#one of the reasons why i'm posting almost at midnight over here

[kingslionheart]

Mnemosyne's Elysium — Chapter One

Alfred’s first peaceful night in ages is shattered by a call from the last person he wants to hear from—his ex, Uhtred. Annoyance is the least of his problems, as a haunting past reemerges to torment him all over again. He knows doom will be unavoidable, whether he likes it or not.

Alfred x Uhtred Modern AU

Word count: 8,045

[changbunnies]

Revelation (18+)

♡ Pairing: Vampire Priest!Jeongin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by midnight mass (tv), horror themes, vampire / human relationship, smut, possibly dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 4k

♡ Summary: The suspiciously young and extremely handsome priest of your small-town church has a very big secret– and it's not until he's sinking his fangs into your neck that you discover what exactly that secret is.

♡ General Warnings: usage of typical vampire abilities (increased senses, strength, etc), descriptions of blood, religious themes (specifically catholicism focused), references to religious guilt + shame, reader does not trust jeongin at all (for good reason lol), very blatant manipulation, cult vibes? jeongin basically has the whole town under his thumb so. do with that what you will lol

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon, vampire venom that acts as an aphrodisiac, sexual acts inside a church (specifically in a confessional booth), some gendered language (dirty + good girl), dom/sub dynamics, dom!jeongin, biting + blood drinking, thigh riding, fingering (f rec), a lil bit of praise kink, corruption kink?

♡ Notes: this is possibly niche but well. the vampire priest concept lives rent free in my head thanks to midnight mass, and innie said he wanted to be a priest + he'd definitely be a sexy vampire so here we are lmao. and sorry i'm suddenly posting out of age order for my late kinktober fics but i ended up finishing this before the other members i still have left :')

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There's something that isn't right about your local church's head priest. Firstly, his age doesn't make sense; who on God's green earth becomes a priest in their 20s?

At least, you assume that's around how old Father Yang, who notably prefers to be called Jeongin, is– you've never been told, and you've never asked, but he certainly doesn't look any older than that.

Secondly, why are his sermons always at night? In all the towns you've ever lived in, in all the churches you've ever frequented, this is the first time you've ever experienced your standard, weekly Sunday service routinely happening at 9 p.m.

And thirdly, why is it that everyone who meets with him for confession comes back looking delirious and.. euphoric, almost? You don't get it– sure, confessing your sins is freeing; asking for and receiving God's forgiveness is among the best feelings that can be experienced if you're a devout believer, but still.

Something about all of it just doesn't sit right with you– and to make matters worse, you seem to be the only person in town suspicious of him. You're new to town, have only been here a handful of months, so you get it– you're the outsider, you don't know him like they do, et cetera, et cetera.

But how can not a single other person in town be bothered by how strange it all is? There has to be an explanation– you don't know what it is, and you don't know why you're the only one who seems to care, but there must be a reason.

It's Sunday again, and you spend the entire sermon watching Jeongin like a hawk, trying to catch any sign as to what it is about him that has all these people so enraptured. And while it's not necessarily wrong for him to be, another thing that strikes you is that he's easily the most casually dressed yet stylish priest you've ever met.

He wears the standard clergy vest and rabat, as he should, but over it is a leather jacket, and he wears denim blue jeans instead of dress pants. His shoes are sleek and polished, he has pretty, ornate rings decorating his fingers, has expertly styled slicked hair and silver earrings dangling from his pierced ears.

Again, it's not necessarily wrong, but it's definitely something you wouldn't think a priest's Sunday best would entail. And maybe that's only because the priests in your life have only ever been old, and didn't put much thought into style, but maybe that's what people like about him?

Maybe it makes him seem more down to earth and approachable; maybe it's easier to confess your sins when, outstanding devotion to God aside, he seems like as ordinary a person as any other. Of course, that's logically always the case, but some priests have an intimidating "holier-than-thou" attitude about them, and it certainly helps Jeongin's case that he seemingly makes an effort to not give off that vibe.

And admittedly, he's charming– there's something so uniquely handsome about the way he smiles while preaching God's word, how his eyes twinkle while he recites a scripture and relates it back to a point he made several minutes prior; you can't deny that it's enthralling.

But when he looks over the attendees lined in the pews, it always feels like he's looking straight through you, seeing to the depths of your soul and laying it bare. It gives you chills, honestly; makes you feel exposed in a way that's indescribable; like with a glance alone, he knows all your secrets, your every sin, down to their most minute details.

It's near midnight when his sermon ends; you stay seated in the backmost pew to the left, brows furrowed as everyone shakes his hand or hugs him, thanking him for another "terrific service." It's so bizarre– and it's not until the last of the congregation exits the small, wooden church that you begin to rise from your seat.

Though you're sure the church carries electricity and that the lights can be flicked on, the priest never does so– he always uses candles, casting a warm yellow glow on the dingy, white wood of the walls. It casts more shadows, gives the place an almost unsettling air– and when he turns to you, just as he's closing the Bible in his hand and setting it down, it sends a shiver through you.

"You're still here," Jeongin smiles at you from where he stands before the altar, centralized at the head of the church. It's a kind enough one, but you don't trust it; you can't shake the feeling that something lies beneath it– something abberant and dark that you can't place, but are certain is there.

"Do you wish to confess?" he asks, motions to the confessional booth with his hand as he tilts his head. "No," you answer, perhaps too quickly– and his smile grows ever so slightly, as if he's amused. At least, that's how you perceive his expression; and it makes you narrow your eyes at him, the distrust that radiates off you certainly palpable.

Your opinion of him is no secret, really; and he can tell you're scrutinizing him, trying to catch him in whatever act you think he's playing– it won't work, but it does humor him that you're trying. He doesn't know what sort of wild conclusions you've come to about him, but if you see anything, it'll be because he himself wanted you to see it– until then, you won't learn a single thing about who he truly is.

"Is there a reason you're still here then?" Jeongin questions next, and you swallow, hesitant to answer. Admittedly, you only stuck around in case someone did decide to go confess to him– you intended to eavesdrop, to try to listen in and find out what's really going on behind closed curtains.

It would've been massively immoral, but you would've confessed and asked for forgiveness later– privately, that is. You have no intention of seeking the Father's help in such matters, given how little trust you have towards him.

But still, despite the fact that you were willing to sneak around and listen to private conversations, you aren't entirely willing to lie in the house of God– so after some internal grappling with yourself on what you should and shouldn't do in this position, on what is right and wrong, you end up admitting the truth.

"I don't trust you," you tell Jeongin plainly, and you can swear you see him trying to suppress a smirk.

"I'm aware," he says, so matter of fact that it almost sends you reeling. And it's not that you were so disillusioned into thinking you weren't being obvious; you know very well that you weren't being the most covert in your suspicion of him– it's how unbothered and amused by it he seems to be that really gets you.

Shouldn't he be offended? Question your reasoning? Try immediately to dispel your doubts and clear up any misconceptions you may have? Instead, he seems more than ready to just accept it for what it is– even seems entertained by it.

"Does it not bother you that I don't trust you?" you ask, and he almost laughs as he shakes his head. "No. There's no reason for it to," he answers simply; and before you can ask why, or what he means, he's already answering– you suspect he could already tell you were going to press him on the matter.

"God teaches us to love one another. So even if you do not love me, or trust me, I love you, just as God instructs me to," Jeongin smiles as he speaks, and again, your brows furrow. It's a perfect answer, really– but it feels.. inorganic, almost rehearsed.

And the glimmer in his eye throws you off; it doesn't feel like the pure, honest delight you'd see on a priest putting God's word into practice. It feels mischievous, deceitful– like he doesn't believe an ounce of what he's saying, but he wants you to believe that he does.

"I know what you're thinking," he says, and you swallow, stiffening where you stand as he continues, "And if you really want to know what goes on during confession, want to see for yourself what it is I do to help the people who look to me, I can show you."

If you're being entirely honest, the offer is tempting; and strangely, it also makes you feel.. bad, almost– makes you second guess yourself. Because if he's freely offering like this, surely it can't be whatever you've been making it out to be in your head.

There's no way he'd out himself, and whatever it is he does, just to gain the trust of one person out of hundreds who doesn't believe his pure intentions. And maybe the other townsfolk really do trust him for good reason; maybe you've just been examining the situation and looking at Jeongin and the church in the wrong light.

Maybe you've been blowing everything out of proportion with obscene assumptions, and maybe he really is just a good priest. Maybe he makes you feel so seen, heard, and whole, that all your worldly problems melt away, feel trivial and light in comparison to God's plan for you.

Because after all, you are the outlier here. You're the only one in the whole town that doesn't trust him; and surely that means you're the one in the wrong. Jeongin does things differently than you're used to, but that doesn't mean he's inherently bad. And maybe you should confess– ask God to forgive you for not being receptive to the word of one of His servants.

Jeongin smiles when you concede and start to slowly step your way to the confessional. You pull back the curtain, step inside and prepare to sit in the small, wooden booth seat, but you quickly realize he's followed you inside. You gasp as you turn around, back pressing against the intricately carved hardwood window of the booth as he closes you in.

"Sh-Shouldn't you be on the other side?" you ask, much too meek for your liking. It's a cramped fit given that the booth is only meant to fit a single person on either side at a time; it makes you unconsciously hold your breath as you're effectively caged inside the booth with him– nowhere to go, and nothing you can do but stare at him, bewildered.

"No," he answers as quick and simple as before, his smile once again growing ever so slightly. And maybe you could push him, try to dart past him if you manage to successfully make him topple back, but you feel frozen– because even in the dark, barely lit confessional you're in, you're certain that you see his dull canines become long, pearly white fangs.

"Don't worry, it will only hurt for a second," he assures you as he brings his hands to your arms, gripping them just below your shoulder as he leans towards you. You shudder, his breath fanning your ear as he inches towards your neck, "but after that– it's bliss."

You feel the sharp points of his teeth poke at your skin, and it makes you gasp as your head tilts to the side, making room for him to sink his fangs into your flesh. Instinctively, your hands search for something to grab; you end up reaching for his shoulders, twisting your hands in his leather jacket to ground yourself as his sharp teeth pierce into your neck.

Your legs wobble, and he forces one of his own between your thighs, uses it to keep you upright as he drinks from you. And there is pain, but it really is only for a second, just like he said it’d be– within seconds it melts away, and oh, you instantly understand.

It’s much, much more than bliss– it’s ecstasy, it’s rhapsody, it’s the greatest pleasure you’ve ever felt. Spreading from your neck to every last nerve ending in your body, every atom of your body becomes alight with euphoria as his bite sends tingles throughout you, raising goosebumps along your skin.

You cry out, an embarrassingly loud sound that you barely recognize as your own voice as one of your hands finds its way to his head. Your fingers thread into his hair, hold him to your neck as if you don't want him to ever separate from you– and to be fair, maybe you don't.

It feels so good, so exhilarating, intoxicating, that you almost don't want the sensation to ever end. Jeongin meanwhile lets out delighted hums, eventually slowly retracting his fangs to latch his lips around the sensitive, bruising skin, his tongue lapping away at the blood that pours from the two little marks left behind.

The beating of your heart quickens, breaths quickly growing labored as the inexplicable want continues to seep into your veins. Your thighs tremble as tension builds deep in your gut, and they try to press together to seek relief, but Jeongin's leg stays firmly nestled between yours, preventing it.

And were you not so utterly blissed out, maybe the incessant, desperate throbbing of your pussy would make you feel ashamed– but all you can think about is the deep seated desire overtaking every receptor, every tiny cell, every molecule within you, as if the very chemistry that makes up your being has been altered for Jeongin alone.

Unable to resist, you rut against his thigh, entirely shameless and feverish– because it's all you have access to, all you can do to relieve the growing ache between your legs. It’s sinful, your growing lust is– and the last place you should ever be doing this is inside of a church; but you’re too far gone to care, too gripped by the need for stimulation.

Jeongin lets go of your arms, reaches between your bodies to hike up your church gown, giving you easier access to his lean, muscular thigh. He’s gracious, tugs your soaked panties to the side so your clit can catch on the denim of his jeans– and the delicious friction makes you moan for him, loud and sweet. 

He pulls away from your neck to watch your desperate humping, eyes gleaming with mischievous satisfaction as he watches you pleasure yourself on his thigh. His eyes are perfectly adapted to seeing in the low light, and so he can easily see every little detail of you– from the mess your pussy leaves behind on his jeans, to the sweat beginning to drip down your temple, to the trembling of your bottom lip before you tuck it between your teeth. 

And when he smiles at you now, it’s like the fox that got the rabbit; even in the extremely dim candle light you can see the way your blood coats his lips, messily dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. His dark eyes are gleaming– because he has you ensnared, and you both know there’s no going back. 

You untangle your fingers from his hair, and you watch as he reaches for your falling hand, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his mouth. He holds your gaze as he kisses over the pulsing vein, and it makes your breath hitch, the blood on his mouth smearing over the surface of your skin, staining it crimson. 

“Should I bite you here too?” he asks, placing another kiss over your vein before he shoots you a grin full of fang, “you’re so delicious– I want to taste you even more.” You gasp and squirm as Jeongin presses the tips of his bared fangs against your skin– not quite biting just yet, but it’s enough to spread another wave of tingles over your body. 

“Yes, bite me, please!” you cry, voice almost frantic in its urgency– and you can see the corners of Jeongin’s lips twisting into a devious smile before he’s obliging, burying his fangs deep into your wrist within an instant. You wince, your fingers clenching as he squeezes your wrist in his hand, keeping it tightly pressed to his mouth. 

And just as before, within seconds the sharp sting dulls and ebbs into incomparable pleasure, goosebumps spreading over every inch of your heated skin. Faintly, you can see your blood dribble past his lips, slowly flowing down the length of your forearm before it drips to the floor of the booth. 

You can just barely see his tongue licking over his bite, doing his best to collect all the blood that spills from you, and it's mesmerizing– especially when he brings his fingers to your arm to swipe up what his tongue misses. Your stomach flutters as you watch him separate from your wrist and bring his bloodied fingers to his mouth; they're so long, so pretty and enticing– you want them.

Jeongin can see it in your eyes– how brazenly you stare at his fingers, how your eyes follow every move he makes with them. You're still panting, sweating, chest heaving from the exertion, but the rutting of your hips has faltered; and he grins as he gazes at you. You're once again left with the feeling that he sees through you– that all it takes is a glance for him to know everything you're thinking.

"You want them? Want me to stuff your cunt full with my fingers? Make you cum all over them?" he asks, entirely rhetorical; he already knows the answer. And he likes the way you writhe over the question, how you gasp over the sinful words he so freely spills in such a sacred place, your ears positively burning.

Even if your face didn't obviously show your desires, you don't think you'd be able to deny them; you've never wanted anything as badly as you want this, want him. It should make your gut twist with shame, because deep down you know this is wrong, know that you shouldn't want him to touch you as badly as you do– but the craving for Jeongin to bring you pleasure is almost primal, so deep and innate that your rational mind can't even hope to fight against it.

Slowly, almost playfully, he trails his fingertips over your thigh, and the anticipation is enough to make you unconsciously hold your breath. "You're so fucking messy," Jeongin says as he brushes his fingers over your soaking, sensitive clit, "so wet– you're a dirty girl, huh?"

You want to whine, want to shake your head and vehemently deny that you're dirty, attest to being a good, honest, and God fearing– but you're so overcome with your desire for him to touch you, that you don't. Instead you agree, concede that you are dirty, and messy, and that you want him more explicitly than you feel your own words could ever attest.

How easily you agree to being dirty seems to please him– and with a light chuckle, he slips his hand further down while carefully removing his leg from between your thighs. You wobble a bit when the support of his leg is gone, but he's quick to wrap an arm around you to hold you, effortlessly keeping you upright with the strength innate to who, or rather what, he is.

The cool, silver band that he wears on his pinky makes you jolt when it touches your feverishly hot thigh, and he chuckles again as he spreads your folds with his fingers. You're dripping for him, so slick with arousal that it hardly takes any effort at all for Jeongin's fingers to become coated with your juices.

You rock your hips against his hand, wordlessly begging him to give you what it is you crave most. "Oh look at you, so impatient, so desperate," he laughs as he presses the pads of his fingers to your hole, delighting in the way you look at him with glassy eyes and pinched brows.

It's obscene how badly you want him; you've never felt this needy, never been rendered so desperate for stimulation– and you're in a confessional of all places. This is the very last place on earth you should feel this way, or be doing something like this, and yet the shame you should feel is far from your mind– because all you can think about is your need for his beautiful fingers to fill you up and dull the throbbing ache between your legs.

Jeongin coos when you start to beg for his fingers, a rambling string of "please," and "want it, want you," and "need it so bad." You can tell how much satisfaction it gives him, and if your mind weren't so hazy from desire you'd certainly feel embarrassment build and twist from deep in your gut– but any such feelings are silenced by your body's need for his touch, by your craving for the sensations that only he can grant you.

It takes your breath away when he easily sinks two fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out slowly until he curls and bends them to find the spot that makes you see stars. "That's it, there you go," he grins when he finds it. He watches your eyes roll back, your hands clutching at his jacket as he continues to press the tips of his fingers into your most sensitive spot.

He returns to your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin and nipping it with sharp teeth before he kisses and licks over the bruises he leaves behind. He applies pressure to your swollen clit with his thumb while relentlessly targeting your spot, an easy task for him thanks to the length of his fingers, and his hold on you tightens when the shaking in your legs grows more intense.

You're so, so close, and Jeongin can tell too– not just from how your pussy pulses and squeezes around his fingers, but because he can hear the loud, erratic thumping of your heart, as well as the rush of blood pulsing in your veins. "C'mon, let go– cum, you can do it, cum for me," he urges, speaking softly against the shell of your ear while swirling his thumb over your clit.

"There you go, good girl, just like that," he praises as you string out a loud succession of whimpers, your thighs closing tight around his hand as your high finally takes you. Your world feels like it’s spinning, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you ride out your high, your release gushing messily around his fingers.

His hand stays in place until your thighs untense, and he’s careful as he slips his fingers out of you, though you can’t help but shiver and whine from the sensitivity regardless. You're unsteady on your feet following your orgasm, but Jeongin makes sure you don't fall over; he keeps his grip on your firm, carefully helps you turn away from where you were pressed against the carved window to sit in the booth's only seat.

He wipes the sweat from your forehead after you sit, leans down to fix and smooth over the skirt of your church gown as you try your best to collect your breath and calm your racing heart. He's reverted back to his kindly priest persona it seems– you can tell by the warm smile he offers when you look at him, his sharp fangs fully retracted.

Still, bits of your blood remain smeared over his lips– clear evidence that he isn't the saintly man he portrays himself to be. You watch breathlessly as Jeongin licks the last of it from his lips before he pulls back the curtain of the confessional booth.

He offers you his hand after it seems like you've recovered enough to stand again; your own hand trembles as you accept it, and with his assistance, you rise carefully from your seat.

You're a bit dizzy when you stand, equal parts consequence of blood loss and the euphoria still lingering and tingling in your veins, but you're otherwise steady; and he smiles as he squeezes your hand in his, the other coming to rest on the small of your back as you take your first step out of the booth.

"Come back to confession again sometime," Jeongin says with his characteristically deceitful, charming smile, knowing full well that you will. Humans always find the sensation of his venom irresistible, always become addicted to it once they've felt it– and you'll be no different. "I'll be waiting for you."

[hannieween]

city lights series joshua makes my heart go BRRR... anyways imagine joshua taking care and spoiling their S/O a little extra on their birthday 😌👉👈

hiiiiii nonniee!! (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

...

is... is this a request? omg nonnie is it your bday? 🥺

i've never received a request, so i'm going to assume that this is a req!

here i go ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: fluff, smut (18+) ✮ aus: boyfriend joshua ✮ word count: 4.1k

✮ a/n: this is connected to the city lights series (i'm not a 100% sure if you wanted this to be linked to city lights joshua or not, nonnie, sorry) — reading the series is necessary imo before reading this

i really got carried away with this

i hope you like this nonnie! ᨐฅ♡

› smut tags under the cut

✮ warnings: foul language, joshua is in love, dom joshua, pussy drunk joshua, tooth rotting fluff, body worshipping, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, after care. pet names: baby, bunny (hers) › this is not proofread

✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers only. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

3:14 AM

In the middle of the night, you stirred under the covers and turned over.

It was deadly silent, except for the soft breaths that your boyfriend exhaled while he slept beside you. It had been some hours since you both called it a night after your dinner party and went to bed, obviously not before he spoiled you before sleep.

Your hair was still humid from the mandatory shower you always took after sex, the reason why you woke up, because it was making you shiver.

You slowly sat up, coiling from the brutal change from the warmth beneath the covers, mostly emanating from your sleeping boyfriend and rose from your bed.

Rummaging your drawers silently, you looked for your favorite fuzzy socks without making too much noise and climbed back to bed to put them on with a content sigh.

You slid carefully back beneath the covers and upon lying back on your pillows, a warm hand snaked on top of your tummy, drawing a small gasp in surprise along with a shiver that rushed down your spine.

"Are you cold, baby?" Joshua asked in a low murmur.

"Yeah, a bit," you replied in the same manner.

"C'mere," he whispered, using the hand on your tummy to scoot your body closer by wrapping it around your waist.

He cuddled your body perfectly, enveloping it with his warmth and as soon as your body was pressed to his, he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your humid hair.

"Happy birthday, bunny," he muttered softly, moving his face to press his lips against the apple of your cheek.

That made you smile. Joshua had been repeating those words over the night at any chance he could get. And it was finally your birthday, when the clock had struck midnight, your boyfriend was the first one to hug you and wish you a happy birthday.

"Thank you, Josh," you replied.

"Mm," he replied sleepily, then wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly.

You saw the features of his face relax and his arms around you slowly did too when he resumed sleeping peacefully. You nuzzled against his lean chest and breathed the smell of his skin in.

There were small hickeys on his throat, just below his Adam's apple that bobbed slightly when he swallowed.

And then,

"Are you having trouble falling asleep, baby?" Joshua muttered, his voice was honeyed, so sweet that it almost melted into your ear.

"Yes," you whispered.

It was mind-boggling how he read you so effortlessly. He knew you were awake still without even opening his eyes. You supposed, the many times you've shared a bed together, he has picked up a lot of things from you. That and, the fact that you're a terrible sleeper.

He opened his eyes to find yours, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before he asked: "Can I do something to help you sleep, baby?"

The question burned in your body, like a fiery bolt of lightning across you. You nodded. "Yes. Anything, please."

Even though he made love to you right after you arrived from the dinner party, you still felt hungry for more.

The smile grew on his face with a soft sigh. "My needy bunny," he muttered, bringing a hand to cup your chin and hold you still as he pressed his lips on yours.

Slowly, tauntingly, his tongue pushed against your lower lip as he kissed you, his lips then captured yours, eliciting a small moan from you.

The sound only egged him on, with a low grunt from him, his lips captured yours, intensifying the kiss and now your boyfriend was kissing you deeply, using his body to press your back against the mattress and he climbed on top of you skilfully.

"You're so pretty, baby," he muttered after parting from your lips to look at you with the most adoring look on his face. He ran a finger on your cheek. "You looked beautiful tonight."

You stifled a sigh. Your boyfriend was the most attractive man you've ever seen. And he was wearing nothing but his black boxers, his lean chest and abdomen bare for your view.

"Thank you, Josh," you laughed a little in a mixture of nervousness and joy.

Joshua smiled contentedly. "I like it when you call me that," he confessed, dipping his head to kiss you softly.

Then he pulled his body back, making the covers slide from his body and effectively from yours, falling in bundles behind his body. His hands grabbed your pyjama shorts and panties by the waistband and pulled them down your thighs, and got them off your ankles to then set them aside on the bed.

"Can I keep my socks on?" you asked just when he moved to take your top off.

"Of course, bunny," he muttered warmly. "Whatever my baby wants."

You smiled in sheer joy and sat up for him to remove your top off, undressing you completely. You leaned back on the pillows and looked at the man towering in front of you.

His eyes roamed on your naked body, revelling at the sight of you with such love and adoration written on his face that it made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

"So pretty, baby," he echoed his own words, but this time they sounded in utter awe.

He placed his hands on each side of your body and lowered his body so he could kiss you, he trapped your lower lip between his before deepening the kiss.

"I'm so lucky," he muttered entrancingly between kisses, pressing his lips against yours repeatedly.

You stifled a moan and wrapped your arms around him. "We both are," you whispered. "Lucky."

"But I'm luckier," he muttered and you felt him smile against your lips.

You laughed into his mouth just before you could say anything because he was kissing you again.

"Shuddup," he whispered when he parted to look at you.

"Don't tell me to shut up! It's my birthday," you whined and laughed at yourself.

Joshua had been spoiling you so much lately and you realized that he'd been doing it from a week back, much as if he wanted to take a whole week to celebrate your birthday.

That being said, he took you out for dinner randomly, without telling you in advance. He also showered you with pretty gifts—a jewellery set, a Cinnamoroll squishmallow, which made your stomach twist in utter cuteness from both your boyfriend knowing you'd like this and the new addition to your squishmallow army.

The most recent of your birthday gifts he gave you was a bracelet he made with his own hands. It had your favourite colors and it was so pretty and carefully thought of that you almost didn't believe him at first when he told you he made it himself.

Well, that and the fact that your boyfriend likes to joke around with you sometimes.

And besides the gifts, the dinners, he also gave you a lot of attention. He'd been going an extra mile to make you feel good and loved to the point that he almost made you cry out of sheer joy.

But Joshua was all yours. That was the biggest birthday gift you could ever ask for.

"Mm, don't get bratty, baby," he muttered gruffly into your mouth as the kisses slowly got more heated. "It might be your birthday, but I could still cuff you to the bed."

Your stomach lurched at the sound of that. It is true that you enjoyed being cuffed to the rails of the headboard of the bed, you liked to be helpless while he pleasured you to the point you're rendered breathless and teary eyed.

"Would you like that, bunny? Should I get the cuffs?" he asked playfully, his lips pressed a wet kiss on the underside of your chin, trailing down your throat.

You swallowed thickly when your skin started to prickle, causing your nipples to harden too.

When you didn't answer, he sucked on your skin quite harshly, just on the spot where your collarbones join, making you bristle under his body and your arms tighten around his shoulders.

"No, I–," you stammered. "I'll be good, Josh."

"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully, but you knew that he was having his fun teasing you like this.

Then he ran his tongue flatly on one of your nipples, just before wrapping his mouth around it, suckling at your sensitive bud, humming again but this time in satisfaction.

"Joshua," you moaned softly when your skin prickled again, and your hand shot up and found his nape, your fingers grazed his scalp, eliciting a moan from his part. "God, Josh."

He removed his mouth from your pebbled nipple with a loud smacking noise and then turned to tease your other nipple in the same manner, while his hand came up to palm your recently licked breast, smearing his drool all over your skin.

When he finished suckling your nipple, his hands bulged up your tits, pressing them together to then bury his face in them to kiss and suck your skin.

"You have the prettiest tits, baby," he hummed against your skin entrancingly, kissing the swell of each, to then sucking lovebites right beside your areolas, where no one would see except for himself.

"Josh!" you mewled when he sucked your skin so harshly, the feeling shot right between your legs, making you writhe under his body.

"All mine," he pressed soft and wet pecks on top of each hickey, looking at the reddening spots, feeling content at his work.

You smiled teasingly, the snort you made with your nose made him look up and see your smug expression.

"What?" his pierced eyebrow quirked up. "Is it not true, baby?"

"It is true," you replied and then added. "There's no need to feel possessive of me anymore, Josh. I'm yours."

His hands stopped bulging up your tits and settled on each side of your ribcage, his elbows supporting his weight still.

Looking straight to your eyes, Joshua pulled out his tongue and glided the tip on your nipple, swirling around it only to watch you part your mouth and let out a whiny moan. Then, the corners of his lips rose into a smile, while still teasing your nipple with his tongue out.

"Fuck—Josh," you pleaded, the muscles of your inner thighs clenched on both his sides.

And he felt it.

"D'you like that, bunny?" he asked, still looking directly at you as he moved his mouth to tease your other nipple with the wet tip of his tongue.

You felt your skin prickle before you saw it get bumpy all over. "Yes," you whispered.

"Would you like to feel this on your pussy?" he asked just before he used his tongue to flicker your nipple. You paid attention to the movement of his pointed tongue and imagined that on your clit.

You gulped hard and nodded eagerly.

He pushed his eyebrows up, as if waiting for your verbal response.

"Yes, please, Joshua," you replied.

"Will you stop saying nonsense and let me eat you out, then?" he asked and smiled at you playfully.

You watched him slightly agape and flinched when he grazed at the swell of your breast with his teeth, egging you to answer.

"Wh-what nonsense?" you blurted, feeling a little lost.

"I won't stop feeling possessive of you, bunny," he rolled his eyes at his own sentence. "Not until I put a ring on your finger."

"Josh!" you squealed as your stomach lurched, thighs clenching all at the same time.

"Baby!" he replied, mocking your tone of reprimand with a laugh.

"Stop saying that!" you whined.

"Why, you don't wanna marry me anymore?" he asked before he continued his trail of wet kisses on the lower part of your sternum and down your tummy.

"O-of course I do," you stuttered nervously from both the big question and the fiery tingling sensation on your lower abdomen.

"So?" he egged you on, his lips reaching your mound.

"Josh," you squirmed, watching him pout his lips to suck lightly on your very sensitive skin.

"Mm?" he pushed his eyebrows up again, his eyes trained on yours.

"You-you saying that makes me a little crazy," you confessed with an anxious stutter.

"I know," he replied before kissing your inner thighs, making you gasp pathetically. "I like it."

"Why?" you breathed out, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably when you felt his lips grazing on your inner thigh.

He shrugged ever so slightly. "I like to imagine what your reaction will be when I do it for real."

"So that's why you torture me?" you asked, trying to smile at him to make him understand that you were joking, but instead you sounded completely flustered.

He lifted his face from the apex of your thighs, a question written on his furrowed brow. "Torture you?" he repeated and then smiled. "You're the one torturing me by making me wait."

"I meant it as a joke," you explained, and pointed to your abandoned and throbbing pussy with your eyes. "Please?" you urged him to continue.

"Do you think it's a joke that I want to propose to you?" he asked teasingly, but his tone was everything but.

Before you could give and answer, he pushed his tongue flatly between your folds, making you moan with your eyes screwed shut instantly.

"Fuck—Josh!" you cried out, the tips of your fingers grazing his scalp before grabbing his hair.

"Mm?" he replied and lifted his gaze as his tongue moved up to tease your clit in the same form he did to your nipples, slowly gliding the pointed tip of his tongue around your clit.

"M-more, give me more, please," you pleaded, propping your body on your elbows to look at him, his tongue doing the same motion, swirling around your sensitive bud to then flicker the pointed tip of his tongue side to side, but slowly.

He paused, "Answer the question," he instructed, his eyes focused on your face, knowing full well that it made you a little crazy, too.

"No—I don't think it's a joke," you stammered and pushed your hips up ever so slightly towards his mouth to get more pressure of his tongue on your clit.

Joshua groaned, moving the hands that were previously parked on your thighs and forced your hips onto the mattress, making you yelp.

"Josh, come on," you whined when he continued teasing you, now his hands holding you in place by your hips.

"Mm?" he hummed.

"Faster?" you pleaded and then added innocently: "Please, Josh. It's my birthday."

That made him laugh, he stopped teasing your clit with his tongue to give out a broad smile as he chuckled with his whole body.

"Oh, bunny. You think you're so slick," his pierced eyebrow shot up briefly.

But then he moved his mouth back to your cunt, the tip of his tongue pushing your throbbing clit gently, slowly, swirling around it to watch you squirm and hear your drawn out whimpers.

"Please, Josh," you whined and clenched your jaws tight when the tip of his tongue started flicking your clit side to side again, but refraining from applying the right amount of pressure of his tongue against your throbbing clit.

"Fuck, Josh!" you gasped when the sensation was a little more over a graze on your oversensitive bud, causing your thighs to begin trembling on the sides of his face.

Joshua smiled in response, his tongue still out and teasing you. The image was lewd, he looked so fucking hot that it only added to the teasing.

"Joshua, please," you whined again and bit your lip to keep yourself from whimpering lewdly.

Though you were sure the slight teasing from his tongue on your clit could bring out an orgasm from you. And it appeared that Joshua knew it too, but was trying to draw out your climax by teasing you some more.

"I,—I'm close," you muttered with a whiny tone. "Fuck, Josh, I'm cumming."

He blinked at you slowly, almost as if saying "go ahead," and that was all you needed to come on his tongue. You threw your head back and let out a cry of pure bliss, your whole body trembling under his strong grip.

Breathy moans escaped you as your chest started to heave, but his tongue didn't relent on your cunt, flicking your clit gently but at a steady pace. The worry of waking the neighbors a long, distant thought.

"God, Josh," you sighed heavily as you came down from your high and slumped down on your pillows, thinking it was over.

But oh, you thought wrong. Joshua stopped the flicking motions of his tongue on your clit, only to give broad strokes from your entrance and up your folds, drinking in your arousal with a low moan on his part.

Your orgasm was so intense that it left your walls fluttering around nothing. You gasped when you felt the first pulse in your entrance and it appeared that Joshua felt it on his mouth too.

"Mm," he hummed softly and stopped licking between your pussy lips to then push two fingers inside your fluttering walls. "You have the prettiest pussy," he muttered softly as his long fingers massaged your warm walls.

"Mm-hmph?" you hummed mindlessly with a tiny whine when he pulled out his two middle fingers covered in your slick and glided them up your folds and pinched your swollen clit between them, making you gasp again.

"D'you like that?" he asked gruffly, his eyes trained on the features of your face as he started rubbing his fingers up and down, pinching your clit in between.

The sensation was nearly harsh and it threatened to overstim you soon, but it was also so abundantly sweet in pleasure. You writhed your hips a little bit and nodded.

"Sof-softer? Please," you stammered and bit your lip from moaning when his fingers moved your clit around in circles.

"Anything you want, baby," he muttered gently before rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers in a circle motion, softer and in a steady pace.

"God, Joshua," you sighed a moan and your eyelids fluttered close. The sensation provided by his two middle fingers on your clit was mind-numbing, you felt the pleasure from it everywhere; on your face, between your legs.

"Mm?" you heard him hum.

"Keep going, please," you whined. "Faster."

You heard a sigh and opened your eyes to see him smiling adoringly at you.

But the motion on his fingers picked up some speed, making your thighs clench and begin to shake a little as you felt your body nearing another sweet release. Your body tensed up as well instinctively, as if trying to recoil away from the pleasure it felt.

"Breathe," you heard your boyfriend remind you softly and you slowly took in a breath.

And just when you breathed out, you let out a long moan in pleasure, coming undone on his fingers, his mouth kissing your inner thighs, grazing your skin with his teeth as you came harder than before, chanting his name over and over until you gasped for air.

Panting and shaking, you opened your eyes and found your boyfriend still pressing kisses on your thighs, your mound and lower tummy before he took his fingers covered in your arousal to his mouth to lick his fingers clean.

Your inner thighs were smeared with your arousal, as you would soon find out when you came down from your high. So wet that in fact you could feel the bed sheets were wet beneath your butt too.

You smiled to yourself and propped your body on your elbows again, his eyes lifted to lock with yours.

You ran your fingers through his hair. "You do know I want to marry you, right?" you asked him, still feeling a bit breathless.

Joshua smiled before moving his lips slick in your arousal to kiss your inner thigh. "Mm, not to sure, should I get the ring right now?"

Your stomach lurched yet again, making your body jump on the bed slightly. "Y-you don't have a ring yet, right? Do you?"

"I don't know," he muttered before grazing your inner thigh with his teeth. "I might."

You rolled your eyes. "Joshua, be serious," you sounded a bit nervous.

"So you wouldn't say yes right now?" he asked and a small smirk appeared on his lips when he saw your dismayed expression. "Relax, baby," he muttered in an eased manner. "I'm just teasing you a bit."

"Oh m'god," you sighed and slumped back in your pillows.

"Are you ready to sleep, baby?" he asked as he grabbed your pyjama bottoms and panties.

"Yeah, I think I am," you sighed, blissfully tired and looked at your boyfriend. He held your panties for you to hook your ankles and lifted your hips as he helped you put your pyjamas on.

You both knew you were perfectly fine to do it yourself. But lately Joshua had been doting on you so much that you didn't question him as he did the same with your pyjama bottoms and when you sat up for him to put your top on.

He smiled cutely at you when your hair got ruffled as he put your top on and pressed a loving kiss on your forehead.

"Done," he patted your thigh affectionately and pointed to the door behind him. "Bathroom."

You groaned. "I don't want to," you whined, sitting up in the bed.

"Go baby," he laughed. "I need to change the sheets."

You were reminded then of the small wet stain below your body. "Oh, right."

"Do you want me to carry you there?" he asked softly, seeing that your thighs were still shaking a bit.

"No, I'm fine," you replied, scooting to the edge of the bed and hurried to the bathroom.

Your boyfriend had this routine of sorts, which consisted in taking care of your needs after he dommed you. He'd usually run a warm shower and inspect your wrists for any damage done, he'd cuddle you and ask you questions about your wellbeing.

But in this case, since you had already showered, and there was no bondage, no impact play, no need for the routine. Except for ensuring you'd go pee, of course. After you cleaned yourself up, you came back to your bedroom.

Joshua was finishing making the bed, the ruined sheets were on one corner of the bedroom floor. Your first instinct was to pick them up and immediately put them on the washing machine and program the cycle for the following morning.

"Leave that," Joshua said, spotting your intentions right on. "Get in here."

He nodded back to the bed and you lied down yet again as he climbed beside your body.

"Do you need anything, bunny?" he asked. "I can bring you water, or food if you're hungry."

You shook your head and he opened his arms for you to scoot right over to be wrapped in a warm hug. "I'm good, thank you Josh."

He cuddled your body under the covers, using his body's position behind you to kiss your nape and your hair.

"I'm so lucky to have you, baby," he mumbled against your ear, bringing a hand to run his fingers through your hair, gently and carefully.

"I'm lucky too," you whispered, grabbing the hand that was below your body to kiss his knuckles.

You heard him smile behind you, still running his fingers through your hair, the rhythmic motion slowly driving you to sleep, eyelids falling heavier by the second.

"I love you, bunny," he whispered.

"I love you too, Josh," you replied, feeling your heart beating at every word.

"Feels like you were made for me," he murmured.

You hummed softly in response, your heart fluttering erratically in your chest. "I am," you muttered, mustering up some boldness.

"Are you, bunny? Made for me?" he sighed running a hand from your shoulder and down your arm, caressing you gently.

"Yeah," you breathed. "With or without a ring."

He paused, but his hand didn't stop caressing your arm. "You know I'm not as possessive as before," he told you thoughtfully.

"I know," you conceded after some thought.

"The least I want you to think is that I want to own you or something like that by marrying you," he continued, and you could tell from his tone that he was falling asleep too, even if his hand was still stroking your arm.

"Josh," you muttered sweetly with a small laugh. "I don't think that!"

"I just want to make you happy. Give you the whole world," he whispered.

"You already make me happy, Josh," you muttered and pressed your body back against his. "You made me the happiest tonight."

"Mm, then I've still yet to give you the world," he muttered after some seconds.

You laughed and turned only to press a happy kiss to his smiling lips. "Baby steps, Mr. Hong."

He nodded in agreement. "Baby steps, Ms. Hong."

✮ a/n: so this is the first time i get a request (if it was indeed a request lol) but lemme know, do you like this? should i accept more requests?

so where exactly does this fall in the city lights timeline?

→ this will happen after the events of episode 8, which i hope i can post soon. i know i could've written something outside of the city lights canon, but i want everything i write and post to be within the same universe and what can i say, i got carried away

let me know what you think! likes, reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated! my ask box is always open!

now, i need to go back to writing guilty pleasures pt. 2!!!

i love youuuu ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა ♡

toodles

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[marnikula]

Can u do early seasons spencer x reader who has a lot of problems and they let people walk all over them and they dont set boundaries and they struggle with their emotions. Reader likes spencer a lot but doesn't seek him out bc they feel like he deserves better! And u can decide what happens but make it happy ending :)

Oh my word, I literally spent like 2 hours writing this because I wrote something and then my internet cut out when I posted and now it's lost, so I had to rewrite it. Hope you enjoy!

Cw: gn reader, people dumping work on reader, Spencer being cute

Enjoy!

You were a doormat. You knew it, your friends knew it, everyone knew it. You tried to set boundaries, to say no, but it never seemed to stick. Saying no made you feel guilty, it made you feel like a bad person even though you knew you weren't.

Being a doormat, people tended to walk all over you, requesting ridiculous things of you. That is how it came to be that you were sitting alone in the bullpen, the clock ticking away, showing you that it was around midnight and you still had a whole stack of papers to go through. You felt yourself about to fall asleep, and truly, you were too tired to fight it off when a ding signaled the arrival of someone.

Without even turning to look who it was you knew it was Spencer Reid. You recognized his footsteps, and even if you didn't, the smell he brought with him would have alerted you. It was the smell of coffee mixed sweet undertones, almost as if he had spent his whole day in a café. It was intoxicating. "What are you still doing here?" "Working, I have a lot of stuff to finish before tomorrow" "you mean today" looking back at the clock you could see he was right, it was now officially the next day.

"Do you need some help?" without even waiting for you to decline Spencer took half of the pile you were working on. He moved fast, knowing you well enough to know that you hated asking for help, especially from him, he just could never figure out why.

"Spencer, you really don't need to, I've got this" reaching your hands to take the files back only to be swatted away by the doctor was something you did not expect. "I'm not saying you don't have it, I'm just going to help you so you can go home earlier"

Sighing you admitted defeat and went to go make coffee for the two of you. With Spencer's help you managed to make it through the massive stack of papers on your desk in less that an hour, something you would never have been able to do on your own.

"You, doctor Spencer Reid, are amazing, what can I do to thank you?" it was a slight tease on your part. You didn't expect him to ask you anything return, it wasn't like him, he was too nice . That was one of the things you loved about him, and one of the reasons you willed the crush growing in your heart to shrivel up and die. He deserved so much better than you. Someone with a mind as amazing as his own, someone with kindness rivaling his and someone who knew how to say no. You were none of those. At least not in your own eyes.

"You could go on a date with me" Spencer surprised himself with those words, he really hadn't meant to say them out loud, but he really liked you, and in a moment of confidence inspired by sleep deprevation, he decided to take a chance.

"Really? You mean it?" the both of you were blushing hard at this point, him thinking about how he could have possibly screwed this up and you thinking about how this could possibly get any better.

"I-I mean, only if you want to, you really don't have to feel pressured, I know I said I would take it as paiment, but honestly spending time with you was enough of a payme-" grabbing his face in your hands you turned him to look at you, shutting off his ramblings with the movement and shutting off his brain with your words

"I would love to"

[herefortheships]

Why do you think he fell in love with Lydia? see, it's much stronger than it was for Dolores, I'm not going to ask when because it would be complicated Bj and Lydia have such opposite personalities

Love this question! And to be honest, ever since I watched BJBJ I've been wondering about this. Because, to me, at least when I first watched the movie, I got to the conclusion that he must have fallen in love with her over the years; that he never had any true romantic inclinations towards Lydia in the first movie. So I had to wonder, what changed?

This answer got long... So I'll put a little summary, Tl;Dr answer here: I think there's an in-canon reason he fell for her and a meta reason why Tim Burton and co decided to make Betelgeuse be in love with Lydia in canon. The in-canon reason: Opposites attract. She is exactly his type: a dark, mysterious beauty. Plus her calm demeanor suits his unhinged nature. Their energies play nicely off each other, completing and balancing each other in a way no one else could, whether Lydia realizes it now or not. Lydia also never seemed to mind ugly, scary, dark things, and Betelgeuse is kind of all of that. At some point he grew fond of her and started needing this sweet, dark beauty in his (after)life. The meta reason: Lydia and Betelgeuse are a favorite "Burton Couple", almost right there with Jack and Sally, at least to a LOT of people.

Now to the long answer, because I totally always write a lot (below the read more cut bc this one got pretty long):

I think to properly answer why he fell in love with her, I do need to get into the when. And this is where I might have to put a "trigger warning" just in case, since I will touch upon how he felt towards Lydia in the first movie, when she was a teenager. Anyone uncomfortable with that needs to click away now. We're going to analyze this with the context and nuance of Betelgeuse's backstory. Context and nuance tend to be overlooked a LOT when the purity factions of fandom want to impose moral superiority upon other members of the fandom, so maybe placing the "trigger warning" may not be enough, but, anyway, you've been warned about the topics of this post.

The context and nuance: Betelgeuse, when alive, lived in the time of the bubonic plague, this means he was alive during the 1300s, presumably in Italy. At that time, marrying a 15-16 year old was socially acceptable and normal. Heck, even younger than that (as unacceptable as that seems to us today in our modern times). So it wasn't that strange as it is today. The reason is that people often didn't get to live past 30. The average, oldest age of death around the time was 60 years old. It was also common for men of the time (and where Betelgeuse lived in Italy, and Europe, as I’m reading in these articles) to marry much later than women, as in it was common for men in their 30s and 40s to marry a 14 year old (which I believe is even younger than Lydia was in that movie, not sure). All of that is in that article. That depends entirely on social ranking though; if he was lower class often people married for convenience and I'm not sure but I think age wasn't a factor to consider when people were struggling. In Europe even in the 1800s you'd see age gaps in marriages. //Edit: and America! For some reason my brain when I wrote this at midnight thought Poe was European 💀.// Edgar Allan Poe married a 13 year old when he was 27, for example (which I totally find super weird, personally, but at their time it wasn't a super weird thing as it is today, as far as I've read; it was also normal to marry a cousin around that time in the upper class and upper middle class, or so I've seen). Was Tim Burton aware? Who knows. But at least I'm putting this out there as the context why it isn't weird for Betelgeuse the character to see a teenager as someone of marrying age. We also know he didn't want to marry her in the first movie because he was in love with her; she was a means to an end, more than anything, regardless of any interest he had in her due to her looks etc.

Ok, so now that that's out of the way we can keep talking. Even though I joined the Beetlebabes fandom only after the second movie, and shipping these two characters never once crossed my mind throughout the years of me watching the first movie, after some thought and after rewatching the movie with the knowledge of where the story goes after the events of that movie, I can definitely see that Betelgeuse became interested in Lydia ever since the first movie, and also why he's head over heels for her in the present.

Even though I still think he fell in love over the years after the events of the first movie, I think he became smitten with her since the first movie. Here's why he fell for her: For starters, she is a dark and mysterious beauty, and that seems to be his type (look at Delores, also a dark beauty). We can actually see the moment he first shows interest in her in the first movie, when he saw her while in his snake form. She was the only one he did not hurt. He only stared at her, almost like he was taken aback by her. When Barbara banishes him back to the model, we have that little moment when he mentions he feels the only one he can make a deal with in that house is "Edgar Allan Poe's daughter", meaning Lydia. And we have the little horny joke, so if you wanna throw that one in there as evidence he became interested in her here, then sure you can. As this happens directly after he's seen Lydia face to face... Rember the context above before you want to call him a pdfler or something... please. He is Not.

Then later when she meets him in his real form, she doesn't seem startled or scared that she's in the presence of a demon/ghost. In fact, she just simply asks him "are you a ghost, too?" and that's when he starts making some conversation. He realizes she can see him and communicate with him. You can tell at this point he is intrigued by her. She is the only one he's shown a sort of sensitivity to in the entire movie. He asks her "why?" when she says she wants to go in to the after life (essentially, that she wants to di e). He doesn't try anything naughty with her; instead, next time he sees her when she asks for his help, he proposes the marriage.

Now, at the time I don't think he loved her or even cared much about her; at this time he just wanted out and here was an eligible woman, who was not only beautiful and available, she could also see him and needed his help, which he used as his way to try to get out of the afterlife. I think once they got rid of him, and he realized he could still connect with her over the years, his interest in her grew and he started really growing fond of her until inevitably he fell in love.

Lydia is physically his type, but there's also a calmness to her that plays against his unpredictable, unhinged personality. She's someone who can balance him, and he's someone she could hold on to; there's an energy in him that she can use. Of course Lydia doesn't yet see how she'd be compatible with someone like him, but from an outsider's perspective, they really compliment each other's personalities. She's calm and quiet; he's crazy and loud. She's reserved; he's outgoing. She's a dark cloud; he's high-energy, like sunshine. Etc. Opposites attract. 💚

Now finally, the meta reason: Lydia and Betelgeuse seem to be a favorite "Burton couple" not only to Tim Burton himself (and the cast of the movie themselves!) but also to a great number of people. There's people who grew up watching the Beetlejuice cartoon series and didn't even watch the first movie, who for years had the idea that these two characters actually adore each other. There were people who were going in to watch this movie with that context only. And there were even people who were going to watch the sequel as their introduction to Beetlejuice (like my mom's best friend, for example! She loved the sequel but has NEVER watched the first movie nor the cartoon. She also wanted Betelgeuse and Lydia to end up together after watching this one, by the way). From a meta perspective, Lydia and Betelgeuse are just a fan favorite couple and an inseparable pair. So partly the choice to make it canon that at least he is absolutely in love with her comes from this expectation that many people had for these two characters. It just feels natural; they're just an iconic Burton pair.

[lainiespicewrites]

I just want to feel safe - Walter Marshall fanfic. Part 1?

Okay. Preface. This story has mentions of sexual assault. This is a personal story. But I've changed a lot of the names and some of the actual story to fit the fic. I think that I've decided this is going to be a series. It's taken a lot out of me writing this but. I really love Walter and I can see this relationship growing into something more than what is here. I also think that from a healing standpoint, I'm gonna write the story I never gave myself the chance to have. Anyway. That's enough from me. I'll let you guys read the story now. I know this is a heavy topic and situation but I'm still always open to comments and feedback. Thank you guys for the support in posting this <3

Plot: OFC reports assault after 2 years and Detective Walter Marshall is assigned to her case. He will stop at nothing to help her feel safe again.

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of sexual assault (retelling the story of what happened.)

Unbeta'd Mistakes are totally my own and I own that. This might be a mess because honestly I was super emotional writing this but it felt good to get it all down.

Please don't share without crediting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m not sure what I expected a police station to be like. Frankly I’d never really imagined myself in one. Kind of funny how things can change like that. All of a sudden you’re doing things you’d never imagine. That’s how I ended up here. In this strangely familiar looking police station. I guess maybe that’s the one thing movies and Tv got right. Police stations for the most part look exactly the same. This whole night started from a list of  “Fuck it why not’s” that spiraled out of control. But that explanation alone was not enough to help the officer help me. I looked back at the petite woman in front of me. I’m sure she was a good police officer. I wasn't trying to doubt her skill. But her overly sympathetic nature and deer in the headlights look on her face was making me feel worse. 

“I know this is hard.” She spoke softly, placing her hand over mine on the table. She didn’t know. She had no idea what this was like. Being attacked like this. Letting yourself become vulnerable because ‘why not’ I’d known those boys my entire life. When my brother invited me out for drinks with his friends, I didn’t have a reason not to trust them. Not to trust… him. My brother didn’t know. He couldn’t have known. He was betrayed too. “But I need you to tell me what you remember, what happened to you, so we can help you.” I looked around again At the empty gray walls. Out the window into the dark cloudy night sky. It must be almost midnight now. Anywhere but at the woman in front of me. What did she say her name was? Rachel? I focused on the empty desk chair behind her when I finally spoke. 

“It doesn’t matter. I remember all of it. Every detail. But we have no case.” I muttered I looked down playing with my hands again. 

“Alayna,” She said my name softly. I met her eyes again for the first time since we sat at her desk. “You don’t know that. You did the right thing coming here and reporting it. I need you to talk to me.” She pleaded with me. She didn’t understand. 

“No,” I said again. “I do know.” 

“How do you know we can’t help you?” She asked her eyes boring into mine. I know she wants to help. I know that but I just don’t see how they  can. not after it’s been so long. 

“There’s no evidence.” I said. 

“Sweetheart, with all due respect you aren’t a police officer we may be able to find something you wouldn’t think to look…”

“It was two years ago.” Rachel paused then. She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. 

“2 years ago?” she repeated. I nodded. She let out a soft sigh. “Sweetie, Why did you wait so long to tell somebody?” She asked. This felt more manageable. This I at least knew the answer for. It was logical. It made sense. Well it doesn’t really make much sense but when you’re bargaining with yourself it does. 

“I didn’t think it would matter. I’m still not sure it does.” I said. I swallowed hard. Now or never Alayna. You didn’t walk 3 miles to the police station, in the cold, after a panic attack to not give yourself some kind of peace. I let out a long breath and started again but then the door of the squadroom opened. A tall figure walked in. I couldn’t make out much of him at first. Just that he was very tall, 6,1 or something and had a full beard. He was wearing a heavy winter coat and beanie. I tensed a little when  I watched him walk from the entrance to the desk next to Rachel’s. He shrugged off his coat revealing a thick gray sweater. He draped his coat over his chair and pulled off his beanie. His hair was a mess of dark curls. As soft and cozy as he should have looked…Something still felt intimidating about him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t spoken a word since he’d walked in the room. None of us had actually. 

“Alayna,” Rachel said my name, getting my attention and finally breaking the silence. “This is detective Walter Marshall. He’s going to be working on your case.” That’s right. When I came in to report, the officer on duty at the station had to attend to a call. When I told them I wanted to report an assault, they told me that they’re psychiatrist was still in the office.  I  could talk to her until one of the detectives was available. I think they were afraid if they told me to come back later… I wouldn’t. They were probably right. Although I’m not quite sure if it would be because I’d lost my nerve or dying of hypothermia on the walk home.  Rachel wasn’t even a detective. Was I really that out of it? Why didn’t I remember that until now?

“Okay,” was all I managed to say. 

“I can stay,” she said. I'm not sure if it was for me or the detective. Maybe both. “If you’re more comfortable. If it’s easier for you. Ya know?” she asked. I shook my head and I watched as the detective…Walter, put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Go home, it's been a long day,” he told her. His voice was deep but he spoke softly. And surprisingly he had an English accent. “We’ll manage,”  his eyes were tired and heavy when they met mine. He offered a gentle smile. I nodded. 

“You’re sure?” She asked. 

“I don’t want to keep you Rachel. I can talk to the detective.” I said. She nodded. 

“Okay, wait right here, just a moment while I catch him up okay? And then you two will get started.”  I gave her a slight nod and just stared out the window again. Rachel and the detective went off into a side office somewhere to discuss what I’d already mentioned. This was sure to be quick now. As soon as she tells him how long it’s been, he’ll dismiss me. This was so stupid. I’d kept this to myself for this long. I knew this was a bad idea. Just as I had convinced myself to get up and leave the office door opened again. 

“Thank you,” Walter’s voice said from across the room. “Get home safe.” he told Rachel as she waved goodbye. I gave her a small wave. I sat back in the chair trying to relax. But I knew I couldn’t. He came back over to the desk leaning his hip against it, crossing one foot over the other. “Are you comfortable out here or would you like to talk in my office?” He asked. “There aren’t too many people still around this late but, it would offer a bit more privacy than the open squadroom. It’s up to you.” He stated. I thought about it for a moment. Finally, I  pulled my eyes from the window to look up at him. 

“I think I’d feel better with a little more privacy,” I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile. 

I stood up from my spot next to the desk.  Then he led me out of the squadroom and down the hall to a small office. There wasn’t much, just a large desk with nothing but a computer and a travel coffee mug on it. The walls were bare other than a standard wall clock. He motioned for me to take a 

seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as he shut the door behind us. He circled around to the other side of the desk, setting a file down and taking a seat across from me. 

“You’re reporting  an assault, is that right?” He asked. I nodded. 

“Yes, not a recent one. I’m sure Rachel informed you.” I said. I felt so ashamed of myself. I was wasting his time. Detective Marshall’s eyes met mine. I didn’t find the same overly sympathetic look in his eyes like I did with Rachel. He wasn’t pitying me. He wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze  me. At the same time, it wasn’t cruel or harsh. Not even annoyed. Just open. 

“She did,” he spoke after a brief pause. “But I’d like to hear the information from you myself. If that's alright with you?” He questioned. I swallowed hard. I leaned forward and folded my hands on the desk. 

“I can do that.” My voice shook when I spoke. “Will I need to write a witness statement too?” I asked him. Telling this story once was going to be hard enough. Seeing it written on paper was going to be gut wrenching. 

“Let’s just get through this conversation first. We’ll talk about the rest later, "he said. I nodded. He sat with his forearms leaning on the desk and his hands folded together. He pursed his lips into a tight small smile and nodded toward me. “Whenever you’re ready.” He stated. I swallowed hard. Of course it didn’t necessarily mean that. It was after midnight now. This guy probably wanted to get home. I had to get this out. 

“November 12th, or well 13th I guess. It was around 1:30 or 2am so the 13th. My brother, his friends and I had gone out for his birthday. It wasn’t his birthday though, we had to wait until the weekend to celebrate because it fell during the week.” I was rambling. He needed details. I need to stop rambling. “Uh anyway, We were at a bar, earlier that night on the 12th, but I got kind of tired. The boys were picking on me for being a lightweight and leaving early. I left the bar at 11, got home at like 11:15. I went right to bed. I was really tired. The boys were all gonna come back to the house when they were done at the bar. I woke up to the bedroom door bursting open at like 1 am and someone yelling my name. I screamed. It was my brother's friend. Um.” I paused for a second, starting to feel uncomfortable. Did I have to describe it exactly? What did I have to say? But Walter spoke, easing the tension a bit. 

“And what’s his name?” He asked me. 

“His name is Justin, uh Justin Veach.” I responded. Walter nodded for me to continue as he wrote a note in his folder. He put the pen down and looked up at me again letting me know he was listening. 

“Uh He said, ‘It’s okay! Don’t freak out, it's just me! We’re back, come hang out with us!’ Then he came over to my bed and kissed my face which was weird but he was an affectionate guy and well they were still drunk. I didn’t think much of it. He’d known me since I was a baby. He and my brother had been best friends since kindergarten. They were ten years older than me and he watched me grow up.” I shuttered a little thinking about it. “Um so after that he left. After telling me to come down stairs to talk with them again. And I did. We sat in the kitchen. I just sat there sleepy and confused. The boys were talking and eating drunk snacks or whatever,” I kind of chuckled a little. “It was nice. But we were talking about how it’s so funny that I’m old enough to go drink with them now. And Justin kept making these comments about remembering when I was born and that I was such a beautiful baby. It seemed so weird. But looking back. He knew. He knew what he was planning on doing…. We all said we were gonna go to bed. Blake, my brother, told Justin he could sleep on the couch or they could share his bed or whatever. But Justin was coming up the stairs with us and he said ‘I wanna cuddle’ to me, and he was still drunk and I thought he was joking so I laughed it off and said ‘yeah sure’ I let him lay in my bed. But I put myself on the inside. I thought he was just gonna lay there a minute and like it would be a joke. Blake did too. He asked if I was okay before he went to his room. Because he was still kinda drunk and ready to crash. I said. I was. But Justin didn’t just lay  there. He took off his pants before he got into the bed so he was just in boxers and his shirt. And,”

 I was shaking. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was gonna cry. I didn’t know this man. He was surely annoyed by me and. God he probably thought I was lying. That’s what Justin would tell him. When he confronts him. That I’m lying. Or maybe that's what I wanted. This was so stupid  I shouldn’t have come here. I swallowed hard again. I looked back up at walter. I could feel the tears in my eyes. 

“Take your time.” He said softly. “Is this when he hurt you?” He asked.

“I can’t,” my voice was trembling now. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, I can’t do this.” I sobbed. I stood up to leave his office. Walter stood and walked to the other side of the desk gently reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, I know that. I wasted your time detective. I’m so sorry.”

“Hold on,” Walter’s voice was low. “Sit back down, and breathe for a moment. If anything else I can’t let you walk out of here and drive home in this state.” I looked at his face. He was concerned. Worried about me. About my safety. I sat back down in the chair. I took a deep breath trying to compose myself again. But I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “It’s okay, You’re safe in here. I’m going to do everything I can to help you Alayna.” Detective Marshall said, crouching down in front of me to meet my eyes again. I nodded. “Do you think you can keep going?” he asked. I nodded again. He stood and leaned on the edge of his desk. His proximity seemed to help keep my calm. I don’t know what was so different between him and talking with Rachel. But when he said he could help, I believed him. Maybe it was the sheer size of this man. Or the gun on his hip. Or maybe there was something in his aura or some other bullshit I didn’t understand that was protective and made me trust him. Fuck maybe I’d gone to far to turn back now and I was too emotionally exhausted not to lean on anyone who would listen. Whatever it was, I continued. 

“At first I was just laying next to him. Like I was saying, I thought it was a joke. But he wrapped his arm around me to make me cuddle him.. I guess. He started rubbing my back. I froze up. I started to recognize that his hand was lingering where it shouldn’t but I couldn’t say anything. And this guy he’s .. he’s huge. I mean like 6 foot and like 400 lbs when he rolled over on to me and started touching me I felt paralyzed I couldn’t move but… I couldn’t have pushed him off if I’d tried. I just felt hopeless. That’s when everything happened.” I sniffled softly. I hiccuuped catching my breath. “It was like I was outside of myself watching it all happen…I .. I don’t know if that makes sense? But I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was lay there. I don’t remember if I said no. But,

“You didn’t consent. That’s no. This was not your fault. You’ve already tried to blame yourself. It’s a really common thing, unfortunately, that you can’t react. But that doesn’t mean that you let it happen. Or that you wanted it to happen.”  Walter said softly. I nodded at the ground. 

“Afterward he, he fell asleep and I showered, I had to get rid of the feeling of him. I slept on the couch, Well I tried to. The next morning he was came down and sat with  all of us like nothing had happened. I had mentioned that my back had hurt the night before. And he moved closer to me and rubbed it for me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t react…again. I just. I don’t know. All I could think was, I didn’t wanna start anything. But I also couldn’t make sense of what happened. When he left I changed the sheets. I threw them away actually. My clothes were washed. But eventually I couldn’t look at them anymore. I threw them away too.”

“Why do you think it took you so long to say anything?” Walter asked me. 

“I wasn’t even sure it happened. I wasn’t sure I could call it what it was. I mean he was drunk, I just… Just laid there. It took me over a week to tell my best friend. But It took almost 4 months after talking it out with her and one of my other friends for me to face it and call it what it was. But I still can’t say it.”

“And why are you here now? What made you report it?” He raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath. This has been eating at me so long but. This month. This 2 year “anniversary.” If you could call it that. Has been terrorizing me. 

“It’s all I could think about the last couple of weeks. I started having nightmares. Seeing him in my dreams. Before when I dreamt about it, I always got away. Someone always stopped him. But now. Now I’m trapped all overagain. It happened in my childhood home. In the room I grew up in. I’ve moved out since then. I live alone. He doesn’t even live in that town anymore. He lives 3 hours away from me. The chances that I’ll run into him are slim. And I don’t have any 

reminders of it anymore. But Sometimes if I wake up and I’m laying next to the wall it sends me into a panic. If I see someone with a similar body type or with a similar voice it shut down. He’s over a 100 miles away. But I don’t feel safe. I’m losing my mind! I’m getting up to check the lock on the door like 10 times before I can go to sleep. What if he just walks in like he did then. He doesn’t even know where I live. But I’ve never confronted him. And he has a wife! And Kids. He did when he did this to me. I can’t get over that. She needs to know but … I don’t, I don’t know what to do! That’s why I’m here, I had another panic attack, I didn’t trust myself to drive. So I walked. ” I was in tears again. He must think I’m so weak. So stupid. What an idiotic thing to do. 

“I understand, and first I want to say, I’m sorry that you went had to experience that. It’s a good you were able to tell your friends, but you were seemingly dealing with this alone for a long time. I’m sure that’s taken a toll on you. The next thing I need to ask you, is what you want to do now that you’ve told me.” I took in his words. He was right. This has been so heavy. And I’ve carried it alone for so long. But now that I’m here I never thought there would be options. 

“What can we even do? It’s been so long?” I asked. 

“Not too long though, if you want to press charges, and see him convited for this, that’s still on the table. If that’s what you want to do then yes, I do need you to write a witness statement. There will be a lot of other legal things that need to be done and signed. Then we can start an investigation. I know you think there isn’t anything here. But well do you trust me?” He asked. Did I? I didn’t know him. But Rachel seemed to. And he had his own office. That must mean he’s some high status detective right? And there was just something about him. Why did he feel so safe. It wasn’t the gun. It was. It was him. I did trust him. 

“I do,” I spoke finally. 

“I’ve put people away, on much less than what you’ve given me tonight.” He said. That felt good. To know he could lose everything. Like he made me lose my sense of security. But then my stomach dropped. 

“W-would I have to see him?” I asked meekly. 

“In court yes, possibly in a line up. But definitely in court. We would need your testimoney,”

“I- I don’t know if I can do that, I don’t know if I can face him.” I shook again. 

“There will be officers in the court. You won’t be near him. He won’t be able to get to you.” 

“Will you be there?” I asked suddenly. 

“If you’d like, yes, I can be there.” He said giving me a soft smile. 

“Can I think about it?” I asked meeting his eyes again. 

“Of course,” He stood and walked back to the other side of his desk. “It’s been a long night emotionally for you, if you’re ready tomorrow to make a decision you can come back in the morning.” He said typing a something quickly on his computer. “If you’ll wait just a few minutes I can gladly give you a ride home. It’s far too cold for you to walk, even it’s a block away.” He offered. I nodded. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s, well its actually 3 miles.” I stated biting my lip awkwardly. He let out a soft chuckle and smiled. 

“Well, I surely can’t let you walk that far this late. I’ll get you home safe.” He said. He finished typing whatever it was he was doing on his computer. Then he locked the file in his desk. He stood and gestured for me to lead out of the office. He turned the light off and locked it behind him. Oh God I’d kept him after his shift. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you,” 

“Oh, no don’t appologize, this is common practice for me. This is honestly the earliest I’ve left in weeks.” He said as we walked back to the squadroom. He grabbed his coat from the desk chair. “Do you have everything?” He asked. I nodded. 

He led us out of the station and to his truck in the parking lot. Once we were settled in, I gave him my address so he could drive me home. I watched out the window as he drove down the familiar streets. The drive was silent. The closer we got the more I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Back home. Back home to be alone again. I was so scared. What if he knew where I lived. I didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t long before the detective was pulling up in front of my building. 

“Thank you,” I spoke breaking the silence for the first time since we’d left the police station. 

“Of course,” He reached into his pocket pulling out a business card. “Take the night and decide what you’d like to do.” He said and then handed me the card. “That’s my cellphone number. If there’s anything else you need call…”

“Would you come in?” I cringed the second the words left my mouth. 

“I, I can search the place, If you’d like. If it would make you more comfortable.” He offered. 

“I mean, could you…” I can’t believe I was asking this, “Stay?��� the word came out barely above a whisper. I sighed. I turned toward the window squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m sorry that was stupid, You probably have a wife, and a family to get home to. That was so inconsiderate. I just. I was afraid and I… I’ll just go.” I opened the door. 

“You don’t feel safe, do you?” He asked. I paused and shook my head. I didn’t. I hadn’t for weeks. But I couldn’t ask this guy to give up his time for me. 

“I don’t but, It’s okay. It’s just that there’s only one deadbolt lock on the door. And I don’t know sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. And I can’t seem to get any sleep. But that’s not up to you. I have to figure this out. You’ve done so much to help me already detective.” I rambled. Walter let out a long breath. 

“You’ve got a lot on your mind right now and a lot to consider.” He said. “I’m sure the lack of sleep isn’t helping at all, You could use a good nights rest.”  He stated. 

“But it’s not you’re responsibility and I don’t want to take you away from your family.” I said. 

“I, well I live alone actually.” He bit his lip awkwardly “Why don’t you stay with me for the night? I’ve got some work to catch up on anyway. I probably won’t be getting much sleep. You wouldnt’t be putting me out.”

“Are you sure?” I asked raising an eyebrow. I’d given this poor guy enough trouble. And he was being so kind. Walter nodded. Honestly. The way I was feeling I didn’t have the energy to consider it any longer. I shut the door and walter put the truck in drive. 

It was almost 2 am when we walked into his house. 

“I can just sleep on the couch I, I really don’t want to be any trouble.” 

“You aren’t,” He assured me. “And please, you can sleep in the bedroom, I rarely sleep there anyway. It’d be nice to know someones getting use out of it.” He smiled. I nodded and he showed me to the room and left me to get comfortable. He said he’d be down stairs likely working in his office if I needed anything. I took in the room everything seemed to be a dark navy color the comforter, the curtains the sheets. I chuckled to myself. That made sense for him. 

I slipped off my shoes and slid under the covers. This should feel strange. And it did. But I was safe. And I hadn’t felt that way in a while. I let that feeling take over as I tried to fall asleep. But my mind started to wander again. What if he found out I reported it. What would happen. Or What would he do when they arrested him. What would he say about me. Would he say I wanted it. Tell them I didn’t push them away. Try to convince them that I was lying somehow? He was good at that. And he had a friend from college that was a lawyer. Surely he already had a story. Maybe he’d been prepared since it had happened. I started to shake again. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t hear the footsteps up the stairs. I didn’t see him come in. I didn’t even realize that I’d started  to cry again until I noticed he was next to me saying my name. 

“Alayna. Alayna. It’s okay. You’re okay. Take a deep breath.” He soothed.

“I can’t, I can’t… what if he tries to come after me. What if.. What if he tells them… what if tries to tell them I wanted him to…I don’t think I can do this.” I sobbed. Walter wrapped an arm around my shoulder. 

“He can’t get to you. We’ll be sure of that. All that matters, is that you’ve told us the truth. As long as you have, and as long as you confirm that in court. No matter what he says or what anyone believes, it won’t matter. I want to help you. I want you to feel safe again. I think the only way we can do that. Is to put this guy away. I’m not gonna stop until we do. I won’t let him hurt you again.”  He said.  Pulling me closer to him. 

“Do you have a sister?” I asked after a brief pause sniffling softly. 

“No,” He shook his head and leaning back against the headboard letting me rest my head against his shoulder. “But I have a daughter.” He said. 

“Is that why you do what you do?” I asked. He smiled. But he was quite for a moment. 

“Not at first. When I was younger and I first started out, it was just something that I liked. Something I was good at. But when my exwife and I had our daughter, a lot of that changed. It became personal. To an unhealthy point honestly.” He chuckled at himself. “I guess to my own detriment.”

“Is that why you’re still working even though you clocked out hours ago? You could use some good sleep too detective.” I stated. Starting to relax. 

“I haven’t slept well in ages,” He said. “Focusing on the job, oddly enough, keeps my mind off everything else. There are some horrible people in this world. I don’t have to explain that to you. I get so in my own head about how, it could be her. If I spend anymore time considering the what ifs I’d keep her locked in a tower,” He chuckled. 

“I understand that. But surely, If she was raised by you, she’s a smart girl. But.. well I guess,” I sighed. “Nevermind.” Walter squeezed my shoulder softly. 

“Thank you, I know what you mean.” He smiled sympathetically. 

“I’m going to do it.” I said suddenly. “Press charges, I mean. You’re right. Knowing can still get to me. Knowing he’s out there. That’s what’s causing me all this stress and …I can’t keep going on like this.” I stated. 

“I can take you back to the station tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Walter?” I asked nervously biting my lip. 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you stay here? I don’t know what it is I just feel.. Safer when you’re here.” I blushed softly. Walter adjusted so that he was lying on the bed. I moved and laid my head on the pillow. 

“Get some sleep darling. I’ll be right here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay that was part one❤️ let me know how you’re feeling about this guys!

Tag list: @summersong69 @carrie80reads @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood @gummydummy19 @deandoesthingstome @shellyshellshell @mary-ann84 @starfirewildheart @foxyjwls007 @alwayzmsbehavn @toooldforobsessions@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @henryownsme @identity2212

Part 2:

[s0lar-ch3ri]

weird pine trees in my minds forest

(it is just vyncent being gay, based off a ghost knife post i made which i shall link at home) (edit heres the link i forgot to add for so so long)

Aren't emotions weird? Vyncent knew they were. They seemed to change over time as he looked at Will. He didn't want to stop looking at him, which...that wasn't "normal", right? Will was great, wonderful even. He was awesome enough that he felt his own body twist his stomach and his face get warm. His legs even feel slightly wobbly if he's close, but he can say that doesn't happen.

He was also very pretty, Vyncent wasn't scared to say it (to anybody but Will, for some reason), his friend was quite nice. Will normally had fluffy black hair that reached his shoulders, but right now he had tied up in the back with parts sticking out the side, also was a bit flatter from Will forgetting to wash it. There was some white strands in his bangs and in the back some more blue curls. His face held a couple of pimples (if Vyncent remembers the word correctly) and the under eyes had deep eyebags. His pants were some black bagged sweats that reached upto his red sneakers. He normally also had on his regular graphic text t-shirt, but this time had sleeveless grey v-neck with a skull and crossbones on it, hoodie around his hips. His hands had midnight blue nails (Dakota managed to do them sometime before) that were barely visible with how dark his hands at the tips were. On the right he had a skeleton fingerless glove and on the other some bracelets and some skull ring he felt like was from Fauna. His eyes were a bright blue, almost glowing, very piercing, but Vyncent liked the way they saw into his.

"VYNCE BE-"

Right, dancing. That's what Vyncent was doing with him. Despite the tail, Vyncent was a horrible dancer without any balance. He figured he could learn from Will, even if he's never seen Will dance before. Could be half an excuse to hold his hand. Who knows, Vyncent won't tell.

Will was definitely stronger then Vyn was remembering, catching his arm and pulling him back up and sending a shiver down Vyncent's spine.

"Are you feeling good Vynce? You- Oh man you are so red, did you get sick again?" Will started laughing a bit.

"I'm feeling fine, perfect and normal, just...wanna keep trying?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll start the music back up."

Vyncent thought he knew the tune from show with gems and magic they watched once, but decided to go without comment. He's holding onto Will’s hand, and he finds his gaze going back to Will's eyes. Oh my fuck, his eyes are entrancing. He keeps stumbling around because rather then focus on his feet, though Will doesn't seem to be holding up too much better. Despite it, he keeps giggling and laughing as he looks at Vyncent, and Vyncent gets redder and starts laughing too as they fumble around their own feet.

Of course, the stumbling on Vyncent's end only ends with one way, falling forward onto Will, knocking them both to the floor. His face is just about a dagger away from Will’s. The only noise at the moment is the faint song playing. Vyncent's just looking at Will, who blinks back at him. Will just starts laughing again. Vyncent feels his heart skip beats and his tail swish and even his ears flutter slightly, turning reds he doesn't know are okay. It's hitting him all at once at just how pretty he finds William Wisp with his not-exactly-right laugh and the tremble in his lips before he speaks and the way his hands seem to grip either just too tight or just too weakly, unaware of their strength, and just every small thing he's heard someone call strange of The Wisperer.

Basically, Vyncent cannot get the thought of just how wonderful Will looks and is.

"We're really bad at this, huh?"

"I thought you'd know this a bit better..."

"Wh- Okay, *why* exactly would I know how to dance?"

"...You're awesome like that?"

"Vyncent, I can barely even use my legs right let alone- just-" He snickers about it. "Me? Dancing?"

"I'm not that observant!" Vyncent noted the way Will tapped his left pointer finger on the floor with his nail, a heart beat pattern almost. He was happy, that's good, and totally not an observant thing to pick up on.

William smirked a little bit. "Imagine if we were dancing heroes." The idea sent a visible shiver down Vyncent's back, and once again did Will start laughing, Vyncent laughing with him. Nothing was funny, it was all just stupid, yet maybe it felt so ridiculous to Vyncent for any of this. William was too pretty for focus, and he tried to get him to teach him to dance without any reason.He wouldn't have been like this before, but he didn't mind how it's changed where he's red on the floor, laughing with his best friend. Feelings are weird, so is he, and maybe it doesn't matter if Vyncent was thinking of William deeper. He can pretend it's a new normal.

[toxicanonymity]

Hey, this person has directly credited you as their ideas for their character bots

https://poe.com/pedroxo

[ Background: an account made AI bots of my fics and others to various extents. I had an anxiety attack quietly watching Tumblr melt down over this topic. When the dust settled, this post was the first and last I said about it to address continued inquiries. ]

unauthorized AI Bots of fics

Thank you everyone who kindly let me know about the >25 unauthorized bots using content from my fics.

Listen, I strongly relate to the desire to talk to these characters - I've said it before. I appreciate how invested someone must be to go to all this effort, and I appreciate the credit. But it's not right and I'm not comfortable with it. You may not realize what it feels like to the writer. It feels like a violation.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the first incident for me. Someone once made a bot of my fic 4 days after I publicly said not to in response to an ask. I didn't find out until it had almost 1k "chats" and you'll see I use that term very loosely under the cut.

I've said don't do this, and it's in my masterlist. I've even shared my anxiety about being so slow to update that people take matters into their own hands. I'm not really sure what else to say. I'm tired.

Please don't do this. And when you see chatbots built on fics, please alert the writers.

IMPORTANT The bots are down. I don't want the person to be harassed - i think that's obvious based on my tone from the start.

Beyond these, there were more bots from night walks, slasher, and stepdad, ones from Raider and Speakeasy and even a few from hypotheticals I published like when stepdad goes to jail for indecent exposure or when you aren't getting wet for raider joel.

Night Walks: Original, Soaked

Left in Lincoln pt. 1; jalbird

Slasher: Midnight Tow, Stop Playing

Stepdad: Clock, Ring Doorbell

Sorry I was too overwhelmed to do the IMG text on each of these but it's basically just snippets from the works listed.

After being contacted, the person copied and pasted a message to multiple writers saying they were sorry, didn't know what they were doing, were deactivating their acct. They asked to spread their message, and said have an amazing day/night.

------

Past Incident

IMGs: 1) I answered an ask August 16 saying no. The asker had "offered" to credit me. 2) August 20, someone made a bot without credit. This is worse imo and suggests trying to hide their actions.

I told a lot of people about this, but it was an isolated bot unlike the profile discovered 2/23.

IMG: comparison of left in lincoln text to the bot.IMG: A seven paragraph narrative bot output. Obviously failed my test if you've read the fic.

-----

ANYWAY

If you're not already on ao3, I recommend signing up. This isn't a threat to leave, but I may not put everything on Tumblr forever. My AO3 profile.

Edit: I like tumblr because I like answering lore and questions and getting thots, plus my blog is very multimedia with many awesome contributions from different people. Please help keep it that way, because your interaction is why I'm here. I value everyone's engagement here.

For many reasons, I'm less and less comfortable with Tumblr being the primary home for all my writing. I'm aware people can still take things from AO3, but not as easily. I'm trying to be nice by preemptively suggesting people sign up on AO3 if they want to read everything. If it's not worth the trouble to you, just don't do it.

----

Ty very much to those who have been supportive and checked on me. It means a lot. I will admit this made me put on a hat and cry in public lol.

feel free to rb this because idk if everyone realizes the extent of this or how jarring it can look.

[wasteddmoondust]

this dream isn't feeling sweet || harry potter

pairing: harry potter and sister!reader 1,036 words, a bit of cursing, sibling comfort, post-war eighth year au, a little hurt comfort, your parents' death day, sibling argument, don't worry they make up a/n; I've had this thought like a very very long while... and it solidified when i was listening to ribs by lorde (a song that just wrecks me as i get older)

this dream isn't feeling sweet we're reeling through the midnight streets and i've never felt more alone

Halloween does not come easy for you.

There was a feast in the Great Hall, celebrating the occasion. You're sure there are floating lanterns, delicious food, and joyous music.

But for you, it's crisps as you sit on the floor of the Gryffindor common room by the fire. It's a tradition you and Harry somehow kept, once again this year despite the war being over and the man who brought your parents' death was defeated.

You know despite all of that they'll never come back.

Halloween doesn't come easy for either of you, But it definitely doesn't become easier when you told Harry this morning that you won't be joining him for Auror training after your graduation. Now you have a new thing to lament over.

The packet of crisps are almost done. Your knees are tucked against your chest. There's a part of you that wants to grab something else to eat, but the ache in your heart prevents you from doing so.

You hear the door to the common room open and close, but you don't look back to check who it is. You hope they won't disturb you.

Harry sits down next to you with a grunt, crossing his legs and leaning back against the sofa. You still don't acknowledge him. The conversation from this morning replays in your head.

"What do you mean you're not coming with me? Are you saying I'll be there on my own?" he's almost shouting.

"Why does that matter? You'll have Ron!"

"This isn't about him. We're the ones with a scholarship lined up. It's an opportunity we can't miss!"

You look up at him in disbelief. "A scholarship earned by fighting in a war? Do you have any idea how messed up that is? I didn't choose to be in the war, Harry. I didn't choose to be one of the chosen ones!"

"But it's always been us, hasn't it? The Potter siblings! We're meant to do this together!"

You press your palms to your face, taking a deep breath, "I can't-"

"Fine! Then don't. Don't even come talk to me."

Harry walks away, leaving you stranded with other students watching.

Your head is spinning so much. From too many thoughts and feelings or the lack of food? You don't know.

Harry breaks the silence, "You haven't eaten." You don't reply.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "They have your favourite made downstairs, it's really good."

You keep staring at the floor. You don't say anything.

"Please, talk to me," he says, voice softer now.

"I thought you didn't want me talking to you," you murmur back.

"I was angry," he immediately replies, trying to reason with you. "Can I ask you something?"

You finally turn your head to look at him.

"Do you... ever wonder how they felt? Before they died?"

Somehow, the question does not hit you as hard as you thought it would. You nod, of course, you have. How could you not? It's been on your mind since you've understood how they died and the weight that has been left on you and your brother. Now with your new maturity and the scars left from battle, it's time to navigate your lives without them.

"Having to take care of two babies during a war doesn't sound the most ideal does it?" you say. "They must have really loved us if we're still here."

"And soon we're gonna be older than they ever were."

Silence follows after that. The fact really hits both of you. If not for their protection, it's possible that either one of you wouldn't have made it.

You let out a sigh, "It feels so scary, getting old..."

we can talk it so good we can make it so divine we can talk it good how we wish it would be all the time

"I'm sorry... I didn't know you didn't want to become an Auror."

You're quiet for a bit, thinking of what to say.

"Aren't you tired of fighting?" you ask.

Harry is stunned by the question, he'd never thought of it before. You take his silence as a means to continue.

"Our whole lives, we spent it fighting. Fighting to live while we were with the Dursleys. Fighting a troll in our first year, and then a basilisk in second year, and then there we were scared shitless when they all said a murderer wanted to kill us. You almost got killed in fourth year, and fifth year- Name one single year of our education which was peaceful."

"We risked our lives to destroy horcruxes and fought a whole war and killed Voldemort. And now people want me to become an Auror?" You sigh, "I'm tired, Harry. I just need peace and quiet after all this. If anything, we deserve it."

Harry is looking down now, pondering your explanation. He knows you're right.

"It's fine if you want to go," you say. "You should, if your passion is enough. You've always been a better fighter than me."

He furrows his brows. "That's not true. You're a great fighter."

"Not enough for me to want to keep going."

Harry sighs, taking the time to properly form his thoughts.

"I'm scared," he admits. "We've always been together. From the days at the Dursleys and all throughout school. When I died, it wasn't just me, you were there too. I just- I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Ugh, you're such a baby. You're 18 years old, you can handle yourself."

Harry laughs, and you immediately feel more comfortable slowly returning to your usual sibling banter.

"I'm not dying, I'm just..." You shrug. "Not going the same path."

"So what are you going to do?" he asks.

"Something potions related, I think," you reply. "Remus once told me Mum wanted to do something like that."

Harry eyes you, "Potions? I pity whoever you work with."

You scoff and shove him. "Shut it! You're piss at potions!"

He's full-on laughing now, contagious enough for it to make you giggle too.

When the laughter dies down, he says "You're the only friend I need."

You look at him, deadpan. "That's not true. We'll meet new people and do new things but we'll still have each other."

"You promise?"

You hold out your pinky. He does too, and links his pinky with yours.

"I promise."

you're the only friend i need sharing beds like little kids we'll laugh until our ribs get tough but that will never be enough

a/n: teehee. i love siblings. this one has been in the drafts for months and i'm so glad i got somewhere. tho i can't say it's my best work but it's ok, we learn out here. also wtf I've written so much recently i really hope you guys are enjoying it <3

likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

[mcx7demonbros]

Unexpected Sight

Ft. The Demon Brothers, especially Lucifer, Lucius (MC's kid) (Lucius is some months old in this fic), Klein (my MC)

Warning: none except that I'm not a parenting expert

Summary: the brothers went to the kitchen at night for different reasons, and they were greeted by an unexpected sight

The sound of footsteps could be heard in the corridor of the House of Lamentation at the time that is equivalent to midnight in human world. A certain orange-haired demon was walking towards the kitchen, where the fridge was.

However, upon coming close to the kitchen, Beelzebub realized the light was on and he could hear small crying sounds.

(Is someone in the kitchen?) Beel thought before peeking inside.

"Lucius, your food is nearly done." Lucifer said as he was patting the baby Lucius in his arms.

"Waah waah" Lucius seemed to take no heed of his father's words and kept crying.

Lucifer was tired but he looked at his son with soft and caring gaze before grabbing the kettle and poured the hot water into the bottle.

"Let me hold Lucius." Beel came over and offered his help.

"Thank you, Beel." Lucifer nodded at his younger brother and handed the baby to him.

"Stay with your uncle a little bit while I finish making the food for you." Lucifer said softly again to Lucius.

"Waaaaaaaaah" Lucius didn't seem to care and kept crying.

While Beel was tending to the baby, Lucifer put the powdered formula into the bottle, put the teat and the cap on before shaking it.

Just as Lucifer was shaking the bottle to get the powder to dissolve into the water, the two members of Anti-Lucifer League stepped inside the kitchen while discussing among themselves.

"Lucifer wouldn't expect it." Satan said with an evil grin on his face.

"I could imagine his grumpy face right now." Belphie replied with a laugh.

"Then-"

Both Satan and Belphie stopped when they saw Lucifer's grumpy face, it seemed the eldest had heard everything they were discussing. However, the fact that Lucifer was shaking a milk bottle in his hand made him look less scary, hilarious even, to the point Satan and Belphie almost burst out laughing, and they would have if they hadn't known for whom Lucifer was doing this.

Ignoring them, Lucifer checked the bottle again to make sure all the powder had dissolved. Then he checked the temperature of the formula with his wrist. The eldest then put the bottle under cold water to cool down the hot temperature.

"Waaa-" Lucius's cry stopped immediately after Lucifer got him back into his arm and put the bottle into his mouth. The baby opened his deep pink eyes to look at his father, as if he was innocent and didn't cause his father any headache or fatigue just a moment before.

Lucifer didn't say anything but smiled at Lucius.

Suddenly, the secret door to the kitchen opened and Asmodeus emerged from it.

"Why are you guys he-... Awww, what a wholesome sight!" Asmodeus immediately took his phone out and prepared to take a picture.

However, Lucifer turned away, blocking Lucius from Asmo's phone's camera.

"C'mon, Lucifer, just one pic, I won't post it on Devilgram. I'll share that pic only to Klein."

Only with the conditions Asmo promised that Lucifer turned around, letting the fifth-born take a picture of him feeding Lucius.

Right after Lucius finished the formula bottle, Lucifer pat on his back to help him digest his meal.

BURP

"Now that you are full, let Dada put you back to sleep." Lucifer said after his son let out a large burp, with Asmo and Beel smiled to the wholesome scene, while Satan and Belphie rolled their eyes.

"Why is everyone here?" Mammon said loudly, almost like shouting, when he entered the kitchen.

"Are we having a midnight snack scene like in the anime?" Levi said with a laugh.

Hearing the loud noise, Lucius's eyes that were preparing to close for sleep opened wide again.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

"Dada's here, Dada's here..." Lucifer tried to pacify his crying son as he glared at his two loud brothers.

"You guys are done for." Belphie whispered to Mammon's and Levi's ears.

"N-no way" Mammon and Levi wanted to cry like Lucius.

Meanwhile, at the human realm...

It was already past midnight when Klein finished his Overlord works, which required for him to be present himself. As the Overlord returned to his room inside his Fortress, he took out his DDD and saw a message from Asmodeus in the group chat of the House of Lamentation members.

It was a picture of the Avatar of Pride feeding his son, who is like a copy version of himself. Klein reacted with a heart emoji before messaging "I'll be home first thing tomorrow" before getting to bed, exhausted but looking forward to tomorrow.

This is my self-indulgent fic, I hope you guys like it :3

[inferencesarchives]

Hey! I read some of your work and I loved it! When I saw your event, I knew I just had to try it! Especially with one of my favorite cookies!

I'd like...prompt 10 with affogato cookie please? I know he likes sweets so I thought it would fit him really well!

Sweet Tooth

affogato cookie x gn reader

prompt: baking sweets & pastries

warnings: physical touch, mentions of food, reader is a menace (affectionately), possibly ooc(?? idk i finished this at 1 am)

"Darling, I love you with all my heart, but just where do you plan on taking me at 1 in the morning?"

A confused and groggy Affogato Cookie followed closely behind a for some reason very awake and bubbly you, not understanding why you decided to drag him out of bed in the middle of the night. Though, he figured you probably wouldn't be answering his question, as all you said in response was, "It's important!" before continuing to pull him down the hall.

A few minutes later, the two of you found yourselves in the kitchen. Affogato gave you a confused look. "Why-" "We're baking midnight snacks and you can't say no!" You quickly cut him off before you rushed to grab the necessary supplies to make some sweet treats.

"Okay, but why-" "I know you like sweets, and I'm hungry, so it's a win-win! Now help me bake these!" Once again cutting him off, you didn't give him any time to respond before dragging him to the mixing bowl and telling him what to do.

After about an hour, the two of you were finally able to take the snacks out of the oven and properly enjoy eating them. "Here, you can have the first one!" You offered, swiftly placing one of the treats in Affogato Cookie's hands. He looked at you for a moment before taking a bite.

The moment he tasted it, his expression lit up. "Oh wow," he spoke between bites, "It's almost hard to believe we made something so sweet! This is absolutely delicious, dear." You gave him a cheeky grin, "Of course it tastes good! We put our hearts into it, after all!"

He couldn't help but smile at your cheesy statement.

To him, your words tasted sweeter than any snacks he's ever had.

a/n: affogato cookie my beloved,,, ew i hate how i ended this but i ran out of ideas,,, anYWAY IM SORRY I RANDOMLY VANISHED,,, IVE BEEN TRYING TO WRITE FIC & DRAW ARTFIGHT SO I GOT BURNT OUT FAST,, ALSO MY GRANDMA WENT TO THE HOSPITAL TWICE SO YOU CAN GUESS HOW I FELT ABT THAT,,,, on the plus side tho ive been getting into a new game recently and i plan on opening requests for it/putting it on my masterlist after the event is over!! yay,,, for now tho i will be trying to get back to writing and posting event stuff as fast as i can without overexerting myself :,,)) btw sorry for any decrease in quality that might be found in this fic and the next few works, im still recovering from burnout so yeah,,, bye for now

thanks for stopping by!

wanna submit a request? see my requesting rules here!

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wanna be tagged? lemme know!

[hellsite-detective]

'Ello there, Madam Detective. 'Ow's the new year? Hmm... oh, yeah? Okay, now for the reason why I'm here: I wantcha to find a post—shocker, ain't it?

It's 'bout a cat getting kicked by it's owner like a football, and said owner gets jailtime—I think? Sorry it's vague, it's late and I'm a few drinks in and it's almost midnight as I pen this.

Happy New Year, 'n' good luck!

a had client stumbled into my office on New Year's Eve, just before midnight, clearly a little hammered. they were askin' for a post about a poor cat bein' kicked like a football. now, i was afraid of what i was gonna find when trackin' this one down, but don't worry, it wasn't anything serious.

i strolled on down to the Search Bar and asked Google for "tumblr kicking cat like football." the Don was certainly confused, but passed me what i was lookin' for nonetheless, handin' me the exact post i needed. upon lookin' at the file, i noticed it included a screenshot of a tweet. which meant another trip to Twitter City was gonna need to be had. fearin' the journey, i decided to ask Google if they had the tweet in question. and thankfully, they did, and they passed that one over no problem. i thanked them and went along my merry way.

here you go! i hope your new years party was absolutely wonderful! have a great day!

Post Case: Closed

[angelfoodcake222]

I made this post posing the question the read along the lines of "How would these characters react to their friend or S/O, Y/N, coming home after a big fight that made them temporarily forget about a prescheduled meet-up at their (Y/N's) place?" or something to that effect. Here's what I have for the selected individuals.

TW: The reader [that's you] gets into a big fight, mentions combat, blood, violence, & bandaging. Comfort at the end of each. Reader is in a dress on Mac's part for "Fabric in the Midnight Wind" effect~.

A/N (Author's Note): I'm labeling this as NSFW as it is dealing with violent elements. I'll make a traditional NSFW version if this one gets some traction via reblogs. Since there is a lot to read in one sitting, I'll sever this up to the Three Monkey Bois for now. On with the reading, enjoy.

Monkey Trio x Hurt!Reader

Sun Wukong, The Monkey King

Translation: "I have a way to make you truly confident!" 🫣 😳

>Boy! If you never live to see a single soul genuinely worry for your well-being, Sunny/Sunshine/Sundrop would be the lone beacon of an example you would ever think of.

>Hey was just chilling on your sofa, munching on some peach chips you had stored up for him, snug in a pile of blankets, pillows & plushies while awaiting your arrival.

>He came in a bit earlier to get y'all's movie night all set up so you could both relax, watch some movies (most are his own but they're from your collection anyway, being the 2nd biggest SWK fan right beside MK although Sun could argue who's who in that arena), then have a nice conversation before falling asleep on the amassed cushions while basking in each other's presence.

>The door clicked open before it screamed from your falling into the mudroom portion of the entrance, closing with just as much force as you close it with your foot. You grunt from your prone position into an uncomfortable kneeling one with a bit of effort just to be jump-scared by your simian companion.

>"What happened!?" "Why didn't you call me!?" "Who did this to you!?" "Your knuckles are redder than my scarf!"

>You settled your index finger over his mouth prompting his lips to zip together momentarily as you spoke lowly, your crimson essence oozing from somewhere just behind your hairline & over your face like a scene out of a horror film.

"Sunshine, Sundrop, Sunny, I love you & all, but I have the worst migraine imaginable right now & I'd greatly appreciate it if you could crank the energy down to a two for tonight. Please?"

>You try to stand but the shifting upsets the injuries to your leg & head causing you to falter shortly. Luckily, SWK has you covered.

>He sweeps you onto the softest cloud you could ever imagine & eases you the the bathroom where he helps bandage you almost to the point of mummification, only stopping when your wounds' blood flow does.

>The apology for forgetting about the meet-up was quickly fanned off as he stated that he was just glad that you were alive & had the strength to make it home.

>Without a moment to process movement, you were placed dotingly in the nest of new & old fabrics as SWK spoke with you about what happened unless you didn't want to talk about it.

>Either way, the night draws to a close with the two of you subdued by slumber & a plumbing adrenaline boost.

>At times like these, SWK wished he had Macaque's hearing so you would always be safe. Always.

•Bonus points if Y/N's eyes are bloodshot to such a degree that makes them match SWK in a macabre way, be it from fatigue, something thrown into their eyes, or even some cheap temple-based shots.

(((The Six-Eared))) Macaque

>>This one got out of hand & pocket for me, I apologize.

>Mans was so proud of you, that's a fact.

>For obvious reasons, Mac is a special case. Y'know, with him being nearly omniscient & all that to an uncanny degree.

>He heard it.

>No ifs, &s, or buts, he heard you struggling & portalled to the parking lot you had been ganged up into.

>When he got there, he couldn't move as he was watching you take the punks out left, right & center.

>Looks like you had been watching him closer than he originally thought.

>True, you learned his moves to a T, but there were many new moves he had not shown you nor did he learn of these moves until then.

>He couldn't resist sneaking closer, hiding in the shadows of light posts, the building the lot is connected to, even in the shadow of already fallen opponents just to watch you. Admire you.

>He had never seen you, his patient, doting, tiny slice of divine decadency, go absolutely feral on a pack of semi-post-pubescent punks before or on anyone or thing for that matter.

>You were rage personified; limbs snapped like malnourished celery stalks, punches to the torso forcing their knees to buckle lending to your own knee's task of colliding almost mercilessly collide with its target's face with a sickening smack, your nails digging into their now-exposed flesh as the battle left you with no other option but to strip the young adult males of their slivers of protection.

>All of this started just because none of them, not a single one, could or would take "No" as an answer to their sleazy, seedy, downright disgusting "generous offers" which led to them ganging up on you in the store's parking lot which escalated to the beating the few alpha-minded ingrates were receiving currently.

>They tore your dress up anyway, this angered you to the point of whooping them as Mac had bought that for you. It was a simple, comfy, modest dress to match your overall vibes, nothing skimpy or gaudy, but you were not pleased.

>In the heat of the fight, you had dropped the groceries you gathered just for your & Mac's night together; plums, sweets, a well-sized but not massive blanket to cuddle under, even a horror movie the two of you have been meaning to watch together for months up to this point.

>While you handed the last opponent's own backside to them on a silver platter, Mac sneakily gathered the miraculously safe items from beside your bicycle so as to not distract you from your feral focus & set them into the basket, simultaneously watching you send the remaining idiot whimpering off like the cowardly cockroach they were.

>Once you finish scolding the crawling mess now at least a few yards from you, Mac chuckled.

>"Mac!? How long were you standing there??" Your primordial bloodlust plummeted once your eyes landed on the lone trustworthy male as he stood under the flickering, stained light of the decrepit lamp post you parked under so far from the store because of a rude worker who threatened you far earlier. His smile sent rosey tones over your face.

>"Calm down, Sugar Plum. I heard you having a scuffle & came to help. Looks like you did a lot more studying than just watching me in the Dojo, huh?" That iconic smirk of his sent your soft pink face into a richer red that singed the forming bruise on your cheek & corresponding cut into an agitated throb. He leans to remove his cloak/cape, settling it over your shoulders as the chilly night air starts to reach through your heated skin.

>"Even though I think you look absolutely ravishing like this, I am still upset about those creeps touching you at all." You cock your not-so-sore brow at him. A smart comment was forming but wilted as you looked down, frowning at your garbs.

>Yes, you could sew it back together but it was the idea of the garb that Mac had searched & selected just for you that made you sad.

>"I could always get another dress for you." You shake your head at his kind offer before smiling.

>"& miss out on having tangible story markers? No way! These rips may look unseemly, but they are important & signify lessons well learned. I can patch 'em up, Mac. No worries."

>You welcomed wounds & injuries with torn fabric to boot over a few self-learned lessons? He should take a page or two from your book.

>His smile reflected yours, with all the warmth & kindness you've shown each other for nearly a year now.

>The walk through one of his portals, bike & groceries in tow, & into your home's front entrance area was probably one of the calmest moments of your day.

>Like SWK, Mac gathered plushies, pillows & the only blanket you had that wasn't washing right then onto your loveseat sofa.

>He tried brewing tea for you earlier but tripped & spilled it on the mound of blankets while trying to bring the whole kettle, sugar/sweetener & milk/cream to the softest place in the dwelling, leaving the current one being the lone survivor in the soaking accident.

>It was patterned with cartoon macaque monkeys chasing uncanny anthropomorphic bananas. Cute, though this was a gag gift from a relative of yours. You kept it anyway.

>While he bandaged your semi-dressed form, you worked on the dress after getting most of the blood out of its fabric.

>If he wasn't so busy trying not to bind your wounds too tightly or loosely, he'd be peacefully watching your needle pass through the garb's wounds as it pulled the thread behind it.

>The rest of the night was spent with small talk & cuddles, snacks, & a long-awaited horror movie you both giggled through.

>Slumber followed soon after the credits rolled in. Well, for you it did.

>Mac stayed up, watching your bruised, bludgeoned, slightly bleeding form's chest move as you breathed, your heart's recently rabid pace now slowed to its calmest rhythm.

>He made a mental note to dismantle each & every one of those creepers mentally & physically in due time, a devout note at that.

>For now, he rests his tail on you as his dreams follow his arms carefully curling around your tender body.

>Unmitigated dreams of a bloodied, armor-clad you wooing him Fabio style did little to calm his heart rate.

MK (Monkey Kid)

>He was slightly different from the two later seniors in terms of setup.

>He had the comfy setup but it was all around your coffee table where fun, colorful board games sat in their boxes with plates of apple slices, fruit salads & favored drinks & dips placed near it. Video games acted as a backup plan this time.

>The real meal was simmering on your stove.

>He even made a checklist & focused on it with all his heart & mind.

>He only got distracted twice! You'd be so proud of him once you came home!

>This is where MK is teetering between SWK & Mac; he was sitting patiently, doodling for a bit until he sensed something was off, like Mac.

>He chose Mac's route to head out & find you ASAP but was hindered by your limping shape stepping around the corner.

>He would have apologized for not watching where he was going if it weren't for you asking him why he was out this late all by himself.

>Cue the SWK reaction: "What happened!?" "Who did this!?" "Let's get you inside!" All of this was said in one compressed breath as he ushered you through the front door & onto the cushioned floor.

>He rushes to your bathroom to find the First Aid kit you always kept filled to the gills with life-saving tools. "Lifesaving" being defined as bumps & boo-boos by MK's racing mind.

>When he turns to see what you're giggling at, you catch his temple with your lips, smiling admiringly at his reaction.

>"My hero~." You compliment as he falls over in a plumb of blush, still gripping the bandages leading to your half-wrapped limb.

>He regains his composure enough to finish his task & hug onto you, only leaving to make your respective meals.

>The meals, drinks & snacks were delicious, the board games were simple enough. You both came to a tie on a racing game, calling a truce in trade of small talk on the gathered bedding beneath you two.

>Sleep was a slow-moving thing when you were with MK, his excitable energy was contagious & activated by anything & everything.

>You both randomly plummet into respite as MK dreams of a cheesy scene based on your complaint earlier.

A/N: OK, this was a bit short, but I'll be making more of this later. Mei, Sandy, Pigsy & Tang are next! Find my master list here!

Finishes one piece/part of a series. Five milliseconds later, me:

[honeybewrites]

WIP Excerpt Tag

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag!!!!

Rules: Post some writing!

Since I haven't really posted anything about Legend of the Ancients, I thought it would be fun to change it up!

Her door opened and Emaeh glanced up from her book. The party was in fully swing by now so no one should really be anywhere near the dorms, let alone her room. Maybe Faralt, but even they had seemed excited about the celebrations. She was even more surprised when Vern stepped in, closing the door behind him. He looked good. Really good. A traditional Tanimoriem suit, complete with pack specific jewelry and paint. The suit itself was a deep velvety, midnight purple with silver accents to give it a pop. His wings were adorned with jewels and chains, folded neatly behind him like a cape. The same jewels and chains decorated his horns and flowed beautifully into the paint on his face and arms. He looked like a god of beauty, divine and elegant, effortlessly ethereal. Emaeh had to fight to keep her face neutral. "What are you doing here?" She closed the book, eyeing him. "Looking for you." His eyes trailed around the room, not that there was much to look at. Ancients, even his voice sounded like the honey of gods. How could one being be so beautiful? "Why aren't you at the celebration?" "I hurt my leg." It was a lame excuse and they both knew it. Emaeh wasn't one to let an injury stop her from something, especially something like this. It was rare to have other beings here, and everyone knew Emaeh never missed a chance to learn more about the Tanimoriem culture. With this many Tan gather in one place? She could learn a lot more than her books could teach her. She could actually ask questions. "Right, and what's the real excuse?" Emaeh rolled her eyes. Even though she knew it would start an argument, she couldn't lie to him. She had too much respect for him to do that. "I can't have anyone finding out I'm Tanimoriem." Vern's oozing annoyance filled the room like a suffocating gas. "And how is anyone going to figure out you're Tan from a party?" Emaeh got up from the bed, pulling her dress out of its box in her dresser. She held it up to show him. It was the same dress she'd worn at Ryuk's gratitude feast in Rorrut. "It's backless and strapless. It'll show off too many of my scars. You've seen the ones on my back. Those scars are pretty self explanatory. They even look like the base of wings. I've worn this dress before I got those scars and you know Ryuk and Faralt aren't going to miss those giant things. It'll raise questions. I can't." Vern sighed lightly as she put the dress away. His annoyance, surprisingly, started to disperse. "What are you going to do in here all night then?" He once again looked around the room as if expecting some kind of feat to appear. "You don't really have anything in here to do."

Emaeh sat back on her bed, picking up the book and going back to her reading. "I'm going to read." The bed dipped as Vern plopped down on the edge. "Well are you at least going to read out loud for me? Or should I just ramble to myself?" She looked over the edge of the book at him. There was a teasing smirk on his lips now, the light scent of his amusement filling the air. "No, you're going back to the party." She turned back to her words. "But you're not going." It almost sounded pouty, whiny. "And I have my reason. Go be social. I'm sure you can find some pretty woman to your liking. Have some drinks, dance, have sex. Maybe then you'll make some friends Angel." Some emotion she couldn't place tinted the air. "Is that what you would do if you were going?" Emaeh snorted. "Do I look like someone who can dance?" "I meant hookup." Her face scrunched up. "No. Everyone down there is at least twice my age or half stupid. Even the women down there aren't the brightest, in my opinion. I'm sure they're quite beautiful though. Carlun has a good eye for that kind of thing. No, I need a little more of a connection to have sex with someone. Not really a one night stand kind of person." "Who's to say I am?" he asked defensively. Emaeh set her book to the side once again. "Angel, relax. It was just a suggestion. You don't have to get your wings in a knot, okay? You don't need to pull some "you're judging me" bull, because you can tell there is no judgement in my voice or body. Relax. I don't care either way. It's not like I'm going to stop talking to you if you hookup." She nodded to the book. "Now, this is an old play from during the Dragon War. Do you want me to read it or would you rather pick something else?" The tension in his body eased up and his pleasant, puppy dog self lit up once again. "Oh I'm fine with that, please continue." He laid on his side, watching her expectantly with a bright smile. Emaeh fought a smile of her own as she picked the book back up and began to read aloud this time.

Tagging @ink-enchanted @fractured-shield @minamaybe @halfbakedspuds @diabolical-blue @illarian-rambling and anyone else who wants to hop on!!

[facetsofthecloset]

What order would you suggest reading Discworld in? :0

Oh my friend you have opened an entire Amazon warehouse of a can of worms, which is going under a cut because I'm so sorry, you've activated my trap card

1: Preamble

First, a caveat: I have not read ALL of the Discworld books yet. There's a bunch of the short stories and sort of "bonus content"-y stuff that I haven't got round to, and the last two books he wrote before he passed, (I Shall Wear Midnight and Shepherd's Crown) but I have read everything else!

So!

Ok, there are lots of “recommended reading order” lists out there for Discworld, and what they generally do is group books into subcategories based on the protagonists.

These are fine as a base structural framework to work from, but if you're asking me I'm guessing you want a more personalized recommendation, SO

It really depends on your interests! When I started Discworld I'd already been pilled on tumblr, seeing posts cross my dash every now and then (probably due to the Glorious 25th of May actually, which I'm spamming right now) about how great it was and how many books there were.

So I picked up the first book (The Color of Magic) even though everyone said don't start there, and I stuck to it because I'd kind of already decided to like the series, or at least be incredibly open-minded about it.

Listen. The Color of Magic was published in 1983, it was one of his earliest novels, and it's definitely a bit rough. But! Full of personality and chaos, from which stars will be born later on.

You can think of it as the primordial ooze, full of nutrients and ideas and things that could evolve, but kind of formless and a bit confused at the moment

2: The List

So if you're not a bit naive and desperate for a new fantasy series to be obsessed with as an adult and trusting wholeheartedly a lot of strangers online that things get really really good, and you want some proof upfront, this is my list of potential starters:

Reaper Man (Death subseries #2)

Witches Abroad (Witches subseries #3)

Feet of Clay (City Watch subseries #3)

The Truth (Industrial Revolution subseries #2)

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents (YA standalone that takes place in the Discworld)

Going Postal (Industrial Revolution #4 or Moist von Lipwig subseries #1)

You'll notice that I've picked almost none of the "first book" in a subseries and I have good reasons for that! I'll talk about each book individually, but my main reason for starting you off a little ways into each subseries is that the Vibes(tm) of the very first book in a subseries are very different to the actual overall Vibes(tm) of the subseries generally, once it's had time to fill out and ripen a bit.

The books I've picked are the "early but recognizable" stages of most of the series', because I think you can go back to read the first ones as a sort of prequel treat for yourself later once you've started to run out of books in the series, which happens faster than you think given there's 41 of them.

But I'll go into more detail about that with the individual books! Again, I am so sorry this is so bloody long. I'm having coffee as we speak

3: List Breakdown

Reaper Man (Death subseries #2):

“What can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the Reaper Man?”

Protagonist: Death (the anthropomorphic personification)

Summary: Death is fired from his job for caring too much, and has to go live as a farmhand. In his absence, things start to get weird, leading to zombie wizards and sentient shopping carts.

Why start here: Death as a character shows up all over the place in Discworld, and he's wonderful. This is the 11th book in publishing order, and one of the first that had me almost crying at the end. A lot of the earlier books had me kinda going "ok that was fun but I feel like I'm missing something, why is it people keep going on about this series?" and while this book doesn't quite yet answer that question, it gave me a hell of a lot of motivation to keep going.

The Death subseries book before this, Mort, is also good! If you want to start there, that's fine. But to me, it's a prologue, and doesn't give you an accurate picture of what the Overall Vibes of the series are. Reaper Man is still also kind of a prologue in that sense, seeing as Death is not even the protagonist for all of the Death books, but I still say it's a good place to start. It sets the groundwork for future books but also...

...man that quote about the harvest, and yes the summary sounds absurd and it is because it's not just fantasy, it's parody and comedy, but in the same book you'll have moments where you just have to stare at the wall for a bit unsure if you're going to reach enlightenment or burst into tears.

Reaper Man is a very wholesome, funny, and casually profound place to start your Discworld journey. It's early in the timeline of the Disc, you get a taste of the Wizards subseries as well, and you can see how important settings like Ankh-Morpork, the main city, start out. One thing I love about Discworld is how it grows, so starting out earlier in the in-universe timeline can be nice to get the full effect of seeing that.

A later Death book, Hogfather, is one I would recommend someone read if they were under some kind of curse where they could only ever read 3 Discworld books ever, and of course you could jump right to that one.

But if you want a bit of build up and additional context, you can start with Reaper Man.

Witches Abroad (Witches subseries #3):

Lily: You'd have done the same. Granny: No. I'd have thought the same, but I wouldn't have done it. Lily: What difference does that make, deep down? Nanny Ogg: You mean you don't know?

Protagonist: The Witches/Granny Weatherwax

Summary: Magrat Garlick, youngest of Lancre's witch coven trio, inherits a fairy godmother's wand, and thus also a fairy goddaughter, named Emberella. Unfortunately, Emberella lives very far away in Genua, and none of the witches really know how to make the wand work, and hardly any of them have left Lancre much at all before, let alone gone all the way to fantasy New Orleans. And Magrat's the one who got the wand, so she really should be the one taking point on this, but Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax can hardly let the youngest, soppiest, and wettest-behind-the-ears witch of their coven go off and make fairy tales on her own, can they? They've got a happy ending to make, and a bad witch to find...

Why start here: More into witches and fairy tales? Like a good Cinderella parody? Want to know how to stop spelling bananananana daquiri? Well, Nanny Ogg actually can't help you there, but you can get the other stuff.

Granny Weatherwax, along with Samuel Vimes of the City Watch subseries, is the beating heart and deeply, calmly furious soul of Discworld.

She is THE Witch. Witches don't have leaders, but Granny is the First among equals.

You can meet her earlier in the series, in Equal Rites or Wyrd Sisters, but Witches Abroad are when things start to come together in terms of tone and style for the Witches subseries, at least for me. Like Reaper Man, Witches Abroad is fairly early in the in-universe timeline as well as #12 in the publishing order, right after Reaper Man. Between the two, you can get a decent idea of the early form of the Disc, though I'd add in Guards! Guards! to complete that picture.

On its own, it's a fun romp full of recognizable parodies and interesting twists, a good old fashioned road trip. And it punches you in the face later about the nature of morality and how people think, about identity and choosing who you're going to be.

It won't make sense unless you've read it, but I think about a scene towards the end and the line "This one," all the time. Start here, read the other Witches books, have a Granny Weatherwax permanently etched into the back of your mind, reminding you about the difference between thinking and doing.

Feet of Clay (City Watch subseries #3):

“You couldn't say 'I had orders.' You couldn't say 'It's not fair.' No one was listening. There were no Words. You owned yourself. [...] Not 'Thou Shalt Not'. Say 'I Will Not'.”

Protagonist: Samuel Vimes

Summary: Commander of the City Watch, Samuel Vimes, now officially a Sir and married into the ranks of Ankh-Morporks elite, must have a coat of arms made. Thank gods there's been a murder for him to focus on instead. Someone's poisoning the Patrician--Lord Vetinari--too, and something strange is happening with the city's golems...

Why start here: This is it. For me, this was the book that made me go "Oh. That's why everyone loves this series." Every book up to this point had been interesting, funny, engaging, but as yet a little underbaked compared to the hype--until here.

Feet of Clay was the point of no return for me as a Discworld fan. This is the start of Sam Vimes, the man who IS Ankh-Morpork in many ways, the character you think of first when someone says "Discworld" (or boots. The "Sam Vimes Boots Theory of Economics" seems to travel outside of Discworld circles sometimes, from what I've heard.)

The City Watch books prior to this are all important to the formation of Sam Vimes as we know him mainly, which is why most people tend to start you off with Guards! Guards!. Totally legitimate place to start, but if you're going into it after being stuffed full of hype on tumblr and elsewhere, you're going to go "Hm. Is that it?"

Feet of Clay is #19 in publishing order, around midway through the series and part of what I've seen referred to as the "golden age" of Discworld books. As far as in-universe time goes, it's a bit farther along than Reaper Man or Witches Abroad, but not hugely. Things are established and the swing has been grasped, and Sam Vimes in freshly fully baked. (I keep using the word because it's relevant to the story lol) He'll go on from here to even greater heights, but this is a damn good start into Vimes being Vimes.

Now I will caveat this with a warning that if you are so ACAB that even seeing the word "cop" makes you break out in hives, then you probably shouldn't read City Watch books.

But I will say, policing as Sam Vimes does it is different from the modern American police. Obviously. This is fiction, it's based more on older English policing, it's a fantasy world, and Sam Vimes would be the first person to tell you that a cop who isn't a bastard is a liar, which is just another type of bastard.

It isn't pure uncritical copaganda, it's closer to Brooklyn 99, not CSI Miami, but if your stance is that making the protagonist a police officer we are meant to relate to at all is irredeemable, then yeah, this isn't going to work for you.

But so much of the Watch series--arguably all of it-- is about asking the question How do you be a good copper? What is a good copper? What is good? How do you be 'good' when you know that inside your head you're a messy, problematic bastard who thinks he knows better than everyone and has authority to abuse?

Who watches the watchmen? Sam Vimes. He watches himself, all the time. Maybe you won't agree with his conclusions, and I've heard people say the later Watch books where Terry's Alzheimers was progressing were too White Savior, but that's something you'd have to decide for yourself if you decide to keep reading.

For me, the City Watch books are the heart of Discworld, and they are absolutely worth engaging with.

Feet of Clay is a pretty classic and fun murder mystery, coupled with serious discussions of personhood and slavery, and has a plotline dealing with a lot of gender stuff that is expanded on in later books. It's far enough along in the series that the basics are established, and early enough that there is a lot of interesting development to look forward to.

I haven't reread it in a while, but it will always hold a special place in my heart for being the book where Discworld clicked home and became a permanent part of my psyche.

The Truth (Industrial Revolution subseries #2):

“The truth has got its boots on,” he said. “It’s going to start kicking.”

Protagonist: William de Worde, standalone

Summary: Printing presses were not allowed in Ankh-Morpork. Alas, times were moving on, and brought with them The Times, Ankh-Morpork's very first newspaper. William de Worde finds himself falling into the role of the Disc's first journalist. It starts with innocent stories of humorous vegetables and debates over when the coldest winter was, and ends with an attempted assassination (several, in fact), a shadowy conspiracy, a dog's testimony, and daddy issues (doesn't it always).

They say a lie can run around the world before the truth has got its boots on, but William's got a shoehorn and is prepared to tie some laces.

Why start here: Drop into an almost fully-established and stabilized Ankh-Morpork, watch a new technology drop into it and see the ripples. The Truth is categorized as an Industrial Revolution book, but it's also a standalone. You can know nothing about the Discworld and still have a damn good time.

It's honestly one of my favorites, possibly the favorite, owing to the presence of Otto Chriek, vampire photographer (called iconographers on the Disc) to The Times and also my favorite Discworld character ever number 1 no contest hands down don't talk to me. (Are there "better" and "more important" Discworld characters? Of course. Doesn't mean jack when it comes to personal favorites though, does it. Otto Chriek my beloved my darling my heart and soul this is his first appearance and after this he only gets mentioned in passing in the background of other books although he occasionally does get a whole scene and some dialogue I'm Normal About Him)

Ahem. Anyway.

If you want a good taste of what Terry Pratchett's writing is like overall, just one good sampler, this is a pretty decent choice. It's neat and contained but also has a lot of ties to the rest of the series that you could easily pull on if you wanted to. It's sometime after Feet of Clay, timeline-wise, but is really the start of the Industrial Revolution of Discworld proper, and you can make an argument for it starting off a second stage (maybe a silver era?) of Discworld books, in terms of publication order. There's Ankh-Morpork pre-newspaper, then there's Ankh-Morpork post-newspaper, and this is obviously the dividing line.

Because of that, it's possible that it would be slightly disorienting to read this first and then go back to an older pre-newspaper Discworld, because the dynamics are different. But that's one aspect of the series that I love, how it has its own historical eras. "Ah, this story is still in the Century of the Fruitbat, before the introduction of printing presses in Ankh-Morpork" or "Oh, this is from the post-clacks society," stuff like that.

It's a huge part of what makes Discworld feel like a real, entire universe, and how different books in the series feel like snapshots of their history. And history can be funny, profound, horrific, ironic, fascinating, and above all, human.

Even if "human" in the Disc doesn't cover nearly everyone. Barley anyone, you could argue. They have a lot of different species.

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents (YA standalone):

“People were people, even if they had four legs and had called themselves names like Dangerous Beans, which is the kind of name you gave yourself if you learned to read before you understood what all the words actually meant.”

Protagonist: debatable but I'll say Maurice (a cat. standalone)

Summary: The trouble with magic is that you never know what it'll do. Sometimes, it turns a bunch of rats (and one cat) from dumb animals into The Clan and Maurice, who work together with a human boy named Keith to run a Pied Piper scam.

Keith is human, and talks to other humans, offering to rid them of their town's rats, and The Clan pretend to be charmed by his flute and make a show of leaving town. Maurice--well, he's the brains of the outfit and makes sure no one grows too much of a conscience over the grift, and that he they get paid properly. And everyone likes cats.

One of the towns they come across, though...something is wrong here. There are no rats, or...are there? What is a rat, anyway? What's the difference between a rat and a Clan rat? What's the difference between a Clan rat and a human? Or a Maurice?

That was the problem with thinking. Once you started, you went on doing it.

Why start here: Similar to The Truth, a good way to get a decent, well-rounded sampling of Prachettian writing. You've got the parodic element in the Pied Pier story, some genuine horror in the antagonist of the story, existential questions on the nature of sentience and personhood, puns that you won't even realize are puns until you come across an explanatory post on tumblr, as well as the puns that hit you in the face and kick you in the fork and make you go "Fucking hell. More please!" Just because it's YA doesn't mean it's any lesser, it's just a slightly different tone of voice.

I don't remember exactly what era of Discworld it takes place in, but it's later in the publication order and I think timeline-wise, definitely after The Truth? I'm pretty sure newspapers exist at this point. It doesn't matter as much, since most of the story takes place outside of Ankh-Morpork. Either way, it's very accessible, a decent one-and-done. There's a rat named Dangerous Beans, who was voiced by David Tenant in the recent animated film. (Not a good adaptation but you could watch it. It's. Well not the worst, as Discworld adaptations go, but it's like. Fine. Kinda weird. Kinda boring. Read the book.)

Going Postal (Industrial Revolution #4, or Moist von Lipwig #1):

“Raise the stakes! Always push your luck because no one else would push it for you.”

Protagonist: Moist von Lipwig

Summary: Professional conman Albert Spangler is hanged for his crimes, and reborn as Moist von Lipwig--his actual birth name. His new lease on life comes with the caveat of resurrecting the long-defunct Ankh-Morpork Post Office as Postmaster General. As a consummate liar and career criminal, he's a perfect fit for government service.

And he's just in time--The Grand Trunk clacks company, under its newest management, has been plagued by enshittification. Once able to relay messages across the continent "at the speed of light," now it's expensive, breaks down constantly, and runs on the blood of its workers. But messages still have to get through, and you can't send a package by semaphore. The world needs the Post, and the Post needs Moist von Lipwig.

Him? He needs a new name. And a way to get rid of his golem parole officer...

Why start here: Moist von Lipwig is a late addition to the canon and only stars in 3 books (one of which is distinctly different in style, owing to the advancement of Pratchett's Alzheimer's at time of writing), but he is just about as crucial to Discworld as Granny Weatherwax, Sam Vimes, and Lord Vetinari. He's a grifter who's all about style, and holy shit is he good at it.

To me, Going Postal is a perfect book, and the sequel Making Money is somehow even better. I got my friend hooked on Discworld by reading a passage out of the sequel to her and subsequently read her the entire book and Going Postal after. Get past his name, and Moist von Lipwig is all you've ever dreamed of in terms of entertainment.

The Moist books (lol) are formatted a little bit differently to the others, as it's one of the only Discworld books to have formal chapters and sort of chapter summaries? I'm not sure why this is but I think it has to do with Moist being, well, Moist. Everything in his life is a show and so his books also have a bit of extra set dressing.

I think if you read Going Postal and Making Money and those were the only Discworld books you ever knew about you'd still be obsessed madly in love and fanatic about the whole series. Moist comes into things when Ankh-Morpork is already pretty much fully-fledged, and he could have been the beginning to a new era. As his presence inclusion in the Industrial Revolution series implies, he brings about a lot of huge structural/technological changes to the Disc and it's amazing to watch it unfold.

Going Postal also has the distinction of having one of the only decent Discworld screen adaptations (look I haven't watched all of them and I'm really sorry if there's a BBC version or something that you really love, but the ones that I've seen so far are mostly...either really low-budget and weird or just boring). I'd say if you watched the movie version and liked it, you'd like the book even more but not in spite of the movie, you know? Charles Dance is in it as Lord Vetinari and aside from his hair not being black he's fucking perfect. You cannot go wrong here.

4: Conclusions

I'm sorry this got so LONG AHH

But! What you choose to read as your first Discworld book imo depends hugely on what your interests are and why you're interested in the series to begin with.

If you just want a quick way to see what all the fuss is about, I'd say any of the standalones or Moist books.

If you want a sample of how it unfolds and grows and are willing to put some time into it, start with Reaper Man and maybe read down the list I made, then go back and read the other books in their respective subseries. Or pick one that you liked a lot and follow that subseries first!

If you're really willing to put in the time and want to understand the series as a whole, do what I did and start with The Color of Magic and go by publication order. You're going to need a bit of patience and be generous at first, wait for things to develop, but for me it's been worth it. Again, if you have the time though. I mean, it is 41 books.

Or, if you're into a bit more chaos than that...use a random number generator and read whatever it tells you. Honestly, even books in longer subseries's are self-contained and pretty readable on their own, you just get more context if you read it "in order." The roulette approach is perfectly viable.

I mean, I do have Discworld books that I'm not as fond of, but none where I'd say you should never read it.

Even my least favorite (Interesting Times, part of the Wizards series) has a lot of redeeming qualities and I reread it a couple times before I decided maybe I didn't like it as much. (It's mostly because they go to fantasy East Asia and it's a bit Asian Monolith-y. Look I love Pratchett but he was a white British man who started writing in the late 70s/early 80s y'know? He's good but not perfect. The Wizards series has a lot of traveling around the Disc and a lot of like, racial stereotypes involved. Which is a shame because I do love the main protagonist of the series (Rincewind), it just personally makes me a little uncomfortable.)

That said, I don't hate it.

There are no Discworld books I regret reading. There's just ones I enjoyed even more than the others, and ones that have been permanently absorbed into my soul. You really can't go wrong.

This concludes my Starter Discworld dissertation I'm so sorry but you did ask 💦

[emelinstriker]

About those 3 Anon messages recently...

Yes, there's 3 now. Third on came up while I was finishing typing about the 2nd one.

tl;dr context: peeps defending a fictional 2D lego character, questioning the morality of esau (despite the lack of lore context), as well as for some reason a personal attack on me... also smol chinese jesus??? :'D

DISCLAIMER:

I respect y'all's opinions and headcanons and whatnot. It's all valid. However. I expect respect on my own opinions and headcanons return. That's literally all I'm asking.

That's common sense and I will from this point on just delete anyone else's anon asks if they try to argue with me about my standings on these matters mentioned in here. Or this post in general.

There's literally no point in arguing over words written in a story, or debating whether or not pixels on a screen are hot or not.

With that disclaimer being said...

Case 1:

I'm fully aware of the entire discussion thing of Nezha being eternally 12 and all that, but I'm also fully aware of how LMK Nezha is more of a parody on the original. LMK Nezha is more of an adult 2D character who took the characteristics of the source, but then was turned into an aged-up parody.

It's not weird with the context of how things even came to be in the AU. It does involve a form of "infection" that changes those that are infected. In ESAU it's just slightly different from my original story's OCs to appeal more to the Reader. There are people out there who seek comfort in their own superiority complex too, especially if they can never explore that part of themselves normally. If that doesn't appeal to you, that's fine. But don't assume it's weird just because you don't like it if a fictional master/servant relationship isn't for you.

Now, this ask wasn't really bad or directly disrespectful. That was just basic questioning on the general relationship of the AU as well as the LMK Nezha being 12 discussion. So I went to bed, cuz I didn't wanna respond with my rather aggressive response to the topic. Like, I ranted about it to my Discord server, but it was already around midnight and I knew I'd come off as aggressive, despite the logic and facts, if I just copy n pasted the way I phrased the rant. So I went to bed. But then I woke up to an essay in another ask...

Case 2:

I'm assuming this is the exact same person, based on the timeframe and the writing style..? Maybe even the same person who asked that question about whether I'd make Nezha's relationship towards the Reader romantic or platonic..??

For the sake of this entire thing being unworthy of an unnecessary discussion, as well as the fact that the person sending this isn't worth directly responding to if they hide behind an anon face, knowing they would get flamed, I will solely respond to these for my actual viewers, who do enjoy ESAU.

As in, I noticed how almost every single point is easily arguable. Like, they literally just made it up as if every single relationship between the Reader and their champions is romantic. Which couldn't be further from the truth. This is a point I wanna get more into due to how it covers the Master System more. A random anon sending me questions, or rather statements, like this doesn't deserve to get a detailed response to this directly either. My viewers do deserve more insight though. Be it to avoid more people thinking this is automatically grooming, or just to give interested people more lore dump.

To keep it short: Everyone who wants to be a Reader, is a Reader. I myself am a Reader of fiction, which is why I use my persona to fill in the Reader's space in any drawing I do for ESAU. Which is also why Macaque referred to their Master currently being female in that one drawing- Because in that moment, in my drawings, I'm technically seen as their Master.

So when you see the champions swap between their Master using non-binary or female pronouns, this is why. If you see me draw them referring to their Master as a "she", they're referring to basically their current Master in that exact moment. However, literally anyone else can also be placed in that spot.

Whenever I refer to a Reader's reincarnation, I usually mean either "the same person, but another life" OR "different people of the same/a different life". As in, the Reader can imagine themselves having had multiple past lives, or their "past life" is actually another Reader. We're all the Reader. That's why I kept saying the Master System is rather philosophical.

The Reader can imagine themselves if they met their champions as a child or as an adult. However, nothing in ESAU is forced to be romantic or sexual. If you were born as a prince/princess/royalty, that doesn't mean your servants are immediately destined to be romantic or sexual with you, right? That entire portion is up to the Reader to decide and imagine. I do not control what another person thinks of and imagines. If they chose to pick a darker path, the fuck do you want me to do about that? Unless it ends up hurting anyone, or they actively push the topic onto others, I see no issue with however a Reader wants to think up what happens in their life with their servants. All I do is create material for others to play with.

Except for the First Master, any other Reader can be considered either the same person or various people. That's up to the person behind the screen, whether they feel more comforted with one idea or another.

On the Nezha being 12 topic... Do people know what a parody is, I-

LMK Nezha looks more like THIS-

Not as young as THIS-

And he was never said to be 12 years old in LMK. Nor does he look 12, act 12, speak 12, sound 12... LMK needs to be seen and accepted as more like a parody AU of the original story, if that wasn't obvious enough. I find it funny how they brought up my own age though-

Cuz yeah, I'm 21, almost 22, and I do understand the difference between reality's religions, fictional 2D pixels, and the difference between the source and a parody. Wow. Shocker. I know.

Or as I said it in tags earlier today-

Also I'd just like to add… If we go by the theory of specifically LMK Nezha still being 12, despite literally thousands of years having passed, his body being depicted as a fully grown adult in basically every single goddamn aspect of his character within the show… Literally all he got is his paperwork saying he's 12. Like- LMK Nezha would literally just be one of those people that were born on February 29th. Just him not getting any birthdays. Do you assume after literal thousands of years, with his body and mind being mature, and only his paperwork saying he's 12, this dude wouldn't be tryna explore more of himself and his interests, wh-

Like- LMK Nezha isn't the original source Nezha. Simple as that. Just accept it's a parody and be done with it. If you don't agree with it, that's your opinion and I respect that. But don't you dare fucking push that opinion on others who do actually accept the show as a parody and wanna live out their fantasies in said parody.

Your opinion does not mean it's the opinion of others.

Like, the entire age thing in LMK is such a headcanon thing to the point where no one seems to have a solid age, besides maybe MK, who I've seen people calculate his age for due to his driving license and all that. LMK Nezha is confirmed to be depicted as an adult within the show, which is the headcanon I'm going with, regardless of whatever bullshittery people are trying to argue with.

In conclusion: Nezha may be eternally 12 in a story. But that story is NOT Lego Monkie Kid.

On a side note, something I found ironic and funny, is if an aged up character isn't allowed to be sexualized, then I guess if someone ages a character down, suddenly that original source of the character is no longer allowed to be sexualized either, just because that character suddenly has a younger version of themselves. It's not even the younger version that's being sexualized. That literally is the entire logic of this debate on not wanting a fictional character to have an aged up version of themselves.

Good job, nobody wins. I guess nothing can be sexualized at that point- But then again, Rule 34 wouldn't exist then.

Okay, but now this, THIS is where I got REALLY annoyed, cuz NOW we're getting into more personal territory of nitpicking at ESAU. And those who know me are aware of how I go Asian mom mode when my creations, or younger friends and mutuals, are being wrongfully disrespected.

In general, their entire point is a snowflake-behavior nitpick. Branding is also seen as a way to claim ownership over something. The torture part is basically just the pain of it. I could've also just have the champions have one of those toy stamps for lil children be slapped onto them if you really wanna snowflake it all for tHe PrEcIoUs cHilDrEn...

C'mon. I grew up with FNAF and Creepypastas. Which tend to be usually two of the first fandoms I see children get interested in and hyperfixated on. Mentions of brandmarks that have fully healed ain't nothin' at all.

Like, I literally met a boy who was 8ish years old, who was so happy and hyped about FNAF that he asked me to draw Freddy and Bonnie.

Creepypastas also might make one edgy for a while, but they do grow A LOT from it once they leave that phase. So far, everyone I've ever talked to about Creepypastas in the past became such a good person. Because they look back, and recognize morals so much better. They have seen what bad things can happen and we all know where to draw the line between what's fine, and what's not. Nitpicking on LMK Nezha and ESAU doesn't mean anything since it's just that, nitpicking. I know where to draw the line, but this line these people set is a line no one but themselves can imagine.

Show children bits of reality's darker side and they will know how to deal with the knowledge much better and faster as they grow. That wasn't even just about branding, but I'm tired of people saying how we need to keep children safe. Well yeah, keep them safe physically, but they will never fucking grow and become more independent unless you fucking let them think and process the good AND the bad for themselves.

Also on the topic of adding content warnings- Like, the fuck do you want me to even add? Those asks other people sent of the Reader being basically raised by their servants need no warnings, X Readers in general need no warnings, the brandmarks need no warnings cuz they're just there as aesthetic symbols for anyone not invested in the lore, LMK Nezha needs no content warnings-

Literally the only content warning I'd ever need to add is something like gore, which I do admit I didn't add on the ESAU!Nezha X Reader one.

And I'd just like to add a little something that made me raise an eyebrow: They complained about me going against "Wukong's celibacy vows" when they literally admitted to actively looking through the LMK X Reader tag. While that doesn't necessarily mean they would marry or bang Wukong, that means they're at least curious or interested in what a relationship with any of those characters would be like. Which by all means, would not be possible without it being fiction/fanfiction, and without them having some curiosity or interest in the 2D show of LMK.

Like you're literally telling me I'm practically hurting a fictional character's feelings on the matter, but then turn around and try to get with another character.

Fanfiction and AU's are a thing, man. It's all opinions, headcanons, and literally made up shenanigans. And there's nothing wrong with it when it differs from one person to another.

But dumping empty accusations onto me, someone who thinks more logically than emotionally, literally doesn't help your case. Like, you're debating whether or not this 2D character would actually give a shit if someone would wanna bang them cuz they look hot to the other person.

Case 3:

This one just got dropped into my inbox as I finished typing out the last paragraph and just- This is literally just a unnecessary and only somewhat personal hatred thing at this point- But I'm wheezing at the idea of a smol Chinese Jesus-

Bro, as someone who was forced to be Christian on paper, but never gave a shit about it, because Religion doesn't prove anything or form you, I really don't care. And even if that were the case, I wouldn't complain. It's all fiction dammit. You're again, defending pixels on a screen. Besides that, that wouldn't even be the original source character, again. Also in general, honestly, I see any religious story as fiction anyway. Cuz that literally is what a religion is- You put a belief onto someone over a being/a story-

If you're religious, I respect that. But so do you have to respect that I'm not exactly religious myself.

Case 3 was probably the most directly aggressive one of the 3, but also the most unmeaningful one and so unnecessary one... as if that would be the one to prove a point.

Anyway, rant over, I'm done with this.

If I see any other personal hate on me for not sharing the same fucking opinion on such a niche debate, I'll just ignore and delete it all. This is such a pointless topic.

ESAU is supposed to be a comfort zone for those who actually do feel connected to it. If you don't, that's fine, I fully respect it. If people believe Nezha is 12, I respect that. But don't push that onto those who literally are just here to have a nice time away from shit like this. If you wanna "keep the children safe", fucking keep them away from this sort of nowhere-leading discussion topic.

Literally look at Genshin's Twitter Community, this just feels like the exact same type of unnecessary drama I see there.

And no I will not tag these 3 anons. If they respect me enough, they will either just keep quiet or block me and move on. I don't mind. But I refuse to let this bullshit be a whole ass discussion when I'm just trying to have a good time connecting to my viewers after a long day at work. If they look for a fight for some reason, I won't give them one. They can pick someone else for this bullshit, it's not worth my time as it's all OPINION AND HEADCANON-BASED.

And such debates don't end in peace. So I'd rather be the bigger, more mature person and just say "This is the line. Discussion over. We're done here".

Have a nice day, anyone who actually is nice and respectful towards others and their own takes/opinions on things! Weekend's here now tho so y'all ESAU lovers might see some wholesome lil doodles! :D