#one pear to rule them all

[myrmyrtheorca]

I beg you guys to look at the newest object of worship in my house

The One Pear

[riizebabie444]

𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 ♥️

hey all, sorry for not posting for so long, here is one of the requested pac's. this reading is about the attractive and sexy things about you that you don't realise. there are two parts, general and from your person's pov. hope you enjoy!

picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image.

be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment or guidance only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

♥️ ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

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pile one

in general, the sexy things you do without knowing are represented by eight of pentacles, eight of wands rv and death. with two eights here, i'm seeing your body type could be a major cause of your sexiness. it could be your chest or your booty, maybe you have curves or an obvious hourglass or pear figure. there are definitely parts of your body that people notice and find sexy. it could also be your eyes too, your eyes are sensual without you realising.

i think you have an air of mystery around you, you are private and don't like to show everything to the world in the way some other people do. it could be your body, your style, your business, even your plans for the weekend. but this privacy you have for yourself makes you seem like an enigma to others. people find the mystery sexy because then you leave it up to them to think what you are really like. mystery is just sexy anyway, so it doesn't need a lot of explaining.

furthermore, i see you being labelled as "hard to get" some may joke about you playing hard to get. maybe you're not even playing, you're just plainly not interested but others will still thank that way, that you are not easy. maybe you do it on purpose, maybe you don't i get i a mix here. but overall, others think it is hard work to get close to you whether romantically, sexually or platonically. you intimidate others with your no bullshit attitude and they find that attractive. what is rare is sought after. so many people will think you are "sexier" because there is a limited number of people you will allow your time and energy towards.

for your person, what they find sexy about you is your brightness and optimism. it is weird to describe traits like that in a "sexy" way however, i do see this. the person you are thinking of finds it so attractive how bright you are, how so many people look towards you when you don't realise. like you're nonchalant or unbothered by the attention. your confidence is also so sexy, your bravery in standing for what you believe and finding success chasing your dreams. you don't let things stand in your way.

this person really loves your back, they find it so sexy. i think you may actually be insecure about your back or just think it is not sexy, but trust me your person loves your back so much. they love your arms. they love when you are topless. they love when you wear dresses and skirts. they love when you love down at them, they get really turned on. i also think if you wear cute, coquette frilly and lace style of clothes/details on your clothes, they find it sexy. like cute lingerie or clothes in general. even floral, they find it so hot even though it's just your style preference. if not, then they want you to wear more of it because it is so sexy to them.

pile two

i think sometimes the clothes you wear and the way you hold yourself is sexy to others. it might be normal to you, you just wear what you want to wear. but some people might find it a little sexy even if you don't intend it that way. and the way you carry yourself, i see a lot of confidence here. good posture, the way you sit, particularly the way you lean down is very sexy. like say you dropped something and bent down to get it, it is quite sexy if someone saw it they wouldn't be able to stop thinking about the image. i'm seeing bending down and your hair falling or moving in that direction, like something out of a movie. but then when you fix your hair after standing back up, that is also sexy.

i think your hands are also sexy which you might not realise. people might like seeing you hold something because there is something about the way you hold things, your hands and fingers look so graceful and sexy. i see you might also be a bit clumsy, i'm seeing stars in your eyes or little stars spinning around your head. you could be a clumsy person, doing or saying silly things. in a way, this is sexy to others because they see you as a cute little, bright eyed, starry eyed thing. i get a hint of corruption here, people find it so sexy because you seem innocent and sweet but they're having different thoughts.

i see others may think you'd make a good mother or parent in general. you are seen as wife material. not the type to have a casual fling with. someone to settle down with. this is sexy because they think of having a family, how you would be as a mother. because of this, you might attract people who have breeding kinks. this message is random but yeah, the people who think you'd make a good wife and mother (or father/parent) would find you sexy because they want to breed you.

for your person, who you are thinking of, they will love your shoulders and collarbone. like i'm seeing someone kissing their a lot. they would love when you wear strapless tops or dresses. they also find it sexy when you wear gloves. the way you style your hair is sexy. again, i see when you hold things in your hand, with your person you might be holding something more particular if you get my drift, they find it sexy.

this is an odd one to look out for but i'm seeing that they find it sexy when you are emotional and crying. definitely be careful for people who are just trying to manipulate you, but i'm seeing this in a way that they like when you cry during sexy times or when you have emotional sex. for this person, emotions are a big turn on so sometimes even when you're being genuine with emotions, they can get excited by it because it is somehow sexy to them.

pile three

hey pile three. the sexy things you do without realising are represented by the hermit, justice and two of cups rv. with the hermit, i see that you have a sort of lone wolf vibe. you may have lots of friends or maybe not a lot but either way you look confident even when you are by yourself. people look at you and see that you don't need to be surrounded by people to feel confident. they think you are confident without people. you don't need anyone else to fill your inner life because you make it rich enough already. i think you also take things at your own pace, you don't conform to things easily. i'm seeing a scenario where most people are easily influenced by things they see in the internet on tiktok, but you are not so influenced. you won't follow trends for the sake of following trends but rather you'll follow things if they suit you. so people would think it is attractive because in an age where everyone thinks the same because we all consume the same, you stand out and can think for yourself. a lone wolf and smart is how i'm seeing you and it is attractive to others.

with justice, it is similar to what i previously said, you are strong in your beliefs and the things you follow. you don't believe things just because others believe it. you have your convictions. you are truthful and upright in your own regard. you judge others fairly. i think some may think you are a bit stuck up in this sense, because you stand out from fitting in with others. but i see that some still find this sexy, even those who don't like it. like, i see them thinking "i wish i was like pile three" or "i want to be with someone like pile three" but at the same time they will say "pile three is judgemental and stuck up". but still people find this attractive. there is nothing sexier than a person who knows themselves and believes themselves.

lastly, the things you don't realise are sexy, i see you personal style. i think when you wear formal attire or you dress up for an occasion, people love it! they find it so surprising and sexy for some reason. dressed smart but flashy. also, wearing high contrast colours or outfits with contrasting components makes you look sexy. in terms of your style, when you pair two colours together, it looks really good and others will think positively of your style. honestly i think again the way you are out of sync with others makes you unknowingly sexy. it's giving hot aquarius vibes, don't conform to society, doesn't think like everyone else. i also see that your shoulders and even collarbone, as well as your forearms are the physical parts fo you that people would find sexy.

for your person, what they find sexy is represented by three of wands, queen of swords rv and the artist. the way you are in control of your life and your future makes others feel proud but also scared of you, if that makes sense. and it makes them more attracted to you. for example, they would think you can sustain yourself without them and it scares them because they don't want to be without you but at the same time your power and confidence is sexy. also, your passions to travel and learn continuously comes up.

okay i'm seeing that you may have a no bullshit attitude, however, sometimes it can come off as a lack of empathy for others. whether true or not, what your person finds sexy is how you are the opposite with them. how you can trust and be soft with them and how you will confront your flaws and work on yourself as a part of your journey. and i think it is perceived as sexy because not a lot of people can do this honestly. and even when you do, it is difficult but you don't sugarcoat it. the power and the confidence and the creativity you have makes them so attracted to you and you would never think that they find it an appealing aspect of yourself.

pile four

i'm going to start with your persons perspective pile four because i'm relly excited by what they have to say. you are literally marriage material to them, or at least "i want to spend the rest of my life with them" and they find it so darn sext pile four! they love the joy and victory you bring into their life, as well as the simplicities, the domesticity. they see a beautiful and bright future with you. and i also lowkey see like the sweet forbidden fruit, so maybe you and this person aren't supposed to be together or you don't expect it and it makes the connection a bit more tense but exciting. it brings that spiciness, they aren't suppose to have you but they still want you and believe you will have a future together and that's hot to them.

i see you hands, when you're holding something long if you get my drift. your person would love it if when you giving them some hand action, it goes both ways but i'm mainly seeing the hand holding a stick so you're either playing with them or yourself. again, goes both ways. it could also be just holding random things, they find your hands so pretty so you could be holding the tv remote and they'll think it's sexy. you mind is stimulating also, you and your person could be people who need intellectual stimulation rather than physical and visual alone. your mind is like a maze they want to get lost in, they get turned on by your witty remarks and banter especially when flirting, they just want to kiss your face off.

and lastly, i see that your peaceful aura is so attractive to them. one wouldn't think calm and cosy vibes is a sexy thing to to your person and many others, peace and comfort is a turn on. you stay away from drama. like sure, everyone loves a bit of drama but i mean this in the sense that you aren't actively involved in drama, nor the cause of it, and can easily distance yourself from drama caused by other people. they love seeing you overcome things, and this makes you attractive to them because it furthers the agenda that you are the person they want to spend their future with, someone who is peaceful and warm.

now for the things in general that you do not realise are sexy. i see hands again. so not only your person, but others in general find that you have pretty nice hands. when you're holding things. i'm seeing the curve of your hand or your arm, the same and size can be a turn on for some. it could also represent the way you create opportunities for yourself. i see that you also look or act rich. whether you are rich or not doesn't matter, just the way you hold yourself, like you come from a good background. definitely a desirable feature that makes you sexier.

i think some of you may have had a glow up or your looks significantly changed. could also just be something as simple as your clothing style or hair colour that changed. this change in your appearance makes you sexier. it may not seem much to you, like say you just changed your hair colour. but others, especially the opposite sex or desired sex, find you more sexy after the change. i think you may not go out a lot, like hanging out with friends or attending parties. maybe it is not you thing. but when you do go out, everyone is excited to see you. like, you are rare to others, so people find it mysterious and kind of cherished. it makes you more desired. you may think "oh im so lonely and boring" but others are like "when will pile four hang out with us? i really want to see them" and lastly, i see the trust you have in yourself and the world or god, you seem so content and peaceful pile four and it makes you so sexy and desirable.

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[bobcatblahs]

Today my random Doctor Who opinion nobody asked for is that I think each Doctor should’ve been allowed to curse, except it should be limited to *one* curse word that they could use multiple times.

My classic Doctor Who knowledge is limited, I’ve mostly seen 3/4 and of course 8.

So for this I’ll start with Eight and go forward.

Partially based on conversations with my husband because what else do you talk about at night?

Eight: Hell. ‘Hell no’ ‘What the hell’ ‘Go to hell’ it just fits. Especially with his memory issues and bizarre adventures

Nine: Fuck. Just sprinkle it anywhere. From ‘D’you mind not fuckin’ farting while I’m trying to save the world’ to ‘You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me’ in the big brother house…

Ten: Shit/Shite. Mostly used to describe the taste of the random things he licks or the situations he gets himself into. Frequently used phrase: ‘Donna don’t touch that shit’

Eleven: Damn/Dammit. Also sprinkled anywhere. ‘Take them all, dammit!’ ‘Good men don’t need any damn rules. Now’s not the time to find out why I have so damn many.’

Twelve: Fuck. Added liberally. Just. Anywhere. From anger to joy. ‘Hate is always fuckin’ foolish’ ‘Never eat fuckin’ pears’ ‘Do you think I care for you so fuckin’ little that fuckin’ betrayin’ me would make a fuckin’ difference?’

Thirteen: Back to Damn/Dammit. On occasion when necessary. ‘Dammit! If I was still a bloke, I could get on with the damn job and not have to waste time defending myself.’

Fourteen: Hell. He has plenty of what the hell moments. My personal fav and first would be ‘What the hell?! I know these teeth!’

Fifteen: C*nt. Not a word I can stomach out loud, but he’d use it in both the funny complimentary way and the insult way. Examples include ‘Ruby that dress is serving c*nt’ and ‘Lindy Pepper-Bean was a c*nt

(Idk why but that word just gives me the ick, but I know what I’m talking about with this I promise 🤣)

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Hello! I know that your asks are closed right now, but this idea just popped into my mind and I needed to get it to you before it disappeared. Please feel free to ignore this until your asks reopen or just ignore it in general. I don't want you to feel forced to do anything, especially when I'm breaking your blog rules!

Jack Howl × Gorou M! Reader

I just noticed that you didn't have anything for Jack where he's by himself; so I wanted to give you a bit of inspiration! Have a wonderful day, Mr. Benny.

Jack Howl - With Gorou-Like Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Originally I was going to do all of the asks from franchises that I hadn't written for before first, but then I saw this and remembered that Jack didn't have any stand-alone content on my blog yet, so I just had to right this injustice. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺

🍐  Jack first met you at the orientation ceremony. He sort of already felt comfortable around you because of your canine traits and the way you carried yourself with such seriousness and determination. The white-haired boy also thought you smelled kind of nice; like the ocean and water-logged wood, but there was also a bit of sweetness in there that he couldn't quite identify. As orientation ended and all the Savanaclaw students made their way to the mirror chamber, Jack's curious eyes stayed glued to your cloaked form.

🍐 Coincidentally, you and Jack ended up sharing a dorm room, how nice for him. He was a bit shocked when you told him right off the bat that if he needed help or just someone to talk to you would readily lend an ear. The fact that he was bunked with such a supportive person was incredibly relieving for the wolf-eared boy. While it would take him a little while to open up to you more, considering you just met, Jack would be sure to act on your offer in the future.

🍐  Jack loves exercising with you! After learning about your previous status as a general before your enrollment in the NRC, he requested to know your exercise routine during that time, to which you happily agreed. You both have a habit of waking up at the crack of dawn and going for a run which made you decide to ask him to accompany you instead of heading out separately. Your skills with a bow and arrow also caught Jack's attention, often watching you practice and occasionally catching glimpses of a certain weird Pomefiore third-year hiding in the bushes.

🍐 During one particularly hot day, you and Jack ended up staying in your shared dorm room after class instead of going outside or to the dorm's indoor gym to exercise; far too hot to will yourselves to move. This is when the wolf beast-man learned of your shared habit of your extra appendages giving away your emotions, your orange-brown, and white ears drooping with exhaustion from the heat. When Jack suggested going to the dorm kitchen and making smoothies, he had to hold back a chuckle at how your ears perked up and how your tail began to sway. Although, when you saw where his gaze was directed you grew embarrassed and covered your butt with a pillow.

🍐 Speaking of sweet things, Jack discovered that his dorm mate had a fondness for sweets, he remembered you mentioning that you didn't get them very often while you were a general. He actually whipped up some pear jam on toast for you once to see what you thought about the taste and was happy that he found a fellow pear enjoyer in you. You did tell him that your favorite fruit was something called lavender melon, a tree fruit that was native to the cluster of islands that you grew up on. The fruit was on his mind for a while after that, Jack may or may not have made plans to eat it with you in the future.

🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[greater-than-the-sword]

Five golden rings, for the dwarf lords, in their halls of stone.

Four calling birds,

Three for the elves,

Two turtle doves

And one partridge to rule them all, and in a pear tree bind them.

[slytherinshua]

APPLES AND PEARS

genre. fluff. secret relationship. farmer au lmao?? warnings. rivalry between families. having to hide a relationship because of bad blood. not proofread. pairing. sion x fem!reader. wc. 2.4k. request. no. a/n. yes this is based on that one couple in my little pony.... fight me they were cute AND IT WAS A CUTE IDEA. also got the idea from @sleepy-wonus's nct wish x mlp moodboard series and sion's mb. divider by @/pommecita.

The rivalry between your family’s pear orchard and the Oh family’s apple orchard went back too far to even count. Generations of tradition went into the planting, pruning, harvesting, and selling of your pears, and you took great pride in it, much like the rest of your family. You would never get tired of the smell of sweet pears, or the process of baking the fresh fruit into pastries. 

Despite how much you liked it, you often found it overwhelming. Your parents had a few strict rules which you had to follow since you were little. There were only two of them, but you had always found them extremely hard to stick to. 

The first rule was to never eat pears from the trees. You were only allowed to have them once they had been sorted through and separated by quality. When you were younger, you despised this one the most. You absolutely loved pears no matter how many you ate. Not being able to pick them fresh off the tree to enjoy was torture.

The second rule was to never talk to the Oh family, and to never cross the property line on the west side of the farm. Around 50 acres of trees grew on your family’s property. When you were younger, you were simply never allowed to travel to the far west side. This only piqued your curiosity about the rivalled apple orchard. 

Your parents always told you that the Oh family were terrible people who had wrongly scammed your family and stolen your precious land (and loyal customers). You wholeheartedly believed them when you were younger and held the same contempt as they did for the ‘apple family’. But were they really as bad as your family insisted?

“Sion! You’re not allowed to climb the tree!” You whisper-shouted in panic, a basket of pears in your hand which you quickly dropped to the ground, “You’re out in the open again! I’m gonna get in trouble.” You whined, running up to the base of the tree and staring up at the boy. He gave you a mischievous smile. 

“If they come around, I’ll hop down and pretend like I was picking apples this entire time.” He grinned, glancing back at the property line where you saw an empty basket he had abandoned. 

Oh Sion. The oldest son of the Oh family, who you first met when you were 14, and soon found out was exactly your age. Who could blame you for being curious about him? You barely saw anyone outside of your family, much less a boy, that too from the one family you were never supposed to talk to. All the rivalry, competition, and loathing that you were supposed to hold for him disappeared as soon as you saw his face.

Now, a few years later, you and him were still keeping up the delicate act of hiding yourselves whenever you met up. Your parents would have a heart attack if they knew you had been talking to him, much less kissing him. (He was an excellent kisser, though). 

“Your bosc pears are sweeter this year.” He commented, pointing at the fruit hanging from the branch he was sitting on. You could tell he was fishing for compliments— trying to impress you with his knowledge on the fruit.

“Don’t start acting like a pear expert just because you can finally tell the difference. You didn’t even know there were different types before I told you.” You rolled your eyes, “Get down from the tree. You’re putting stress on the branch.” 

“Only if you give me a kiss.” Sion said gleefully, hopping down to the ground in one smooth motion. 

You stepped forward, caging him in against the tree with one hand, “You want a kiss in return for trespassing on my property?” You raised an eyebrow, amused at his antics.

His eyes twinkled, “Are you going to give it to me or not? I don’t have all day.” His hand slipped to your waist, waiting for you to make the move. You leaned in, eyes fluttering shut. Just as your lips touched his and you were met with the sweet taste of apple and cinnamon, you heard a voice drawing nearer. 

You both pulled apart on instinct, and Sion slipped behind the tree and back across the property line without another word. You lamented over the unfortunate timing for a moment before picking up your basket and facing your aunt who had come to ask for your help with the pear butter.

After finishing up the batch of pear butter and peeling and cutting a few baskets of pears, you were finally sent on harvesting duty again. You snuck back to the same tree, hoping that Sion would still be picking apples nearby. It was easy to spot the head of dirty blond against the trees bearing sweet gala apples. 

“No worms got in this year, I hope?” You teased, stepping over the line into the apple orchard. Sion tossed you an apple from the branch.

“See for yourself.”

You smiled, taking a seat on the grass as you watched him work. He was tall, and able to reach the fruit easily. Although he was also lazy, opting to bend the branches down to reach instead of getting a ladder. You bit into the apple, a pleased smile on your face whenever you had the opportunity to break a rule. Sion watched you with a smirk as well, the sentiment shared.

He had been brought up similarly, although not quite as harsh as your parents. Rather than seeing your family as having wronged his, you were painted as lesser and therefore not worth his time. Apples always sold more than pears— the proof was in the fruit, as Sion’s mother said. Sion had always liked pears himself. 

“You owe me for earlier.” He said as he plucked the last apple from the branch. 

“I’m ready to pay up.” You smiled, beckoning him over next to you.

“Good. Because I was feeling a bit cheated.” He plopped down on the ground beside you, shuffling next to you until your knees were touching. You cupped his cheek and drew his face to yours, sighing happily when there were no interruptions to your kiss. 

There were always unanswered questions that came with your relationship with Sion. The simple fact that neither of your parents would ever accept the other often made thinking of the future impossible. So, you lived in the present. You enjoyed every day you saw Sion, and took every opportunity you could to talk to him, hold him, kiss him. You loved him wholeheartedly. 

He pressed his lips harder against yours, deepening the kiss. The taste of the apple you had just eaten on your tongue made him pull apart to giggle. You tasted like him, and it made his chest feel warm.

“I have the fall fair for a week, you know. I won’t be able to see you.” He mumbled, catching his breath.

“Don’t remind me.” You shushed him of the thought with your lips finding his again, desperately getting your fill of the feeling before you would inevitably be deprived of it again. 

As much as he would’ve liked to stay kissing you for the rest of the day, preparations for the fair separated you two once again. You only had time to give him a couple pears to stash away for the trip before he left. He was busy for the rest of the day, preparing recipes and packaging hundreds of apples into boxes. By the time evening came, he had already left on the long drive to town.

You hated when Sion was away. There were many tasks you could do to keep yourself busy, but your small breaks to talk to him at the edge of the farm kept you motivated unlike anything else. Seeing the empty apple orchard only made you miss him more; so you tried to stay inside the house as much as possible.

Your grandma was working on new quilts for the winter. Most of the fabric had patterns of pears or leaves on them, but you found a random stash of apple related ones as well. Deciding to take up your own sewing project, you started to make a small quilt for Sion (although you told your mother it was just a personal project). 

The days had never gone slower. Although it was peak pear season and the orchard was doing better than ever, you were starting to get sick of pears. When Sion wasn’t there, you quickly grew tired of having to be surrounded by them all the time. They weren’t a source of your pride anymore if everyone else around you already shared it with you.

Two days before he was supposed to return, you found yourself walking over to the property line again. It was evening and the chance of any of your family seeing you by the westside trees that had already been picked was low. You didn’t even try to hide your intention as you crossed over the line, looking for a fresh apple to pick. You just missed him that bad.

“Missed me that much, huh?” 

You startled from the sound of his voice, dropping the apple you had just plucked from the tree out of shock. You turned around and there he was. His face was obscured from the night darkness, but you didn’t even need to see his face to know he was wearing his signature grin. 

You ran into his arms, the feeling of him squeezing you tightly suggesting that he missed you even more than you did. He smelled slightly like pears, and it brought a small smile to your face. 

“Why are you back so early? Did I not give you enough pears to keep you away?” You pulled back from the hug, pushing back some of his hair to better see his face. He was so pretty.

“I ran out by the third day. You should’ve given me a better stock.” He complained. “My parents sent me to catch the honeycrisp harvest on the best day. The timing didn’t work out too well this year, so I volunteered to go back by myself.” He told you, “And maybe I also wanted some more pears.” The whispered afterthought made you giggle. 

For the first time ever, you slipped onto the Oh’s orchard without any fear. You found Sion sitting on the porch, peeling apples by hand with a small knife. He didn’t notice you at first, partly because he was so focused on his task, and partly because you had never dared to come this far onto his family’s farm before. 

“What are you making with those?” You asked as you took a seat beside him.

“Apple sauce. We like to slow cook them for a couple hours, but not too long otherwise it’ll turn out too watery. Never overnight.” He grinned, reaching over to a basket and handing you a knife. “Since you’re here, you might as well help.” 

“I feel like I’m cheating on at least 10 generations of my family.” You commented as you grabbed a fresh apple from the pail at his feet and started peeling away the skin. 

You were a bit clumsy with the knife on the apple. They were much bigger than your pears, not to mention a completely different shape. You definitely didn’t have as much skill in the area as Sion. He finished peeling three apples in the time it took you to just do one. His peels dropped into the compost bucket in one clean long spiral, while yours were scrappy and broken. 

“Hold it like this.” Sion said softly, adjusting your hands so that you steadied the apple with your thumb and cut towards it. You watched him demonstrate how to peel it the best, starting from the top of the apple and finishing at the bottom without breaking the peel once. It was perfectly thin without catching any of the fruit on it. You had to admit that watching him do it so perfectly was hot.

With his guidance, you saw better results immediately, although you would never accomplish his level of over 15 years with just 1 afternoon of practice. Once the apples were peeled, you started to core and cut them into medium sized chunks. You had much more success with it, as you were more used to coring pears. 

Cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves went into the pot as seasoning for the fruit. The smell of fall enveloped your senses with sweet and spicy scents. Maybe it was because the same notes were always what Sion lips tasted like, or maybe it was your growing love for any recipe that included apples in it, but you were obsessed with the smell. 

“I should hire you on the farm. Who knew the pear girl would be so good with apples?” Sion teased you once you were done, taking a walk around the orchard together to check on the state of the trees.

“If only our family’s didn’t hate each other.” You mused, letting a sigh leave your lips. You finally had a taste of what it would be like to not have to hide. You knew you would always enjoy any time you spent with Sion, but you didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as you did. 

“It’s a shame. Apples and pears aren’t even that different. They’re better together, in fact.” Sion commented, nudging you with his elbow. You laughed at his hidden meaning, linking your fingers together with his as you neared the pear side of the farm.

“See you tomorrow?” You asked, stepping over the line, Sion still standing on his side. You toyed with his fingers, delaying when you would actually have to say goodbye.

“You know where to find me.” He smiled, letting you decide when to finally let go of his hands. 

Like always, saying goodbye was the worst part of the day, for both you and Sion. Being so close to you, yet so separated left a sour taste in Sion’s mouth. He so badly wished he could spend every moment with you, or even help around your family’s farm as well. He was more likely to get a pear to his face than even the slightest chance of your family accepting him. So, he cut his losses when he had to. He still felt grateful for what he had.

He had you. Sion was hopelessly in love with you, a feeling that you shared without hesitance. And that itself was enough for both of you. 

↳ nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,, @hursheys,,

@kristianities,, @lilly-cherry7

[befemininenow]

Are you a trans girl or non-conforming and would like to try out feminine clothing? You may want to check this out.

Say you found this dress online and you really love the overall style of it. Great! If you’re like me, you would say “F it! I’ll buy the dress and I’ll wear it how I like!” and move on with your life. That should the end of this guide, right? Except, there is one little problem: not everybody thinks this way. Those who look for the best matching outfits aren’t just searching to fit their style, color, or personality. It also has to do with their body type. If you’re in that situation, this guide may help you out.

Body shape

Believe it or not, there are many different types of body shape (up to 10). However, the most common tend to be the following (in no order):

Rectangle- Even distribution on shoulders, hips, and waistline

Pear/Triangle- Wide hips, well-defined waist, small shoulders

Hourglass- Near-exact hip and shoulder measurements, thinner waistline

Inverted Triangle- Broader shoulders, narrower hips, little waist definition

Apple/Round- Broad shoulders and big bust, thin legs and hips

Many transgender women have the inverted triangle body shape due to several factors such as genetics, bone structure, and age. However, your body shape may also change over time due to a rebalancing of hormones, body fat, and even lifestyle. While you can’t change your bone structure, you can change your body definition through exercises.

Body proportion

Here is something you may find useful if you’re looking to customize your look. Body proportions are unique to every individual and play a factor on clothing and to some extent, accessories such as jewelry. For instance, you may find the skirt you bought looks either too long or short. There are a few areas where to measure your body proportions such as wrist length or neck size. But the best way to improve your dress type is by following the “golden ratio rule” of dividing your body into three:

The way this is read is you’re either one-third top, two-thirds bottom, or you’re two-thirds top, one-third bottom. Once you get more knowledge, you can go upwards even eighths! But for now, the focus is on these two outcomes.

The two-thirds top, one-third bottom words well with long dresses:

while the one-third top, two-thirds bottom works well with more casual clothing:

Body measurements

Now that we got a few problems out of our way, it’s time to figure out what measurements you have. The best way to find out is by using a mirror and a soft measuring tape for body. Measure all the crucial parts of your body, which are the waist, hips, shoulders, and bust. This will determine the type of body you have and have a better idea on what length you will need to try out your clothing of choice.

Shoe size

One thing very important about an outfit is choosing footwear. Although you can use your old Converses with your flared jeans, you’re certainly not going to use them with a ruffled dress. You’re definitely going to want heels or flats! Unfortunately, women’s shoe size are not exactly the same as men. But don’t give up! Fortunately, there are women’s size conversion charts that help you choose what shoe size you need.

To find out your measurements on your own, grab at least two blank pieces of paper, a pencil or pen, and a measuring tape. Place your foot firmly forward and carefully trace around the outer area of your foot. Repeat this with your other foot. Once finished, grab your measuring tape and measure from your highest point to your lowest on both sheets. Measure the width as well. If both feet measure close to 10.5, your women’s size is a 12. However, due to a difference in manufacturing based on shoe brand, as well as shoe type like pumps, the average recommended size is at least 2 inches above your actual size. For those living in other countries that don’t use the US measuring size, I left a chart that shows all the possible measurements you may use to convert your shoe size into women’s size.

What to wear based on body type

Since not all clothing is made for everyone, it’s time to list what is considered the “ideal” clothing choices based on body type. Note that these are opinions from my source’s authors. IMO, the pictures below each suggestion are a better opinion. Your are free to choose your type of clothing.

Rounded or apple shapes fit best with monochrome colors and make the person look more “fit”.

Pear or triangle shapes look more balanced with decorative accessories on top while keeping the bottom more plain.

Rectangle shapes tend to have more volume with a waist belt while pleated pants give more volume on hips.

Hourglass shapes look best when wearing bodycon dresses and cardigans to emphasize volume in their waistline.

Inverted triangle shapes pull off the wide leg pants and fitted top combo the best.

For a much more comprehensive guide for each body type, I highly recommend reading The Concept Wardrobe’s guides. It gives more details on what to wear and how to choose the best combinations. Link is provided here: https://theconceptwardrobe.com/search?query=body+frame

Tips on what to wear

Now that you reached this point, I’m pretty sure you’re excited to try out what your heart desires. However, before you go out and buy that two-piece dress, I recommend researching and observing the type of clothing women wear today. Believe it or not, people will judge based on your way of dressing, from background to social status to age. A simple look like bodysuit and jeans may look perfect on you and blend you in with the girls, but something like a hot pink bodycon will make you stand out, and most likely not in a good way. So how would you choose something that blends you in with society, but also be comfortable at the same time? Here are some tips and pics:

Find clothing that “feels” feminine. In other words, buy clothing that “feminizes” your body, such as tops that make your shoulders look shorter, wrap dresses that make your waistline shorter, and skirts that make your hips look wider.

Find the best colors based on skin tone and hair color. For instance, try out warm colors such as orange if your skin tone is warm.

Dress sexy, but never go too revealing. Seriously, have some respect to yourself. But if you really want to go out wearing, for example, a two-piece outfit, wear one that looks stylish and flatters your body in a great way.

Use accessories that fit and blend well with your body. Large jewelry goes well with larger frame, small jewelry fits with smaller wrist, and so forth. Don’t forget the purse! It is absolutely necessary now that you’re wearing pocketless clothing. Choose one that fits your taste and needs.

Bras and undergarments are necessary to wear now. As you further into your transition, your breasts will start growing and it will become more difficult and uncomfortable going out braless. Start out with a brassiere, then move on to a fitted bra as they become bigger over time. As for down there, I would use boy briefs as they’re similar to boxers. Although HRT will cause it to shrink, it does not make it disappear. If you must hide it, use a gaff or a tuck, but do not use chastity belts (Seriously, stay away from that unless you’re really into that thing). 

Optional: use waist shapers or corsets to slim down waist. Hip enlargement pads will also give your narrow hips and butt much needed volume. Breast forms can also give you an idea how big you want them in the future.

Fashion sense

But the most important part of choosing clothing as a trans girl is to wear whatever suits your taste.

For instance, are you more into the traditional and simple feminine aesthetic? Cottagecore may be for you:

But what if you’re the rebellious type that prefers to defy tradition? Well, maybe the alt-girl fashion is for you:

Maybe you’re the type that changes clothing based on season. So if you’re a summer-season type of girl, you’re definitely going for an outfit like this:

How about if you’re into the gym? Clearly your goal is to be like this:

Are you into business casual? There’s also a pic for that:

(The girl in the pic is also transgender! Her name is Suzi Hunter, better known as The Sphere Hunter.)

But we also can’t forget cosplay, either!:

(Cosplayer is Eden the Doll, a trans woman cosplayer! Picture belongs to Geo Leon.)

You’re probably the party type who loves some action:

Casual wear can also be tasteful and attractive too:

There’s so much to pic, but each style says a lot about what type of woman you are.

Where to buy clothing

If you’re interested in finding the right clothes for you, check out places that are especially gender-inclusive. As I’m based in the US, clothing stores such as Target are a good start while higher-end chains such as Nordstrom and Macy’s may have a better variety to choose from. If you’re a thrifty shopper, your local outlets, discount stores, and thrift shops have a surprising amount of great clothing for affordable prices. Although online sites like Amazon, Shein, and Zara have affordable and appealing clothing, many of these brands also have ethical concerns that overshadow their reputation. Dubbed “fast fashion”, they are a source of scrutiny among fashion fans and I would personally avoid them if possible. If you really need something affordable and new, I highly recommend purchasing through discount and thrift stores.

If you’re in need of safe undergarments, check out Urbody. They have clothing suitable for trans people, non-binary, and other identities, varying from binders to tucked leggings. They are founded by trans and non-binary people and use ethical practices and living wages for their workers. If you’re interested in checking their site out, here is the link to their page (I am not sponsored by them): https://urbody.co/

Conclusion

The whole point of this guide is to help you pick the proper clothing and accessories as a newly-out girl. I made this guide since there doesn’t seem to be many that are detailed. Keep in mind I’m still learning about female clothing as I am still in the first stages of transition myself. If anyone would like to add more info that is missing or provide any corrections, please reblog and add more helpful tips as it would help trans girls, trans women, non-binary, and anyone else that desires to wear affirming clothing. Please refrain from using any hurtful language if you’re doing so. Thank you and hugs!

Links to sources:

https://www.healthline.com/health/women-body-shapes#why-shape-fluctuates

https://www.thestylatude.com/post/the-most-common-body-shapes-for-women-and-how-to-find-out-yours

https://theconceptwardrobe.com/build-a-wardrobe/inverted-triangle-body-shape

https://www.thestylebouquet.com/2020/02/17/5-most-common-body-shapes-for-women/

https://dressedformyday.com/how-to-discover-your-body-proportions/

https://gabriellearruda.com/how-to-dress-better-female-body-shape/

https://m2fguide.com/how-to-pick-clothes-if-youre-transgender-or-crossdressing/

https://feminizationsecrets.com/mtf-clothing-tips/

https://www.instagram.com/p/CHBk9v0J_WO/

https://www.transgendermap.com/social/clothing-accessories/

https://apexfoot.com/shoe-sizing-chart/

https://www.glamourboutique.com/crossdresser-fashion/guide-male-female-shoe-sizes-33255#:~:text=Minimize%20the%20chance%20of%20having,11%20in%20a%20women's%20shoe

[rebornofstars]

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.  Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!  And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

i was tagged by @starwolfie! thank you!

my wiplist as of 30/8/24:

the cursebreaker

the primordials

strawberry

sing me to sleep

fruit bats (series)

lu hunger games au (series)

yestermorrow (name pending)

RIV DONT ASK ABOUT THIS ONE

stationary point

darkling i listen

out in the woods we rot

peter parker on reddit

200 hyoi pears

sepfember (yay!)

fan joy july (sadly i dont think it will ever be finished)

before the rain stops

cursebreaker!spirit

uhhhhh.... those are all my wips i guess..... hit me up if you wanna chat about them xx. i might have to be cryptic for some because of spoilers though... im gonna go grab some breakfast now and then get back to working on ch20 of cursebreaker hohohoho. love you guys 💞💞

and now for tagging time! the fun part! i can't remember who has already done this or not, so! no pressure to respond! @rosehipandroots @crazylittlejester @noorahqar @savimatteo2810 @jellyfishvibes @not-freyja @musical-chan @zarvasace @tashacee @a-manicured-lawn @artemistorm @serbii @nancyheart11 @across-violet-skies @needfantasticstories @elle-rosewater @anime-obsessed @hotcheetohatredwastaken .... if any of you are working on some juicy wips right now, please consider me SUPER interested 👀👀👀

[captainzigo]

Hi everypony!

My kofi is ko-fi.com/captainzigo if you enjoy my art, consider leaving me a tip! this is otherwise entirely a labor of love so,,,

you can also send a request with your tip! but if you choose to do so, please read the disclaimer later on in this post**

my non-art blog, where i accept asks is @snapewife-divorce-lawyer and my reblog-spam blog is @3amgaypotion also i am on bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/captainzigo.bsky.social

that's a bunch of pictures of my oc(/ponysona) Prickly Pear. she's a cowgirl

Frequent/noteworthy questions below the break

**on donations made to me:

i still dont take commissions currently, but if you send a request with a donation, there's a 99% chance i'll do it. and that remaining 1% i'll probably just ask you for a different request. if you send me a request with a donation you are not sending me a commision. you are making a donation, and i might do you a favor as a result. you do not own the resulting art. and I am under no obligation to complete it or to do it in the way that you like. you do not need to make a donation in order to make a request. i talk more about it here

hello mutuals!

If you are a mutual, DM me for an invite to discord server and subsequently to minecraft server

on sending me asks:

any asks you send me should be like Strongbad emails. one paragraph. no attachments. unless you are sending me refs.

in any interactions, please keep in mind that i am a stranger on the internet and act accordingly.

unless I have explicitly said otherwise, you can safely assume that I do not count you amongst my friends. it is nothing personal, it is in fact the opposite.

why am i like this?

i am autistic. i say this because representation matters, but also because i would like to ask that you please be very frank with me. i don't even really need your patience. just say what you mean and we will get along fine.

can you draw my ocs?

you most certainly can draw any of my ocs. i'd love that acually. tag me

on (re)posting my art:

do not post my art on other platforms. do not repost my art period. I don't really exist on other platforms since i deleted Twitter. So if you see my stuff on other platforms, it's not me. except for my bluesky.

transformative works are obviously allowed, at least here in USamerica where i live. but if you want my blessing, please keep them SFW, and try to keep the spirit of the original artwork

is my blog SFW?

im in my twenties. i keep my blog SFW (as i define it) as a strict rule.

i do not consider the fact that sex exists, that some people enjoy it, or some innuendo to be NSFW. i also do not consider swearing, even as tho a sailor might, to be NSFW.

are NSFW interactions ok?

in short: no. while i have no aversion to to that sort of thing, and often actually enjoy it, i keep this blog SFW. the intention behind my art is to be SFW even when it might be skirting the line. in general, and especially, specifically with mlp, i do not wish to have NSFW interactions on the internet. please respect this boundary.

on shipping:

in my opinion, all romance real or fictional should be between people who are similar in age, doing age appropriate things, not closely related, and all with mutual consent. i am not interested in witnessing or interacting with anything outside of these parameters.

on my blue hair and pronouns:

i am a trans woman. i am also bisexual. i am also poly and demi since im listing things. i am out online becasue i know how important it is to know that you aren't alone.

do i take constructive criticism?

NO 🖕👹🖕 FUCK YOU!!!!!!! GET BLOCKED IDIOT!! unless you are a marginalized person who feels i have unintentionally made you uncomfortable somehow with my art or otherwise. in that case i am sorry and you do me a great favor by calling me out. OTHERWISE FUCK YOU DUMBASS IF YOU DONT LIKE MY ART GO DRAW YOUR OWN 🖕🖕🖕🖕

“i hate bronies”…

i don't necessarily hate you if you self identify with that label. i like to make myself off-putting to keep creeps away. i talk about it more in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/captainzigo/744131513208176640/when-i-say-i-hate-bronies-in-my-header-its

brony?

i don't hold a lot of nostalgia for old brony stuff. infact it's quite the opposite. i was a child when the show came out, and more than that i was a girl. i am not a brony.

do i like g5?

i like all generations of mip including the new stuff. gen 4 is just the one i grew up with

why is my header aurora, bori and alice from the best gift ever?

well that would be because i hate them like a mother hates a child. like the sun hates the moon. like sickly victorian child hates the slightest morsel of bread.

on flurryheart:

i often draw stuff about cozy glow x flurry heart. this is with the understanding that cozy glow spends about a decade turned to stone. nullifying the age gap.

🤓☝️ i think you mean effect, not affect

i am dyslexic. i spell stuff wrong all the time and i type weird. please don't bother correcting me. wooptydoo your brain is wired normally. sending you a medal.

on my username:

i've had the same username since i debuted on the internet. zigo is the name of an oc i made that i dont really talk much about anymore. zigo is a fine enough nickname, and at least one person calls me that irl.

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 10

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 6.5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12 A/N: a lot of yall are gonna be mad at me, but let me cook real quick. Trust 🙏🏾

Past (xi) - You

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

You tighten your coat around you, burrowing into the warmth as you walk. 

To the left of you, dairy cows moo distantly, some grazing the open land while others stay tucked away in their barns. To the right of you, you pass empty victor houses. Once upon a time, District Eleven used to produce an immense number of victors. Certainly not as many as One or Two, but a strong contender right next to Four. It makes sense. Compared to what the citizens here have to face day to day, the arena is a welcome change. And tributes from Eleven develop a skill set that’s meant for survival at a very young age—one step away from being careers in your own right.

Eleven has always been incredibly rebellious. But after the Uprising a few decades back, which the citizens refer to as the First Movement, Eleven lost any good standing with the Capitol. In its place came droves of Peacekeepers and more oppressive rules than there were people. With them came the inability to train children, malnourishment, and conformity. They make sure to teach all about it in school, making sure students know just how far their district fell. Once a powerhouse worthy of rubbing shoulders with the best of them stands one of the most ��primitive’ and militarized districts in the nation.

The remaining houses are left without any upkeep and are abandoned to fall apart.

As a victor, you're afforded some leniency by the Peacekeepers, but not much. Just enough that they won't find it suspicious that you’re carrying a blanket-covered wicker basket. Regardless, you keep it close to your side, and it knocks into your calf with each step. 

Winter is the worst time in Eleven, though it doesn’t last long. It doesn’t snow often since it’s so far south, but the ice is just as bad—if not worse. Not many people can survive the subzero temperatures, let alone crops. So, though it seems impossible, what little rations they give the people are shortened even further. The only plus is that it isn’t harvest season—there are so many crops to collect that children are pulled out of school for weeks at a time to help.

You remember what it feels like to be hungry. To be forced into the orchards to harvest pears, apricots, and Mandarin oranges—some of the only crops that can weather the cold, small hands stiff and your stomach numb with pain as you endured the freezing winds. You had friends when you were younger, other children that worked alongside you. Very few of them survived through the winter.

They give victors more food and money than they have any right to. So once a month, you pack up food that you, Chaff, and Seeder have gathered and journey to the poorest part of the district. You don’t take it all at once. That’s far too risky. You spread out the trips over several days at different times so the Peacekeepers on the clock don’t notice a pattern.

It’s not an easy walk by any means. You reside in the wealthy part of Eleven, and you use wealthy in the loosest sense of the word. The mayor’s family, doctors, Peacekeepers, landowners, and victors. Your destination is almost on the complete opposite side of the district from the Victor Village. Far away so the rich don’t have to see the harsh reality that the citizens live in.

It’s never been explicitly said that you can’t give out food, but it’s certainly implied. You try not to think about what they’ll do to you if you’re caught.

You wave at the few people you pass and avert your eyes as you walk past the whipping post. There’s only one. The Peacekeepers line up anyone who’s committed an offense and thrash them one by one. Most of the time, the people are innocent. Everyone has to watch. No one can intervene. It’s stationed beside the deck they conduct the hangings on.

People avoid the area if they can.

You pass open farmland and empty cotton fields. The further you walk, the more run down the buildings become. Until the houses aren’t much more than shacks guarded only by the hulking trees surrounding them. You relax. The Peacekeepers don’t patrol here. They’re certainly supposed to, but even they can’t stomach the squalor. 

The kids spot you first—they always do. Little heads pop up from behind trees, shouting your arrival. 

“She’s here!”

You laugh as they surround you, jumping up and down and shooting rapid-fire questions your way. You know that more would greet you if they could, but they likely can’t move. Huddled up in their homes and crippled by hunger or the cold, but probably both. The commotion draws adults toward you. An older woman with graying curly hair and sunspots on dark brown skin steps out of the gaunt-looking crowd. Elm, she's the de facto leader here. 

A man, Maple, smiles and takes the basket from you and walks into one of the buildings in the far back to stash the food away. You pull more wrapped food out of the hidden pockets on the inside of your coat and hand it off.

You have a system in place. You’ve been doing these deliveries for a long time. You trust them to distribute the goods to those who need them the most. Everyone here looks out for each other. Even if the kids aren’t theirs, an adult won’t let them go hungry if they can help it. It truly takes a village. You would know. After all, you used to live here.

The Shacktowns mainly exist because there are too many people in the district, having reached overpopulation decades ago. Living here is preferable to having to pay for food, clothing, and a house that’s seen its fair share of price gouging. From what you’ve seen, the clothing in the Shacks is somehow worse than what Districts Ten or Twelve get to wear. It’s all ill-suited for the temperamental cold. So, in exchange for working in the fields and forests under horrible conditions, the people get free housing and food. Clearly, both benefits are incredibly lacking.

It’s all the illusion of choice, anyway. Only three percent of the population works outside of the fields, that’s including the Peacekeepers. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t work on a farm, a grove, an orchard, or a plantation.

Elm pulls you into a hug once your hands are free, and you lean into her warm embrace. She’s been as old as the dirt on the ground for as long as you’ve known her, but it feels like she’s rapidly declined every time you see her. She’s well and truly sick, and she has been for a long time now. No one knows what it is or what effects it’ll have on her. Medicine isn’t readily available here. And you don’t think something that simple can help her anyway. Sadly, she isn’t the only one. You just hope this information doesn’t get out.

If anyone orbiting the elite circles found out just how many people were sick here, they wouldn’t send them to the Capitol to get help. They’d see it as a waste of resources. They’d let them suffer and die or have them put down if they’re feeling benevolent. Again, Eleven is heavily populated. The lives here have very little value outside their abilities to work. If they can’t do that, what purpose do they serve? 

What use is a horse with a broken leg?

She pulls away, hands on your shoulders as she looks you over. “You look good, healthy.”

“I can’t say the same for you.” You raise a brow at her hunched frame. She’s a tall woman with the endurance of a mule. She’s a decade younger than Mags, but she doesn’t look it. But, as you’ve learned after touring the districts, manual labor ages people. 

“And you,” you lean back as she wags her finger in your face, “inherited that mouth from your daddy. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

"You’re getting worse.” You note, ignoring her attempt at diversion. The kids disperse, running back to the forest they were playing in. You know they won’t go far enough to reach the thirty-foot-tall fence, but you still worry. The gate is guarded to the teeth with trigger-happy Peacekeepers who won’t hesitate to shoot on sight.

“'M fine, honey. Don’t worry about me.” She waves off your concern, and you frown, stuffing your hands into your pocket when a breeze comes through.

“My offer still stands, Elm. There’s plenty of room in the house. Me and Mama would love to have you.” She practically raised your dad, and she even made the broom your parents jumped over at their wedding. Hell, when you were born, she was the first person to hold you after your parents. She’s family, and it kills you to leave her out here.

She shakes her head, and you know this argument is going to end the way it always does. “You know that’s not fair. They need me out here.” She pats your cheek and finishes with no room for argument. She’s stubborn, so going in circles about this will get you nowhere. You shift your jaw, agitated.

“And while we’re talkin', I think you should skip next month’s delivery,” your jaw drops. “Let me explain before you start assumin'. You know we appreciate everythin' you do for us, but you need to lay low for a while. You’re pushin' your luck comin' out here as often as you do, and if you get caught, you won’t be any help to anyone.” She makes a convincing argument and effectively cuts off your protest before you even start. 

You sigh. Seeder and your mom have been telling you the same thing.

“Please? Do it for an old woman’s peace of mind.” She pleads, squeezing your shoulders.

“We can’t afford to just stop coming out here entirely, but I guess it doesn’t always have to be me.” Chaff had offered to start delivering in your place, or to at least switch off who makes the trip each month.

You’re barely able to make ends meet for the people here, and this is only one Shacktown of hundreds.

“Just...start lookin' out for yourself more, alright?” She asks, and you agree with a scowl. You refuse to call it a pout, though Finnick definitely would.

You don’t stay for long. You need to get back before it starts getting dark out.

On your way back, you stop by the bakery like you always do. It’s a good halfway point between your two destinations—you’ll have something to show for your trip as well as an alibi, just in case you get stopped. 

You order two loaves of seeded rolls, another loaf of sourdough, and a blueberry muffin for your mom. Sage, the worker behind the counter, wraps the baked goods and pauses. “It’s dangerous. What you’re doin'.” He murmurs under his breath, so quiet that you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if you two weren’t the only ones here. He hands you your stuff, waving off the tip you attempt to give him. “But it’s good. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to take that kind of chance.” 

“It’s brave enough that you offer me food to give to them.” You say and mean it. What you do is only a secret to the people who aren't supposed to know. It's not just you, Seeder, and Chaff who contribute. Sometimes, people give you food and clothes to donate—among other things. Sage has spent many nights making extra bread and pastries just so there’ll be enough left over for you to deliver to the Shacktown.

Most jobs in Panem are passed down through families, such as Caesar Flickerman, who took his profession from his father, Julius Flickerman. And Julius inherited it from his father before him, all the way back to Lucky Flickerman. 

Old Mr. and Mrs. Pitsone never had any kids of their own, so the mayor allowed them to adopt one of the many orphans running around the fields to train in the art of baking. They picked Sage. 

He’s a meek boy despite his height, skittish and paranoid, but very kind. With light hair and even lighter skin that’s rare to see in Eleven, it’s no wonder he stood out amongst the other kids. He and his parents live above the bakery in a small home, though luxurious by Eleven’s standards. 

You used to be sweet on each other when you were much, much younger. A kiss on the cheek here and there as you worked side by side. Nothing special, but the most childish you were allowed to be. You were so envious when they took him out of the fields; you all were. He wasn’t one of you anymore, he got to work on the inside. Nobody wanted to be around him, so he was ostracized. You, angry and young, wished it was you. But now, you only wished it had happened sooner. You wished you had kept in touch.

He rings you up, and you gather it all in your basket before he stops you. 

“Oh! Wait here for a second.” He goes through a door behind him that you know leads to storage. You lean forward and hide a handful of coins on the little shelf under the front counter where you’re sure he won’t find them until it’s time to close. You hear rummaging and boxes moving before he comes out with a wrapped parcel tied with string. “I saved a few chocolate croissants for you. We usually run out of those in the mornin', but I know you like them.” He gives you a closed-mouth smile. Small, but real.

You try to picture a world where the two of you ended up together, running the bakery until you’re old and gray—maybe if you hadn’t been reaped. But you can’t imagine a universe where you aren’t in love with Finnick Odair. 

“Thank you, Sage.” The bell above the door jingles as you walk out.

“Be careful!” He calls from behind you.

Walking back is always hard, having to leave them all behind to suffer while you’re allowed to go back to your stupidly big house. With its giant pillars and long, stretching brick walkway framed by old willow trees that curve into each other and make an arched tunnel. And it’s in the middle of this tunnel that you see Peacekeepers guarding either side of your front door.

Your heart stops and then starts again at a runner’s pace.

Did they…find out? You were so careful, how did they—

One of them spots you lingering a few feet away and waves you closer. You walk forward, closing the distance. And then you take hesitant steps up the old stairs, tensing up in preparation for rough hands dragging you to the whipping posts. Instead, one just opens the front door for you. That’s worse. That means your punishment is on the inside. You’d rather take your chances with the whips. 

They shut the door behind you but don’t follow you. You place the basket of goods on a nearby hallway table and walk into the living room to see your mom sitting on the couch by herself, flanked by three guards, safe.

“There you are, baby.” She tries to smile at you, a play at normality, but it creaks and shakes like a house in a tornado. “We have a very special guest. He’s waitin' for you in your study.” She nods to the double doors further down the hall with even more Peacekeepers. You know who’s on the other side before the doors even open, and you really would have picked the whipping post over this.

Coriolanus Snow sits in your office—inside your home, almost seven hours from the Capitol. Snow traveling that distance? That's nothing to scoff at. 

He sits with his back to you and turns when the doors shut behind you. You feel like you’re a guest in your own home.

Seeing him sitting behind your big mahogany desk is akin to seeing a fox in a chicken coop. It’s dangerous. Foreboding. It has you looking for blood-soaked feathers. Nothing good can come from it. And for him to be so comfortable in the spot where you write your letters to Finnick makes your skin crawl. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be here, in the one place that's truly yours.

“President Snow.” You say in greeting. You wrack your brain for any mentions of him coming to visit you and come up empty. Maybe there was a letter you missed, but you doubt it.  

It’s dusk. The setting sun shines through the windows behind him, bathing him in golden lighting that would have made anyone else look angelic. 

“You’re back,” he props his elbows up on your desk, steepling his fingers together. “Your mother said you were off to the bakery. You were gone for an awfully long time. Is it far?” Nothing on Snow’s face gives away his true intentions. If he knows about your little escapade, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it.

“Yes. It’s almost a day's walk,” You reply truthfully. When he does nothing more than hum in return, you’re quick to fill the silence. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s no fault of your own, my dear. I’m sure if you knew I was coming, you’d have postponed your little trip, yes?” You nod like a bobblehead, and he leans back, most likely confident that he has your full attention. Again, you can’t tell if he knows about the donations. If he does, he clearly doesn’t care enough to mention it. Surely, he didn’t come all this way just to sleep with you. But what else could he be here for?  

“Your mother was a fantastic host in your absence.” He lifts his teacup in mock cheers to you and you clasp your hands together behind your back, nails digging into thin skin.

“I’ll… I'll be sure to pass along the message.” You smile, pressing your nails deeper into your skin. Had they been any sharper, you would’ve drawn blood. It’s quiet as you silently observe each other. The only sound in the room is the tick of the grandfather clock and a few birds outside the window, happily ignorant of the cyclone forming inside.

He finally breaks and speaks, though break probably isn’t the right word for it. Rather, he allows you to breathe by saying something, “Do you know why I’m here?”

Under the weight of his unrelenting stare, you eventually shake your head no and it feels like admitting defeat. Like you’re not smart enough to catch on to his train of thought and you both know it.

“Of course you don’t.” He tsks, and you lower your gaze, ears growing warm. He stands and takes poised, measured steps to where your feet are rooted to the floor. He towers over you, literally and figuratively. 

“I am here,” he circles you like a vulture, “to remind you of your standing. Hear me when I say this, as there will be no room for misconceptions. You are incredibly privileged.”

You think you do a very good job of refraining from gawking at him like he’s grown a second head, even though that’s definitely the reaction he deserves. What privilege could he possibly be talking about? You, who grew up in the poorest part of the most oppressed district. You, who’s been whored out for the safety of the people you love since you were sixteen. You, who’s lucky to see the man you love more than once a month. 

You’re privileged?

"Now, I've allowed you a certain amount of freedom that not many are rewarded. Namely, your relationship with Mr. Odair," he nods to your desk where your letters from Finnick are hidden. Perhaps not as hidden as you thought. "I’m sure you know communication between the districts is forbidden. You get away with it because I allow it. Because you are obedient, because you don't ask questions when given a task, because you have a value that many like to indulge in." Snow rubs his gloved thumb against your bottom lip. You know better than to flinch away. 

"But you are not irreplaceable." He drops his hand and turns towards the room. Your lungs are cool with the breath you’re finally able to take. You should be used to his presence, and you usually are, but only when you can prepare yourself. He’s completely blindsided you. 

You nod clumsily. “I know.” Really, you do. You knew Snow knew about you and Finnick, but not to what extent. You also wondered how long it would take until the both of you got pushback. You just weren’t expecting it to happen like this.

He toys with the few picture frames you have set up on your shelf. He glances over the picture of your parents on their wedding day and a framed photo you took of Finnick in the Capitol, beaming a big grin at the person behind the camera—you. Instead, he goes for the magazine you have propped up. The first cover you and Finnick were on together. Life in the Spotlight as Told by Panem's Hottest Victors.

“Do you? It appears to me you believe yourself invincible. I assure you, you are not.” He turns to you, magazine in hand, and taps Finnick’s face on the cover. You bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. “And neither are the people you care about.”

Your throat is dry, tongue fitting uncomfortably in your mouth. You swallow and it goes down rough.

“I don’t think that at all, President Snow. I apologize if my actions came across that way. If there’s anything I can do to remedy that…?” You trail off rather pathetically.

He chuckles and cracks the first smile you’ve seen since he’s been here, and it’s almost worse than his scowl. "Always so eager to please. This is not a reprimand, just a reminder. You toe the line, but as long as you do not cross it, we shouldn’t have any issues." The heels of his sensible shoes click against the wooden floor as he comes to stand before you again. "So long as you keep up your streak of good behavior, you’ll be permitted to carry on the way you have.”

“Yes, sir. I…I understand.”  

He hums and goes to walk past but stops. "I know you do, good girl that you are."

Your fingers twitch.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he pulls an envelope from a pocket on his waistcoat. You know who it's from by the color alone, the color of sand. "You have mail." He smiles again, sharp and cruel in its kindness. It's still sealed, held between his middle and pointer finger, but you're certain he knows what the letter says already. You take it hesitantly along with the magazine.

He walks out without any farewell. The doors shut behind you. You hear shuffling and steps, but you only untense once you hear the front door open and shut. You wait there for what has to be at least thirty minutes before you even think about opening the letter.

My Star,

At the time that I’m writing this letter, it’s been two months since I’ve last seen you. I think this is the longest we’ve been apart in the past seven years. Only two months and it’s felt like a century. It’s been agonizing. It makes me wonder how I was able to survive without you for sixteen years.

I got the picture you sent me. I worry I’ll wear it thin with how often I touch it. In the absence of having you near me, I trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the slant of your eyes. I carry you everywhere I go.

My hands should be in yours, fingers laced together. Instead, I use them to write to you now.

I hope I can see you soon. Dreaming of you can only tide me over for so long. 

-With all the love in the world and beyond,

Finnick O.

You lean back and slide down the door. You groan, knocking your head against the wood. You never thought Snow would go as far as to threaten Finnick’s life. Especially with all the popularity he’s cultivated. It doesn’t make any sense.

You lift the letter to your face, tracing his signature. You glance at the magazine. You were both so young here, couldn’t have been more than sixteen and seventeen. Your youth is encapsulated forever on a teen gossip magazine.

You rest your forehead against him, the glossy cover cool on your skin. Your body is still trying to disperse the rush of adrenaline Snow brought with him.

“You and me.” You sigh. You’re going to need all the strength you can get. For him though, it’s all worth it.

Past (xi) - Finnick

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Ocean water burns his eyes as he swims to shore, his muscles strain and burn as he pushes against the current. The hot sand sticks to his wet feet as he walks up the beach and he waves to a few surfers who call out to him. It’s getting colder, and everyone wants to get in the water while they still can.

Finnick has always believed that good things come to those who wait. He prides himself on being a pretty patient man, but—and there’s always a but—patience is as good as dust when it comes to you.

It’s been four months, going on five, since he’s last seen you.

He’s been seeing you less and less over the last two years, and at this point, he’d be lucky to catch a whiff of your perfume. He doesn’t get it. It’s not like he’s lost any standing in the Capitol, and based on your letters, you’re still in high demand. 

Besides, it’s not like either of you can request to come to the Capitol at the same time.

He drags himself up the stairs to the Victor Village, wood creaking under his weight. When he gets to the top, he turns left instead of right—actually heading back to his beach house for once instead of Mags’s. After taking a shower, he plans on going into town with Annie. She hadn’t asked him to and she’s been doing pretty well, becoming more lucid. Yet, there’s no telling what’ll trigger her—whether it be some kind of commotion that sounds too much like a canon or someone’s outfit that too closely resembles what she wore in the arena. He’d rather be safe than sorry.

Plus, he’s expecting a very important letter any day now.

When he finally gets to the sand road in front of the village, he hears the horn of a ship in the distance. He glances behind him and spots the biggest fishing boat in the district. The Cod Be Ever in Your Favor. He scoffs. That thing’s been around longer than he has, and it’s a rite of passage for everyone to go out to sea on her at least once. 

His father was a deckhand and he adored the job like it was his lover. He was rarely ever home—something Finnick was very grateful for. He never inherited that passion for the high seas and he had to learn the hard way that he’s much more adept in the water than above it. He’s crossing his fingers that the old relic capsizes one day. He’s not hoping anyone gets hurt or anything, but he will be celebrating the day that hunk of junk gets turned into scrap metal.

“On your right!” Finnick jumps to the left as a man on a bike zips past him.

Cars aren't driven down here. It’s too close to the ocean, and the cars manufactured in Six aren’t built to handle the terrain. But they’re substituted by the electrical bikes fashioned specifically for the coastal towns of Four.

Palm trees sway in the stiff wind before a line of three-story buildings. He has no immediate neighbors; the beach houses on either side of his lay empty and desolate. Tributes from Four aren’t that rare compared to lower districts—the latest victor being Annie. But, with being a wealthier district, comes access to more substances. Morphling overdoses are the leading cause of death for victors in districts one through six. Followed closely by alcohol poisoning and, well, the Capitol itself. Just in the past five years, the population dropped from seven to three.

He remembers them. 

Emilia Killroy was found washed up and bloated on the shore. Rían Hugh was struck by a car further into the city after stumbling into the street. He was so drunk he wouldn’t have felt it. 

Lottie MacHale and her son, Lukas. Lukas left the games mentally and physically disfigured. His game was a disaster that led to the untimely death of the previous Gamemaker and the implementation of Seneca Crane. A winter tundra that froze two-thirds of the tributes. The frostbite took the entirety of Lukas’s left leg and all the fingers on his right hand. He was found by his mother with a needle in his arm sans a pulse. Truly, it was a wonder he lasted as long as he did. 

It didn't take long for Lottie to follow him. Drowned in her vomit after drowning in her liquor, but everyone always said she died of a broken heart. 

He remembers them all. 

He slams the door shut behind him, eager to take a shower. His swim trunks are laden with water, getting dragged down his hips from the weight. Saltwater drips between his wet feet on the hardwood floor and weighs down his hair. He slicks it back so he can see where he’s going as he walks past the living room. 

He pauses, taking a few steps back to see…President Snow sitting on his couch? Finnick leans to the side to glance down the hallway, and—yep, Peacekeepers are milling around his back door. He bets as soon as he came in a few sprang out from wherever they were hiding to guard the front door behind him.

“President Snow. This is a surprise.” And far from a pleasant one. Finnick smiles, mask slipping into place, but Snow has unbalanced him. “What’s this all about?” It can’t be anything good. He can’t say he’s ever heard of Snow making a house call.

“I apologize for barging in on you like this, Mr. Odair, but this is an urgent matter.” He crosses his ankle over his knee, and Finnick hedges into the room. Cautiously, feeling like a wary animal walking into a trap.

Briefly, he’s reminded of something you told him. You had mentioned off-handedly that you’ve eaten frogs in Eleven. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how you’d get the frog into the hot water while it was alive and you said you have to trick it. You put the frog in the water while it’s still cool, and then slowly raise the heat without it noticing. Eventually, the water is boiling and the frog is trapped. 

“And what matter is that?”

Snow stares at him thoughtfully for a moment, and in Finnick’s experience, that’s never good. He hums before speaking, and Finnick imagines steam rising around him as Snow cranks the heat up. “Are you aware of what purpose keeping the districts isolated from each other serves?”

“No, Sir, I don’t.” He lies, but he’s sure Snow will give him his own twisted, convoluted reason. Finnick is well aware that Snow enforces this rule because it keeps the citizens ignorant. Ensuring they only really know about their district means there can be no real unionizing. 

“Panem as a nation runs on a very delicate balance of hope. Too little, and the people become despondent. Too much and the people begin to think—the people begin to rebel. For the citizens to see two victors from drastically different districts have such an intimate relationship complicates things.”

“...You think we’ll spark a rebellion? Just by being together?”

Snow releases a raspy breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time and the water is getting hotter. “I think it will lead to people envisioning a future where such things are allowed. I know you will cause a rebellion. You see,” he sighs, “the civilians are as subdued as they will ever be. But this will have them questioning their circumstances. It will take them out of the ‘us vs. them’ mentality they have against each other. It will make them wonder just how much they have in common and that leads to them seeing each other as people. It doesn’t help that you are both such influential figures. They will rebel, from One to Twelve, and they will all share the same fate as Thirteen.” 

“Is this…because she’s from Eleven?” He knows, thanks to you, that the people of Eleven are particularly defiant in the face of the Capitol’s oppressive ruling and always have been. Understandably so, considering no one feels it more severely than they do. He holds back a scoff. To think he thought Four was rebellious. At most, Four has the privilege of throwing temper tantrums, knowing they’ll face no real repercussions. Eleven, on the other hand, riots knowing they’ll be punished grievously.

Snow, again, takes a moment to watch him. “Her being from that particular district does make a rebellion far more likely, yes.” He pulls a forest-green envelope from a pocket inside his blazer. The exact letter he’s been waiting for. He doesn’t acknowledge it, so neither does Finnick.

“Of course, you can continue as you have, and I’ll take it upon myself to handle it. However, I doubt you’ll like the solution I have come up with. She's one of my most popular female victors. And I can admit, I have grown rather fond of her." Snow chuckles, and Finnick feels sick. He looks down at the envelope clutched in Snow's hand and pictures your arm in its place. He doesn't want to think about what happened behind closed doors to make Snow grow so fond of you. "It would be hard to replace her," Snow nods along to himself, "but not impossible." The room is quiet for a moment before Finnick asks, "What are you saying?" After working so closely with Snow for so long, you learn his language of non-speaking. You hear the silent threats in between the carefully crafted rebuttals. You feel the weight of his deliberate silence. So, Finnick knows exactly what Snow's saying. Snow knows this, too, which is why he says, "Don't act daft, Mr. Odair. It doesn't suit you." He's twenty-two years old—a grown man—but suddenly, he’s fourteen again—sitting in that chair, backed against a wall as Snow forces him to sign his soul away. He’s still that scared kid. He’s never outgrown him because he never got the chance to grow up—not if Snow had any say in the matter.

“As I said, this can only end in pain. It’s up to you to decide who will end up bloody. The lives of thousands over the life of one. Surely, you understand that.” He doesn’t. Finnick doesn’t understand it at all. It doesn’t matter what the other option is, he’s picking you every time without fail. He can’t imagine doing otherwise. He doesn’t want to.

“Unless you can think of something else, I don’t see any other way for us to proceed past this.” Snow moves his hand in a sweeping motion, the closest thing to a shrug that he’ll do. Finnick doesn’t understand why he came to him. He clearly favors you, so why threaten your life?

“Why me? Why are you making me choose? Wh-why,” he looks down to the floor, to the space between his feet, “Why not her?” If there was a choice on who would survive between you and him, he wants it to be you. Is that selfish? To wish you were the one given the choice instead of him. It feels unimaginable to live in a world without you, so is that cruel to expect you to do the same? 

To love is to be human. To be human is to be flawed. And there’s no one more flawed than Finnick Odair.

“You’ve been around longer.” He raises his eyebrows in another almost shrug as if it’s all so simple. “It only seems fair.”

Fair.

Fair.

When did he start caring about what’s fair? He didn’t even think that word was in Snow’s vocabulary, and, honestly, it still might not be because he isn’t using it right. There is nothing fair about this situation.

Snow uncrosses his legs and leans forward, a glint in his ghastly eyes. He looks worse every time Finnick sees him, and he wishes he could get any satisfaction from it, but he just feels as sick as Snow looks.

“It doesn’t,” Finnick shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to come to that. I’ll…I’ll handle it. I–I’ll end it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even comprehend them, mouth moving faster than his brain, and by the time it catches up, it’s too late to snatch the words out of the air. They float between them, and they are terrifying.

Snow nods at the idea and…and...

It’s over. It’s all over. It was over as soon as Finnick sat down across from him, maybe even before that. 

“See that you do. I trust you’ll take care of this issue without my stepping in.” As Snow stands, he holds the envelope up to his nose and takes a long, obnoxious sniff. "Hmm, it even smells like her." His nauseating smile turns Finnick’s stomach. “Spritz of perfume? A nice touch.” His steps are unhurried, and he takes his time approaching Finnick’s tense form.

“And Finnick?” He pulls away before Finnick can take it from him, playing with him even now. “Go easy on the poor girl. I imagine she’ll be quite torn up over this.”

The water is boiling.

The water is boiling, and it’s too late to get out.

Finnick says nothing, but Snow isn’t expecting him to. He hands him the letter and walks to the door without a backward glance.

Two Peacekeepers follow him out, the door shutting behind them softly, and that nags at him. How dare they ruin his life and leave like—like this was just a social call? As if this isn’t crumbling his foundations, the same foundations that support the home he’s built with you.

Snow handed him a box of matches and told him to burn that home to the ground.

He looks at the envelope, wet with his fingerprints, and Finnick…

Finnick rushes to the bathroom to vomit.

-

A/N: why'd y'all let me cook 😕😕😕 come yell at me in my inbox!!! damn y'all were Peeta and Katniss b4 Peeta and Katniss 🤭🤭 and sage is such a peeta variant, all these Peeta variants falling in love with you uh, an actual lil author's note moment: when watching Catching Fire, I noticed the people in District Eleven dress like black people did in the 1950s and 60s while incorporating elements from the Antebellum South. Since most of the people that live there are black and indigenous and Eleven is the most oppressed district, it makes sense. It’s interesting what the clothing the people in different districts wear says about the culture there and what kind of culture Suzanne Collins based that district on. The Shacktowns are the District Eleven equivalent to the Seam in District Twelve, but even Katniss was surprised by how badly the people lived. She basically said it made twelve look like a paradise in comparison. When I mention the rich elites in Eleven, imagine them being around the same financial standing as Katniss was before she was reaped. So…not much.

[holdingachilles]

i think the number one thing people tend to get wrong with Circe is like. no, she is not an UwU poor helpless victim of Odysseus or whatever. But also she is not some seductive temptress.

She does not want to have sex with Odysseus and Odysseus does not want to have sex with her. The amount of sex either of them actually want to be having is zero. Negative zero even, perhaps.

The only reason Circe asked Odysseus to sleep with her is because she was fully intending to cut his dick and balls off. She doesn't want to have sex she's just trying to stab him in the crotch zone when he least expects it so he'll leave. Hermes explicitly warns Odysseus "she will ask you to sleep with her and if you do she will not have sex with you she will just cut your dick and balls off so don't let her do that."

Circe isn't using wily womanly charms or anything. she's basically just going "Hm. Well this sure has gone pear-shaped. Ahem. Oh uhh. Oh noooo. Don't kill me, i am a woman with tits and men usually like that. Wanna go get very vulnerable and stab-able in a convenient secondary location? I'll definitely let your men go or whatever after that. :)" cause when the magic thing doesn't work "stabbing men in the crotch" is her go-to. The point is to contrast Odysseus with all the men Circe has faced before by emphasizing how Odysseus thinks with his head, not his Odyussy.

Odysseus is just calling her bluff. Because host rules. He's basically saying "Oh, you're inviting me to lay with you to free my men? That's the deal you're making? With DEFINITELY NO ULTERIOR STABBING-RELATED MOTIVES? Well so long as you absolutely PROMISE to not stab me and/or cut off my dick and/or balls (for no reason in particular), I will accept your deal for the sake of my men. Because that's what you meant, RIGHT? Unless you.... lied?!? Unless you were just trying to get me vulnerable so you could stab me in the dick and/or balls?!"

So Circe either has to say yes, she lied, she only wanted to stab him in the groin so he'd leave and she didn't intend to fulfill her end of the bargain (and thus is a bad host who intends to do him harm, so he is then validated in attacking her), or make good on her word and just go "(Shit! Now i can't stab him in the dick and/or balls!)" Neither of them want to fuck! It's literally just 4D chess mindgames! And that's honestly the funniest possible route and it's an absolute goddamn shame nobody is going with that!

[heartshapedbubble]

Could I perhaps have something like those 2 long and well written Joseph and Luchino fic but with Soul Catcher? Thank you🙏

anon i am SO SORRY this took so long you might as well have my first born

also english isn't my first language so please have mercy on me i know i reuse the same words over and over 😔 reqs like these sadly clog my inbox even tho i like writing them so i'm gonna do something about them after i empty it!!

my very own prince charming, a soul catcher fanfic🧲☠️

cw for vomit mention in case you have emetophobia, reader's gender not specified although soul catcher uses a few spanish pet names (nouns) that are gendered because haha language rules, not proofread, warning for intense corniness, this is very bad i apologize, ALSO VERY LONG

-------------------------------------------------------

~

There are amazing forces of Attraction and Repulsion between souls; just like when fate guides some people together and causes others to part.

~

After a period of indecisive skimming through the bookshelf, you picked out a thick, hardcover book.

You'd consider yourself quite picky regarding books - just a flashy cover and a taunting description wouldn't do it for you. A beautiful, elegant maiden and a handsome, charming prince were just one-dimensional props in the story, and you found all of those "new " and "wonderful " fantasy worlds described and mapped out on the front page generic and bland. You always seeked out something new, something that would leave you thirsting and longing for each damned word pressed onto the yellowing paper, make your fingers trail over dozens of pages in mere minutes. Yet, considering your little town in the south was limited to just one small, dusty library, finding such books would be considered an extreme sport.

So for now, you had to be satisfied with the usual, popular literature that the townsfolk read.

But today was special - you weren't in the mood for something new, or something outstanding, in fact you'd even say you wanted to read something normal. Something you could nonchalantly mention to your friends during afternoon coffee, with a plot so malleable and simple it would be woven around your conversation like it was nothing. The misadventures of a rookie knight, or the sorrows of a young, noble lady, all interpreted differently and abstractly and able to be swiftly analyzed and twisted over a cup of overly sweet coffee. Although the pile of smooth, newly released paperbacks at the entrance intrigued you, a minute later you found yourself squished between two dusty, polished wooden shelves, inspecting the book you just picked out.

Well, you didn't know you'd stoop that low, but what caught your eye right now was a book of fairy tales and fables. It was an old release, presumably donated to the library considering the oil stains on the brown paper that wrapped itself around the thick leather cover. Although worn out by time and basically crumbling from the outside, on the inside the lettering was flawless and written in an old, thick cursive, and simply bringing your face closer to the text would bless you with the scent of old, yet well kept books - the fresh smell of walnuts and baldachin beds and white cotton dresses, and even lilac bushes in the spring. Although all of these associations were of a life unknown to you, for some reason they made you feel at home.

There was another reason for you picking out this particular book - a reason you'd rather carry with you to your grave out of pride, unable to bend your head down and admit it. When life got unbearable and overbearing and the only way you felt safe and well was under heavy linen bedsheets or in the shade of the old pear tree, you'd curl up and indulge in the exact same books you usually despise. A humbling experience, indeed, but at times where safety and love were most neccessary fantasies were the quickest, most low-key way of getting what you needed the most at the moment. Projecting your being onto the flat sheet of a protagonist, you'd visualise yourself instead of them, you being the one kissing the hero's fading scars or having your hair braided by the thin, nimble fingers of the king's son. The amount of scenarios was neverending, and, well, if you couldn't get your fix with all these readily available options, you felt like you're doomed.

The book was now set inside your trusty linen bag while you were walking home. Oddly, the usually loud and populated city market was silent and not a soul could be seen out on the street, not even a head popping out of the window or a hand reaching for the hanged clothes that hung on the ropes high above the rocky path. While you were crossing the town bridge, you decided to stop to take a deep breath and enjoy for a bit, now that you weren't being pushed onward by the citizens and the merchants that usually piled behind you.

It does take a while to learn savor things, doesn't it? It takes until adolescence until the dark chocolate on your tongue unveils its rich, deep and bitter flavor, until you learn how special that first sip of morning coffee is and how good of a feeling it is to simply have another hand wrapped around yours. Same goes for nature, you thought to yourself as you looked over the bridge, watching the river speed under the arch and the plants inside of it wave around like silk scarfs. Without the noise pollution, you were finally able to hear the satisfying noises of the water sloshing over the rocks, droplets hitting each other every second. Without a second thought, you laid beside the edge of the bridge, your bag lazily hanging off of your wrist, and let yourself get lulled to sleep by the melody of the current.

That is, until the straps of the bag slipped off of your wrist.

Fuck.

You immediately jumped to your feet in panic, looking around for your bag. Yet, it was too late. It was nowhere to be found - it was probably already driven away by the river, taken to god-knows-where.

Well, it's not like you weren't aware of the risk. But your heart still ached - that was not your book, after all. And what a beautiful, old edition it was as well! There was no way you'd be able to properly apologize to the librarian, unless....

"Oye, muñeca, ta libre."

You jumped at the sudden voice whispering at your ear. You were sure no one was around here except you... or maybe..?

Slowly turning around, your face was met with another, yet wider, lathered with paint and shaded by the hat above's enormous brim. As the face moved away from yours and the person straightened their back, you found yourself gazing up and down at - what seemed to be, at least - a tall, youngish man, couldn't be above 28. Dressed in gaudy purple, green and black, adorned with flowers and gilded accessories, he looked like a living puppet, his chest and shoulders wide and his waist slim, proportions of a wooden harlequin they sold during the holiday season in the toy shop. Hanging off of his wrist was your beloved linen bag, the forsaken book inside still in tact, not a single droplet of water blemishing the paper.

"Who...? How did you...?" You muttered nonsense, as your arms needily reached for the bag that he gently waved around. Props to the visuals, but you had your priorities.

"It's all reflexes, sugar. Was taking a nap underneath the bridge, you know, all that wandering around numbs out your legs, and your little sack here just happened to fall close enough to my hand for me to grab it in time. Be a little more careful next time, will you, doll?" The man-puppet replied nonchalantly as he tossed the bag into your arms.

"Thank you, I- wait, what?" You quickly snapped out of your daze. "Napping? Under the bridge? "

"Don't judge it before you try it", he whistled, crossing his arms behind his head, "The cobblestone ain't the comfiest, but it does wonders for your back."

You sneered at his carefree expression, as if lying under a bridge was the most normal thing to do. Who exactly was this fellow, and who did he think he was?

"And you expect to believe me all that?"

"Hm?" He jolted a bit, not expecting a question, maybe a compliment, but definetly not a skeptical remark.

"Napping under a bridge? Seriously? You catching my bag is impressive, yes, but there's no way it was that much of a skillful feat. You probably dozed by the river's shore and suddenly found a bag by your side like any other guy at this hour. Who are you even, some wannabe-show-off-superhero?"

To your suprise, he just smirked back at you, lowering his torso until his face was just inches away from yours. So close, you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks, and his raspy voice rumbled inside your ears.

"How about you take a wild guess."

Stumped by his question, you took a few steps back. Your eyes now digesting his form in his entirety, you rubbed your chin as you gazed up and down at the man, posing, obviously very into the careful stare you were dissecting him with.

"Enjoying the view, hm, azúcar? "

"Give me a break! I'm trying to focus." You mumbled, panicking a bit, sensing that your cheeks started to flame up. To be honest - even under all that fabric and thick paint, he was quite a looker. The black paint defined his jawline in all the right places, and man, that silly outfit of his was tailored pretty damn well, gripping his legs and his biceps enough to define them nicely.

Although visually he was as fancy as a rich man's birthday cake, nothing seemed to pop out from his outfit, as if every embroidered piece of textile and every golden stud was carefully planned out. However, upon better inspection, one of them seemed to take the cake - it was the small shiny skull on top of his hat, shaped like a squished pear, a few nails stabbed into it like birthday candles. The cherry on top of it all - metaphorically and literally.

"The skull on your hat... looks like a well-made prop to me. You're some kind of entertainer, huh?"

A playful smile appeared on the lad's lips, yet it wasn't a confirming one. "You're getting closer, but no, not exactly."

"Street musician?"

"I can be one if you desire, but it's not exactly my main job."

"Actor?"

"Only behind the scenes, dear. But I can see by the look in your eye that you're going to head in the right direction." This little guessing game seemed to amuse him to no end.

"With all that flashy wear, it seems fair to assume you might even be some kind of high-end magician, performing for nobles or aristocrats. Or some wannabe wizard."

He bit his lip, the smile widening with each guess. He seemed more excited about this than you were.

A flower painted around his left eye. A belt fastened around his waist, with a big golden buckle. Sheer black gloves covering his hands in their entirety, bones painted in gold on his knuckles and fingers.

A glowing ring - no, a disk - hanging from the side of his belt, rocking with the movement of his hips.

Wait. It couldn't be. The disk looked too...

"Hold on a second. You couldn't be..."

"Sí, muñeca? "

"Are you..."

Before you could even finish your sentence he grinned from ear to ear and inched even closer to you, his nose now touching yours, as if he just managed to read your mind.

"Bingo."

~

The legend of the Soul Catcher was told times and times again, twisted and folded like fresh taffy to suit every possible scenario in one's life. To children, it was told to scare them into going to bed in time. To teenagers, it was told to ward them off from the forest at the edge of the town. To young adults, it was told to motivate them into becoming independent and to work hard. To newlyweds, it became a prayer, to protect the newly formed family and to bring safety to their home. He was not the Reaper, but if a soul was left astray, detached from the body it resided in, everyone knew well that once the Soul Catcher gets his hands on it, that it won't be back ever again. He was both a devil and a saint, a villain and a vigilante - but one thing was sure, he was well respected. No one knew if it was out of fear or out of genuine admiration. And what was even weirder - not a single person was sure if he ever actually existed.

Not a single adult, at least.

The legend was not a new one, in fact, it has been told for a little less than a century. If you were to have a little extra patience and attention, you could hear the town's elders occassionally mumble about seeing him as a child in the forest, or him visiting them in a dream. But their interpretations varied from tale to tale - he went from a spirit, to a ghoul, to simply an omen, either good or bad. Since the townspeople couldn't agree on a single, concrete definition, the Soul Catcher remained a concept, embodied by what seemed to be multiple entities.

However, if you were to ask a child about the Soul Catcher, you'd get a much more vivid and universal description than anything an adult could tell you. All of them were along the lines of "magical jester", and what was weirder, almost all of the children confessed that the Soul Catcher played with them. And no, it wasn't just a single sighting, he played with multiple kids at once, even going as far to balancing three of them on his shoulders and telling them stories. During the hot, damp afternoon hours of the summer, huge groups of children snuck out of their homes just to play with him. When their mothers soaked their cramped hands and their fathers took their first break after the morning shift, their beloved kids were out on the dusty streets, carefully following every word seeping off of the Soul Catcher's silver tongue.

The only thing that bound the varying opinions and theories of both the young and the old was the trusty disk that always hung by his hip, rumored to be the tool he used to attract and harvest souls. And this same legendary disk was now hanging off of the belt of the man in front of you, green and purple mist enveloping it.

The myth himself, in the flesh, in front of you.

"You were quicker than I thought you'd be. Bravo, dollface." He smiled and patted your head. "If we ignore your initial hostility, you seem quite confident in the fact that i'm the real deal. Mind telling me why?"

"Well, you don't see someone parading around with THE exact disk that the Soul Catcher uses. Everyone agrees on the main description of its appearance, but to be completely fair, no one around here is skilled enough to make a replica that's convincing enough."

"I see. It's nice to see somebody with both the wits and the pretty face." He chuckled. Who would have known that he's such a flirt? Nontheless, to your shame your face lit up at his silly compliment. There was just something about him that made you weak in the knees.

"Alright. I believe I should prove you I'm the real thing now." He unhooked the disk from his belt, spun it around in his hand, and hopped a few steps away from you. He pointed the disk at your chest, positioning himself as if he's getting ready to react to a suprise attack. You didn't know what he was trying to do, but you felt as if you shouldn't make a sound or even object to it.

A tension-filled silence wrapped around you two for 20 seconds. After 10 more which seemed more like 10 minutes, you felt your body move. Move, although your legs were planted at the same spot they were before. Your head ached and pulsed, you felt dizzy as if your intestines were tying themselves into knots. To be sick without actual pain, to move without any movement, what was he doing to you? If this keeps up, you might just end up vomiting out your stomach along with its contents. It was like being carsick, except the sickness rumbled not only through your abdomen, but through each one of your limbs as well.

"Here, I stopped. It's all over. Sorry for this."

The headache seemed to halt, and your body was back to normal, yet your hands and legs still felt a bit sore. He was now above you, his hand stretched out to your sides in case you lost your balance.

"...What did you just do to me?" You yawned, trying to stand up straight again.

"What you just experienced was your soul being harvested from your, already inhabited, body. I usually refrain from doing this, but I felt like I should let anyone that witnesses me up close go through this. Y'know, I want to be honest with people. That although they've seen me in the flesh and talked to me, they're fully aware of what I can do so they can prevent themselves from getting harmed."

"Does this imply you sucked someone's soul out from their living body?"

"Maybe", he shamefully turned his head away, "but it was never on purpose. Usually it was them reaching for the disk, or trying to see it up close. It pains me, since in most cases it's nearly impossible to return the original soul to its old body."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Sorry for ruining the mood, I felt like I needed to warn you first."

"Oh no, seriously, it's alri-"

"May I walk you to your house, jewel?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me the first time." He extended his hand, waiting for your next move.

~

What a peculiar man, indeed. First he tries to suck out the life out of you to give you a heads-up, and then he offers to walk you home like a gentleman.

And you'd be lying if that offer didn't sound thrilling. So now, your hand was intertwined with his, you trying to slow down as much as possible to make the moment last.

"I realized I had forgot to ask for your name. My apologies. Not very gentlemanly of me, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't mind it. It's ____."

"___..." He looked up at the sky, rubbing his chin, as if he was trying to remember something, your name echoing on his lips multiple times.

"Pretty name, but it doesn't ring a bell. You're not among the horde of youth that I visit, are you?"

"Nope. I'd say i'm more of a loner most of the time. I like socializing and all, but nothing's like a good book that you can read in one sitting."

"I figured. No way in hell I'd forget such a cute face like yours, even if I saw it for a split second." He smiled and pinched your nose. If his plan was to drive you insane, he was incredibly effective.

"How come people have such different reports about you? Can you shapeshift?" Trying to lead a conversation with him felt like navigating through a mine field - there were no known limits, no known good or bad questions, or any shared topics you two could talk about. But you'd lie if you said it didn't excite you - waiting for his response, never being able to predict the next word that will come out of his mouth.

He sighed. "If you wore the same pair of pants every day, wouldn't you get tired of it?"

"I suppose..?"

"Well, yeah. It's that. Mix it with hallucinations the brain dials up once it's met with something outside the world it knows, and here's your answer. I'm no sprite or shapeshifter, just a regular guy who made a regrettable deal years ago. I might have the powers of the dead on my side, but at what cost?"

You shrugged. As much as you wanted to quiz him and get him to talk about himself, right now biting your tongue and playing it cool seemed like the best idea. Getting deeply invested in his life might not lead to good places.

"So... you're one of those so-called bookworms, hm? You've been carrying a book inside that bag of yours the entire time, too." You could feel his hand slip from yours, trailing across your arm to your shoulder, then to the other, gripping it softly. His touch felt warm on your skin, very human and real despite what he did for a living.

"...Yeah. In fact, I was just on my way from the library back at the bridge where I met you. I just borrowed it." You smiled shyly, holding the bag tightly in your arms. Knowing his curiosity and boldness, a feeling of panic unfolded in your chest, dreading what he might say next.

"Mind me taking a peek at what you're reading?"

Aaand this was it. The moment you prayed will not happen, but his chin was already resting on your shoulder, trying to get a peek at the contents of the bag.

"H-hey, hey! Back off! That book's my business, after all!" You giggled, holding it tighter and tighter, trying to laugh off your growing anxiety. If there's one person that you wouldn't like knowing about your little self-indulgent hobby, then it was Soul Catcher. But your tightest grip was easily undone by his loosest, and now your book was in his left hand, clumsily open, and the digits of his right were buried in the strands of your hair, holding your head away with careful but great strength. Even with your annoyed and panicked groans and your hands clawing at him, he simply couldn't miss the opportunity to steal a look at a few titles.

"Calm down there, you're acting as if it was a pipe bomb that you were carrying!" He chuckled, trying to stay composed as his body lost balance under your pushes and pulls. Yet your delight was short-lived, as only a second was needed for him to spread the pages open with his thumb and smugly read some of the titles out loud.

"Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty... seems like someone's a sucker for Prince Charming, hm?" He snickered, but gave in to your pleas and dropped the book right into your sack.

"Would it hurt your pride to not dig through others' stuff?" You hissed, patting the bag in relief. "A-and is there something so wrong with indulging in childhood comfort anyway?"

"Oh, not only would it hurt it, it would kill it. Besides, something tells me that this little guilty pleasure of yours goes beyond just childhood comfort", he whistled in his usual self-satisfied tone, yanking at his suspenders, "But hey, who am I to say?"

"Oh, does it?" You gave him a taste of his own medicine, grimacing right at his face, making sure each word rumbled through his skull. "Well, what if I told you that such absurd assumptions are indeed incredibly untasteful, especially when left unelaborated? Just imagine how much of a hit that could be to your fragile ego..."

"¡Dios mío! You couldn't possibly...!" He dramatically threw his head back. At least something was true - he really was an actor behind the scenes. "Oh lord, it truly seems like the only way to make it up for you, your majesty, is to explain myself beneath your ice-cold gaze, like an accused pauper chained and laid before the king!"

Both of you laughed away at your ridiculous actions.

He cleared his throat, after a good minute of dying from laughter. "O-okay, where were we? Ah, yes, your dirty little secret." With his hands crossed behind his back and his gaze innocently directed at the sky, it seemed like this was a touchy subject for him, too. "Well, from all my previous experiences with people, I noticed that a lot of them like to fantasize about, well, a world where everything is just better - usually some kind of unrealistic fairytale utopia. It helps them feel better about their problems, especially during adolescence." His eyes briefly shifted to yours, watching them as if he's waiting for you to point out a fuck-up nested in his wording.

"Alright, continue...?"

"And, uhm, although fairy tales are meant for kids and all and are read by them, these same adolescents use them as a vessel for said utopias, or simply, a medium."

His lips were pressed into a firm line, waiting for your feedback.

"Bravo, jester", you treated him with a teasing smile, ruffling the stray locks of hair peeking out from his hat, "You got yourself out this time."

"Well then, call me Houdini." He smiled back, scratching the back of his neck. "Jeez, even though that fantasy thing should have gotten into my skull for the most part, I still can't fathom what's so special about the Prince Charming trope.. It's so annoying! Are y'all really drooling over the same guy in different fonts?"

"To be fair, it leaves a lot to the imagination. You can interpret him however you like, twist his personality to your liking."

"But that's exactly why it's horribly overused! Dressing every fictional man in a suit of already desired personalities is... boring! No variety, no depth - nothing! Do they really not find real people with actual lives, emotions, thoughts and opinions more appealing?"

It was a bit funny, him getting worked up over this, as if he was deeply insecure about it. You decided to fuel the fire a bit.

"Well, what does your average Prince Charming have that, let's say, I lack?"

"A great personality?"

"Oh, come on. Now you're just being mean." He sighed, traces of laughter in his sigh. "Damn you, muñeca." You chuckled.

"Big muscles?"

"These babies don't look defined to you?" He pouted jokingly, flexing his arm. Shit. Your face warmed up for a bit. For a second, a satisfied grin appeared on his face, liking the reaction he coaxed out of you through your composed armour.

"Strength and brave- AH!" You didn't even get to finish your sentence, and a moment barely passed, but his left arm was already wrapped around your calves, his right under your arm and around your back, his body leaned into yours and suddenly - you were hanging off his shoulder stomach-down, like a potato sack. "Oh my god yo- put me down!"

He whistled, holding you down to supress your squirming. "Strong enough for you, doll?"

"Not fair..." You groaned, lifelessly plopping onto him.

"You didn't answer my question~"

"Yes. Strong enough." It was quite enjoyable up on his shoulder, actually. After the initial panic passed it became nice, the rhythmic bouncing of his walk lulling you to sleep. You could get used to this.

"Now that's music to my ears." He showed no sign of letting go any time soon, perhaps he liked the smell of your perfume on your neck, and your weight resting on top of him, like a thick winter blanket.

"Since you've already decided to pick me up, would you be kind enough to carry me to my house?" You mumbled, your eyelids already feeling heavy. "That house, over there." Pointing at the tall, cobblestone house, you yawned.

"Entiendo, sirenita."

~

"How did you- actually, you know what? Nothing can suprise me anymore. You climbed up my balcony, didn't you?"

The sun was setting, and Soul Catcher was leaning against the railing of your balcony, your bag thrown around his frame.

"Actually I slid off the roof, but you're not that far off, beautiful." Every time your name was replaced - or you were simply called by - a soft pet name coming from his mouth, you felt as if your stomach would explode. Something about the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, whispering endearments to you like you're the only person remaining in the world along with him. And whenever he read and peered through your façade as your face turned red and your breathing got deeper, he took a step further, engaging in the sensual, mental tango forming around you two. "I forgot to return your bag. Sorry."

"It's alright. I appreciate that you went out of your way for me." Gosh, the way you tortured him! Whenever he was smooth and flirtly and you punched him in the face with your kind, unfiltered smile instead of flirting back, it was like his heart was momentarily shattered into pieces and then bound again. The irresistable two-step of games and suave words was driving him insane and momentarily, in his mind it was your face, and your body, and your voice that called for him and your coldness clashing with his warmth, and it was making him dizzy. Behind his eyes, his brain was melting, and his heart was no different. To fall so quickly for a stranger - well, it's no secret that he's been depraved of actual love and affection beyond one night stands and empty promises to dozens of lovers from different times - was nothing new to him, but this attachment was not the same, it was permanent, stable, and wasn't going away any time soon.

"So, ___..." You turned quickly. When it was just your name and not something snarky on his lips, it seemed more important. "...You got any plans for the evening?"

"Oh- not really. Do you, though?"

"Not a plan, but rather an idea, a proposition, even." His voice was breathier as if he was nervous, coughing up the words from his chest. "If you want to, we could, y'know, watch the sunset together. I'm quite fond of sunsets myself, so I was wondering..."

"So you're proposing a date?" A date. As if he flinched when he heard the word.

"Well, yeah, a date, if you want to call it that." He said as he bit his lip. "Are you up?"

"Why not?" You whispered, creeping slowly towards him. "That sounds like a nice way to spend the evening."

"I'm glad." he smiled. In that little moment all of his confidence returned, and now his voice was clear again and he was back on his feet, jumping on top of the railing like the most skilled of acrobats and making his way to the roof. "You're coming, no?"

"And how exactly do you want me to come?"

"Grab my hand. Come on." His hand hanged from above, pushed as far as possible to reach you. "I'll pull you up."

You gulped. Heights remained a minor fear of yours ever since childhood, and having to face said fear head-first out of nowhere wasn't very appealing. "But what if I fall?"

"Believe me, muñeca, you won't."

"How can you be so sure!?"

He took a deep breath, trying to speak as gently as possible to calm you down.

"Trust me, ___. It's my hand around yours, no one elses, and my strength that's going to pull you up. I'm here for you. Please."

You didn't know when, you didn't know how, but the height suddenly stopped being a problem and, in a flashing moment, you were in his arms, being pulled to the middle of the roof.

~

"The clouds are such a beautiful color today. Light pink, as if they're crowning the sun before the moon rises."

Your back facing him, his chin on your shoulder, his breath on the nape of your neck.

"It's even more beautiful right before it goes down. They turn blood red, melting with the sky."

His arms wrapped around you, your hand around his wrist, your legs thrown over his.

"Do you have to go soon?" You whispered with a heavy heart.

"I should go." He suddenly stopped. "But I don't want to."

"Please. Stay for another moment."

He pulled you closer and closer to him, now his mouth right by your ear.

"Of course. A moment."

And it was more than a moment.

And more than an hour.

And only the crescent moon was the witness, and what it saw was sealed for eternity once the sun rose on the horizon again.

[thebluestbluewords]

Torture Devices

Going to the museum and talking about which torture devices you’d use on each other IS the cutest date idea for your evil polycule. They deserve cute things.

+

"You'd look good in this one," Mal whispers, leaning over to drape her whole body weight across Jay's back. She's the shortest member of their crew, but she's dense even in her human shape, like all the muscle of her dragon-shape just gets compressed into her usual little fairy body when she's not transformed. "You'd squirm so pretty for me, I bet." 

A shiver rips through Jay's spine at the thought. "Bet."

Mal's tongue hits his ear. "Sure. I'll take that one. We can sneak back in tonight, after close. You, me, and--" she pulls back to squint at the tag on the machine, and Jay nearly whines at the loss of her body heat.  "The 1602 Cinderellasburgh Torture Rack." 

"Kinky," Jay manages, in his most normal tone. He's feeling super normal about this museum trip, except for how his brain maybe got a little bit fucked up by sleeping under a shelf of heavy electronic crap for the first sixteen years of his life, and now he's sort of hard wired to associate imminent danger with feeling safe and secure and... 

Okay, even thinking that he feels loved is a step too far, but he likes being hurt. The threat is good. It's like a double shot of those peppermint mocha things straight to his brain, and it tends to leave him warm and sticky, also like peppermint mocha shots. 

"Do not," Evie hisses. "Do not make the torture museum horny. I am banning both of you. You're not allowed." 

Mal grins. "Ooh, will you punish us if we break the rules?" 

"No—“

"You could use the 17th-century water torture machine. Get us really wet."

"You're both terrible people." Evie sighs. "And get real, I wouldn't waste perfectly drinkable water on torturing you. I'd use the Iron Spider over there." 

She points at a spiky tong-like thing mounted to the wall. There's a helpful illustration mounted next to it of a woman with a gold halo and a suspicious sort of cavern where the front of her chest would usually be. There's no bloodstains on the spider, but Jay's pretty sure he knows where they'd be. 

Mal throws herself bodily off of his back and into Evie's arms. "I love spiders!" 

"This one rips your breasts off," Carlos reads calmly from the placard. "So it's perfect for you, Eves. You can follow in your mom's footsteps and use it to torture anyone with better boobs than you."

Evie laughs. "Oh, so nobody then. Pity. I'll use the choke-pear instead. Ooh, this one was allegedly used in the nineteenth century for homosexuals, so it's perfect for us. I'll get a whole line of them."

"I've kissed boys before," Mal says, from where she's laid herself in the gayest fucking princess hold Jay's ever seen. Her head is in Evie's tits. 

Evie clutches her closer. "Oh no. I am so surprised. How could you. You'll have to be spared the pear." 

Mal snickers. "Tragic. I'll put myself in the iron maiden instead." 

"Yeah, you love being inside maidens." Carlos says under his breath. Mostly. "Totally straight people behavior there."

"WHAT." Mal shrieks. "SLANDER."

"I said nothing." 

"BLASPHEMY. LIBEL. I'D NEVER WANT TO BE INSIDE A MAIDEN." 

Carlos sighs. "I would." 

"I know, baby," Evie says soothingly, dropping Mal so she can reach out and pet his hat instead. Auradon is depressingly obsessed with pairing guys and girls off into picture-perfect straight couples. In the last few months Jay's been on the receiving end of more polite flirting from girls than he got in a year back home. And that's with his whole vibe. He's doing something wrong, obviously, but they haven't figured out what it is yet. He's got the long hair, the shitkicker boots, and he's even tried being worse at eyeliner on purpose. 

It's like the Auradon Prep student body is so used to looking at a boy and seeing prince that they can't see bisexual goth jock when they've got one right in front of them. 

Not that being hit on by girls is bad, necessarily, but he'd really appreciate mixing it up a little. 

"I'd be so good at being somebody's lame-ass boyfriend." Carlos says wistfully. "I'd carry her books and everything." 

"We know, baby. It's a tragedy that being bisexual doesn't give you any game with women." 

"I'm not even SURE about girls, I just want the opportunity to find out." 

"You like Jane," Mal points out. "Come on, stop moping. I'll pretend I'm her, and you can tell me which torture device you'd put me in if I were a good fairy." 

"Stocks." 

"That's not torture. Try again." 

"Stocks," Carlos repeats stubbornly. "Bondage is fun." 

"You're supposed to be the one getting tied up," Jay points out helpfully. "Girls like doing that." 

"Not a girl," Mal sing-songs. "And not an example."

"You're being Jane right now." Evie reminds her. "Jane wouldn't know which way she likes to be tied up, because Auradon kids don't do that. I asked Doug, and he said he's never once looked at the stocks and thought that being restrained in public would be hot." 

"His loss." 

[perahn]

How the Tadfools Stole Christmas

Most people in Faerûn liked freedom a lot, The Dead Three and their Chosen, the bards say, did not. They wanted to murder, creative and cruel: They wanted the dead and the undead, like ghouls: They wanted confusion, the town upside down, So they’d seize command with a fierce tyrant’s crown. This, you might say, could rightly be treason, But they didn’t care. No one quite knows the reason. Old General Thorm, who stood for the dead, Was hating and frowning at Orin the Red: While Gortash clicked his gauntleted hand And “Enough!” he cried. “Do you understand? “We MUST plot and scheme! We MUST think – and quick! “We have to come up with some clever trick! “The people need ruling, and killing, and such – “Any more of this freedom is simply too much.” Then he got an idea! An awful idea! GORTASH GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA! “I know just what to do!” he snarled with a sneer: “We’ll make a new god, and we’ll fill them with fear! “We’ll get a big brain, all squishy and wet, “We’ll put worms in their heads, and just watch them fret “As the brain in the hat gives commands, they obey: “And then I’ll ride in to rescue the day!” There was more of the plan for Orin and Thorm, A false army to lead, and sly changes of form – But Gortash, the hero, had the best role to play, And grew bolder and gloatier each passing day. But down by the river, which he didn’t guess, Adventuring people had got in a mess. They had swords, they had spells, they had hidden chains, They had hard-won friendship, they had worms in their brains. They had a withered old man on their side, And a ghaik in a prism who served them as guide. They came to the Towers, all shadow-cursed dark, And they killed off old Thorm, midst panic and snark. “That’s bad,” Gortash thought, “Though I’ve never liked him, “Our chance of success just got slightly more slim- “Orin, my dear, you’d best kidnap one.” “Oh goody,” she said. “This will be fun!” But her temple was pillaged and her victim freed And Chosen or not, it was her turn to bleed. The adventurers turned their steps towards the place Which Gortash had made into his fortified base. “He’s crowned himself Archduke, so he must be rich “We’ve emptied our invent’ries, let’s loot this bitch.” They grinned and they smirked with sinister pleasure They slunk ‘round the fortress and they stole all the treasure! They took the cheese wedges, they took the clam chowder, They stole eighteen potions and all the rune powder! The pears, grapes and apples went into their sacks, Along with two shields and an enchanted axe. They grabbed up the gems, and what’s even colder, They took the roast rothé, the boiled beholder! They gathered the beer, the ale, and the wine, When they heard a small sound, like the grunting of swine. They turned around fast, and saw in the door Gortash was leaning, with five guards or more. “Hello,” that Gortash most charmingly said, “You’ve got pretty far, but soon you’ll be dead.” But despite all the traps, the guards, spells and fire, The gallant adventurers quick made him a liar. As he lay on the flagstones, bleeding, out-fought, He was hazily thinking a vague final thought: “Maybe my plan went somewhat astray, “And freedom’s the friends we made on the way?” And what happened then? Well, the adventurers say Gortash’s small heart stopped completely that day, Then they gathered his clothes, his weapons and glove, And into the chimney he went with a shove! Then back at their camp, as soon as it suited, They laid out a table with the good things they’d looted! They toasted each other and the good cheer they’d found, A merry and jolly and earth-shaking sound! Tomorrow would come, and it might well bring pain: They still had the worms and the ghaik and the brain, But tonight they’d rejoice and forget all that bother, And the withered old bone man carved the roast rothé!

[snarky-art]

I swear I dont wanna be mean but why does everyone keep making stella fat. Why is it that the most attractive character, whom everyone finds beautiful inside the show, is the one who is always turned fat. Like... No one would find her attractive if her canon design was like that. I promise im not being mean but I feel like the artists are always projecting themselves onto Stella and wanting to be loved like she is, cause usually the ones making her fat are fat too, like I saw your selfies and you're a bit curvy. I promise im not being mean im just curious.

For starters, send me more fat Stella’s if you can I haven’t seen that many made and would love to see more varied takes on her appearances in redesigns.

Secondly, I made her fat because I think it’s nice to have the character that’s canonically considered to be the most beautiful girl in all of magix, a fashion icon in the magical dimension, a very celebrated trendsetter, be something other than the stereotypical concept of socially acceptable fashion tropes. She isn’t an hourglass, she has cellulite and stretch marks, she’s super pear shaped, and that can be and should be considered something to be normal, since they are, and shouldn’t be seen as things that need to be hidden. Having that put on a loud and proud fashion girly seems good imo and it can only really contribute to good stuff for body image stuff and representation. I did it so people like you could reconsider that beauty is something that comes in multiple forms and shouldn’t have to fit one type of standard. If we wanna get super technical too those standards also very from culture to culture and I image that’s extended even further in Winx club.

The girls are all aliens from different worlds. There’s bug people. There’s a lady in the miss magix episode that has tentacle hair, a blue body, and tentacle hands and feet. I highly doubt beauty standards in canon would be the same as what you’re saying, ie that no one would consider her beautiful. As if people who look like her irl also would inherently be considered not beautiful too. I know lots of people who have people that think they’re the hottest thing ever and they have all sorts of different body types and traits. Lets just call it realism lol

I’m not really projecting any of my physical stuff on her also, outside of I guess stretch marks and cellulite?? But I put those on other characters too so I don’t really think that holds up. I actually put my old body type on Flora since she’s my favorite, but now I’m way more midsized, like a slightly thinner Bloom from my stuff (love this unit of measurement gonna start using the gorls as a reference point for my appearance going forward lol). I’ve always had the “socially acceptable” fat type of body, ie hourglass with even proportions and a super snatched waist. I just think it’s tired and trite to constantly reenforce the idea that “the hot fashion one” needs to be tall and thin all the time, and if she is made fatter, that she needs to look like I did ie not much of a tummy with super equal proportions, big boobs, and a big ass.

Kinda related to that also, I made a post about a lot of character design “rules” too that I think are kinda outdated and annoying, at least to me, since I’ve seen them a million times. We all have. So I decided to do something different that I think would be good for normalizing traits outside of what we consider typically acceptable for that kind of character.

I’m already very loved also and don’t need to project anything on Stella lmaooo

I got multiple partners, great friends, do modeling, and am slaying with my own fashion and appearance stuff outside of that too. That’s all independent of whatever I’m doing with her physical body type when I draw her.

Gonna level with you also, you going “I’m not trying to be mean” doesn’t erase how weird this ask is. Sounds like you have your own gripes that you need to work through. Like, if you consider those traits on Stella ugly, that means you definitely have some internalized hatred for fatness, skin blemishes, scarring, and other peoples’ general appearances if they don’t fit some specific molds that aren’t realistic for the majority of people. Even if it is just genuine curiosity, being aware of this stuff going forwards and reevaluating how you view beauty standards and bodies in general would do you a great benefit imo.

Thanks for going through my old selfies tho it was pretty weird of you but at least make sure to leave a like on them. I looked hot when I was fatter and I look hot now too sharing this with the world is the least I can do💕✨💕✨

[thewisaaaaad]

Hey so I was possesed by another vision.

Im so sorry. Have anemoia AU. Anemoia means "having nostalgia for a time you never experienced.

Also this one dives a little into horror, and I made an image to go with it so. be prepared for that.

my yappin below the Read More.

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

Why had you tried to be rid of me? Had I done something wrong?

Oh. oh I must have. something horrible, and now I have done something so much worse! A fool such as myself has no business being ROYALTY! Oh no, this will not do at all! My lord, reduced to a groveling peasant!

But now you are free! Forgive your humble servant for the shoddy illusion of the cult I had left you in, I needed time to prepare your surprise! I meant no harm by it, and it was no prison. You could leave at any time!

And now you have! But oh, oh my Lord, you still look so upset! My deepest apologies and condolences, my lord!

But that foul mood will not last, if I have anything to say about it!

I know! I'll put on a show! Only the finest entertainment will do! The worst of the worst, tormented for eternity!

All for You! What a wonderful circus this will be! Such a wonderful show, indeed!

The price of admission? Oh no such thing, my lord! I would rather impale myself upon a sword or twelve! I offer a gift instead!

Your crown! Your wondrous, red crown, returned to its rightful place!

This body? oh, merely a puppet, my lord! My main body is setting up the big show. If you wish to rip it to shreds, such is your right!

But there is so much more to do, once you are done!

There are plenty of heretical souls to punish here with it, so many traitorous souls to cut down at your pleasure!

Ooh, ooh! There are refreshments, too! Fresh marrow to sup upon, and warm blood to slake your thirst!

And for the main events! Oh! Oh, how the bishops shall suffer for your amusement! Heheheh, I'm rather proud of those, myself!

First, we have Leshy! He of Havock, reduced to bird seed! I made hawks pluck at his eyehole as he remains chained to a rock! But not in the way normal birds of prey do, oh no. They pluck at the same nerve endings.

every. time.

A being who relishes in chaos such as he will surely die of BORDOM from such a fate! oh, but do not worry, my lord!

I WONT LET HIM LEAVE THAT EASILY.

Next up, we have that rotten toad, Heket! She gets the honor of standing in a river, with fruit dangling just overhead! But she never gets to taste either, oh no. The pears retreat, just beyond the reach of her grubby mits, whenever she dares to try and seize them.

And that frigid water that rushes past her legs? Why, her parched lips will never reach its surface! the spiked collar around her fragile neck will make sure of that.

SHE WILL FACE THE VERY FAMINE SHE ONCE RULED.

As for Kallamar. Well, lets just say that I was tempted to make him shove a boulder up a hill for eternity, but his weak noodle arms could barely push a small rock! It was so pitiful, I couldn't even stand it.

So I decided to play to his strengths.

A god of plague should be more than a match for his domain, right? Hehee! I thought so too, but his vomit seems to suggest otherwise! I have lined up a wonderful conga line of suffering for the cowardly squid, a beautiful set of symptoms that shall create a wonderful symphony of agony!

Ah, but I haven't left him defenseless! that would be no fun at all! I have left him a table of tools, a bouquet of medicine to try ant treat what ails him!

But every, SINGLE time he starts to recover to a mere cough...

I HAVE ANOTHER CRIPPLING ILLNESS WAITING IN THE WINGS!

And Shamura!

...ah, Shamura.

It was so hard to find a punishment that got a good reaction out of them. Every single form of torture, from boiling in oil, to being crushed under a lead cloak, they took all of it on the chin.

"Through this, I will repent" MY ASS!

But I figured out a hell that makes them squirm. Its so ingenious!

I simply employed the same punishment that they made YOU suffer through! Ehehee, with a slight twist, of course!

They get to watch their siblings SUFFER for all eternity! Hah, and they get to sit there, knowing, KNOWING that this is all their fault! AHAHAHAHAAAAA!

Oh don't look at me like that, you aren't part of their family! They forsake that honor the moment they thought to put you in chains!

...oh, and before you go enjoy the festivities, I wanted to tell you one last thing.

I will be hosting a show of my own! "The Comedy Of the Last Lamb!" oh, I have been working SO very hard on it! I do hope you enjoy it! The story will be a little... tweaked, from how it actually went. The new ending should fit your tastes MUCH better than how... It had gone.

I do hope you'll show up to see it!

You have a starring role in it, after all.

Please, enjoy yourself.

My lord.