seth they leaned into the tragedy of it, Bison is now a ticking time bomb, a looming disaster waiting to happen, which fits him looking like a Horseman of Death.

It was pretty blatant even back in V that Bison was always going to come back, with Phantom Bison existing and Rose's prophecy and characters hallucinating him left and right and all the Shadaloo plot points in 6 spelling it outright. His iconic status aside, his return was telegraphed since forever, so I'm glad that they did it in a way that doesn't actually bring him back all the way to his usual self. Even putting him at the start of a new DLC Year, rather than building a big endgame show out of him like they did with Akuma, also goes a long way towards undercutting the idea that he's coming back to be the Final Boss again.

I'm really impressed with his new design because it is the perfected version of an idea they've been kicking around ever since the drafts for SFIV, that was Bison coming back all battered and torn and fucked-up. Much like older/bearded Ryu, it's an idea they saved into alternate costumes but now are finally willing to go through with as the direction for the character moving onwards. "From riches to rags" is the idea described, and they achieved it by flipping around the kind of old-school overlord he represents. Instead of General Washizaki/Yasunori Kato, he is now Raoh/Violence Jack, the ruler of the wastelands, galloping mightily onwards. (And given Ryu is based on Kenshiro, the biggest villain of this world being Raoh feels like a decision that was waiting to happen)

They've made it so they get to have it both ways: You can have M.Bison in the game looking like his old self with the classic costume, and he's here playable doing all the good Bison stuff and a bunch of new sick shit for you to love, but in the story/lore, he couldn't be further away from being like his old self, and now there is a big mystery box on what is gonna be his deal moving forward. Bison is so well-established to the playerbase that every little thing they do differently can mean something, not just in the design but also in smaller details like his light-blue flames that potentially indicate Soul Power (and that he uses to tame himself in his victory animation), or even the fact that he has visible pupils now.

I think a large part of the pushback against Bison has to do with him being so big in V's storyline and A Shadow Falls dissappointing, and the fear that they'll do it again now that he's back, but there isn't really a storyline for him. The World Tour story is set, the DLC characters add extra stuff to it but are mostly self-contained, I don't think Bison is set to bring another boring world domination plot with him this time around. It's unclear if he even wants it. I could be very wrong here, because I don't want another Bison Doomsday Plot either, I don't want another A Shadow Falls, but my interest is piqued because of how far he seems to be from doing that.

He doesn't know who or what he is, he is a homeless wanderer in Metro City, he is having a hard time keeping his power under control, and Shadaloo is currently warring between factions that want to bring him back and factions trying to ensure he stays dead, nevermind the fact that most if not all of the characters have moved past him (and Ryu still has the power to destroy him, and if Ryu isn't that much fessed up anymore about Akuma, he's definitely not gonna be that concerned about Bison), and the first thing he did when he came back was revive a horse from the dead.

I'm not gonna say this Bison is poised to turn a new leaf, but they did say he is "searching for an identity to make him smile".

Maybe the real world domination was the horses we befriended along the way.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 6

And what if I maybe decided that this isn't actually the last chapter?

Don't ask how my work week is going, I stupidly wrote this instead of the draft report I need to submit on Friday.... Incidentally, the report has a shorter wordcount than this chapter so technically, technically all I need is some actual ooomph to go ahead and write it!

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Masterlist

Tagging: @cillmequick & @thomasshelbyswife

Chapter 6

Weeks had passed since Seren had left. She made her way around the aisle of the supermarket with her new charge, not too fast and not too slow. Heaven forbid she get the speed wrong. 

“That jam there, on the middle shelf.” The elderly woman in the wheelchair said suddenly, pointing vaguely at approximately 80 jars of jam variations.

“This one?”

“No, down.”

“This?”

“No left a bit, the one that looks like cherries.”

“Cherry jam then?”

“No, the one next to it.” Seren resisted the urge to smash every jar on the floor. She held up another jar. “That’s the ticket, love. Now, eggs.”

“You don’t like eggs?” “I want you to make a cake. Coffee and walnut.” Seren hesitated, her last coffee and walnut cake had been demolished in the space of about four hours by David and River.

“How about a vicky sponge instead?” She suggested, scanning the shelves.

“Too sweet. Next to the eggs, there, the walnuts.”

“Coffee and walnut, my favourite.” Another voice chimed in.

“Mine too! She’s refusing to make it though.”

“I’m not refusing, I just-” Seren turned back to the lady, eggs and walnuts in hand. Alongside her stood River.

“Fine Mags, I’ll make coffee and walnut.” She dumped the stuff in the basket on Maggie’s lap. “Excuse me.” She said politely to River and went to push the wheelchair on. “Seren, wait, please?”

“Who’s this young man?” 

“River, nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, Maggie blushed.

“Seren, you told me you were single!”

“I am.”

“I think I’d remember if you’d told me about this fella. He’s very handsome,” she turned to River, “you’re very handsome.”

“That’s because I haven’t told you about him. There’s nothing to tell. This is an old… acquaintance, that’s all.” Maggie’s bark of laughter turned into a hacking cough.

“Old acquaintance. Do I look bloody daft?”

“Come on, we’ve got to get a move on. Senior swim time.” Seren turned the wheelchair away from River and started at speed down the rest of the aisle.

“Bet he’d love to see you in a cossie.”

“Margaret Monroe!” 

“I’m only saying, love. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” As they rounded the next aisle, Maggie turned in her chair to Seren, “he’s still there.” She whispered loudly enough to be heard by the entirety of the store. “Corrr and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.” 

“Give it a rest, Mags.” Seren could feel the heat in her cheeks.

“It’s rude to ignore people.” The older woman said sternly.

“It’s a long story. We’ve got to go otherwise you’ll miss swimming.” Maggie raised her hand and waved to River who caught them up easily with no wheelchair to manoeuvre around. 

“How do you know the lovely Seren then?”

“She looked after my grandfather.”

“Oh!” She said brightly, then her face fell a little, “did he die? I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. He’s… fine. He’s his usual self.” River confirmed, noting the relief that crossed Seren’s face.

“Why’d she leave then? Why’d you leave?” Maggie looked back and forth between them.

“I told you, it’s a long story. Do you want to go swimming or not?” Maggie huffed. 

“It was nice to meet you, love. We’re off to the leisure centre for a swim. She keeps telling me it’s good for me.”

“Sounds fun. It was nice to meet you Maggie, see you again.”

“No you won’t.” Seren interrupted.

“Can I call you?” He asked quickly, before the opportunity to ask had disappeared.

“No, please don’t.”

“You should! God knows this girl needs to smile more. Either that or she needs a proper good-”

“I smile loads.” Seren scowled, interrupting quickly to stop Maggie from saying something less appropriate. Maggie rolled her eyes. As she went to push the wheelchair through the checkout, River dropped Seren’s favourite chocolate bar into the basket.

“For after swimming.” He shrugged. “It’s really good to see you. Still wearing my hoodie though?” He smiled faintly. Seren nodded at the unexpected gesture and to her surprise, River was the one to walk away. As Seren watched him leave, Maggie chattered away next to her.

“Well you kept him quiet, what a lovely man Seren! Bet he’d show you a good time,” the older lady sniggered.

“Stop interfering, you old perv.” Seren teased her gently. “I’m going to stop getting you those smutty books from the library.” She threatened.

“Don’t you dare. I deserve to get my thrills from somewhere young lady.” Seren let her talk, her mind drifting to River. He’d done exactly as she’d asked and not contacted her in weeks. A week after the confrontation in the barn, she received a small box with her book, phone charger, chocolate and various other things she’d left behind at David’s house. It had been hand delivered to her house, she hadn’t sent a thank you message. As the weeks had gone on, she found her anger giving way to sadness. She still felt foolish for having trusted both River and David so completely, she began to feel more betrayed than angry. She’d fended off nosey questions from Maggie when she’d first started looking after her, her bruises still visible and her hand still tightly wrapped. She was so easily distracted by a tall flash of dirty blonde hair in the corner of her eye and now, with the unexpected meeting in the supermarket, she found herself wondering if she’d been right all along and he had really been there, she hadn’t imagined it or wished for it. With Maggie safely back at home, Seren poured herself a glass of wine and tried to settle with a book. A light tap at the door stirred her. River.

“I told you not to come here.” “You told me not to call.” She rolled her eyes, holding the door so it was clear he wasn’t going to be welcomed inside.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

“I know.”

“So? Why are you here?” She looked at him properly for the first time. Stubble longer than normal, a mournful look in his eyes and dark circles underneath. She knew she didn’t look much better, Maggie told her daily how sad her eyes were. Her resolution to not let him in was wavering. With a sigh, she pulled open the door fully. “Come in. 5 minutes, that’s all you get.” He slipped past her gratefully and she could smell the soap and aftershave he used, scents that had long deserted the hoodie she continued to wear.

“I wanted to apologise. Properly, I mean. I didn’t get a chance really that night, or when you came back to get your car. It was… fucked up. You should never have been caught up in it all.”

“You should have told me the truth.”

“How could I?” He asked, desperately. “I had to keep you safe.” 

“Safe?” She scoffed, closing the space between them and moving the neckline of her top to one side, “I still have the bruises!” Barely visible to the naked eye, River could see the faint marks which still littered her neck. Without thinking, he brought his hand up and traced the outline with his finger. He could make out her pulse, her heart pounded, and the movement of her nervous swallow. She took a step back, shaking her head, “don’t touch me.” She pleaded. His hand and his gaze dropped down to her hand where she still had a bandage.

“Still not healed?” He asked, his voice hoarse. He lifted it gently, holding it in both of his hands.

“They had to align the fracture. Two more weeks and I can take this off.” She felt a warm tear drop onto the exposed skin on the palm of her hand and looked up at him. 

“You got hurt because of me-” he started.

“I got hurt because I stupidly thought I could punch a grown man. I was an idiot, trying to protect David - who apparently can handle himself just fine.” 

“No, you were incredible. If you hadn’t been there… I wouldn’t have been there in time. They’d have done it, they’d have killed him.” She knew she should take another step back but the warmth of his body was intoxicating and she was struggling to hold onto her anger. He released her hand and wiped his eyes.

“How is he?”

“Pain in the arse. Hates everyone they send to look after him. He misses you.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me the guilty one.”

“I didn’t mean to, sorry. It’s just… he was better with you, I think.”

“He went through a crazy evening, finding out your old workplace wants you dead is a bit mental.”

“I was better with you.”

“River-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry again.”

“Stop apologising, you’re doing my head in. You look like crap.” She muttered, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Yeah, so grandad keeps telling me.” He let his head drop into the crook of her neck and breathed her in.

“It’s just a hug, that’s all you get then you can fuck off.” She felt him nod against her and the soft huff of his breath on her skin. The proximity and familiarity made her heart flutter. She reluctantly released the hug, for her own sanity. He watched her intently, the conflict in her eyes clearly visible. He brought his hands up to cup her face and she leaned into his touch, a trembling sigh passing her lips as he met her in a soft, uncertain kiss. She pulled away first, placing a hand on his chest to push herself back. “No. No, I’m still so angry, River.” She paced back and forth in front of him. “I feel like such an idiot for trusting you so implicitly.” She told him, the accusatory tone to her voice gave away the anger rising in her again. She backed further away from him. “You should go now. I asked you not to come.” She marched past him and flung the door open wide. “Go now please, I can’t… I need to stop thinking about you, and the only way I can do that is to not be near you.” She trailed off weakly. He paused as he passed her. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He admitted cautiously. Seren reached for him first, her traitorous body overruling her mind and all sense of reason. She caught the edge of his jacket and pulled him down into a far less hesitant kiss than the previous one. He kicked the front door shut again and pressed her back against the wall. She led him down the short hallway, dropping his jacket and her (his) hoodie along the way. River pulled off the oversized t-shirt she wore, surprised to find nothing underneath and enveloped her in his arms. He walked her backwards through her open bedroom door, both of them tripping on her discarded shorts, his t-shirt. She pulled him with her onto the bed, hissing in pain as she realised she'd used the wrong hand. He slotted between her open thighs and turned her hand gently, kissing the slither of exposed skin between the thumb and index finger. Seren wanted to hold onto the anger she felt was justified, but she couldn't deny how much she wanted him. He stopped suddenly and she held her breath, waiting. She felt a kiss at the base of her throat and then at each ghost of a fingertip bruise on her neck, faint, but he found them all. She choked back a sob.

“I hate that I need you so badly.” Her whisper turned into a low moan as his long fingers teased a path through the thin layer of her underwear, already soaked with her need for him. She bucked against his hand, holding it in place tightly with her good hand. 

“Show me, Seren,” he demanded quietly, “show me what you need.” He slid the underwear down her legs. She covered his hand with her own and guided it to where she wanted him most. River thrust his fingers into her torturously slowly, building her orgasm from so deeply inside she could hardly breathe. "I've got you," he murmured through kisses, "I've got you." His thumb brushed against her clit and she rocked into him. She grasped at his shoulders as she got closer and closer to the edge. "I want this… want you, always." He kissed her hard as she came, swallowing her moans as she clenched around his fingers, his name on her lips. He worked her through the orgasm, watching her with a mix of pride and lust as she fell boneless into the mattress. 

“I’m not sure this is an appropriate way to earn forgiveness, River.” She whispered, a giggle bubbling in her chest for the first time in weeks.

“Thought I was never going to see you smile again,” he half joked.

“‘M not smiling.”

“Yeah you are.”

“It’s the endorphins. Totally out of my control.” She sat up to look at him, covering herself with her arm. “How do you still have clothes on?” She gestured to his jeans.

“I was more bothered about getting yours off,” he admitted. 

“Some things never change.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Seren.” His head dropped to his chest with a heavy sigh, the tension between them finally cracking. She moved her hand from where it covered her chest and brought it to cup his face, her fingertips running over the stubble. “Everytime I sleep, I see Duffy pointing that fucking gun at you.” He said hoarsely, laying bare his helplessness. Seren closed her eyes, trying to blink away the tears.

“Oh, love.” She sighed. Removing her hand from his face, she got off the bed and pulled on the closest item of clothing, his t-shirt. Then she set about closing the bedroom curtains and switching off the light in the hallway. He watched her from the edge of the bed until she stood directly in front of him. “C’mon, clothes off, we’re going to bed.” She nudged him. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She disappeared to what he assumed was the bathroom and came out a few minutes later in a t-shirt of her own. She put the one she’d taken off with the jeans he’d left by the bed and pulled back the covers of the bed. She folded her body around him, tucking her knees behind his and pressing her chest to his back. He could feel her warm breath on the back of his neck and her hand curled around onto his chest and for the first time in weeks they both fell asleep straight away. Seren woke on and off through the night to soft caresses and kisses until they succumbed to sleep again. In the early hours, fuelled by a restful night, she felt River curl around her, pressing hard into the soft flesh of her thighs. She rolled onto her back and pulled him to cover her body, pressing her heels into the back of his thighs to guide him into her. It was still so dark in her room that she could hardly see him. She let her hands guide her, trailing up his arms, over his broad back, down to squeeze his thigh, back up and into his hair. He matched with each roll of her hips, slowly and languidly. The darkness made everything quieter, his whispered affirmations, praise and moans were dizzying. Seren clung to him like she never wanted to let go, holding him to her as they both came. When she woke again, she was alone. If it hadn’t been for the ache between her thighs, it could have easily been a dream. 

*

River clattered up the stairs to Lamb’s office with more energy than he’d had in weeks, though his face did not share the same spirit.

“Blimey, you’re positively sprightly this morning. What’s wrong with your face?”

“It’s just my face. Ewelina has walked out on the old bastard.”

“Was she the Polish girl?”

“Yep, he insulted her cooking.”

“How many is that now?”

“He’s gone through eight, I think? He didn’t like Glenys-”

“No one fucking liked Glenys.”

“Or Debbie, Sarah, Pete-”

“What was wrong with Pete?” Lamb asked, incredulous.

“He couldn’t play chess. Shame, he left some decent IPA behind.”

“Is there anyone left?”

“Dunno, guess we’ll have to ask Taverner.” Lamb laughed,

“No, no Cartwright, you will have to ask Lady Di. Not me.”

“Go on Lamb, please? She’ll kill me.”

“While I would pay to see that, I’ll settle for watching you make the call.” He sniggered. With a heavy sigh, River took the outstretched phone.

“Umm, hi? It’s Cartwright? River Cartwright?” Lamb couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation to his disappointment. “Yep, another one. No, he just says they’re all shit. Great, thanks.” He hung up and passed back the phone. 

“Sending someone else?”

“So she says.”

“Y’know Cartwright, I’m quite enjoying the inconvenience all of this is causing for Lady Di. I feel like it’s a bit of vindication for us.” Lamb said decidedly.

The cause of the inconvenience tutted into his coffee, his mind wasn’t playing ball and the crossword was giving him more trouble than he deemed necessary. Outside, he heard a car far larger than River’s arrive, accompanied by a neat knock on his back door.

“David. Seems I have a reason to be here again?”

“Diana, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well the pleasure is certainly not mine, I assure you.”

“Coffee?”

“Hmm,” Diana Taverner looked around David’s kitchen while he pottered around making her a cup of coffee. “You’ve declined another approved carer?” “They weren’t suitable.”

“None of them?” She scoffed. “I do find that hard to believe. You’re becoming a nuisance, David. I’m starting to regret not letting Duffy shoot you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he smiled.

“I actually do. I want this resolved, I want this off my desk, and the next time I hear your name, I want it to be when I find out that you died peacefully in your bed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“So what is it you want?” David hesitated.

“I want Seren back.”

“The girl from the barn?” He nodded.

“I got on with her, she understood me. We had an agreement.” Taverner frowned.

“Cartwright, you know she’s not service approved. Our agreement was that you would have someone who was service approved.”

“So employ her? It’s not that difficult, surely?” She drank her coffee in silence. 

“Will it shut you up?”

“There’s a good chance of that, yes.” He held up a finger, “but I don’t want River to know, not until it’s done.”

“That’s making the very big assumption that I’m going to do this for you?”

“You want it off your desk. That’s how it goes.” 

“I don’t like being held over a barrel like this.”

“Should have shot me when you had the chance then.” Taverner laughed,

“Yes, well - touché. Very well. You won’t hear from me again.” She left her half drunk coffee on the table and David went back to his crossword.

*

Seren hadn’t heard from River at all. She sat with Maggie side by side in a brightly lit corridor, like naughty schoolgirls waiting to go to the office.

“I don’t like this.” Maggie grumbled.

“I know, but Daniel and Penny think it’s the right thing for you.”

“We’re coping perfectly fine, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, but you’ll have a lot more friends here?” She held out a leaflet, “look, they go to senior swim as well? And trips to the cinema and Kew Gardens - you love Kew Gardens.” Maggie huffed.

“I like living in my own bloody house.” Seren didn’t respond. Maggie hadn’t taken the news of moving to a care home well at all. Her daughter and son-in-law were in the office finalising the details of her new ensuite room. “Will you visit me?”

“Of course I will, Mags. Try and stop me.” Seren took Maggie’s hand and kissed the back of it. 

“You’re a good girl, Seren. What will you do?” She shrugged.

“No idea. Maybe a holiday? It’s been a weird year so far.”

“Somewhere sunny. Get that swimming cossie out again.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing about my cossie, Mags.”

“Maybe in my younger days darling. Don’t tell Penny.” Seren smiled.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Mum? Shall we take you to see your room?” Penny emerged from the office.

“I’ll go and have a look at the garden,” Seren told them and then dropped down to talk to Maggie, “be nice!” She warned her. She wandered around the extensive garden of the very exclusive - and expensive - care home. She wondered whether David had gotten the fence painted before the weather had turned, whether the plants they’d chosen were thriving. Her phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out, the screen still cracked. She really needed to get that fixed. “Seren Harrison?”

“Ms Harrison, I have a call for you from Diana Taverner at Thames House. Can I connect you?”

“Uhh-” Seren’s response was a very undignified stutter and the call was connected before she could accept - or refuse - it. “Hello?”

“Ahh, hello. We weren’t introduced previously. I’m Diana Taverner, I hope you don’t mind my calling?” Seren stumbled over her words and formed some sort of non-committing answer. “Good. I was with David Cartwright a couple of weeks ago, has he been in touch?”

“No, why, what’s happened to him?”

“Nothing at all, more's the pity. He’s been getting through designated home assistance at quite a rate,” Seren couldn’t help but smile at the comment. “It’s becoming very frustrating. Apparently, he will only have you helping him.”

“Me?”

“You got along, did you not?” Seren recalled numerous plates and mugs she replaced but the memory was quickly overruled by ones of doing the crossword, drinking tea in the garden and learning how to play chess.

“We did,” she said softly.

“It seems the ties that bind you both mean a great deal to him. He would like me to make you an offer of employment.” Seren held her breath. “If that is acceptable to you?” Seren could almost hear David’s voice in her ear ‘don’t give in easily, make them work for it’. 

“Well, I’d need to know the terms of the contract, of course.” She stammered. Taverner sighed.

“Yes, yes. I’ll have someone send it over to you by courier. They will wait for an immediate return or dismissal though?”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“I certainly hope so. I do not want to have to deal with this any longer. I must go, I have a meeting with the Prime Minister shortly. I trust the contract will meet your approval, it’s likely you won’t hear from me again so you have both my admiration and commiserations for managing the Cartwright’s. You deserve a bloody damehood.” Seren nearly laughed at Taverner’s exasperated sigh.

“They’re definitely hard work.” She agreed.

“Indeed. Goodbye Ms Harrison, and thank you.” The call rang off before Seren could respond and from the conservatory, Maggie called and waved to her.

She parked in her usual spot. The revolving door of carers hadn’t bothered with the weeds on the driveway, she noted. She knocked and waited patiently, her hand had barely moved from the woodwork when the door flung open.

“Can I help you?” He asked impatiently. Seren sighed.

“Mr Cartwright, it’s Seren. I umm, well you see -” she tried to think of the best way to explain, the best way to re-introduce herself when she saw the corner of David’s mouth pulling into a smile. “You old git!” She scolded him with a grin.

“Couldn’t help myself my dear.” He beamed. “May I?” He held out his arms and she hugged him warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back. I take it you’ve been quite the troublemaker?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Seren dear. It’s been quite an ordeal, really.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you offer me a proper apology over tea? I brought cake.”

“Coffee and walnut?”

“Of course. Chess?”

“Naturally. Come on in.” Seren followed him into the house, the familiarity of it washing over her. Despite the break in, she felt safe and calm there. They caught up over cake. Seren found that she was no longer angry. Knowing that she was a fully paid up Park employee, David spoke more openly about his past. She knew there would always be things he would keep from her, but he was able to articulate fully what had happened when they’d been in the barn. He told her of his worries about River not sleeping properly, eating junk and his overall desolate attitude.

“I take it he doesn’t know I’m here?” She asked carefully. As he went to respond, the sound of a car turning on the driveway filtered through from the kitchen window.

“I suspect he does now.” He mused as River came to a stop quietly in the doorway.

Chapter 7

[levithestripper]

Wanna Bet?

summary: 

“Jesse’s hands meet your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your clothing. ‘That’s a lotta big talk there, baby. Want to put money where your mouth is?’ You smirk, putting on a show of pretending to think it over. ‘I’m game. I bet you’ll go to every single class and love it.’”

or, Jesse wants to take a woodworking class, and you propose a bet.

warnings: gender-neutral reader

length: 2.1k || read on ao3

notes: this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long, i hope you enjoy it!

Sharing his rented condo with you is everything Jesse could ask for and more. Having moved in a handful of months ago, the two of you were settling in nicely, making a good home for yourselves. With you around, Jesse regained something he lost when he began cooking with Mr. White: a sense of normalcy. Never having been in a committed, long-term relationship before you came along, this newfound feeling of stability in his chaotic life was a godsend. Gaining a new safe place allowed Jesse to discover new things about himself. He finds himself doing things he never used to enjoy, like watching sitcoms and cheesy made-for-television movies.

But if Jesse was forced to pick one thing he likes most about living with you, he’d pick watching you do the things you love. He doesn’t know what it is about watching you put together a puzzle or draw in your sketchbook; it just fills him with insane amounts of joy. It lit a fire under him, inspiring Jesse to rekindle the old hobbies of his childhood, specifically woodworking. The thought of returning to woodworking excited him yet filled him with anxiety at the same time. After a week of keeping his worries to himself, Jesse asks for your advice over dinner one night.

“Yo, so I was thinking—”

You snort, interrupting him, “No wonder I smelled smoke earlier.”

Jesse makes a face at you, rolling his eyes. “Oh, shut up. Anyways, as I was saying, I was thinking about taking up woodworking again.” He broke your gaze, looking down as he picked at the food on his plate. “What do you think?”

You hum with a mouthful of food, finishing your dinner. “I think that’s a great idea, love. You said you were good at it in high school, right?”

He nods, still picking at his food. “You think I’ll uh… you think I’ll still like it?”

“What? Of course, you’ll still like it! Why wouldn’t you?”

Jesse sighs, slowly finishing his dinner, stalling for time. He mumbles something unintelligible, regretting bringing it up. 

Being practically fluent in Jesse-ese, you sensed something was up, not like it was hard to notice. You knew there was no use in trying to pry whatever was wrong out of him, so you didn’t waste time trying. Instead, you take a different approach. “Jess, I can’t blame you for being worried. You’re stepping out of your comfort zone; that’s hard for anyone to do.” You reach across the breakfast bar and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “If anyone can do it, it’s you; I believe in you.”

“Thank you, baby.” Jesse offers you a small but sweet smile, which you happily mirror. “You’re sure ‘bout this?”

You kiss each of his knuckles, making him chuckle like always. “One hundred percent sure. When am I ever wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing you. “You really wanna go there, sweetheart?” Jesse’s confidence returns quickly, his anxiety curbed by your words.

You get up from your chair and walk to his side of the counter, sitting on his lap, arms draped over his shoulders. “Mmm, I don’t know, maybe I do. After all, I am always right.”

Jesse’s hands meet your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your clothing. “That’s a lotta big talk there, baby. Want to put money where your mouth is?”

You smirk, putting on a show of pretending to think it over. “I’m game. I bet you’ll go to every single class and love it.” 

“And what do you want if you win?” he asks, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. His hands migrated from your hips to your back, sliding under your shirt.

The unexpected sensation of cold hands touching your skin made you shiver, only fueling the fire you had lit within Jesse. “When I win, you mean.” 

“Yeah, whatever, babe, just tell me what you want if you win,” he replies, a smug look on his face.

“When I win, I want you to make me something with the skills you learned from the classes.” Your fingers twist the short hair on the back of his neck into points. The tingly feeling ran up the base of Jesse’s skull, pulling a shiver from him; revenge for touching you with freezing hands.

Jesse grumbles at you in a half-hearted attempt to appear apathetic, but you see right through it with practiced ease. “If I win, which I will, you have to do whatever I say for twenty-four hours straight.”

“Deal, but your demands must be within reason.”

“Deal.” Jesse tugs you down for a kiss, sealing the bet with a smug grin.

———

Once he found a co-op offering free beginner’s lessons, Jesse signed up for two months of classes. Every Friday night after dinner, Jesse kissed you goodbye before leaving for the co-op, never hinting that you were winning the bet. And he hated it, hated how you were right—like always. Jesse had forgotten how rewarding it is to create things. It took nearly all his self-control to keep himself from living at the woodworking studio. He revels in every moment he gets to spend there, questioning why he ever quit in the first place. 

As weeks pass, your excitement grows as you wonder what Jesse could be working on. You’re hopeful he’ll bring a project home with him, but it never happens. Every Friday night, a routine forms between you, beginning with dinner in front of the television. As he’s getting ready to leave, Jesse kisses you on the forehead and says, “See you in a couple hours; love you.” 

Every week, you ask how it went, and Jesse replies eagerly, happily talking about what he learned. But when you inquire about what he was working on, all you get is a variation of, “Nah, it’s nothing special. Don’t wanna bore you by talking about it. It’s coming along nicely, though.” Jesse’s uncharacteristic defensiveness plants a seed of worry within you. You hope that his reasoning for brushing off your inquiries was that he was nervous to show you his work, nothing else.

———

Moonlight filtered in through the living room curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow. You sat at the breakfast bar, working on something unimportant, the TV playing in the background. The front door opened, quickly drawing your attention away from your laptop. You stand to greet Jesse at the door, but he beats you to it, rushing over to the counter to give you a kiss. Fumbling with the TV remote, you turn it off, far more interested in your boyfriend. “How was your last day? Finish everything you were working on?” you ask, sitting back down. 

Jesse sat down across from you, nodding as he did. “Yeah. Place had a real great vibe to it, you know?” He gnaws on his bottom lip, eyes flitting between you and his lap. “Might sign up for a higher level class. Haven’t done this since high school; I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

A loving smile spreads across your features. “I’m proud of you, baby. Wish I could’ve seen the pieces you made.” You don’t miss the subtle blush that dusts itself over Jesse’s face, the sight making your heart flutter. There’s a pause between you two, and you’re quick to fill the heavy silence. “You know I’d never make fun of you or your work, regardless of how good or bad it is, right?” You take his hand to reassure him, worried he didn’t bring anything home for fear of criticism. 

Giving your hand a squeeze, Jesse fixes his posture, leaning against the counter instead of slouching. “I’m sorry I’ve been so secretive about,” he motions with his free hand, “all this.” He scratches his head through the black and yellow beanie covering his hair. “I know you never would—” Jesse stammers, “—would be scared to show you anything.” You sigh with relief, Jesse’s words lifting a weight off your chest.

“Then why did you hide your enjoyment from me?” you ask, sadness laced throughout your words.

Your question pulls on Jesse’s heartstrings, only now realizing how his actions had affected you. He squeezes your hand again, kissing your knuckles apologetically. “Close your eyes, and I’ll explain?” he offers, pulling out the big guns: his patent pending puppy dog eyes.

You look him once over before complying, wondering what he has up his sleeve this time. Whatever Jesse was doing, he was quick about it as you were opening your eyes after what felt like mere seconds of having them closed. The first thing you see is your boyfriend nervously fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie and chewing on his bottom lip. The second thing you see is a small trinket box. It’s stained a deep, rich color and sanded to such perfection that you could almost see your reflection. You look at the box, then at Jesse, silently asking permission to touch it, which he gave. Gently opening the lid, you saw the inside was patterned with a different style of wood, something striped to contrast the solid color on the exterior. “Oh, Jesse,” you whisper with awe, “This is beautiful, a work of art.” Your fingers trace the edges as you take in his stunning craftsmanship. “Is this what you’ve been working on the whole time?”

Jesse nods, still playing with his hoodie’s drawstrings. “Took forever to get it just right. The inside is zebra wood; I had to wait a week for it to get restocked. Made one like this back in high school. Loved it more than anything; even my parents liked it. Everyone said I should gift it to my mom,” he pauses, needing a moment. “I almost did, too. But I traded it. Barely got twenty bucks of pot for it.” Jesse shook his head as if he were dismissing the bad memories from view. “But that’s not why I remade it.” 

Engrossed in his story, you do your best to reign over your emotions, rubbing your eyes free of tears. “Why did you remake it then?”

Jesse motions for you to turn the box upside down, which you do. “Your answer is on the bottom.”

Looking at the underside of the box, you find words—along with the year—carved into the woodwork.

Thank you for believing in me ♡ 

—J

Once he’s sure you’ve read it, Jesse continues talking. “Remade it so I could finally have the chance to gift it to someone I love.” He meets your gaze for the first time since he revealed your present. 

You got up from your chair without saying a word, rushing around the breakfast bar to pull your boyfriend into a near-bone-crushing hug. “What did I do to deserve someone as perfect as you?” you ask rhetorically, face buried in his neck. “I don’t even know where to begin; I love it so much.” Jesse wraps his arms around your midsection, hugging you impossibly tighter. He peppers soft kisses over your cheek and jawline, holding you close to his chest.

“I should be the one asking that, little bird. You have no clue how nervous I was, worried you wouldn’t like it or it wouldn’t turn out how I wanted it to,” Jesse sighed against your skin, and you could feel all that anxiety he spoke of leaving his body. “Not mad at me?”

You can’t help but giggle as you lift your head from his shoulder. “Not mad. Although, I’m not used to you being so lovey-dovey and mushy like this. Kinda like it, if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jesse rolls his eyes with a smirk. No matter how badly he tried to hide his amusement, you could tell he liked it, too. He moves a hand to your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. One kiss turned into two, three, four, all soft and full of stupid amounts of love. Jesse squeezes you tightly once more before releasing you. “Just wait; you’ll like what I make next even more.”

“Oh yeah? You sound pretty confident about that,” you smirk, tugging teasingly on the ends of his hoodie.

Jesse bit his lip, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah, you wanna put your money where your mouth is?” he snarks back, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck. He uses his newfound leverage to drag you back in for another kiss, only this one has the heat of a promise behind it the previous ones did not. 

A promise of a long, sleepless night for both of you.

[ofmermaidstories]

Bad day for nosy people who need to know what old fandom is 👀👀

lmao, i’m trying to talk myself out of it so that i don’t turn my current WIP list upside down on itself but. 🥹 i fear it has very powerful claws. 🦞 i’ve been mulling over like, why it ([Old Fandom]) is so attractive to me right now and i think it’s a combination of a few things!! like, one is the fact that i never originally left it by choice—real life kinda forced me away from my hobbies, and by the time i could circle back again, the fandom had died (i find it really interesting that so many modern fandoms don’t have staying power, but that’s a different discussion) and i was interested in different things. but now it’s seeing a revival and i’m remembering how much i loved it and how i never really… got closure for it, LOL, as silly as that sounds. 🥹 i never finished any of my ideas. 🥺 i went back into my old account actually, like a couple of weeks ago, and went through my fic drafts i had at the time and it—idk. i guess it just made me nostalgic. 🥹 it’s different, tonally, to what we do here in the bnha/x reader niche!! and it makes me itchy. 🥹😩 god!! so itchy. i wanna dig my fingers into it and move things around. dig it up from the garden. perform necromancy on the lover that doesn’t even know they’re dead, and blinks and finds themselves sitting in the same old kitchen with a cup of coffee in their hand. 🥹🥹🥹 i’m better equipped now—i know how to keep myself interested in long-term projects, how to finish them and, most importantly, what i like.

there’s a lot of stuff i like to write that i just don’t, here in our niche. either because it doesn’t fit in with the bnha world or just doesn’t like… suit the x reader POV. and that’s on me LOL, a better (or maybe more determined) writer could make all those things work, but part of what i like about bnha and x reader and [old fandom] is that they’re distinct—they all feel different. i wrote a lot before i got here!! i wrote so much. i wrote so much that i like, kinda burnt myself out on it LMAOO. there were tropes i liked and settings and tricks i used all the time that after a while they got boring to me. 🥹 and now after a million years of doing something different, i’ve realised—oh. i really liked all that. 🥹 i really like it, still.

idk!! idk. part of not naming the fandom is also because i haven’t decided if i wanna jump back in or not lmao. do i do it, knowing it’ll slow everything up even more? we tell ourselves all the time here in fandom circles that it’s just fanfic/fanart! you’re here to have fun! if it gets hard or boring or you wanna try something new—drop it! do it! you don’t owe anybody anything!! which is all very true yes sure. except i, me, mermie, want to finish things. i want the satisfaction of finishing the IAL series. im actually very proud of the fics, and while i know i will finish shouto’s (barring being kidnapped by pirates or aliens or death himself ig 💀), i also know im a slow writer, and that letting myself deviate off path into a completely different fandom will make me slower. 🥹 so idk. i guess ive just been ruminating on fiddly details like that LOL. also i don’t have a solid plot in mind yet (even tho i have a general gist of what i want) so that’s also probably the main leash rn LMAOOO. tbh if i get one im going in swinging, fist first, so let’s all hope that i remain idealess on that front lest the demons take me. 🥹🙏🏽

[g1amours]

hello! i'm 25, in the eastern timezone, and go by she / her pronouns. i am looking for someone 21+ to write over discord with! it’d be preferable if we were in similar timezones, or if you were active at the same times as me! i am most active from 2pm-11pm, my time. if we’ve written in the past or things never kicked off and you see something you’re interested in in this post, please reach back out! i’m always down for rekindling old connections. i’m a fan of angst - heavy plots. i am okay with smut and fluff, but i get bored if it is all fluff and no angst! do not interact if you are not going to contribute to the plotting process. i want someone who is going to actively participate in the plot and be excited about our ship(s). that being said, i’m also looking for someone that can reply frequently. real life happens and i’m a victim of that as well, but right now i’m looking for a partner that can do frequent replies and has time for rapid-fire replies at times too! because of this, i'm looking for shorter 1-2 paragraph replies. love including text threads too! all of that being said, if this sounds like we'd be a good match, go ahead and click the read more button for wanted plots! <3 all of the below plots are listed with f/m and m/m in mind, unless stated otherwise. if you're interested, like this post and i'll reach out or you can shoot me a message!

but daddy, i love him!

a plot where muse a is a celebrity (we could decide what kind) known for their awful habits. drugs, alcohol, sleeping around. cue muse b coming in like i can fix him (no really i can). muse b could be a celebrity, or an assistant, or someone working with muse a. bonus: muse b is a normal person who loves this celebrity and they happen to meet. extra bonus: a wrong number plot with this one.

i love you (it's ruining my life)

this one is specifically made with m/m in mind. muse a and muse b play on either the same or opposing hockey teams. they're both stars, and oh god do they hate each other. like really, truly hate each other. different teams can be rivals, whereas the same team can be always competing for the top spot. maybe muse a is given captain over muse b, maybe muse b refuses to give muse a a pass that could win the game. complete enemies to lovers. bonus: hockey is a very straight sport and coming out could jeopardize their careers. for this, i'm looking for one of the muses to be more hot-headed, aggressive, and more of a temper while the other is a little more level-headed. bonus points if one doesn't even realize he's gay. bonus bonus if it's the more hot-headed, temperamental one.

come back... be here

another sports based one. obsessed with hockey tropes but love basketball too. muse a is an up and coming athlete and is dating muse b. they've been dating since high school, and when muse a hits their big break and is finally drafted onto a big team, he becomes a celebrity. angst from muse a having to constantly be on the move, always be busy, and from having to leave muse b behind. it's a huge hit to their relationship. muse b can't leave because they're passionate about their career and they're established in their city. they're happy from muse a's success, but at what cost? possible tropes could include: cheating, lovers to exes to ?, tabloid scandals, accidental pregnancy, etc.

your wife waters flowers, i wanna kill her

credit to this person for this plot idea inspo! a plot where muse a and muse b are dating in high school for years but muse a gets into their dream college across the country. it was never part of the plan, muse a was supposed to stay local while muse b was supposed to take over the family business that they're oh so passionate about. muse a eventually breaks it to muse b and they try to make it work, but muse a could tell how muse b wasn't happy with long distance and they were starting to shrivel, their relationship deteriorating. knowing that muse b would never admit it and let muse a go, muse a decides to make up a lie and say that they lost feelings. maybe muse a even says they cheated. they break up. flash forward, muse a graduates and moves back to their hometown and finds muse b engaged to muse a's former best friend. bonus: wait... how old is that (four-year-old) kid holding your hand?

i can fix him (no really, i can)

double celebrity plot, muse a is america's sweetheart and is loved by all, while muse b is the opposite. muse a and muse b get connected, and while muse a wants to fix muse a, their reputation is taking a hit. scandals, tabloids, fans, muse a's awful decisions. is it worth it?

i just wanna stay in that lavender haze

wrong number plot. muse a accidentally texts muse b who is a famous celebrity. they text for a while and slowly fall for each other. will small town muse a ever be able to adapt to an international sensation muse b? what happens once reality comes crashing in like a tidal wave and they can't ignore the outside world from invading?

look at this idiotic fool that you made me

muse a is a famous musician and muse b is their partner who has been there since before muse a became famous, supporting them through their dreams and goals. muse b goes between travelling with muse a and spending time in their hometown to get away from the spotlight. it's a normal weekend of muse a's shows, who has been increasingly getting involved in more famous crowds, when muse b wakes up and sees pictures of muse a leaving the bar with someone. muse a admits to cheating and muse b ends the relationship. but no matter how hard muse b tries, they keep going back, and muse a keeps spiraling. it turns into a toxic, cheating, fucked up relationship and muse b is torn between helping them get better and finally going towards turkey. after all, this isn't the muse a they knew and loved. can't they get back to being that person? bonus if m/f: accidental pregnancy. extra extra extra bonus for this.

if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake?

muse a and muse b are married and find themselves in an accidental pregnancy situation. they're both excited, their relationship is stable, and they decide it's a good time. except when muse a gives birth (this could also be adoption if m/m), their relationship struggles. they're fighting all the time, they can't get along, they haven't been physical in months, they have different parenting styles. maybe there's even cheating on one or both sides. muse a maybe is struggling with postpartum depression or has in the past and is extremely overprotective and bossy, maybe muse b isn't adjusting the best to being a parent.

[riecurrents]

Can you do a moon okgyeong x hyerang fic because I can't see them parting ways😭😭😭 I want them to be together!!!! Can you do a little smut with them please or just happy times🥺🥺

Then, let me offer you a short fanfic I've made about them not long ago (aka right after the legendaric forehead bump scene oh my fucking gosh). This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now because I can't seem to get satisfied with it. I hope you like it though!

REKINDLING

MOON OKGYEONG x SEO HYERANG

WORDS: 1.5k

SYNOPSIS: After years apart, former lovers and Maeran Gukgeuk Troupe stars Okgyeong and Hyerang reunite by chance, confronting past mistakes and rekindling a love they thought was lost forever.

Okgyeong doesn’t know what came to her mind when she drove her car all the way here.

Perhaps it was out of habit? Okgyeong shakes her head in dismay as she tries to convince herself that she just miss the good old days. After all, she has been pursuing her new life in the movie career for years now. She couldn’t be happier, she doesn’t feel sick of it all, and most of all, she doesn’t feel collared in the chains of Hyerang’s obsession over their roles as Maeran Gukgeuk Trope’s prince and princess.

So why is she here, then? This is the cafe Hyerang and Okgyeong used to go to when they were still dating. 

Shaking her head, Okgyeong goes out of the car. She will just see how much the place has changed. And perhaps order a drink along the way.

However, memories start flooding back as soon as she sets her feet inside. For instance, the dim lights Hyerang used to complain about, the smell of roasted beans that had always made her inhale deeply out of habit as soon as they entered—it was like no time had passed.

I just want to see how much the place has changed, or so Okgyeong says, because all she thinks of right now is Hyerang. Hyerang’s habits. Hyerang’s mannerisms. Hyerang’s laugh. Hyerang, Hyerang. Hyerang.

Okgyeong lets out an exhausted sigh, mood already sour. Perhaps she’ll just take out the drink and leave for good. “One iced americano, please.” Until she realizes she did so out of habit. Why, when she barely drinks iced americano in the first place?

It is until she realizes; this is Hyerang’s favorite. Back in the day, she orders it so Hyerang could have seconds whenever the two of them hang out together. Oh god, she whispers to herself.

“Yes? Did you change your mind?” the waiter asks. Okgyeong, not realizing she had expressed her dismay out loud, shakes her head and mouths the waiter sorry.

As if the matter at hand couldn’t get worse, a familiar face caught her attention.

There goes Hyerang—with her posture as graceful as ever yet now quieter in presence—standing at the counter and waiting for her order. Her hair is shorter now, albeit still curled nicely (Okgyeong almost chuckled upon remembering that she used to scold Hyerang for taking three good hours preparing her hair which almost got them late during practices) and her clothes are casual—no sign of the fierce, ambitious actress who had once been the Troupe’s princess. Okgyeong’s heart skips and she almost gets the urge to storm away without waiting for her order, but she knows this moment has to come eventually.

She then walks, takes a deep breath, and calls the familiar name out softly—for years-long of keeping it in, “Hyerang.”

Hyerang’s shoulders tense, eyes widening as she takes in Okgyeong’s face. It’s hard to read her reaction—a mix of longing, guilt, and something else… Are you scared? Okgyeong almost asks.

Hyerang’s voice is barely a whisper when she utters, “O-Okyeong…?”

“It’s been a while,” Okgyeong smiles, her tone cordial, but there’s a warmth in her eyes that’s just hard to ignore—a warmth that had always sent Hyerang’s heart into oblivion. “Mind if I join you?”

Hyerang blinked, taken aback. “I—no, I just… I—wait what?”

“I asked if I could join you.” If not for consideration for this poor abashed woman, Okgyeong would’ve laughed.

“Of course you could!” Hyerang panicky replies out loud, her usual cadence and confidence thrown off someplace else as her demeanor screams sheer surprise. Isn’t Okgyeong angry at me? She could only ask herself.

They found a table by the window. Hyerang couldn’t settle on her seat as the silence stretches out like a thin wire. Okgyeong catches Hyerang fidgeting with her coffee cup, fingers tracing the rim anxiously. Strange, she almost blurts out. The Hyerang she remembered had always been confident, composed, unyielding—especially when it came to them—to the roles they played both on and off stage.

“I—uh—didn’t expect to see you here,” Hyerang finally manages to speak, her voice brittle. “You seem to be doing so well. I’m glad.”

Okgyeong smiles, small but appreciative. “I needed the change. But I missed the theater. I miss a lot of things from back then.”

Hyerang’s gaze drops at the mention of their former career, her fingers tightening around the cup. “You’ve moved on. That’s good. You deserve it.”

Okgyeong waits, five minutes or so, just until the waiter delivers her and Hyerang’s drink, until she admits, “I wouldn’t find myself here—in this coffee shop—had I genuinely moved on. Makes me wonder if I really deserve the change.”

Hyerang’s breath hitches, her face a mix of surprise and regret. “Okgyeong, I’m so—” but she cuts herself midway. After everything she had done, apologies are beyond enough, just as Okgyeong had told her back then at the height of her anger. She purses her lips and stays silent.

“But I’m not angry, not anymore, especially not at you,” Okgyeong’s poignant gaze is at the window as she adds, “I realized long ago that I can’t stay angry at you.”

“But Okgyeong, after all that I have done? Please, can you just—”

“Let’s not pretend it was easy for either of us,” Okgyeong interrupts, her voice gentle but firm as she stares at Hyerang. “I know what happened—why you were that way. I can see now how much we hurt each other. But I can also see how much we loved.”

Hyerang shakes her head, closing her eyes briefly. “I was terrible to you, to everyone. I was obsessed with keeping you close, with making sure we stayed at the top. I hurt people to protect us, but in the end, I just pushed you away. I can’t make up for that.”

Okgyeong reaches out, covering Hyerang’s hand with her own. “Hyerang… I left not because of what you did, but because I needed to find myself outside the roles we were trapped in. I loved you so much, and maybe it scared me that I didn’t know who I was without you.”

The confession hung between them, raw and honest. Hyerang bites her trembling lips, hands still under Okgyeong’s.

She had missed the feeling of her skin so much. Oh, the countless nights she bawled her eyes out, wanting to feel her again—raw and whole, without any interruptions, without guilt and regrets.

“All this time, I thought you still hate me,” she admits, her voice breaking. “I mean, I wouldn’t forgive me either.” The small chuckle was followed by her eyes tearing up. 

However, even before Hyerang could withdraw from Okgyeong’s hold to wipe her tears, Okgyeong squeezes her hand, “Maybe we needed to lose each other to find ourselves. But here we are.”

“And you deserve it. All of it.”

“But that never made me miss you less.”

Hyerang’s eyes widen. Still, she tries to change the topic instead of giving in to the urge. “I saw your latest movie. It was very wonderful.”

“Really?” Okgyeong’s fingers rub Hyerang’s in circular motions, a habit she had when they were still together. And yet, Hyerang couldn’t gather the urge to point it out. She couldn’t collect the gall to say that Okgyeong should stop doing it because they’ve broken up so long ago. “You know, I’ve heard the Director had asked you to mentor the Maeran kids when you two patched things up. They’ve improved a lot. They seem to carry your cadence on stage now.”

“Oh, you—” Hyerang could only chuckle. Such a high praise from Maeran’s former prince. “They wouldn’t reach where they are now had it been not for your mentoring when they were trainees.”

Silence envelops their spot, but Okgyeong’s hands still can’t leave Hyerang’s. It’s still rubbing circular motions on her pinky. And Hyerang still couldn’t garner the needed urge to shove them away.

How could Hyerang, when she had yearned for it for years?

“Do you… do you want to try again?”

Okgyeong’s question makes Hyerang flinch in surprise.

She had to withdraw one hand from Okgyeong’s hold just to pinch her legs under the table—a habit to check if she was dreaming.

However, her prince stares at her, unrelenting. “Let’s take it slow, without the roles, without the theater. Just us—” She pauses, seemingly forgetting something. “—and Eun Jae, our lovely girl, all grown-up now. I’ve read her letters. She misses me so much.”

“Okgyeong, are you sure?” Hyerang’s eyes dart everywhere but Okgyeong’s, panic seemingly wrapping up her nerves. “I’m wicked, rotten to my core. I am not even sure if I’ve changed. And I—”

“And no worries, because this time, I’m willing to stand beside you as you fix your ways,” Okgyeong promises. “Remember the good old days, when we point out each other’s mistakes during practice?”

“But that’s different! You need to remember how I hurt you! And, and—”

“And yet all I could remember is how much I’ve missed holding you in my arms as we sleep.” 

That’s more than enough to render Hyerang into silence, her negotiations long gone and futile. Okgyeong misses her. Her dearest Okgyeong had missed her the same way she did. 

How could she let Okgyeong feel that way?

Finally, Hyerang’s composure finally breaks. She starts crying, weakly so, and Okgyeong does what she does best—quietly wiping Hyerang’s tears away.

They sit there, the years of heartbreak melting away as they hold each other, the worries long gone the drain as they finally find their way back to each other.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

Hi hello I watched all of carmilla in a weekend when I was 17 because a student teacher who in retrospect I had a bit of a crush on mentioned that she knew one of the actresses. also I am pretty invested in all your recent vampire stuff because I watched iwtv in 2 days last week because your edit intrigued me

oh hiiii 🫶 thank you for indulging me. thats so cool that you watched iwtv! did it live up to the expectation?

i also watched carmilla at 17! or like, 17-19. i found it when s2 had just started and followed it to the end. did something permanent to my brain but i think it was a good thing. on rewatch now im like, i was right to like this. like it's a solid show, it's good. it has its flaws obviously but it's well written, the emotional moments still get me, i can see why i liked it and i still like it now even when it's not anymore, you know, meeting every need that baby gay me didnt even know they had

what it doesnt reaallyy do though - i dont remember if i posted abt this or if i left it in my drafts but - is explore vampirism as a concept. their subject matter is more lesbianism than vampirism. which is great! thats what they wanted to do and they did it and it's very good. but reading interview with the vampire the book rn im realising how much potential vampires have to be metaphors for like so many things and i started wondering like 'wait, did carmilla just not really engage with it or did it all go over my head'. but it just didnt really engage with it all that much. which again is fine bc that wasnt what they were doing. im glad they were more about the lesbianism than the vampirism

but there's this interesting difference in framing, because in iwtv they keep calling armand 'ancient' right? and emphasising how old he is. and he's like 500? and i was like 'wait isnt carmilla like 400?'. she isnt, shes 340, but still, thats getting there, you know? and we know quite a lot about her history, but kind of just the Big Events. when she was turned, the events of the novella, coffin of blood, silas. thats sort of what we know. but none of the long lonely slog of history day to day you know? with armand i feel like we can really feel how much time everything takes. how every one of those years is made up of single days. with carmilla i dont feel that as much. i keep kind of thinking about daniel, when louis calls him a boy in the first episode, saying "im an old man, with all the triggers that come with it"

because carmilla might look 18 (or mid twenties at this point) but she has lived all that time. shes also seen her native land be claimed by like a succession of ruling powers, right? like armand. shes been buried alive, like louis. when lestat is born, shes already 80 years old, shes lived a whole human lifetime, and the entire adult part of it shes been a vampire. shes lived through 1680-1870 being a lure. i compared her to abigail hobbs in some tags on a post, i dont know if youre familiar with hannibal the tv show, but i do also kinda keep thinking about that comparison

if youre not familiar, in the first episode of hannibal the murderer of the week is this guy garrett jacob hobbs who kills and cannibalises girls who resemble his daughter. and later on it turns out she was made to be his lure. like they'd go places and he'd sent her to the victims to make friends and maybe get them back to their home or smth. not sure if they specified all the details. but that's what carmilla did for mother. and in s2 we hear from mattie that while every couple of decades carmilla had to lure victims for the fish god, she also seemed to just enjoy humans between those times, right? like the doctor, gets lonely, gets a new companion. but we've only sort of got mattie's mocking word for it ("dont eat him, hes a poet! or her, shes got such a wonderful voice. or that one, shes just too pretty to ruin"), we don't know exactly from carmilla's point of view what she was doing or why. if mattie's talking about stuff that happened after the blood coffin, 1950-now, then i think it's a fair assumption based on what carmilla says in the s1 sock puppet show that after she'd figured out what the real situation was and what her role in it was, when she'd started trying to save girls from being sacrificed, that she mightve been doing the same trying to save people from becoming mattie's victims. it's probably more likely that she was just trying to find excuses to stop mattie from sucking someone dry rather than actually having like an aesthetic based morality. but it might be a bit of both. im still trying to figure out what her philosophy actually is, like i dont know what existentialism actually means ghkfjghkj but i will

i also found it pretty striking in the movie when shes turning back into a vampire she says like "this was supposed to be done, you know? the blood lust, the self-loathing, the sleeping tied to a chair in my own bedroom". thats what defines her vampirism, wanting blood and hating yourself for it (the third part is a joke/reference to s1 but also i think meaningful for how she sees her relationship with laura when she IS a vampire. little bit of that 'she will reject me for my monstrousness' shining through). and thats what defines vampirism for lots of vampires across the genre obviously, but i dont know, it struck me. we dont get a lot from carmilla's pov, we know a fair amount about her, but the story is always told through laura. we get laura's diaries, but just snippets here and there from carmilla, what shes thinking, how shes feeling

and i love that shes a philosopher. i love that thats how she seems to try and find something to hold onto, in a world that kind of moves around her, having been murdered, kidnapped, turned and groomed to be a lure on the cusp of adulthood, never having been properly loved (the relationship with her father wasnt good she says in s3, and her mortal mother i dont think has ever been mentioned (like laura's)). the only good relationship she seems to have had for the better part of 3 centuries seems to have been mattie, and mattie seems to love being a vampire. i can imagine carmilla just sort of going along with anything mattie wants to do just because shes so desperate for that friendship. not like, against her will necessarily really. but more like, she hasnt even had the space to develop her own will, you know? and philosophy lets you do that. philosophy gives you frameworks to understand the world and to develop your own opinions on it. and by the 21st century she seems to have developed those opinions, she has a sense of her own values, but shes also still stuck in that same situation. shes jaded and cynical in the face of laura's optimism and strong moral code a lot of the time in s1 because she feels probably pretty powerless. like she does what she can to save some girls but at the end of the day shes scared of her mother and she has nowhere else to go really, right?

i like how she grapples with that over the course of the series, in tandem with laura grappling with her black and white morality. she sort of jumps ship from her mother to laura bc theyve fallen in love, but then laura still stuck in her hero thinking refuses to see her monstrous side. not literally bc i think the biological vampirism never seemed to be a problem for laura, but morally. the having murdered. carmilla needs laura to see that and love her while seeing it bc the last girl she loved rejected her for being a vampire.

but you see her kind of swing back and forth in s2. she softens first with laura but then they break up and she leans back hard into the sarcastic cynic defense mechanisms, leans hard into "im a monster, dont expect heroism from me". but thats like, it's sort of learned helplessness i think. it's powerlessness, resignation. bc morally shes not a monster. maybe she doesnt have as strong a drive to help other people as laura does and is a little more selfishly hedonistic in that she just wants to enjoy her/their life, but she doesnt hurt people for fun, she never has. she just sort of didnt have another option for a Really long time. so she pretends she doesnt care. "im a vampire, this is what i do, this is who i am". but clearly from the way she talks about it when she turns back into one, she doesnt enjoy it

and i like how she goes even further in s3, where she starts swinging even more to the heroic side, bc she sees hope. shes like "wow if we kill my mother, i'd be free". theres hope and she becomes like a lot more active. and shes like that at the start of the movie too, a lot happier, a lot more relaxed, and then vampirism is back and bam depression gfhgkjh like shes immediately more gloomy, ashamed of her past and her self, retreats into herself

sorry i just took this as an opportunity to dump all the carmilla thoughts floating in my head on you. you didnt ask fhkghgjh consider this an open invitation to you or anyone else to come talk to me about carmilla

[illarian-rambling]

@davycoquette with the fun question games again!

Get to Know the Writblr

Gonna put this under a cut because it got long, but feel free to treat this as an open tag if you want to hop on!

On the Tumblr Writing Community:

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

Since the beginning of the year, maybe? Sometime in February, I think.

What led you to create it?

I was feeling pretty lonely having no one to talk to about my writing. None of my real-life friends are writers and I'm really terrible at expressing my interests verbally, so I figured online might be the place to go. So far, I've been right!

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

Oh, the people, for sure. It's incredibly rare that I come across anyone being less than supportive on here. No matter our skill level, I really feel like every writer on here has a sense of being in this shit together.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Hmmm.... I'm pretty open about sharing things about myself, so idk if there's anything major I haven't touched on yet. I wake up at 4am every morning for work, so if you see me posting at an egregious time, that's why. Also, if you ever want martial arts tips for your fight scenes, I'm your gal!

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I love it when people make memes of their ocs. Makes me giggle every time.

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

You gotta interact with people. I know it can be scary, but even a reblog with no tags can make another writer smile. Chances also are, if you leave a nice comment on someone's work, they might check you out and leave a nice comment on yours! A community isn't a community unless you go out and commune :)

WIP it Good:

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Lately, I've been juggling writing my first draft of Mortal God book 3 (tentatively title being The Machinations of Machine and Man) and going over @kaylinalexanderbooks lovely comments on MG1. My ghost ship project is also on a low simmer in the back of my brain, but I'm trying to leave that until I'm done with MG3.

How long have you been working on them?

Good lord, I started MG1 about... almost two years ago now? Damn, it feels like it's been so much longer. But hey, three book drafts in two years ain't bad! Honor's Outcasts, which is largely written by now, I started about three years ago.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

The two main characters of MG started as a vague daydream, which then became two important dnd npcs along with MG's main villain. I ended up liking them all so much that I wrote a short story which became *drumroll* three entire books! A lot of my inspiration came from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and the Foundryside Trilogy of books. I can't think of anyone specifically who inspired the characters, except that Astra was originally based on the archetype of the silent wandering cowboy/samurai as seen in a lot of Kurosawa films and old westerns. For anyone familiar with her, uh, things changed quite a lot.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

At least ten percent of my brain's storage is dedicated to my wips at all times. As for how often I'm actively thinking about them... it's also quite a lot.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

"Uh, fantasy stuff?" is my go-to.

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)?

I really wish I had the ability to explain my wips as succinctly with speech as I do with writing, but alas. I would want to give a nice, book jacket blurb that doesn't give away too much of the crazy shit.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos:

Name any characters you created.

I think I'm really good at names, so we're gonna go down the list!

Izjik Meautammera

Sepo Kaiacynthus

Twenari Undetasib/Devaris

Djek Kagura

Astra DuClaire

Mashal Darezsho

Ivander Montane

Elsind Cavernsight

Duchon Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III

Faalgun Falani

Nyda Burningrock

Kaulakri Ondohuroata

Pashananath

Anarac Fifth-Blood

Who’s the most unhinged?

Unhinged in terms of violence? Sepo for sure. Unhindered in terms of sheer chaos? I'm gonna go with Izjik and Djek as a duo. Between both of their high charismas and low intelligences, along with their combined expertise in fighting and creative uses of magic, they're unbeatable.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Probably Izjik. I've been writing in her POV for the longest.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Sometimes yeah, when they do something real stupid. But, then again, I did make them that way.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

I think I know my characters really well and base my plot around their motives, so there really isn't a huge need for control.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

PLEASE!!! FEED ME ASKS! I'LL TAKE ANYTHING!

On Writeblr Engagement:

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

Probably creativity. I've read a looooot of fantasy/sci-fi, so if you're doing something I've never seen before, I'll probably give you a follow.

What makes you decide against following?

Any kind of hateful rhetoric or someone who doesn't want 18+ interaction. Other than that, I think it's important to follow people who write different genres or have different methods than me.

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

I wouldn't say so. I get a little shy doing that.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

The characters of @kaylinalexanderbooks @mk-writes-stuff and @somethingclevermahogony all have a little place in my brain. Favorites from each include Robbie and Akash (not to be separated), Narul and Bop (love me a good living weapon/teddybear of a dude team-up), and Nellie and Stellaris (their earnest kindness makes my heart happy). If you haven't yet, you should go check out their stuff and see for yourself!

And with that, thanks for reading! Go out and have yourself a bitchin day <3

[skegulium]

haha hey here's an unprompted drabble ask prompt that is completely unprompted and not so you can post a four year old drabble that you wrote and totally didn't forget to post for FOUR YEARS just so you can have context for an original god idea for the upcoming ball prompt: The prompt is 'Nightmare' :)

oh hi totally anonymous anon you're SO right i SHOULD write a little drabble using the prompt nightmare for orivar that i'll then let sit in my drafts for four years, just so i can have some original lore context for orivar's outfit for the upcoming ball! thanks bestie, i owe you my life!

==>Orivar Tyrgan | 13 Sweeps (or something) | probably somewhere out in the water idk where she was when i wrote this four years ago

Cw: non-graphic violence

Dozens kneel around you, their heads bowed on their knees and their hands clasped in front. You can't see faces and you don't recognize anyone by their horns. It makes you anxious as you pick through the crowd, skirting around every troll and doing your best to not touch a single one. 

The temple of the old gods around you is packed to the brim with them. You're not sure how you got here or how there were so many devouts in the first place - there aren’t this many people who live in Jyyr’s Bay anymore -  but you didn't try to figure it out. You had other things to do. You had to get to the back of the temple, where the lantern light was sucked into pitch blackness and where every troll was facing. You had to get there. There was no other choice for you. 

So you walked carefully through the crowds with your hands up and masking your fear. You’d be proud of your control, if your hands didn’t ache from the effort keeping them from trembling.

The shrine is ten feet away. Eight. Six. Then, three. You stopped among the trolls and the howl of winter winds outside made the ancient building creak and the fires flicker. Was there anyone else even breathing in here? 

You can’t keep the tremble from your hands anymore.

“Please,” you call to the mass of shadows. “Please, I have a request. Will you hear it?”

It's quiet for a moment. No one responds to your pleas, not a troll or the darkened shrine. Maybe you weren’t loud enough? Did you ask the question wrong? Should you use the old language? You bite your lip, then - 

”And who are you to ask a favor of me?”

The voice was deep. It reverberated through the ancient wood of the temple, through the air and made your blood vibrate through your veins. It was the voice of something ancient and more powerful than you - it took every fiber of your being to stay upright.

You inhale shakily, digging your heels in where you stood. “Please,” you say, softer. “I'm no one. I'm no one, but I want to be -” You stop and look at the trolls around you. “I want to be one of them.”

One of them. Blunt toothed, smooth skinned, normal blooded trolls. No fins, no gills, no hint of pink. No violence etched into your face, blood on your hands, or screams in your memory.

The temple went quiet again. Not even the brazier crackled now and before you, you could see the shadow begin to move. It rustled, it twisted and slowly wings began to slip out of the darkness. Inky black feathers, longer than the temple was wide, curved around the room and seemed to suck the light into them. You can’t look for too long at them - your mind would be pulled from your skull like the flames of the braziers.

”And what…makes you think we want you?”

Your hands shook at your side. What could you say to make them accept you? One hand went up to touch at your neck and you inhaled as you looked into the shadows.

When you did, two sets of three eyes were staring back.

They pushed at the blackness, pushed until two heads came out and the light glinted off of inky beaks. Two ravens, each with three eyes and they both tilted as they looked at you.

Old voices. Old gods. Worlds and visions unfathomable swirled in their eyes. Thousands of years and thousands of trolls has been seen by them, judged by them. You are but one of many.

“I'm one of your people,” You say. Your tongue was as heavy as a rock in your mouth but you forced yourself to speak. “I was hatched here, I was raised here, I speak your tongue and I know your stories -”

”And what makes you think we want you?” All six eyes stare at you and they slowly blink. They spoke as one, two voices meshed together to callously wrap around your ears. ”You are not one of our own. We did not ask for you. You should not have learned our stories, our tongue or wasted the time of our people.”

”Leave, Orivar Tyrgan. You are not one of us. We do not want you here.”

The two heads began to pull back into the darkness then and you couldn't help but step forward. You couldn't let them leave now, you didn't want them to leave - you didn't even have a chance to argue your stance. The toe of a boot smacked against one of the devouts in front of you and for the first time, they began to move. Their heads turned and your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the flat expanse of skin over their heads. No eyes, no nose or mouth - just grey skin pulled taunt across the skull and the distinctive red trident of the empire branded across it. You don't know how they saw you but they did. Only one stood to face you at first, then the troll next to them stood. Then another and another and as you whip your head around in a panic, you could watch as the rest rose to look at you.

“No,” you croak softly as they began to reach for you. “No, I'm one of - I'm one of you -”

Claws dug into your clothes, your skin, your horns and you felt powerless as they started to rip you apart. They were all silent but even as you felt the stretch and pop of limbs coming out of sockets, you could still see the swirling, six eyes watching you from the darkness. 

Watching. Watching, until fingers went for your face and there was a sickening pressure until you couldn't see them anymore. 

[suburbanbonfire]

tagged by @18minutemajor for a hockey art share tag game! I enjoy talking about myself but am terrible at posting so this is perfect. i WILL talk too much, this is a threat.

rules: post your first ever hockey art, your latest hockey art, and your favourite hockey art, then tag three hockey artists.

FIRST ART

I made the Kraken Orb (Korb) at the end of the 22-23 season, as a commemoration, although a sort of ironic one considering i had only gotten into hockey in time for the playoffs so there are a couple players here i actually never got to see play at all before making this (Joonas, Jaycob, Burky, Fleury)

it was a whole lot of fun though! Prior to this i was in a months-long art slump after leaving a fandom, so it was a total surprise to have hockey of all things be what revitalized my art.

technically, the very first hockey art from this was Matty; you can kinda tell by the way his lines are a bit thicker than the rest since i wasn't in my groove yet. i also knew coming in that i wanted to arrange the faces in a circle, but didn't plan out beyond that, so i just made sure that i was getting a variety of head directions in my references and hoped for the best. My favorites from this are Gru, Soucy, Dunn, Schultz, Borgen, and Eeli. I think they all turned out really well.

LATEST ART

MEAT CUT MEAT CUT

this one is fun for me because it's quite different from my usual style of art, with lineart and non-realistic forms/face. I've had the concept in my head for awhile after hearing/reading so many interesting descriptions of the physical qualities that good hockey players possess.

'Sacrifice the Body' actually came in mid-art when i had an epiphany doing something like driving my car or an activity similarly unrelated. Before that, it was going to be a lil heart drawn on the chest and the going contender for the label was 'Ferda.' which would've been great, but sacrifice the body just worked too dang well with the themes.

FAVORITE ART

i mean, c'mon. it's gotta be this one.

my magnum opus, my white whale. it came out even better than i saw it in my head and i love everything about it. when i came up with the idea, i had TOTALLY forgotten that Climate Pledge has those giant windows, so when i set out to find references and saw it, it instantly made everything even better with LIGHTING!!!!

It was my first time drawing this kind of interior architecture and although there's definitely things i would do differently now, im so so proud of how it looks and turned out. I was also still drawing through my decade-old laptop at that point, so I had to split up the work on this into two files - i sketched everything, then worked ONLY on the bg until it was about 90% done, then made a flattened copy to open as a new file to draw the players on top of.

I also have a bunch of WIP shots of it in my drafts I guess I'll throw in here now!

initial sketch to get down the composition before i remembered the window | lines of the building! i actually found a 3d virtual tour of CPA from before it was built which had the PERFECT angle, so i screencapped that and straight up traced the architecture. Ultimately, the scoreboard and the paint lines ended up getting moved around.

planning out my lighting in greyscale (i really need to do this more often, i struggle with values so much, alas) | in progress bg! at this point, the ice and the boards/glass were the only things completed. I eventually said 'fuck it' to being able to see the areas behind the stands like you could in all my references, and just put the people dots all the way up.

Now the most gut-wrenching part

THE TAGS

this is where me being bad at posting comes into play, because instead i just lurk and thats not great for forming connections HERE GOES

@ruinedcasket - it has been awesome seeing your art progress! would love 2 hear your thoughts about it

@rouzys - your kraken stuff is so pretty, love how you capture likenesses

oh god oh fuck everyone else i know has already been tagged fuck oh sshit

If You Are An Artist On Hockey Twit And See This, It Is A Sign