#over the garden wall has consumed me

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[hayatoseyepatch]

Description: NSFW headcannons for Hajime Umemiya. Character: Hajime Umemiya. Word Count: 1.9k Contains: Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya. Smut. Breeding kink, daddy calling, p in v, marking, free use, public sex, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), praise, dirty talk, implied size difference.

Authors Note: This was a request for some Umemiya NSFW headcannons. I hope you enjoy this annonie! I've been dying to write more Ume (He's my second fave after Suo after all) so thank you for giving me an excuse to write some of the many many thoughts I have about this beautiful man. (❀ ˆ³ˆ)♡

•⋅⊰ Hajime Umemiya has a breeding kink, I will not budge on this. He calls everyone in Bofurin his family, and after losing his, he is so excited to start a family with you. Nothing gets Ume harder than the thought of filling your womb. And nothing is going to be able to stop him until that urge has been fulfilled.  

The day had started innocently enough, a visit made to the group home to drop off some of the produce you both had harvested from his garden that morning. But as he watched you interact with the little ones, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. The thoughts of you holding your own child in your arms as they giggled. The idea of the both of you looking up at him as you welcomed him home. These thoughts consumed him. And as much as they made his heart fill with warmth, he couldn’t help but feel the strain of his cock in his pants.

The thought of your tummy becoming swollen with his child plagued his mind as the head of his cock kissed your cervix. Your knees are thrown over his forearms, hands desperately gripping onto him for support. You both had barely made it to your bedroom, his lips attacking yours hungrily as he practically ripped your clothes from your body. A simple “Fuck, sunflower, I need you so bad” spoken breathlessly against your lips as he hoisted you into his arms. Groaning at the feeling of your velvety walls squeezing him as he slipped inside. His head ducking down to take a nipple in his mouth tongue circling the nub before letting his teeth grace you gently. Mind wandering to how swollen they would become, filled with milk, wondering how it would taste. The thought alone drove him to set a harsh pace, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room. He pulls his head from you, teeth dragging your nipple until his mouth is free with a satisfying ‘pop��. Lips pressing themselves against your ear, words breathless as he spoke. ”I want to see that beautiful face when I breed this pretty pussy with my cum, bunny.”

He pulled from you, maneuvering you in his strong arms until you both reached the bed, having you lay on your back beneath him. Knees pushed to your chest once more by his grip on your thighs. Your hands gripping onto his skin, nails biting into the skin. Feeling an incredible sense of emptiness at the loss of his cock. Knowing just what to say to get him back inside you. “Hajime please, feel so empty. Put a baby inside of me, Haji, I need you to breed my cunt, daddy.” You looked up at him between your legs, the tears that lined your lashes only enforced the need behind your words, the need that caused the mess between your legs.

He leans down pressing a sweet kiss against your lips as he slips back into your cunt, thumb rubbing against your clit to match his pace. He could feel the spasming of your walls, the want, the desperate need for you to come all over his cock. He attacked your neck, leaving kisses and bites along the surface area of your neck. Pleased as the skin deepens in color with his mark. Though what really sent him into a frenzy, was one phrase in particular, you always knew just what to say to drive him insane. “Yeah, princess? Need me to fill that slutty cunt baby? Want me to fold you in half and breed you, princess, want me to really make you a mommy, huh baby? Well, how could I say no after you begged for it so pretty sunflower?”

•⋅⊰ Free use with Umemiya is a must. He often has you foregoing the use of your panties. If you do, more often than not he winds up pocketing them anyway, so what’s the point? Umemiya needs to have you at any given time, he’s a busy man after all, he’s got to make sure his little flower is well tended to doesn’t he?

His lips were attached to your neck, leaving hot kisses in their wake. One of his large hands keep you in place with its strong grip on your waist. He takes the opportunity to slide a large hand under the hem of your skirt. Fingers digging into the plush of your ass for stability. He takes the opportunity of you leaning forward to the side as leverage to slide his hand lower, slipping your panties to the side, swiping the wetness there, fingers sliding past your entrance. He groans into your neck feeling the way your slick walls swallow his fingers hungrily. “You're always so nice and ready for me, no matter what aren’t you sunflower?” He purrs into your ear, free hand coming to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your sundress. The both of you had just been gardening, watering the buds that were just beginning to sprout. The way the dress hugged your curves had Umemiya in a frenzy. He knew it was dangerous to touch you so openly, but that just added to the thrill.

You were frozen in his embrace Sugishita was not too far away as he tended to the other end of the garden. Your cheeks flushed, eyes locked on him to make sure you both wouldn’t get caught. “Hajime.. wait.. Sugishita is-“ Your words were quickly cut off, hands flying to your mouth to muffle your moans as Umemiya curls his fingers upward, expertly finding that spongy pot that makes the corners of your vision go white. He grinned against your ear, though he couldn’t ignore the spike of jealousy he felt hearing you call the younger male’s name so breathlessly. “Well then I guess you're gonna have to be real quiet now aren’t you darling?” He never ceased in his ministrations, if anything he doubled his efforts. Fingers pumping in and out of your drenched pussy, thumb moving to rub tight circles on your clit.

Your nails dig into the skin of his forearm, using your grip to help yourself stand on shaky legs as Umemiya works you over with his fingers, trying desperately to keep your wounds to a minimum. If anyone were to see you from the back it would simply look like Umemiya was holding you sweetly in his arms. But you knew better, you were suspicious Sugishita did too from how attentively he was gardening, tips of his ears peeking from within his long hair being red. “Haji.. please.” You whimper softly around your hand, his answer is immediate doubling his efforts as he pumps the fingers that were inside you faster. The thumb of his other hand circled your nipple before taking the bud between two fingers.

“Go on baby, make a mess on my fingers. I know you want to sunflower, make a mess for me.” He groans, rubbing his clothed erection against your ass, letting you feel just how riled up touching you was getting him. His words send you over the edge, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as you will your hips not to buck against his fingers as your walls spasm around your digits as you cum for him. Breathing heavily, turning back to look at him, only to catch him slipping the soaked digits in his mouth, humming as he gets a taste of you. “Sweetest nectar I’ve ever tasted, honeybee.” He chuckles, deep in your ear, before grabbing your wrist. “Hey Sugishita!” he calls loudly, causing you and the other males’ cheeks to warm with color. “Me and Sunflower need to grab some supplies from the shed real quick, gotta fill her up ya know?” All three of you knew in that moment Umemiya was not talking about the garden.

•⋅⊰ Hajime Umemiya is the CEO of pussy eating. This man eats your cunt like he is STARVING. He is not satisfied unless you're absolutely dripping down his face. He likes it mess he craves it. He gets drunk on your taste. It brings him so much pleasure to taste you against his lips and even more to hear the sounds that leave your lips as he does it.

Umemiya begins the long and tortuous process of trailing kisses down your frame, grinning against your skin as he feels your body arch into his touch, finally ending his slow descent by tugging the waistband of your panties back with his teeth, shivering in anticipation at the sound of the elastic snapping against your skin. Having enough of his own teasing already, he leans back, groaning upon seeing the drenched material of your panties. “Holy shit baby girl, look at you. You're fucking soaked. Can't wait to taste you, princess.” He impatiently grips the fabric tugging it off of your frame, placing the material next to him on the bed, before laying flat on his front, settling himself between your legs, hooking a thumb in a fold pulling the skin to the side to expose you fully to his prying eyes. “Sunflower, you're so fucking beautiful, I can't fucking stand it.” Accentuating his words with a playful nip at the inside of your thigh, kissing upwards slowly, tongue dragging along your soft skin until he reaches where you need him most.

Leaning in, he swipes the wet muscle upwards to collect the wetness that was dripping from your center. Groaning, deep in his throat, at your taste. He pulls away just enough so that you could feel his breath against your cunt as he spoke. “Fuck you’re so delicious princess, and so nice and wet, tell me. Is this all for me, baby?”  Your head was thrown back already from such a simple touch, fingers already tangling in his styled hair as you affirmed his words with a hum. “Yes, Haji it's all for you. Only get this wet for you baby.” He lets out a deep chuckle at how cute you were being right now, allowing you to feel the vibrations of his laughter in your core. He lets a hand come up, finger prodding your entrance, collecting the wetness gathered there before sliding into the knuckle, curling the appendage upwards. His lips detach from your clit, tongue lolling out to flatten against the sensitive bundle of nerves. He was quick to add another finger, pumping the digits in and out of your heat slowly. His tongue lapped at your clit, occasionally tracing meaningless shapes along your clit adding to the sensations his tongue was providing. His other hand comes up to grab a handful of your ass, effectively pushing your hips down on his tongue.

Umemiya moaned into your cunt, his mouth quickly becoming insatiable. Fingers pumping relentlessly in and out of your tight heat, a mixture of your wetness and his saliva dripping down his chin and onto the mattress below. Umemiya was overtaken by your taste, tongue lapping at your clit desperately. Unable to will himself to stop he rolls his hips against the plush of the mattress. Needing some form of friction to alleviate the throbbing of his cock. Groaning against your cunt, your taste coupled with his rolling hips sent a shudder up his spine. The softness of the mattress through the tight material of his pants does nothing in comparison to having your tight cunt wrapped around him. But he needed this, needed to feel your hips buck desperately against his face as you chased your high. He knew it would be worth it when you came against his face with a scream of his name, fingers pulling roughly against his hair to ground yourself as he drank everything you had to offer. And it would definitely be worth the pair of underwear he just ruined.

Dividers by saradika-graphics. Writing & character banners by me. If you enjoyed it, consider taking a look at my masterlist: here. Special thanks to @eevees-hobbies for putting free use Ume in my head so bad that I needed to write it.

[solbaby7]

Run

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: not edited, mentions home invasion, some swearing, violence, a bit angsty but fluffy at the end

summary: No one has ever once dared to try breaching the Night Courts walls—until now.

—

Nothing bad ever happened at your main residence in the Night Court.

Rhysand had been adamant that no one had ever once dared to try and breach these walls.

He’d said it so confidently; with such unwavering certainty that you’d never once questioned it. Never second guessed leaving open a window through the night or not always checking if you’d locked the front door behind you. It made you careless when wandering around the grounds with no weapons, brain on auto-pilot as you ran your fingers over the flowers Elaine and Lucien had spent all of Spring tending to together.

But the sound of glass crashing from down the hall was unmistakable and your brain scrambled to remember everyone telling you they’d all be gone today—that you and Elaine would be the only ones in the house until later in the day.

It had only been a couple of hours.

Elaine’s eyes snap to yours over her knitting needles when another crash sounds and now you can hear males voices; a handful of them overlapping against one another and you’re quick to jump into action. “Get up.” You snatch a sword from the display and anchor it between the doorhandles, wedging a heavy chair to the bottom for good measure before rushing over to the window. “It’ll be a little bit of a drop, so you’ll have to tuck your knees so you don’t break anything, okay?”

“You want me to jump out of the window?”

Another crash, one much closer and the panic you feel is all consuming but you force it away when you grip at her shoulders. This was the High Lady’s sister—Nesta’s most prized possession and you were certain she’d slice your head clean off your shoulders upon hearing something happening to her sister. “Elaine, you don’t have a choice. You need to get out of here and run—run for help. Find Azriel and the others and don’t stop until you do.”

Reality seems to set in when you’re collecting the layers of the bottom of her dress and bracing her arm on your shoulder as you ease her legs out of the window. “But,” Her eyes are frantic, heart hammering in her chest and you have to fight extra hard to seem calm; confident when you were honestly just trying to keep from passing out where you stood. “—what about you?”

A pause. “I’m going to distract them to give you enough time to find help.”

Elaine lets out a whine when the voices come closer and hers is barely audible as you’re bracing most of her weight out the window, doing your best to get her as low as possible before releasing her when you hear their fists banging against the door. “Please don’t make me leave you. If something happens to you, Azriel will—“

“You’ll just have to trust me.” You can hear the door creaking from the strain and you’re certain you’ve gotten her as low as possible without falling out yourself when you begin to loosen your grip. “Run, Elaine. Run and don’t stop until you’ve found him.”

The door opens with a bang but you’ve already turned around, body blocking the window to ensure they can’t see the bouncing pink dress frantically dashing across the garden. The sword is clutched tight in your grasp when you see them and immediately your heart sinks; there’s a lot more of them than you’d anticipated and a sob threatens to emerge off the sheer size of them alone but somehow you remain strong. You’re not sure what possess you to speak, the sword raising in warning as you stare each one dead in their eye. “I’ll give you one chance to turn around and leave.”

“Or what?”

A cool resolve settles into your body, heart rate lowering and senses focusing until you could hear a pin drop from ten miles away. Shadows slink over your figure, two coating your hands and two more stabilize your ankles and it only takes a few seconds to catch onto what was going to happen—Azriel had trained them for this, trained you for this. “Or I’ll show you exactly who lives here.”

They don’t believe you for a second, though you do notice one squinting at the darkness beginning to enclose over your fingers and it’s like you have no control over your own body. Most of them try and fail to get a hit on you, shadows guiding your hands to slice and dig and swipe your foot under their legs until they fell to the floor with a thud.

It feels like a dance—one you had to perfect or die and you could scream thank you from the highest of mountains to the clingy shadows that lingered back from their master. Their cool aura over your skin is grounding as they bend you to their will, forcing your legs to break off into a run before jumping to wrap your legs around the intruders shoulders and you can hear the oxygen leaving his lungs when you squeeze. You can feel the burn in your core when you heave your body up, thighs still clamping around his neck when you slam your elbow once, twice, three times against the top of his skull before his body crumbles beneath you.

Your knees are on the floor when another comes for you, sword slicing through the air and a grunt leaves you when a shadow pushes you down to duck before the sword can take your head clean off. You allow them complete control, a puppet submitting to the string attached to them as blood smears your clothing and stains your skin. Your hair sticks to your neck, blood spraying as the shadows ensured every swing of your weapon landed in its target.

A cry pulls from your throat when you turn, eyes frantic as you search the space to find no one but yourself remaining but you can’t seem to let the sword go. There’s so much blood; crimson red pooling in puddles near each slain body and your head whips around when you hear more footsteps. “In there—she’s in there!”

“Elaine,” Your voice croaks out and you hear the steps go faster until Azriel is standing in the doorway with cruel eyes; intent to kill clear until he sees you and it all fades away. “Don’t let her look.”

He nods wordlessly, urging a breathless Elaine away with nothing more than a look and his voice goes soft when he sees your hands shaking. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can let it go now.”

“She’s safe?”

“She’s safe, she didn’t stop until she found us.” Your shoulders relax at the words, body crumpling to the floor and he’s there to catch you before you hit the ground. You’re nose is buried in his chest, hands clutching at his clothes as the adrenaline subsides and your body begins to tremble but as Azriel holds you tight, muttering soothing words into your hair.

All he can do is look at the carnage.

The blood that stains your body but there’s not a single scratch. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

A laugh pulls free, the sound easing his worry and calming his rage. “I guess all that training came in handy after all.”

[ms-demeanor]

One thing that I keep seeing whenever I make posts that are critical of macs is folks in the notes going "they make great computers for the money if you just buy used/refurbs - everyone knows not to buy new" and A) no they don't know that, most people go looking for a new computer unless they have already exhausted the new options in their budget and B) no they don't make great computers for the money, and being used doesn't do anything to make them easier to work on or repair or upgrade.

Here's a breakdown of the anti-consumer, anti-repair features recently introduced in macbooks. If you don't want to watch the video, here's how it's summed up:

In the end the Macbook Pro is a laptop with a soldered-on SSD and RAM, a battery secured with glue, not screws, a keyboard held in with rivets, a display and lid angle sensor no third party can replace without apple. But it has modular ports so I guess that’s something. But I don’t think it’s worthy of IFixIt’s four out of ten reparability score because if it breaks you have to face apple’s repair cost; with no repair competition they can charge whatever they like. You either front the cost, or toss the laptop, leaving me wondering “who really owns this computer?”

Apple doesn't make great computers for the money because they are doing everything possible to make sure that you don't actually own your computer, you just lease the hardware from apple and they determine how long it is allowed to function.

The lid angle sensor discussed in this video replaces a much simpler sensor that has been used in laptops for twenty years AND calibrating the sensor after a repair requires access to proprietary apple software that isn't accessible to either users or third party repair shops. There's no reason for this software not to be included as a diagnostic tool on your computer except that Apple doesn't want users working on apple computers. If your screen breaks, or if the fragile cable that is part of the sensor wears down, your only option to fix this computer is to pay apple.

How long does apple plan to support this hardware? What if you pay $3k for a computer today and it breaks in 7 years - will they still calibrate the replacement screen for you or will they tell you it's time for new hardware EVEN THOUGH YOU COULD HAVE ATTAINED FUNCTIONAL HARDWARE THAT WILL WORK IF APPLE'S SOFTWARE TELLS IT TO?

Look at this article talking about "how long" apple supports various types of hardware. It coos over the fact that a 2013 MacBook Air could be getting updates to this day. That's the longest example in this article, and that's *hardware* support, not the life cycle of the operating system. That is dogshit. That is straight-up dogshit.

Apple computers are DRM locked in a way that windows machines only wish they could pull off, and the apple-only chips are a part of that. They want an entirely walled garden so they can entirely control your interactions with the computer that they own and you're just renting.

Even if they made the best hardware in the world that would last a thousand years and gave you flowers on your birthday it wouldn't matter because modern apple computers don't ever actually belong to apple customers, at the end of the day they belong to apple, and that's on purpose.

This is hardware as a service. This is John Deere. This is subscription access to the things you buy, and if it isn't exactly that right at this moment, that is where things have been heading ever since they realized it was possible to exert a control that granular over their users.

With all sympathy to people who are forced to use them, Fuck Apple I Hope That They Fall Into The Ocean And Are Hidden Away From The Honest Light Of The Sun For Their Crimes.

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon comes to comfort you.

Warnings: drama, angst because of reasons; fluffy though because we love writing fluffy Aegon. Long post.

***

What a strange bond you and the lord Aegon share. As the daughter of Ser Gwayne of House Hightower, you were raised as part of the Targaryen family since you could remember—but comparison, implicitly as it was, was always there.

You always aimed to please so what else could you do if not doing as told? You were raised to be like your royal aunt but your sweet nature prevented to emulate her flaws. Indeed your wit was as sharp as knife and your tongue could ricochet when provoked, but only your looks could tell what were you doing amidst an incestuous family.

Nevertheless, against all odds you did get well with them. How could it not be? You were raised with your cousins, but it was Aegon who climbed your walls and knocked them out.

Though he’s expected to marry his sister, it’s you whom he follows everywhere. There are whispers at court, but, as you told your aunt once, where there are tongues, words will be spoken.

Yet… now you are a young woman, in an age close to marry. You have no dragons to ride and all you can brag is about winning Aemond over poetry competition.

At times you are next to Helaena, but you feel outshone by your sweet cousin.

What is this, what is this that torments me so?

You have demons to fight underneath your mask of duty and you do not like when they crave their claws on your flesh. So today you withdraw, certain that no one is going to notice your absence.

When you do so, melancholy has you on its trap. You are swallowed by it, there staying whilst your footsteps automatically sway out of their view. You dissociate, rewinding the times you disappointed every one you know.

Perhaps what is worse is the day Princess Helaena and Prince Aegon’s betrothal is announced. You found yourself wishing to be in her shoes, the perfect Princess.

Disgusted by mundane sentiments you are suffocated when confronted by your imperfections. You need some air. Perhaps the gardens will offer some solution.

Barefoot, your Hightower curls are blown off your head the more you run into the labyrinth of green towers of leaves and pomades. Tears roll out, uninvited, as if the grip around them is now loose. Because at the center of this rarely visited labyrinth lies a cold stoned bench where you sit and burst into silent, painful tears.

*

Even a merry prince as himself needs some moment to himself. Regardless of how fearful he is of loneliness—which is usually mistaken as a moment of fragility—, Aegon feels in the air that not all is well as it should.

It takes no more than a few minutes to notice the lady Y/N Hightower’s escape of the court. He sighs. Thus the recollections begin as the silver haired Targaryen royal retraces your steps.

I remember well, my lady, when we bonded. It was odd that someone laughed at my sarcastic remarks; that a relative would appreciate my fierceness, or even compliment my efforts in reading messy words.

Whenever I was faulted for not being hard working like Aemond, or when envy consumed my poor soul for being overshadowed by Rhaenyra, you stood for me. You held my hand, dismissed my fragilities and reassured me I was as good as any of them. You encouraged me flying with Sunfyre when I was anguished before the Strong boys. You never failed to surprise me, a deed few—if any at all—accomplished.

But I was so selfish…. When you fell, where was I? When you wept, where was I? When your strength was shaken, I failed you. I blinded myself because I supposed you and Aemond were too bright to burn. I whored because the idea of you led me to believe I was unworthy—as my mother often remarked that she found our friendship rather unusual, uncommon, unmatched: you, the perfection; me, the broken man.

Indeed she has been correct in her judgement. But reason often tormented me because I am too weak to surpass myself. Where there are obstacles, I see an invitation to encourage my sins; where there are defiances, I convince myself I lack capacity to overcome them.

I am not brave. No, my precious lady. This errant prince is unworthy of your affection. Nonetheless… I will rescue you. You will see that I am capable of loving, even if this means to admit I cannot be loved.

The sight of you in complete distress makes him rush his steps. Part of him is relieved to see you haven’t done anything imprudent, but another prays anxiously for whatever deity that he is not the cause of your atonement.

“Goodness!”, you almost cry out when you see Aegon. You stand quickly, trying to recompose yourself. “A-Aegon! I mean, my lord cousin.”

You try desperately to omit your distress, to conceal your anxiety, but Aegon sees through you. The prince holds your wrists and pulls you against him.

“Don’t. Don’t do this, Y/N.”

Still holding a hand over your right wrist, he releases his free hand to gently brush away your eyes, after lifting your chin so he can read the pain in them.

“We’ve already surpassed this phase, haven’t we? It’s long gone since that day where… well, where we had mutual accusations of distrust”, says he, pleased to make you chuckle lightly.

“True. We are not children anymore”.

The distance is short. Shorter than what usually is. You can smell his scent, which only infuriates your racing heart.

“Then why are you running away?”

You sigh. Something about his long gaze at you, at the kindness behind his lilac irises, at the soft smile on his lips… is enough to disperse your insecurities.

“I am not running away.”

It’s a weak protest, a lie that Aegon knows what it really means. He once used it to shy away everyone who dares to approach him. For some reason, this old tactic never worked with you. It is only natural that it has no success with him as well.

“You are not well. What troubles you, my sweet? Always the dutiful daughter, always the merry one of us all, the prideful daughter of Old Town.” He strokes your cheek once more. “The stories we created, the past I was part of… cannot be just that.”

“We forged a very good bond, didn’t we?”

“Indeed.” Then a flash of hurt crosses his gaze for a moment. “Is it what it is, though? A good bond is what we have?”

And just like that you set yourself free of his touch. Where there was warmth, now there is cold.

“I cannot… Do not make me say what I may regret. Leave me to my pain, to be tormented by my delusions.”

“I may be many of the things I am accused of. However, to be careless is not one of them.” Aegon takes you by your arm, forcing you to turn at him. “Tell me I am only a memory, that we are nothing.”

“I was always yours, cousin. But you were never mine”, you burst out what’s been killing you. “I am not Helaena. Nor a Targaryen can I be considered! What am I? Who am I? Somewhere along the lines I became what is expected! But I lost myself in the process.”

“I will not sacrifice us for duty!” He holds you against him, your frame tied in between his arms. You find the same anguish in his eyes, the old desperation that equals yours, an entire ocean of profound sentiments that invite to an inevitable drowning.

Cupping your cheeks with his hands, he stares back at yours.

“It pains me that I am not able to take away your suffering. Miserable is the man who cannot uphold a sword to battle his damsel’s torments. For years I accepted that I failed before the world. But when it comes to you, Y/N, I am not afraid of the dark. I am not that fucking cunt. You never left me on my own. Unworthy as I am, hardly magnanimous as others might suggest to make me their jest, you remain.”

“I am a sinner, Aegon. Filth with…”

He covers your mouth, impeding words to come out of your disgraced soul any longer.

“For years we repressed it. Nay, Y/N. Do not make us miserable anymore. I shall make you mine at the cost of all.” And yet when battles seemingly obstinate at the cost of your breakdown, he holds you close. “Come here. Let us leave this world, uh? I know exactly what you deserve.”

You stay there for a moment, taking his words as what you need to hear. What you need to heal. Aegon is your balsam, and this is touching in many ways.

The rogue prince, rejected by all of those who, by blood, are moved by this familiar pretense of loving him, is someone else’s solace. You, often the strong one, so sensible and reasonable, rely on his feeble, meek prince whose divinity is nothing but a mask.

Thus you stay. And he loves you more than he can admit.

*

Sunfyre seems to smile at you when Aegon gleefully takes you to him.

“Come now. He won’t bite you!”, your rogue prince beams at you. He extends his hand at you. “Do you honestly think this is a privilege I give everyone I know?”

His golden scaled dragon seems to huff as if to say: “Indeed, my lady. Do you honestly think I would allow anyone to ride me besides Aegon?”

You giggle softly. Aegon sees you blushing, the idea of enjoying a privilege few would ever do makes you suddenly shy. Your face is adorably pink, a great sight to behold when adding to it your loose curly red hair.

“Well?”

“I do not mean to keep you waiting”, you take his hand, enjoying the warmth of your fingers locked. “Thank you for having me, Sunfyre.”

The winged creature looks at you pompously, a very adorable sight that makes you smile.

“How can one not smile before the most beautiful dragon there has ever been?”, says Aegon, resting his face against Sunfyre’s forehead. “Heavens know this is just… unmatched.”

“You have a very strong bond with this one”, you observe, smiling.

“He understands me like no other”, Aegon smiles as Sunfyre confirms him with its own way of showing tenderness. “We belong to each other.”

“Indeed. I am pleased he takes you as who you are. It is what it should have always been.”

“Come now. Let us fly!”

You take the hand offered even though you are not dressed for the occasion. As Sunfyre opens its wings and begins to fly, his hands around your waist ensure you that you are safe.

“You may be Targaryen in your own way, Y/Nickname”, Aegon whispers in your ear. “But I prefer you being Hightower. It has a better ring to it, hasn’t it? Lady Y/N Hightower.”

You giggle like a little girl. Oh, once upon a time you dreamed of this moment. It is unique, indescribable. He is so close to you, carefree and merry.

His arms around your waist as he leads the way when pulling the reins of Sunfyre, at the same time letting it be leaded by this beautiful golden winged creature.

Wind blows your hair, messing it all the way as you fly higher and maybe a choked sound comes out of your throat. Adrenaline runs in your veins and for a second you fear you are about to fall.

“Trust in me, my lady! You are safe with me!”, Aegon chuckles quietly.

You can only nod. Despite the fear, you trust your guts, and delegate all the power to him. Aegon’s face is close to yours so he can read your expressions, the subtle change in your countenance quite clear. And yet when you relax, when your shoulders are light again, he knows the value of your trust.

Taking the opportunity to surprise you, he is bold enough to press his lips against your cheek.

“Oh, Aegon!”, you blush, batting your eyelashes timidly.

“Are you enjoying this adventure?”, Aegon looks so content like he hasn’t been in years.

When your gazes meet, you forget that he is promised to another. You are led to believe he is delegating his heart to your possession. Against reason, you nurture hope.

“More than I deserve. Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Anything for my lady”, and even up in the skies he takes your hand and presses a kiss on it.

This time Sunfyre flies slowly, stable as it is up in the air. It is when Aegon takes his time to enjoy it with you.

“Aegon…”, you hesitate.

“Yes?”

He waits. When he does so, eyes are locked in a long gaze. He notices the color that paints your irises, the red that paints your curls, your long nose and heart-shaped face. Sweet features that mirror the kindness within. Your lips tremble and the prince is eager to hear those words.

Those three words that he too is eager to pronounce, tasting them for the first time in a lifetime of rage and frustration.

“I am scared to speak my mind.”

Aegon puts a hand over your chin, his callous hand moving higher to cup your cheek. To fight away the remaining shadows of your heart, right at the twilight, he knocks his pride down when choosing to be the one to say what must be said.

“Y/N Hightower, throughout these years my cold heart has been endeared to a new sentiment of a kind I never experimented before, often judged to never feel it because I was deemed unworthy of it. The root to my heart has been uneasy, I know, and yet you took it with the bravery of your gentleness.”

As the words come out so naturally, you blush deeper. You’d look away if he doesn’t make you stay and see the truth in his gaze.

“You, the very center of my heart, have grown more than a companion, a cousin, someone with whom I share blood. Nights grow cold without you, I sinned hopelessly because I thought…” Aegon sighs, impatient with himself. “All of this is to say that I love you.”

To his surprise, you cup his face with your hands and lock your lips with his. Right as the sun starts to go down, as the colors of twilight begin to paint the skies, every doubt is solved, every shadow dissipates.

It is a peaceful kiss, perfectly paired even if it starts sloppy. Sunfyre hums happily as if to put a soundtrack to this moment where Aegon Targaryen is genuinely happy for the first time in years.

“I love you, Aegon”, you rest your forehead against his. “Whatever it comes, never forget how endeared you are.”

He cannot argue when you say in such a sweet manner. You convince him that with patience and time, love flourishes.

And you stay like this for a while.

***

Aegon’s eyes are glued in you. Today you are dancing with Princess Helaena by her side at a feast that honours the king’s name day.

“Lady Y/N must be a witch”, muses Aemond out of the blue.

“What for?”, Aegon casts a frown at his younger brother. “Do not dessacralize her name like this, Aemond.”

“Oh. So you are far more smitten than I have assumed”, Aemond raises his eyebrows. “And here I was presuming you’d make her one of your mistresses…considering whom you are betrothed to.”

“Assume what you want. Lady Y/N is not a mistress, no.”

His brother cannot believe his ears. Is this an scandal in the making?

“You cannot be serious. Aegon…”

“What? All I can do is displease others as it seems. They are not content when I do as told. It is time to take my life with my own hands.”

“This will not end well.”

“We shall try and see.”

Aegon stands impatiently and moves to where you are. He knows all eyes are set on him: courtiers hold their breath when you come at his meeting. But what do they know when love is clear in the eyes of the Cupid’s victims?

Helaena, who knew from day one where this would go, smiles to you and excuses herself to Aemond’s side—which only served to leave Alicent astonished, but not entirely displeased since she likes you.

What indeed comes out as a shock is that Aegon has eyes to no other but you.

“We are making it obvious”, you murmur.

“Let it be so. I have no shame in showing my affection for you.”

“Aegon, but you are promised to another”, he sees the pain it comes when acknowledging this fact.

Hands are held and bodies dance when he says calmly:

“Betrothals are often brokered. It happens under uncertainties until marriages are certain.”

You cast him a long wide gaze.

“You cannot be serious..”

Aegon smiles at you in a way few have seen it. The dance comes to an end and he bows before you, lingering a kiss on your wrist without parting gazes.

“I am most serious in my intentions, lady Y/N.”

***

You are occupied with embroidery, lost in your thoughts by the time the queen comes to meet you.

“Y-Your Grace, my aunt”, you dip to a gracious curtsy, blushing as you do so, aware of the reason why she suddenly came to see you.

“No need formalities, child”, she gives you a small smile. “I came to talk to you. I believe you know why.”

As you mutter some answer, Queen Alicent is reminded of herself. You could have been her daughter had she been married off to a nobleman of a house like Tyrell. Not only that but some traits you possess makes her lament how she wasted her youth being a puppet to serve her father’s ambition.

Painful remembrances. And yet… you are tracing a better path than she ever did.

“I am not angry at you, dear child. I should have assumed any of this would result. To be honest, your grandsire was hoping to marry you to Aemond, seeing how similar you are.” Alicent smiles, clearly judging otherwise. “Well, Helaena was closer to Aemond than you in any case.”

“I have nothing to say against lord Aemond, my queen, but it is true that I am closer to lord Aegon.”

“I neglected to consider your sentiments in these matters much as mine were discarded by the time… Oh, never mind. It does little good to dwell in the past”, she now takes your hand. “Aegon surprised me for the first time. He is strongly decided to make you his wife.”

“Oh”, you cannot disguise your surprise. You have to put a hand on your heart as if to prevent you to pass out. “He actually means it!”

Queen Alicent chuckles at your reaction.

“I was shocked too myself, but the king and I are happy to see a change in his comportment. For which on behalf of the crown I thank you and officially welcome you to this disfunctional family, dearest Y/N.”

You laugh quietly. For the first time in a long time your demons are defeated and you taste a safe victory. This is not about comparisons anymore, nor to be gushed by insecurities. Aegon has helped you heal in many, many ways.

***

A few moons later…

“I thought I was not born for happiness”, you confide him right after you landed with Sunfyre.

Since the day Aegon and you were married, the king granted the newly weds a household so you could enjoy your privacy. Ever since this day, Springhall has been your home.

“Why would you say that, Y/Nickname?”, he holds your arm against him as you two walk side by side back inside. “Stealing from me the typical phrasing effect?”

You chuckle quietly.

“No, I mean every word I said. When circumstances forced me to acknowledge my feelings for you, Aegon, I never thought you’d correspond. I felt as if I loved a star too high to grasp.”

It is your way with words that move his heart. It is how these echo the sincerity with your devotion that bends a prideful man like him. Aegon stops the pace and turns you around.

“It pains me that you have gone through difficult months, withdrawn to a heavy pressure of expectations your mother and father laid on you. Even more that I disappointed you with my wayward manners”, he takes your fingers and kisses each for a long time.

Summer breeze blows his hair, and you seem to notice this day he is not dressing dark shade of green, but a light one instead, which matches yours.

“We tend to get lost in our way when we are not properly guided, I’m afraid. But I cannot excuse my past, when I was given the chance to write a better future. Your unending loyalty to me, Y/N… Gods. I could list to all of your virtues that charmed me… In fact, let me do it.”

He keeps his words. Your self esteem has never been higher. A man like him to praise yourself in this manner… Oh, how many skeptical persons would have mocked this possibility?

To be loved like a fair damsel in these stories you read is a reality you’ve thought impossible. You knew your dreams were prompted to be sacrificed by the duties to serve your family, but alas! The impossible is now possible!

“What a joy you give me to be your wife”, you say more tearful than you know.

“You are my heart’s queen, my heart’s gleam, light of my life, my sun and stars. I am devoted to you until the last breath of this body.”

You take his hands and plants a kiss on each, holding his fingers firmly as you look at him with a spark in your gaze.

“My best beloved, I could not find happiness elsewhere but with you. My soul rejoices when yours is close to mine, when day and night I can love you right. Oh, you light my life and lead the way to Seven Paradises!”

“My poetess!”

And saying so, he kisses you under sunlight.

***

• Epilogue.

Prince Aegon’s marriage has not only proven to be a great surprise to many and a true delight to all, but in many ways it was scandalous too.

Specially because he formally abdicated of his rights to the crown to spend his lifetime with you. By giving these to his younger brother, Aemond, well… Ser Otto Hightower might have to adjust his plans. And your sweet demeanor makes it difficult to be blamed for such a decision. Besides, you found in your father a good supporter at court so all is well that ends well.

Before the great series of events that are coming, you give Aegon a number of children to occupy yourselves to. These are:

1. Aegon, named after his father.

2. Rhaena, his twin.

3. Alysanne.

4. Daena.

5. Daeron.

6. Jaehaerys.

7. Maekar.

8. Daenys.

And two miscarriages. What is intriguing is that by the time King Viserys’ death, you and Aegon are found living your lives quietly in Essos.

So when war comes, Aemond starts to question himself.

Where is Aegon? Can he be counted on for this war? Or should he better be left in his domestic affairs?

But these speculations run out of this scope. Besides, it’s not as if Aegon and Y/N Targaryen would pose any danger to Aemond and Helaena’s inheritance… Right?

Whatever it is, some things are better left unsaid. And you and Aegon content yourselves with this very peaceful scenario…

[yeosbbm]

All cuz of peaches.

Smut | MDNI

starring: ranch cowboy! mingi x ex city girl! reader

genre: country, strangers to fuckers, porn with barely any plot 😭

summary: after becoming bored with the city you moved into your friends seonghwa and soobin’s peach farm in the countryside, however a lust filled attraction towards your neighbor Song Mingi down the hill has filled your thoughts. after letting your horniness get the best of you, he decides to give you what you want.

warnings/prevs: Readers a pervert..Mingi likes it though, Masturbation, Unprotected piv, Breeding, One case of impact play, Begging, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Sweet talk/names (if I’m missing anything else let me know).

A/N: Y’all honestly this work is more experimental and based off of a thought I’ve had if anything so this work may be off the wall and a bit…😭 but enjoy if you do ! Push it pt.2 soon to be released !!

Adjusting to country life wasn’t easy but it was definitely enriching. You moved into a peach farm and ranch with your buddies who’ve owned it since last summer. Soobin and Seonghwa. You decided that life in the city was monotonous and you couldn’t handle the cold, loud and superficial ambience of it all. So one day, you packed your things and decided to move in with them. The past 5 months have been easy so far, all you really do is pitch in with the farm animals and collect the peaches when it’s in season. Since living here, your mind feels so much clearer.

However, there is one thing that has been consuming your thoughts. You three’s neighbor Song Mingi. His farm and woodshed was down the hill from your trio. His presence wasn’t new to you because he was friends with Hwa and Soob, but your attraction towards him makes everyday you see him feel new. He comes by you and the boys house and farm all the time to trade goods or to just hangout for drinks.

And he’s referred to you with the same name since you’ve moved in. “City Girl.” Obvious cause for the nickname but you’re shocked he’d have it stuck for so long.

You couldn’t deny the want for this man. He was so handsome and had a resounding appeal. Even though he had this magnetism that drew you in further and further; you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him one on one. You felt you could only talk to him when he’s invited in by Hwa or you 3 are invited over to his ranch.

Soon you planned to go for it and invite him over yourself. But you had things to do until then….

You went out to the peach trees and began disposing of the ones who ripened too fast and became rotting mounds of peach flesh. You dumped them into the compost bin and then got ready to pick as many peaches as your crate could take for today. You picked and picked while the crate was finally halfway filled with them. However something caught your eye.

Today, Mingi was out in his own field. His hat still on but flannel unbuttoned, while his jeans hung low on his hips letting you see [almost] intimate parts of him. Your eyes are caught on his body, you can’t even view the vegetation and and lush field scenery behind him. He continues to dig his produce from his garden, piercing the fertile soil with his shovel…

You were beginning to get hot and bothered by the sight. His sun kissed tan and sweat sheened body moving in ways that make you feel aroused. The way his pants are hanging by his hips, you imagine him pulling them down and exposing his cock. You imagine the size…you imagine his large tall body over you while making you take all his inches.

Despite your conscious yelling no, you sit by the peach tree you were picking at and brought your hand to your cunt. You begin with soft presses and teases before adding circles to your clit. Your breathing is unsteady, you can’t help yourself..

The thoughts begin to be more vivid..his thrust, his voice talking you through the whole ordeal…how his hard working hands adorned with long fingers would feel pressing and curling against your walls. Your fingers are quick on your clit and your final thought brings you over the edge..the idea of him breeding you full. You cum and get your breathing and thoughts back on track.

What the fuck did I just do.

The realization rushes over you and the shock of you being this down bad sinks in. You adjust yourself and grab the crate of peaches you picked and made your way back home.

It was the next day and since Seonghwa and Soobin had to leave for a produce market deal you decided to be productive. You washed and peeled all the peaches you got from the day before, cleaned up the house, fed the chickens and took the goat out the stable to go feed and roam in the pasture until evening.

After all the hard work you wanted to do something simple for yourself and something out of your hard work. A peach cobbler. You baked it for an hour and took it out to see it with a beautiful crispy brown crust and perfectly soft baked peaches underneath. The only problem was that Seonghwa and Soobin left so you’re stuck here to enjoy it by yourself.

However you remember, Mingi is just down the hill. You put on a form fitting flannel and a nice skirt and shoes and lock up the ranch before you head by Mingis ranch house to asks if he’d like to indulge in the pie with you. Luckily, his woodshed was open and he was organizing his logs of wood and his tools.

“Hey Mingi !” He looks up from his tasks and his eyes lock on you like a target. He immediately stops what he’s doing and straightens himself as he stands. You fully walk in and close the woodshed door to get rid of the beaming hot sun.

“Hey city girl, what do you need.” He will never let the nickname go you think to yourself.

“Well I made a pie earlier and it’s still nice and fresh and I wanted to know if you wanted to come over and have a slice.” You’ve never really interacted with Mingi one on one, the nerves and his stare makes you bite your lip.

“Really.” Mingi is starting to eye you and look you up and down.

“Of course really, Soobin and Seonghwa aren’t here so who else will I share with.”

He begins walking towards you. “That’s all you want from me?” You look around and begin to notice how his own shirt was gone and belt was unbuckled. “Yea..just wanted to know...” Your eyes struggle to not stray from his face and drift down how torso. He gets closer, you can smell his cologne and musk from working in the heat. “You sure there’s nothing else you want…some sweet little secret you’re keeping from me.”

Mingi corners you in the woodshed. You’re backed up against a wooden table he made himself. He rubs his hands on the top of your thighs, he looks like he’s about to eat you alive. He whispers. “I know what you did yesterday…it was quite the show,,” He knows. He knows that you laid there and touched yourself to the sight of him. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“What do you want me to do to you city girl..”. Mingi slowly unbuttons the fitted flannel you have on. “Touch me,, I want you to touch me.” The way you seem desperate for him makes him lose patience and rip the shirt apart, causing some buttons to pop out. He removes your bra with one hand alone and as soon as your tits are free he brings one in his mouth. Sucking and nipping at them while pawing you everywhere else.

He finally backs away and sees your tits glistening and nipples hardened. He groans at the sight and practical rips your skirt and panties away. He parts your legs and sees your aching cunt wet with arousal waiting for him. He cups his hand and places it over your heat and licks the shell of your ear, before he says “Look at all this sweetness you’ve left for me darling.” Your body is crumbling, you just want him to touch you already. “Min put your fingers inside.” Mingi tilts his head and gives a sly smile.

“Tsk tsk tsk..you city girls always forget your manners..” You can’t with the games and formalities. You begin to whine “Mingi stop playing around.. fuck me.” Mingi slaps the inside of your thigh causing you to moan in both pain and arousal. “Let’s try that again but with some country charm.” He shoved two of his long fingers in your cunt making your hips lift a bit and a moan leave your lips. His fingers are filling you good, but he won’t move or curl them causing you to be limited in your pleasure.

“I’m not moving a damn thing until you ask me nicely.” Your eyes are watering, how are you being edged but you haven’t even reached the brink of cumming yet. You toss your pride away, “ Min I need your fingers so bad please fuck me with them please.”

“Mmm I’d make you say more but let me spoil the city girl for saying please.” He begins pumping his fingers in you and curling them at the right gummy spot. Soon his fingers speed up and he slips another in, making you moan and drool on display for him. “Mm baby’s so full with my hands alone.” You whine yes yes yes’s and can’t turn away from watching his fingers wet with your slick slide in and out.

He feels your cunt twitch and clench, he can see that you’re already close, he pulls his fingers out. You’re snapped back into reality and already on the verge of begging for his fingers back. He slides down his jeans and frees his cock from his boxers. He pumps his dick a few times before laying you back. He takes your legs and bends them to where you cunt is fully exposed. He takes a small lick and then deep dives in tonguing your heat and playing quickly with your clit.

Your legs are beginning to shake. He’s lapping at your cunt and making quick turns to suck and bring his tongue around your clit. “You taste better than any peach you’ve picked.” You couldn’t even properly register the compliment from how fucked out you were. He takes a few more minutes eating your pussy like a starved man before he comes back up to kiss you.

After his lips finally split from yours in a deep muted voice he asks, “You’ve got a rubber ?” You shake your head no but you refuse to let this fantasy go unfinished. “I’m clean, I’m on the pill…just breed me I don’t care I just want your cock.” Mingi just can’t resist you in the state you’re in, he kisses your forehead before he lines his cock to your entrance and rams it in.

One of your legs are wrapped around his waist while the other is hiked up against his shoulder. Your cunt feels so full, but there’s barely any pain despite being split open. The pleasure rolls up from your cunt up into your lower abdomen. Mingi can’t deny how he feels either, the pressure of your walls clamping on his dick has him in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

He can barely control himself, his cock is just drilling you and you can’t do anything but take it and soak it all in. “Min it’s so good, don’t stop.” Mingi cracks a quick smirk before rolling his hips to make the thrust more deeper and intense. “Oh yea ?…is it what you pictured…is it better than fucking yourself with your fingers ?.”

Soon he only holds on to your calves and raises them but slows down his thrust, despite slowing down, his thrust seem harsh and as if his dick just reached a new space in you. “Show me…show me how you touched yourself when watching me.” You weakly bring your hand to your clit and begin pressing quick circles on it until your hips start to stutter and lift. “Finish on me city girl, get me all wet.” He hits you with one last deep thrust.

You cum all over his cock and as soon as you do he spurts his hot seed throughout your walls. You’re both panting messes and mingi sits you up. He passes his water flask to you and watches as you drink in a hurry from exhaustion caused thirst. When you pass it back he takes a swig from it himself.

He holds you and gets a rag wiping off your sweat, kissing you on top of your head and massaging your shoulder blades.

“Let’s go eat that peach cobbler you were talking about.”

[citricacidprince]

Thinking about how fun of a concept the Mystery Kids AU is however I couldn’t never really get into it because, as much as I LOVE Psychonauts and Invader Zim, I never felt like they fit with everyone else

Like, Psychonauts and Invander Zim work really well together because their worlds are strange and fantastical to a fault, but everyone else? Coraline, Paranorman, Gravity Falls, or Over the Garden Wall are very much movies/shows about being weird and strange in a very normal world, experiencing things that you can’t tell normal people because they won’t believe you, so of course they’d mesh well together.

It doesn’t help that I think a lotta fans also didn’t know/like the inclusion of Psychonauts or Invader Zim because almost every time I saw them included in the crossover they were either a) very out of character (like you can tell the person drawing them hasn’t consumed the media they’re from) or b) extremely out of place or barely even there.

Again, I love Psychonauts and Invader Zim, well I know less of Invader Zim but I’m literally the Psychonauts liker. I just don’t think Raz and Dib fit really well into The Mystery Kids AU. They’re just too outta place.

You know who WOULD fit into the AU? The fucking kids from Monster House. They are PEAK “Insane thing just happened to me and we can NEVER speak of this to anyone else because they won’t believe us.” Or if you wanna get a little silly with it, even Danny Phantom fits better than Psychonauts!

Excuse my rambling, this has been in my brain for the past 2-3 years and I feel like I can finally talk about it lol

[wandasreallover]

Elizabeth olsen x reader|

Title: A Moment to Remember

Warnings:none :)

The soft hum of evening chatter enveloped the quaint rooftop restaurant, cresting with laughter and mingling aromas that swept through the air, where night began to embrace the city. Dressed in a flowing emerald gown that mirrored the lush foliage of the garden planted around the patio, Lizzie sat beside you at a round table covered in flickering candlelight. Around you, a colorful group of family and friends gathered to celebrate the success of her latest film, a heartfelt family drama that had tugged at the heartstrings of audiences everywhere.

The table was adorned with an array of delectable dishes and drinks, where glasses clinked like cheerful bells every few moments. Among the group, Natasha Lyonne animatedly recounted a behind-the-scenes mishap from “Poker Face,” her voice a joyful melody laced with humor. Having known Lizzie for years, Natasha feigned confusion at the radiant glow that surrounded Lizzie, whose attention seemed fully consumed by you.

You could feel the gentle warmth of Lizzie's hand clasped over yours beneath the table, her fingers tracing soft patterns along your palm. The world around you dimmed as you focused on the beautiful woman beside you, her heart-stopping smile stealing your breath away. Her wide, soulful eyes locked onto yours—soft and full of unspoken affection.

“Honestly,” Natasha continued, oblivious to the connection unfolding before her, “I had no idea that someone could mess up a simple card game so dramatically. You’d think it was a heist movie!”

The nearby laughter rang out like music. Lizzie’s lips curled into a half-smile, but her gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on you. You could feel your cheeks warming as her thumb brushed delicately against your wrist.

“Lizzie?” Natasha persisted, her voice teasing and curious, now honing in on her friend. “How about you, Miss Movie Star? What do you have to say?”

It took Lizzie a moment to snap back from her daze, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “What? Oh! I’m sorry, Nat—did you say something?” She blinked, suddenly coming back into the chaotic rhythm of laughter and chatter, her gaze narrowing as she tried to catch up with the conversation.

“Just wondering if you had any funny stories from the set,” Natasha replied, grinning devilishly as she leaned in. “Or do you only have eyes for your… date?”

Caught in the flurry of Natasha’s playful interrogation, Lizzie stuttered, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue. “I—uh, I mean… we had a lot of fun. The kids got ahold of the script and turned it into a musical number!” The words tumbled out of her lips, though they barely resembled sentences.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, her expression dance-like and mischief-laden. “Right… but speaking of eyes, I’d say your focus is elsewhere, pretty girl,” she teased, shifting her pointed gaze toward your interlinked hands. “Is it the food or the company? Because let me tell you, your date has some fierce competition.”

You chuckled softly, feeling flattered and amused by the playful banter. “I mean, the food is great, but I can’t lie—having Lizzie beside me definitely ups the quality of this dinner.”

Lizzie’s cheeks deepened in color, but her grip on your hand tightened, clearly enjoying the attention. “That’s sweet,” she murmured, smiling softly in your direction before returning half-heartedly to Natasha. “But I swear, we really did have an amazing time filming. It’s just the kids—I mean, they’re too talented for their own good, honestly. What can I say?”

The conversation flowed on, transporting to various topics, yet it always felt like all roads led back to the two of you. Lizzie immersed herself in the moment with you, occasionally breaking the fourth wall of the party atmosphere to steal glances, each look heavy with affection.

As the waiter swooped in to serve dessert, Natasha took the opportunity to lean across the table, a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. “So, what’s the deal with you two? The chemistry’s practically palpable, and I’d be surprised if even the cake didn’t notice.”

The laughter burst from the table, light and teasing, but Lizzie’s candid laughter quickly turned into a smirk. “Okay, okay! Yes, there’s something between us,” she confessed, her voice bright yet suddenly vulnerable. “I’ve just enjoyed these moments—so intimate and real. It feels nice to share it with someone who understands.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Natasha teased, her good-natured ribbing morphing into sincerity. “Just don’t forget that this place is a dinner, and you have to leave some of that love for the rest of us, too!”

You chuckled, unable to help the warmth spreading from your heart. Lizzie’s eyes met yours once more, and in that shared silence, you sensed the fabric of something beautiful unraveled between you. “I promise,” you whispered, “I’ll always save more love for you.”

As dessert plates crowded the table, Lizzie shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. The noise around faded into the background. You could feel her warmth, a gentle yet furious flame, pulsating against your skin. She brought your interlocked hands just slightly closer to her face, pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles, purposefully slow, her eyes sparkling like liquid diamonds.

Natasha observed, a knowing smile forming as she grinned at your intertwined hands. “Well, looks like I've got front-row seats to the cutest show of the night,” she said, raising her glass. “Let’s toast—to love, friendship, and sweet moments that make life worth living. To you two!”

With glasses raised high, the laughter swelled around you, washing over like a comforting tide. Lizzie’s fingers wrapped tighter around yours, as the connection you shared transcended mere words. It was in gestures, shared glances, and a simple understanding that shone in the night.

In that lively rooftop setting, surrounded by laughter and celebration, it was clear that this evening was not only a celebration of Lizzie’s success, but of the tender bond that had begun to blossom between you. In every moment, every smile, you felt the essence of something beautiful taking root—a lifelong memory created under the stars.

And as the night stretched on, you made a promise to yourself: this was only the beginning.

For: @lizardslizzie

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The antitrust case against Apple

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT (Mar 22) in TORONTO, then SUNDAY (Mar 24) with LAURA POITRAS in NYC, then Anaheim, and beyond!

The foundational tenet of "the Cult of Mac" is that buying products from a $3t company makes you a member of an oppressed ethnic minority and therefore every criticism of that corporation is an ethnic slur:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Call it "Apple exceptionalism" – the idea that Apple, alone among the Big Tech firms, is virtuous, and therefore its conduct should be interpreted through that lens of virtue. The wellspring of this virtue is conveniently nebulous, which allows for endless goal-post shifting by members of the Cult of Mac when Apple's sins are made manifest.

Take the claim that Apple is "privacy respecting," which is attributed to Apple's business model of financing its services though cash transactions, rather than by selling it customers to advertisers. This is the (widely misunderstood) crux of the "surveillance capitalism" hypothesis: that capitalism is just fine, but once surveillance is in the mix, capitalism fails.

Apple, then, is said to be a virtuous company because its behavior is disciplined by market forces, unlike its spying rivals, whose ability to "hack our dopamine loops" immobilizes the market's invisible hand with "behavior-shaping" shackles:

http://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

Apple makes a big deal out of its privacy-respecting ethos, and not without some justification. After all, Apple went to the mattresses to fight the FBI when they tried to force Apple to introduced defects into its encryption systems:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/04/fbi-could-have-gotten-san-bernardino-shooters-iphone-leadership-didnt-say

And Apple gave Ios users the power to opt out of Facebook spying with a single click; 96% of its customers took them up on this offer, costing Facebook $10b (one fifth of the pricetag of the metaverse boondoggle!) in a single year (you love to see it):

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/02/facebook-makes-the-case-for-activity-tracking-to-ios-14-users-in-new-pop-ups/

Bruce Schneier has a name for this practice: "feudal security." That's when you cede control over your device to a Big Tech warlord whose "walled garden" becomes a fortress that defends you against external threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/08/leona-helmsley-was-a-pioneer/#manorialism

The keyword here is external threats. When Apple itself threatens your privacy, the fortress becomes a prison. The fact that you can't install unapproved apps on your Ios device means that when Apple decides to harm you, you have nowhere to turn. The first Apple customers to discover this were in China. When the Chinese government ordered Apple to remove all working privacy tools from its App Store, the company obliged, rather than risk losing access to its ultra-cheap manufacturing base (Tim Cook's signal accomplishment, the one that vaulted him into the CEO's seat, was figuring out how to offshore Apple manufacturing to China) and hundreds of millions of middle-class consumers:

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-apple-vpn/apple-says-it-is-removing-vpn-services-from-china-app-store-idUSKBN1AE0BQ

Killing VPNs and other privacy tools was just for openers. After Apple caved to Beijing, the demands kept coming. Next, Apple willingly backdoored all its Chinese cloud services, so that the Chinese state could plunder its customers' data at will:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/17/technology/apple-china-censorship-data.html

This was the completely foreseeable consequence of Apple's "curated computing" model: once the company arrogated to itself the power to decide which software you could run on your own computer, it was inevitable that powerful actors – like the Chinese Communist Party – would lean on Apple to exercise that power in service to its goals.

Unsurprisingly, the Chinese state's appetite for deputizing Apple to help with its spying and oppression was not sated by backdooring iCloud and kicking VPNs out of the App Store. As recently as 2022, Apple continued to neuter its tools at the behest of the Chinese state, breaking Airdrop to make it useless for organizing protests in China:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/11/foreseeable-consequences/#airdropped

But the threat of Apple turning on its customers isn't limited to China. While the company has been unwilling to spy on its users on behalf of the US government, it's proven more than willing to compromise its worldwide users' privacy to pad its own profits. Remember when Apple let its users opt out of Facebook surveillance with one click? At the very same time, Apple was spinning up its own commercial surveillance program, spying on Ios customers, gathering the very same data as Facebook, and for the very same purpose: to target ads. When it came to its own surveillance, Apple completely ignored its customers' explicit refusal to consent to spying, spied on them anyway, and lied about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Here's the thing: even if you believe that Apple has a "corporate personality" that makes it want to do the right thing, that desire to be virtuous is dependent on the constraints Apple faces. The fact that Apple has complete legal and technical control over the hardware it sells – the power to decide who can make software that runs on that hardware, the power to decide who can fix that hardware, the power to decide who can sell parts for that hardware – represents an irresistible temptation to enshittify Apple products.

"Constraints" are the crux of the enshittification hypothesis. The contagion that spread enshittification to every corner of our technological world isn't a newfound sadism or indifference among tech bosses. Those bosses are the same people they've always been – the difference is that today, they are unconstrained.

Having bought, merged or formed a cartel with all their rivals, they don't fear competition (Apple buys 90+ companies per year, and Google pays it an annual $26.3b bribe for default search on its operating systems and programs).

Having captured their regulators, they don't fear fines or other penalties for cheating their customers, workers or suppliers (Apple led the coalition that defeated dozens of Right to Repair bills, year after year, in the late 2010s).

Having wrapped themselves in IP law, they don't fear rivals who make alternative clients, mods, privacy tools or other "adversarial interoperability" tools that disenshittify their products (Apple uses the DMCA, trademark, and other exotic rules to block third-party software, repair, and clients).

True virtue rests not merely in resisting temptation to be wicked, but in recognizing your own weakness and avoiding temptation. As I wrote when Apple embarked on its "curated computing" path, the company would eventually – inevitably – use its power to veto its customers' choices to harm those customers:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Which is where we're at today. Apple – uniquely among electronics companies – shreds every device that is traded in by its customers, to block third parties from harvesting working components and using them for independent repair:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on those parts and uses these as the basis for trademark complaints to US customs, to block the re-importation of parts that escape its shredders:

https://repair.eu/news/apple-uses-trademark-law-to-strengthen-its-monopoly-on-repair/

Apple entered into an illegal price-fixing conspiracy with Amazon to prevent used and refurbished devices from being sold in the "world's biggest marketplace":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/10/you-had-one-job/#thats-just-the-as

Why is Apple so opposed to independent repair? Well, they say it's to keep users safe from unscrupulous or incompetent repair technicians (feudal security). But when Tim Cook speaks to his investors, he tells a different story, warning them that the company's profits are threatened by customers who choose to repair (rather than replace) their slippery, fragile glass $1,000 pocket computers (the fortress becomes a prison):

https://www.apple.com/newsroom/2019/01/letter-from-tim-cook-to-apple-investors/

All this adds up to a growing mountain of immortal e-waste, festooned with miniature Apple logos, that our descendants will be dealing with for the next 1,000 years. In the face of this unspeakable crime, Apple engaged in a string of dishonest maneuvers, claiming that it would support independent repair. In 2022, Apple announced a home repair program that turned out to be a laughably absurd con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

Then in 2023, Apple announced a fresh "pro-repair" initiative that, once again, actually blocked repair:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

Let's pause here a moment and remember that Apple once stood for independent repair, and celebrated the independent repair technicians that kept its customers' beloved Macs running:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/29/norwegian-potato-flour-enchiladas/#r2r

Whatever virtue lurks in Apple's corporate personhood, it is no match for the temptation that comes from running a locked-down platform designed to capture IP rights so that it can prevent normal competitive activities, like fixing phones, processing payments, or offering apps.

When Apple rolled out the App Store, Steve Jobs promised that it would save journalism and other forms of "content creation" by finally giving users a way to pay rightsholders. A decade later, that promise has been shattered by the app tax – a 30% rake on every in-app transaction that can't be avoided because Apple will kick your app out of the App Store if you even mention that your customers can pay you via the web in order to avoid giving a third of their content dollars to a hardware manufacturer that contributed nothing to the production of that material:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-must-open-app-stores

Among the apps that Apple also refuses to allow on Ios is third-party browsers. Every Iphone browser is just a reskinned version of Apple's Safari, running on the same antiquated, insecure Webkit browser engine. The fact that Webkit is incomplete and outdated is a feature, not a bug, because it lets Apple block web apps – apps delivered via browsers, rather than app stores:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/13/kitbashed/#app-store-tax

Last month, the EU took aim at Apple's veto over its users' and software vendors' ability to transact with one another. The newly in-effect Digital Markets Act requires Apple to open up both third-party payment processing and third-party app stores. Apple's response to this is the very definition of malicious compliance, a snake's nest of junk-fees, onerous terms of service, and petty punitive measures that all add up to a great, big "Go fuck yourself":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/06/spoil-the-bunch/#dma

But Apple's bullying, privacy invasion, price-gouging and environmental crimes are global, and the EU isn't the only government seeking to end them. They're in the firing line in Japan:

https://asia.nikkei.com/Business/Technology/Japan-to-crack-down-on-Apple-and-Google-app-store-monopolies

And in the UK:

https://www.gov.uk/government/news/cma-wins-appeal-in-apple-case

And now, famously, the US Department of Justice is coming for Apple, with a bold antitrust complaint that strikes at the heart of Apple exceptionalism, the idea that monopoly is safer for users than technological self-determination:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/media/1344546/dl?inline

There's passages in the complaint that read like I wrote them:

Apple wraps itself in a cloak of privacy, security, and consumer preferences to justify its anticompetitive conduct. Indeed, it spends billions on marketing and branding to promote the self-serving premise that only Apple can safeguard consumers’ privacy and security interests. Apple selectively compromises privacy and security interests when doing so is in Apple’s own financial interest—such as degrading the security of text messages, offering governments and certain companies the chance to access more private and secure versions of app stores, or accepting billions of dollars each year for choosing Google as its default search engine when more private options are available. In the end, Apple deploys privacy and security justifications as an elastic shield that can stretch or contract to serve Apple’s financial and business interests.

After all, Apple punishes its customers for communicating with Android users by forcing them to do so without any encryption. When Beeper Mini rolled out an Imessage-compatible Android app that fixed this, giving Iphone owners the privacy Apple says they deserve but denies to them, Apple destroyed Beeper Mini:

https://blog.beeper.com/p/beeper-moving-forward

Tim Cook is on record about this: if you want to securely communicate with an Android user, you must "buy them an Iphone":

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/7/23342243/tim-cook-apple-rcs-imessage-android-iphone-compatibility

If your friend, family member or customer declines to change mobile operating systems, Tim Cook insists that you must communicate without any privacy or security.

Even where Apple tries for security, it sometimes fails ("security is a process, not a product" -B. Schneier). To be secure in a benevolent dictatorship, it must also be an infallible dictatorship. Apple's far from infallible: Eight generations of Iphones have unpatchable hardware defects:

https://checkm8.info/

And Apple's latest custom chips have secret-leaking, unpatchable vulnerabilities:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/03/hackers-can-extract-secret-encryption-keys-from-apples-mac-chips/

Apple's far from infallible – but they're also far from benevolent. Despite Apple's claims, its hardware, operating system and apps are riddled with deliberate privacy defects, introduce to protect Apple's shareholders at the expense of its customers:

https://proton.me/blog/iphone-privacy

Now, antitrust suits are notoriously hard to make, especially after 40 years of bad-precedent-setting, monopoly-friendly antitrust malpractice. Much of the time, these suits fail because they can't prove that tech bosses intentionally built their monopolies. However, tech is a written culture, one that leaves abundant, indelible records of corporate deliberations. What's more, tech bosses are notoriously prone to bragging about their nefarious intentions, committing them to writing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Apple is no exception – there's an abundance of written records that establish that Apple deliberately, illegally set out to create and maintain a monopoly:

https://www.wired.com/story/4-internal-apple-emails-helped-doj-build-antitrust-case/

Apple claims that its monopoly is beneficent, used to protect its users, making its products more "elegant" and safe. But when Apple's interests conflict with its customers' safety and privacy – and pocketbooks – Apple always puts itself first, just like every other corporation. In other words: Apple is unexceptional.

The Cult of Mac denies this. They say that no one wants to use a third-party app store, no one wants third-party payments, no one wants third-party repair. This is obviously wrong and trivially disproved: if no Apple customer wanted these things, Apple wouldn't have to go to enormous lengths to prevent them. The only phones that an independent Iphone repair shop fixes are Iphones: which means Iphone owners want independent repair.

The rejoinder from the Cult of Mac is that those Iphone owners shouldn't own Iphones: if they wanted to exercise property rights over their phones, they shouldn't have bought a phone from Apple. This is the "No True Scotsman" fallacy for distraction-rectangles, and moreover, it's impossible to square with Tim Cook's insistence that if you want private communications, you must buy an Iphone.

Apple is unexceptional. It's just another Big Tech monopolist. Rounded corners don't preserve virtue any better than square ones. Any company that is freed from constraints – of competition, regulation and interoperability – will always enshittify. Apple – being unexceptional – is no exception.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/22/reality-distortion-field/#three-trillion-here-three-trillion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

[piratefalls]

welcome back to the latest edition of biweekly fic recs! as always, mind the tags, if you can't leave a nice comment don't leave one at all, and happy reading!

masterlist.

There's No Problem That San Diego Can't Solve by @historicallysam

Alex doesn’t even bother knocking; he simply twists the knob on the door and shoves it open. His eyes narrow as the door bangs against the wall and he sees Henry on the phone. Maybe (definitely) it’s rude but his blood is fucking boiling so he doesn’t really care.

All the Ocean was Sleeping by @sparklepocalypse

The worst part about being a siren in the modern era, Henry ponders as yet another ship flies past his cove at a speed that he knows will disturb the anemone gardens below, is the yacht bros. Between the sound of their vessels’ motors and the dissonant noise the humans call music, Henry’s singing has no chance of attracting anyone’s attention.

cause you're a classic, and i'm reckless by @firenati0n

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

Over Land and Sea by SatinBirds

Alex and Henry come from very different worlds, and still, they manage to find each other.

Clean Slate by smc_27

“Henry.” Pez comes over, puts both hands on Henry’s cheeks and looks him dead in the eye. “You are not a sad man who’s gotten dumped. You’re in the prime of your life, and I quite desperately need you to act like it.” “The prime of my life,” Henry scoffs, more incredulous than questioning. “I’ve just gotten out of a 15 year relationship, endured a divorce, am suffering an almost impressive case of writer’s block, and your hands are like bloody icicles.” Pez grins, doesn’t take his hands away. “Explain to me how this is my prime. Please.” Pez tilts his head, and sounds entirely serious when he says, “Literally anything can happen from here.”

in bloom by stutteringpeach

Yoo, can u hook me up with some flowers?? It's the busiest day of the year for florists. Alex texts Henry with a last minute request.

here is a map (with your name for a capital) by @alasse9

That day at the Rio de Janeiro Olympics, Alex comes across the very same Prince Henry who just dismissed him having a panic attack in a bathroom. The choice Alex makes then has ripple effects neither of them could have ever expected. What's the story like, when they actually are friends all along? “So, you’re going back to England tonight, and you’ll spend the next three days pretending you two are the closest and best of friends until we can put this mess behind us.” And there are reasons he hasn’t told anybody this, good reasons, even though he’s sure June and Nora saw through him ages ago. Faced with his mom’s disappointment, though, and with the realization that the entire world apparently thinks he hates Henry and would willingly shove him into a fucking cake, he can’t stay quiet. “But we are friends,” he says, vehement and serious. “We have been for years. He’s—he’s probably my best friend, actually, along with Nora.”

thoughts of you consume by yrsonpurpose

Henry sees Alex appear on the red carpet in a blue suit that screams sex on legs and is ready to throw away all attempts at concealing their secret relationship in the name of dropping to his knees at the first available opportunity.

eyes on me by matherine

Alex’s hips buck back against Henry’s mouth the moment his tongue does more than tease, and Henry squeezes his hip in gentle consternation. But before he can say anything, Alex is already rambling. “Sorry, I’m — I’m sorry, I know you said not to move, and I’m trying, I — I’m trying to be good, I promise,” he blurts, voice shaking ever so slightly from something that certainly doesn’t sound like pleasure, resolutely refusing to turn his head so that he can meet Henry’s gaze from where he’s positioned behind him. Henry’s heart aches. “Alex — love, it’s alright. Where’s your mind?” Or: Sometimes, Alex needs a distraction. Something to take the edge off, to scrub away at the stress of the day. Some days, it works better than others. 

the evolution of intimacy by Poutini

There’s no spontaneity anymore. One might think this boring. That the novelty had worn off. The spark snuffed. Absolutely not

Want Me by OrchidScript

Henry had always been weak for a nice smile, but his was impossible to ignore. Blame it on summer heat and a fresh flush in his cheeks. Blame it on sunset painting the outdoor bar sweltering, romantic colors. Blame it on two healthy glasses of albariño thrumming in his bloodstream, or the good music floating on the air. Henry could blame it on anything liked if he thought long and hard about it, but that didn’t change much at the end. The core remained the same: he had been gone from the jump. -- Henry and Alex hook up on a vacation in Spain. Henry falls a bit deeper.

fill my lungs with sweetness by @priincebutt

Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor wakes up at 3 AM on his birthday to an empty bed. What could Alex possibly be getting up to at 3 AM the night before his birthday? The possibilities are endless.

got myself in quite a tangle by coffeecatsme

"It seems I've gotten myself in quite a tangle." "Tangle?" Henry's voice is hoarse, eyes darkened as they travel over Alex's body. They stop at his crotch, and Alex can see it even under the dim lights—Henry's growing hard too, a visible bulge pushing at his sweatpants. Alex's cock gives a desperate twitch. "Y'know, I was trying to put them around the tree," he starts, gesturing at the plain tree at the corner. It's clear he didn't even attempt to touch it. "And somehow I've managed to completely trap myself. Can't even move my hands." Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat as his eyes snap up to Alex's face. Alex flashes him a suggestive grin, teeth biting down on his lip. "Seems I'm completely at your mercy."

The Forces of Chance and Coincidences by @stellarm

Bad weather leads to a late flight that leads to no one being where they wanted to be, but maybe everyone was where they needed to be.

I've never felt safer (than when I'm with you) by viciouslyqueer

Alex takes the bag and opens it slowly, careful not to rip it, and gasps quietly as he sees what’s inside. “H, you didn’t…” Strong arms wrap around his waist from behind, Henry’s chest warm against his back. “Do you like it?” Henry asks in a whisper, resting his chin on Alex’s shoulder. Alex doesn’t know what to say. Gingerly, like he might ruin it with even the smallest touch, he takes out the silky fabric and holds it up in front of them. It’s a gorgeous dress, fancy too, in a deep red color with thin straps and an open back. It’s long, almost touching the floor even as Alex holds it up and has a slit on the left side that would probably end a little above Alex’s knee.

An Amateur's Guide to Professional Gift-Giving by anincompletelist

Alex, a former-law-student-taking-some-time-off turned professional part-time gift giver, is tasked with finding a gift for the most high profile client he's ever worked with, both in and out of the world of law. It turns out finding the perfect gift for the Prince of Wales might be easier than he'd anticipated.

Love At First Bark by everwitch

“I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

don't let me get drunk again by headabovethewater

Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass. Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge

As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great. -- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

Everything you take, you make it better. So go on, take forever by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

It's 2024, and nobody knows they're engaged. But they will, just as soon as Alex can decide what to wear to his birthday dinner. Henry has an idea and a special gift to match.

false pretenses by rizcriz

Henry spins around, glaring at Alex. “For christs sake,” He hisses, holding a hand out between them. “Can we just not? I do not have the capacity to pretend to hate you today.” Alex splutters as Henry turns on his heel and starts to walk away. He stares after him helplessly. “Pretend?” After a beat, he starts to follow after him, “What the fuck do you mean pretend?” Three years of breathing down each others necks, fighting every time they come in contact with each other. And if Henry is saying every single thing on his end has been pretend, Alex Claremont-Diaz is going to have a fucking breakdown. Because he has been harboring this stupid fucking crush and burying it beneath false antagonism, meeting Henry where he’s at, for three years, and if Henry is implying that they’re both faking it— -- or, Alex learns better.

turn the desert to glass (you would be the one) by @taste-thewaste

Henry and Alex's domestic bliss has lead to some changes in Henry's body. Henry doesn't really mind being a little chubby, but he wonders if Alex does. Alex, it turns out, does not. Not one bit. He does not mind one bit, and he is more than eager to prove it.

coming on fast like good dreams do by cricketnationrise

When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face. “Run that by me again?” he asks faintly. “I need your help.” “Right…” “I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug. Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists, whether you're a reader or writer!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift @enablelove

[hypothermic-dream]

I

In the void where shadows whisper,

Where light refracts through fractured faith,

A silent dialogue—dissonant, distant—

Emerges between the echo of a god

And the ghost of a penitent heart.

Did I, in my spirals of doubt,

Unravel the threads of our covenant,

Or was it You, who, in the stillness,

Withdrew the breath of divinity,

Leaving me to suffocate

In the vacuum of Your absence?

Is this chasm a construct of my feeble mind,

Or an abyss You carved in cold indifference?

In my fervor, did I cast You aside,

A shadow burned into memory’s ash,

Or did You, with the precision of eternity,

Erase Yourself from my soul?

Was it my hand that trembled,

As I tore the veil of sacred communion,

Or did You shroud Yourself in the mist,

A distant star collapsing inward,

Swallowed by the gravity of Your own silence?

I wander through the labyrinth of my thoughts,

Tracing the contours of abandonment,

Each step a question, each breath a doubt—

Have I become the architect of my forsaking,

Or are You the silence that dwells

In the void of my unanswered cries?

In this dance of solitude and longing,

I am both the seeker and the lost,

Forever bound to the question that remains—

Have I forsaken You, my God,

Or have You, in Your infinite quiet,

Forsaken me?

II

It was I who first turned away—

A seed of doubt sown in the garden,

A whisper that became a storm.

From Adam’s trembling hand, I took

The fruit of knowing, bitter sweet,

And with each bite, I forged the chain,

A link of sin that binds me still,

Pulling me further from Your grace.

With every transgression, I carved the path,

A winding road of shadowed steps,

Leading me deeper into the night,

Where Your voice grows faint,

And my guilt resounds, endless, loud.

It is not You who has forsaken me,

But I who drift, a soul adrift—

The weight of sin heavy in my chest,

A burden I cannot shed,

For it is the mark of my own making.

In my pride, I built the wall,

Brick by brick of willful acts,

Each one a stone cast in defiance,

Until the chasm yawned wide,

And I stood alone, on the edge of despair.

I am the sinner, truly lost,

Wandering far from Your light—

It was I who severed the bond,

Since that first betrayal,

And with each sin, I grow more distant,

From the mercy I once knew.

III

And now, in the cavernous abyss of my own making,

Where the echoes of my sins resound,

I stand naked before the truth—

I am not worthy of Your mercy,

For I have woven my existence

From the threads of indulgence and deceit.

I bartered eternity for the fleeting taste of sin,

Each act a blasphemy, a betrayal carved in flesh.

In my hedonistic descent, I forsook You,

Turned my back on the light, craving the shadows,

Where the pleasures of the flesh

Promised escape from the void within.

Yet the void remains, and I am its architect—

A being who chose the abyss over salvation,

Who sought solace in the very darkness I now curse.

I reveled in the hypocrisy of my desires,

Condemned in word what I worshipped in deed,

A human beast, all too eager to abandon the divine

For the filthy comforts of my own corruption.

I am no penitent pilgrim on a path to redemption,

But a hollow vessel, brimming with deceit,

A mask of piety shrouding the rot beneath—

The truth of my nature, hypocritical, vile,

A mockery of the faith I once claimed to hold.

Hell was not merely created for souls like mine,

It is the inevitable consequence of my existence—

A furnace stoked by the very sins I cherish,

Each flame a reflection of the lust I harbored,

The lies I whispered, the betrayals I enacted.

And in that inferno, I will not merely burn,

But be purified in the agony of my own making.

Let the flames consume this wretched husk,

For I am beyond redemption, beyond grace—

A soul who forfeited its place in the light

For the fleeting ecstasies of the forbidden,

A creature unworthy of the mercy

I so arrogantly spurned.

I deserve to be devoured by the fire,

To feel the searing kiss

IV

Though I am poised at the precipice of the inferno,

And my sins mark me for eternal damnation,

I still reach into the abyss for the hope of Your mercy.

This damned world has sculpted me from innocence

Into a creature marred by darkness and despair,

The test was crueler than I ever imagined,

For it is not the world alone but the very essence of my soul

That was twisted and broken by its trials.

Yet, despite the corruption, my true self remains—

A fragment of Your divine essence,

An innocent child, lost in this earthly purgatory.

The sins that plague me are but the scars of a test too harsh,

A testament to the world’s capacity to distort the pure.

In my weakness, I am crushed under the weight of temptation,

A vessel shattered by the very darkness I sought to escape.

I was a child of light, meant for celestial realms,

Yet this damned existence twisted me into a wretched form,

The world’s relentless trials, more than mere tests,

Unveiled the fragility of my being,

Reducing my spirit to a vessel of sin and hypocrisy.

This essence, born of Your divine spark,

Now wanders lost, marred by the very darkness

That was meant to be a mere shadow of its true self.

In the face of my wretchedness,

I am a mere echo of what I was meant to be,

Crushed beneath the weight of my own failings,

A creature caught between the celestial and the infernal.

Before the enormity of my failings, I am but a speck—

A soul yearning for the light of Your forgiveness,

For Your mercy is my last hope against the encroaching void.

I beseech You to see beyond the facade of sin,

To find within me the remnant of the child You created,

The soul destined for Your heavenly grace,

And grant me redemption in the face of my despair.

For in Your infinite mercy, I seek the light

That can heal even the most fractured spirit.

[rubyroboticalt]

QBLR QUARTERLY part 2!

That's right, this report needed two whole posts. Onto the news!

Who let wizards on the server? Zpca's laboratory is discovered in far-off salt flats. Ruby terraforms a black sand beach and takes possibly the worst screenshots of it ever. My liege, you have advanced darkness on. Cheez returns home after a long while away.

And now, a reading from r/malelivingspaces. Orange acacia walls. Shroomlight peeking from above the ceiling and on the lower wall. Orange sandstone ceiling. Meaty red floor. Large desk on the right wall. Single acacia chair at the desk. Unidentifiable orange metal in the wall. This has been a reading from r/malelivingspaces.

Brie reaches a milestone of over 500 deaths, only 1/4 of which are the result of player kills. Dollie participates in a magic ritual with friends! Hivi crafts every single attainable plushie thrice. Ladel has some family bonding time.

Glitch finishes their gardens. Splat and their family convert an airship into a spaceship with airlocking and amenities! On the last two days of play, the Void Worm is unbanned. Residents jump at the opportunity to kill such an elegant beast. Berry organizes a room full of all the flowers in the game.

The mysterious salmon receives some hugs and love from Appie and the bog. Sweetpea tries and fails to go to heaven. Gummy shares the longest playtime of the server, totaling over 45 and a half days. Moo finishes a chapel for their religion.

Inc finishes a tower with which to escape impending apocalypse. Apple finishes the portalfolks garden and invites guests to leave a note in the guestbook. Popcorn celebrates a birthday in the last day of server time.

Oh my lord, audience, do you remember the call to keep a lookout for Spamton after the court case special? It's a good thing we did -- he tries crashing Popcorn's birthday party! And who is there to stop him but WD Gaster himself! I don't believe it!

In the last hours before the end, residents make final arrangements to escape to other worlds. Chunks begin to be consumed, as the Dark Magician harnesses the magic power and energy put into this world for one final clearing of things.

And with that, I'd like to thank Grace, Levlies, Crow, Lim, and Qrth for being an all-star admin team keeping the server running smoothly. Thanks to Ven, Vern, Angel, Cand, Elli, Jay, Mack, Neon, Niko, Percy, and Val for being a super-attentive super-supportive mod team making sure bugs got fixed and lost items were returned. Thank you to Mira, Danny, Jace, Inc, Roy, Glitch, Solaria, Appie, and Cassi for being an amazing bog commune. Thanks to all the other players I haven't mentioned for making the server such a beautiful, lively place. And thanks to you, humble viewer, for coming on this journey with me.

link to part 1

[turbulentscrawl]

I hope you dont mind me sending a req and it should be angsty right?

I absolutely adore your modern reader and i very much like andrew. So do you mind me sending a request about the modern reader with andrew part 2? To connect with the angsty part, personally i want you to write something about how the modern reader feels lonely for being the only one who comes from the modern timeline, like feeling alienated or estrangement from everyone who comes from the past and struggling with the no internet or new media to consume (personally i think anyone who is from our time could probably feel a withdrawal of internet. I know i do. It suck and i look crazy when it happened.)

Ooo.. considering how our mannerism, fashion, and hygiene routine differ a lot from the past can also cause friction with others can be a good angsty idea. And also food, assuming the reader come from a well off family, their food would looked like what royalty ate. With salt, pepper, cinnamon cost a fortune back in time. You can go wild, i am sorry if this is a long req, i merely gives suggestion. Dont mind me if you dont want to write it.

I think this is the longest individual scene I've written so far! I got carried away ahaha. Actually, this might need to become a multi-part series. ewe

Warnings: fem reader (it was relevant for this), hurt and comfort

Another day of staring at the wall. Or the garden, as this particular moment would have it.

It had been about three months since your arrival now, according to Freddy. (Tracking the days was the one thing he was good for outside of matches, as far as you were concerned. The guy was meticulous with records-keeping, you’d give him that. But he was also a dick.) Three months of boredom, monotony, and a critical lack of stimuli.

The first few weeks had been fine, if only because you were too busy trying to survive a potential witch hunt. Turns out, being hated and blamed for everything has a way of distracting the mind from its homesickness. But the worst of that had passed now, leaving you to take in the reality of your situation: you were more removed from your old life than anyone else here. Your entire way of life was gone.

There was no internet, no television. There was a library, but it was only ever added to at the whim of the man named Orpheus. There were no cars, and there was nowhere to go. There wasn’t even a washing machine—everyone took turns doing their clothes by hand. The stove in the kitchen was gas, and fickle. The doctor, Emily, and Luca made efforts to introduce you to the ways of this more ‘primitive’ environment, but the sheer disappointment of it all made it hard to make an effort. The hygiene standards were different, too, and it was jarring to see what some of these people considered ‘clean.’

“What are you doing out here?” A voice calls. You jump a bit, rattling the chains of the bench swing you’ve occupied. When you turn around, the ‘Gravekeeper’ is behind you in his dark casual wear. The moon is but a sliver in the sky, so if it weren’t for the paleness of his face and hair you might not have seen him at all in the darkness.

“What does it look like?” you ask in response and face forward again. ‘Andrew’ isn’t a bad person, from what you can tell. He doesn’t seem to hate you like some of the others do. But he’s defensive, sticks his foot in his mouth a lot, and you’re too tired for an argument.

“…It’s past curfew,” he says, voice moving around the swing slowly. He’s in your periphery now, hands folded over his chest like he’s still holding that shovel of his. It’s some kind of comfort item for him, you think, but he doesn’t have it with him.

“Luca said that’s just a suggestion,” you reply. “And even if it’s not, you’re out here too.” Andrew pauses after you say that, awkwardly shuffling in his spot, looking between you and the garden. There are no birds, no crickets out. You can hear him swallow thickly in the silence.

“I saw you from the upstairs window,” he says slowly. “I…thought I should come check.”

“Why?” You’re waiting for a ball to drop. To be tricked.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Andrew says, wiping his hands on his pants. Sweat, maybe. “When you first showed up…I thought you were really loud. You and that little box both…. You used to play that terr— eh, that music on it all the time. But I haven’t heard it in a while.” Your eyes are drawn to him as he explains. You can’t help it, you’re stunned. Not many of the other survivors bothered to show concern for you, and they often weren’t around because they had their on things to attend to. Luca had his inventions, Ada had Emil’s treatments, Luchino his research. You didn’t know Andrew paid any mind to you. He mostly kept to himself.

“I’m stewing,” you whisper, answering his initial question.

“…Do you…need to talk about it?” he asks.

“You don’t want to hear it,” you reply quickly. Andrew scoffs, a flash of his attitude returning.

“I asked didn’t I? I may not understand half the stuff you say but that doesn’t mean by ears don’t work,” he snaps weakly. It sounds like something someone back home would say. It sounds genuine. You look at Andrew again, now with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat.

“I feel gross,” you croak. Andrew was scowling for a second, but your words shock his face back into something more relaxed. He shifts around again, awkward, unsure, and steps towards the bench. You stop rocking it long enough to let him join you and he sits closer than you would have expected. “I hate it here.” Andrew nods, watching your face, your fidgeting hands, your bouncing knees, and everything spills out like vomit.

“It’s all gone. Everything I knew. There’s nothing to do here besides survive, necessities and shit, and everyone fucking hates me here. No one talks like I’m used to, or behaves like I’m used to, or treats me like I’m used to—but I’m the odd one out so it feels like it’s all my fault that I don’t fit in. I miss my friends, my clothes, my room, my food. I miss my movies, I miss my technology, I miss my products—you guys don’t even treat hygiene the same way we did back home for fuck’s sake--” You’d learned early on that it was considered odd to bathe daily. Water reserves weren’t a concern in the manor, but everyone mostly stuck to the routines they knew. The only saving grace was that you hadn’t had a menstrual cycle since before you arrived. One less thing to worry about, at least.

“—and thank god, because none of you even KNOW what a tampon is!” Andrew makes a face that’s something between embarrassment and horror. You can tell from the way he’s subtly looking himself over that he wonders if he seems gross to you, but you’re too deep in your own misery to bring it up right now.

“And I’m sick of how some of them men here treat me! I don’t give a fuck what it was like for you all, I’m an equal to you all, god damn it, not a punching bag, or a whore, or unpaid maid! Like—I get that you all don’t realize what you’re doing—I get you haven’t been told it’s bad yet, but I’m gonna crack Edgar’s glass jaw if he suggests I wear a skirt ‘like the other ladies’ one more time!”

“If it helps,” Andrew says quietly, “I think that’s just him liking skirts. He’d probably wear one himself if he had an excuse.”

“I don’t care,” you gasp, grabbing Andrew’s forearm suddenly. He tenses under your touch, blushes. “It’s—it’s just all of it together! Look, I-I already feel bad being so angry! I understand why I seem scary, and I understand the world was a different place for me, but I hate that I have to say goodbye to all of it just because no one wants to learn about how things were for me! Fuckin—Emily was interested in how I lived through Covid, but all that got me was being treated like a plague rat. You guys don’t even get sick here! And Norton asked about the economy, but now he thinks I’m some rich bitch when I wasn’t even middle class! And Fiona acts like I’m some beast because of how I talk and curse so much! And Kevin asks about me feeling safe, but then he treats me like a damsel who needs constant rescue! I just…I just….it’s always something! I just want someone to treat me like I’m normal again.”

You crumple into full sobs, forehead landing on Andrew’s sturdy shoulder. He’s completely silent while you break down. His free hand eventually comes up to hold the back of your neck, a gesture that tells you it’s fine for you to be there, against him. Andrew is not a man of many comforting words, but this is enough, you decide. It’s an effort, which feels like more than you’ve gotten in some time.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, but when you finally calm down Andrew suggests you get some sleep.

“I’m not tired,” you croak. You are. It’s a lie. But if you sleep it will be tomorrow instead of being this moment of rare comfort. Andrew hums an acknowledgement.

“Alright. Neither am I," he says.

You think that’s a lie, too.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I LOVE your eldritch horror kinky story! I can’t get enough of it! Were you inspired by HP Lovecraft? Where did you get your knowledge of eldritch horror because I love the genre and would love to read more

Okay so, SO, I have a lot I take reference from. The big one yes is Lovecraft, of course. I read his stories, but then I went on to read a bunch of Call of Cthulhu mysteries and ran a couple of Call of Cthulhu campaigns (ttrpg) and stuff like that. I also just consume cosmic horror everywhere I can! A big resource for Eldritch!König is really based on Lovecraft plus a couple of SUPER COOL video games.

The first game is Dredge, which is beautiful and stunning and through the story isn't too exciting, the world? OH MAN THE WORLD. Also, I love the ocean and fish and marine biology so that shit is just my game. I'm into it big time.

Another game is World of Horror, which is heavily based off Junji Ito's work. If Lovecraft isn't your jam, try reading some Junji Ito mangs. They're extremely graphic, but also the stories are wild and super cool. A lot of the times, people don't pick up on the social commentary on Japanese culture in his works.

Speaking of manga, Berserk? Crazy good, but read up on the trigger warnings before reading because despite being (imho) one of the best mangas of all time, it has graphic SA and abuse and gore.

Bioshock and Fallout also heavily inspired the bug horror (though I haven't finished either game but shhhhhh).

Finally, the classics inspire me. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is genuinely one of my favourite books of all time. The themes it explores? The imagery? The characters? All incredible. Just a beautiful book that I desperately needed to read when I was in high school. The monster's dialogue really hit home for me when I was a very depressed teen struggling to find hope and friendship in high school.

Various different body horror artists and analogue horrors also heavily inspire Eldritch!König. It's a big mix.

My main elements when writing him are incorporating marine and cosmic (astronomical) horror with him. I also notice I tend to rely on bugs a lot, despite his biology not being bug-like at all. I will say, he has tentacles and a beak under his mask, but that's about all that your mind can comprehend (also let's be honest, he's not gonna let you see anything else). When I think of how I want to write his horror, I sometimes think of Over the Garden Wall or a Ghibli movie with how he interacts with horror. To him, it's mundane. To you, it's shit-balls crazy off the walls insanity. He genuinely does not get why you find it so foreign until he remembers that you're a human.

I do want to write more gore and horror with him, but I haven't found a good opportunity... If you have any suggestions, let me know. I want to have Eldritch!König fuck somebody up. His tentacles are crawling for kills...

[hand-picked-star]

The 13 th Anniversary Arshi fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 14

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

WARNING : 18+, Mature Content

Chapter 14

There were times when life stood still at a crossroads, forcing one to reflect on all the mistakes that had led to where life currently stood. Life itself felt so painful, and the weight of past choices seemed almost unbearable. As Khushi sat on the bench outside the house she shared with her husband, she couldn't help but be consumed by her thoughts. The past six months she had spent in London with him played over and over in her mind like a broken record.

She thought about the moments of joy that had slowly faded away. She remembered the laughter that once filled their home, now replaced by silence and emotionless stares. The warmth of his touch felt like a distant memory, replaced by the chill of distrust and unspoken hurt. She longed for the days when love was effortless and pure, untainted by the shadows of pain and regret. Khushi wondered how things had gone so wrong, how the love they once shared had turned into a source of pain. Sitting there, she felt a deep sense of loss, not just for what had been, but for what could have been. She analyzed all the moments, all the mistakes, all the misunderstandings that had brought her to this point.

(6 month ago)

The seasickness was real. Khushi had been so ill during the journey, but Arnav was incredibly caring, always by her side, making sure she was comfortable. For the first week, they stayed at an inn while Arnav arranged suitable accommodation for them. It was nothing fancy, but the house they found won her heart. It was a charming cottage-type house, the kind she had only read about in her novels. Khushi loved it. She felt like a character in a romance story.

The house they moved into was just outskirts of London city. Houses in these areas were more affordable compared to those in the city, although residents often had to travel a bit farther to reach the central London. The exterior was made of red brick, with tall, narrow windows framed by white shutters. A small, wrought-iron fence surrounded the front garden, which was adorned with neatly trimmed hedges and blooming roses. The front door was painted a deep green, leading them into a warm and inviting space.

Inside, the house had a cozy and slightly rustic feel. The floors were made of polished wood, creaking slightly underfoot, and the walls were adorned with floral wallpaper in soft, muted tones. The living room featured a large stone fireplace, perfect for chilly evenings. Khushi couldn't help but feel enchanted by the house. It was a place where she could see herself writing letters by the window, making jalebies in the kitchen, and sharing quiet moments with Arnav by the fireplace.

Every day for Khushi would start and end in Arnav's arms. They would start their day making breakfast together in their cozy kitchen. Arnav would then head off to work, leaving Khushi to leisurely explore nearby libraries to indulge in her love for books, relishing her newfound independence in the city.

In the evenings, when Arnav returned home, they would often take walks by the lake after dinner, talking about everything and nothing under the open sky. However, not every day was without its mishaps. There was one evening when Khushi accidentally burnt their dinner and her disappointment turned into tears. Arnav simply just wiped away her tears, kissed her face, and whisked her away to a nearby inn for dinner that night. So, if you were to ask Khushi, despite occasional setbacks, these were the happiest days of their marriage.

She also had a marvelous neighbor in Devyani Williams. She was also the grandmother of one of Arnav's friends, which was another reason they moved into this house so that Khushi had someone with whom Arnav could leave her. Khushi found it quite endearing that Devyani Ji loved Arnav like her own grandson.

Devyani Ji was a fascinating lady. She was an Indian and had the most exciting love story to tell. She and Mr. Williams fell in love with each other when Mr. Williams went to India for business. When they realized her Brahman parents would never accept their relationship, they eloped. Here in London, they got married and had been together for over 40 years.

Devyani Ji asked Khushi to address her as Nani Ji. She said Khushi looked so much like her granddaughter, whom she missed very dearly. Her granddaughter and her husband had been living in Spain for the last two years.

Nani Ji and Khushi bonded pretty quickly. Nani Ji taught her how to bake cakes and cookies, and in return, Khushi made jalebies for her whenever she requested. Khushi cherished this unexpected friendship with Devyani Ji very much.

Arnav asked Khushi to enroll in University of London to complete the rest of her BA courses since St. Stephen's College was affiliated with University of London and her credits would transfer seamlessly. However, she expressed her desire to explore London for the next six months, immersing herself in its culture and devouring more books. Understanding her passion, Arnav gave her his Oxford library card, which thrilled Khushi immensely as she looked forward to exploring the treasures of the Oxford library.

In her excitement, she swiftly prepared toast and omelets for breakfast before getting ready. After a refreshing bath, she anticipated Arnav dropping her off at Oxford before heading to work.

As she stood under the spray, contemplating her plans for the day, Khushi felt another hand on her body besides hers.

"Well, that's not the protocol of marriage, Mrs. Raizada," Arnav huskily whispered in her ear as he pressed his front against her back and began kissing her neck. He took her earlobe into his mouth and sucked softly, "You leaving me to wake up alone in our bed, especially in the morning."

Giggling, Khushi turned around to face him. Placing both hands on his shoulders, she retorted, "Objections, Your honour, I don't recall such protocols."

"Objection overruled. You need to be careful about these Protocols, otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?"

"Otherwise you'll be punished".

He quietened her surprise squeal with his lips as he placed his hands under her thigh and hoisted her up, pressing her on the washroom tiles as he proceeded to punish her. The stream enveloped them like a cocoon, wrapping around their intertwined bodies as his lips captured hers in a tender yet insistent kiss, making Khushi drunk on his very presence. Their lovemaking unfolded like a symphony of whispered words and gasps of pleasure, punctuated by the rhythmic pulse of the shower and their shared breaths that echoed in the stream-filled air.

When Khushi entered the Oxford Library, she was as eager as a child in a candy store. Quickly grabbing the book she had been searching for, she settled at a nearby table. It wasn't long before a whispered conversation between two women caught her ear. Her interest was piqued immediately upon hearing them mention Arnav.

"Did you hear Arnav Singh Raizada got married? He went home to attend his sister's wedding and came back with a wife. Lavanya is going out of her mind."

"But Mr. Raizada had refused her marriage proposal, right? Why would she care?"

"You didn't understand. Lavanya was hopeful he would marry her eventually."

The other voice responded with a non-committal sound.

Nevertheless, the female continued, 'Anyway, Lavanya was saying she got to know from Kamlesh that he married his best friend's sister, with whom his sister got married. She is sure that he had been blackmailed into marrying her, otherwise, he would never marry some village girl.'

"Are you sure she is a village girl?"

"I don't know. Lavanya told me all of this. She might know something."

The other woman responded with another non-committal sound, much like before.

But all her zeal to read books that day vanished after hearing their conversation. She didn’t stay much longer and decided to go home. Her thoughts were tormenting her, and all her past insecurities came back to attack her at once. Unable to bear being alone any longer, she went to meet Nani Ji.

Her worries had somehow dimmed in Nani Ji's presence, and things almost returned to normal for the next few days. Then, one night at dinner, Arnav mentioned that Mr. Kashyap was going to arrange a dinner party at Inner Temple, Arnav's Inn of Court, the upcoming Sunday, and Khushi was invited. They all wanted to meet Arnav's wife.

Khushi wasn’t afraid to meet his friends; she just didn't want to meet that one specific person. That person was better as faceless. Khushi wasn't eager to give her a face. Maybe she wouldn’t even be there, she hoped foolishly.

Lavanya didn't want to be at these legal parties, but she had endured them for the last 2 years just to be close to Arnav. Now, all her hopes had turned to ashes. However, Lavanya was not one to be defeated easily. She would see this through to the end. Sooner or later, he would regret rejecting a girl like her. She arrived donning the best gown she had, styled to the latest fashion in town.

As she chatted idly with Pamela Brown and Simona Clarke, Lavanya noticed a girl in a red saree. The material looked seamless, possibly muslin. The girl had a small face with expressive big eyes. She had long hair, that was slightly curled at the ends and cascaded loosely down her back. She possessed a fair complexion unlike that typically seen in Indians, reminiscent instead of British heritage. Her skin, akin to porcelain, carried a flawless, ethereal glow that set her apart and captured everyone's attention. She didn't wear much jewellery, but as the light caught her gold waist chain, Lavanya's attention was drawn to it. Lavanya wasn't paying much heed to the gold chain though, her focus was zoned on the hand that held the girl by her waist instead.

To the bystanders, the hold seemed casual, nothing unusual for any couple. But for Lavanya, it was enough to set her heart on fire. Lavanya scrutinized the way he held her, with his thumb occasionally making circles. The hold contained so much possessiveness and sensuality that it felt like she was witnessing a private moment. She watched as he introduced the girl to others at the party. The girl in the red saree slightly leaned into him as his hand moved from her waist to her back, caressing her as if trying to soothe her. Then he guided her forward with the hand on her back.

"Oh, wow, that's Mrs. Raizada. No doubt Mr. Raizada is so smitten," Pamela said unknowingly when she saw them, earning a glare from Lavanya.

"Shut up, Pam".

When Arnav and Khushi reached Lavanya, Arnav introduced his wife to her.

"Khushi, meet Ms. Lavanya Kashyap. You remember Mr. Kashyap. Lavanya is Mr. Kashtap's daughter," Arnav said warmly. Turning to Lavanya, he continued, "And Lavanya, this is my wife, Khushi."

Lavanya gasped dramatically, " Is that all I am to you, Arnav? I thought we were friends. Right? "

Arnav's eyes tightened, daring her to make a scene. It didn't escape Khushi's eyes though.

Ignoring him, she turned to Khushi with a sugary sweet smile and greeted her in her polished English accent, "Anyways, nice to meet you, Khushi."

Lavanya didn't expect Khushi to say anything. She had almost dismissed Khushi as uneducated. But to her surprise, Khushi responded in flawless English, "Nice to meet you too."

Lavanya and Khushi exchanged fake smiles, each sizing the other up. Khushi wasn't one to do such things, but she found herself observing Lavanya from head to toe. Then, Mr. Kashyap arrived. After exchanging pleasantries with Khushi, he pulled Arnav away, leaving Khushi alone with Lavanya.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Khuhsi." Lavanya said with a fake enthusiasm.

Lavanya watched intently as the couple engaged in a silent conversation with only their eyes, noticing Khushi nodding slightly.

It was an incredibly awkward situation, to say the least. Khushi struggled to grasp what she would talk about with Lavanya.

It had been easier when Lavanya was just a faceless entity, but now that Khushi was face-to-face with her and knew Lavanya harboured feelings for Arnav, she didn't know what to feel about that.

Lavanya started talking first.

"You're wearing such a beautiful saree! And it's red. Arnav's favourite colour. Did he buy it for you?" If Lavanya's casual use of Arnav's name bothered Khushi, she didn't let it show.

"Yes, It's Arnav's favorite color," Khushi replied politely, not quite getting the game Lavanya was playing.

"I wish I could wear sarees, but my maid doesn't know how to drape them properly, you know, and they're sort of out of fashion nowadays,"

Khushi only nodded her head.

Meanwhile, a server served them two bowls of kheer. Khushi was actually surprised to see such a dessert at a party like that.

"Oh, look, the kheer has arrived. It's Arnav's favorite, you know. We always have kheer at parties when Arnav is attending," Lavanya remarked.

"Hmm," was all Khushi could think to say in response.

"You know, these legal parties can be quite boring. But they do arrange some fun things too, like theatre and dances. You should attend parties at the gymkhana club. Arnav is a member too. My god, they even arrange cricket matches sometimes. They're so much fun. Have you ever watched a cricket match, Khushi?"

"Not really."

"You should join us in one of them then. Arnav is an excellent cricket player. He played in the Oxford cricket team, of course, that's you already know. You are his wife." Lavanya said causually. She was checking how much Khushi knew about Arnav London life before Lavanya could manupulate the facts.

Lavanya was a very perspective girl. The look on Khushi's face revealed that this information came as a surprise to her, and Lavanya finally succeeded in finding the weak point she was looking for. She didn't expect she would find one that soon. Luck seemed to on Lavanya's side this evening. Khushi couldn't hide her unease. She didn't know much about Arnav's life in London. Lavanya kept talking.

"The Oxford cricket team is a big deal, you know. Their news even makes it to newspapers like the Daily Telegraph. You know, the same paper Arnav writes his legal column for. I didn't know Arnav writes so well. He's an excellent writer, don't you think?" She said smugly. The confidence in Lavanya's voice increasing. She would prove to khushi that how well she knew Arnav. She would prove that she knew Arnav better than his wife.

Khushi only nodded her head, lost in thoughts about all the things Lavanya knew about Arnav that Khushi didn't.

She heard Lavanya ask, "So you are Aman's sister, huh?"

"You knew Aman bhai?"

"No, but Arnav talked about him a lot. But Arnav never mentioned you," Lavanya replied casually, feigning a aura of indifference.

Khushi finally understood what Lavanya was trying to do. She wouldn't let Lavanya do that to her. She won't succumbed to her fear and insecurities, at least, not in the public. She had enough.

"I don't see any circumstances where he would need to talk about me, especially to you." Khushi tried to maintain her polite tone.

Lavanya gave her a hard look, then asked in a harsh tone, "So, he never talked about me either, I guess." She wanted to include khushi and herself in the same category of people, about whom Arnav didn't talk about.

"No, he never did. But honestly, I don't see why he would need to talk about every person he knows. It's rather exhausting, you know. We have other things to do to exhaust ourselves.... than discuss acquaintances," Khushi replied calmly, maintaining her composure.

If looks could kill, khushi would have been dead by now. Khushi thanked Devi Maiya that Arnav decided to returned at the sane moment and took her to meet some other people. Despite this distraction, the thoughts kept swirling in Khushi's head. She felt like she was in a battle with herself.

'What was the nature of Arnav and Lavanya's so-called friendship? Lavanya knew so much about Arnav.'

'But these are common things. Anyone might know,' Khushi reasoned to herself. 'favourite colour, favourite food, anyone might know.'

'But why don't I know?' Khushi wondered, feeling unsettled. 'There is just something about Lavanya. Why is she so upset if there wasn't anything significant between them?'

A little dash of insecurity and Khushi started feeling like the person she had known for ten years, her best friend whom she married, was someone she didn't know at all. He had a whole new life here that she knew nothing about. This aspect of his life was completely unknown to her. What if she couldn't cope with him and he decided he wanted something different?

All along the way, Khushi had been very quiet. When Arnav asked, she said she was tired, so he didn't bother her any further. But her insecurities got the better of her as they entered their house. The first question she asked was, "Why didn't I know that you write a column in the newspaper?"

Arnav looked at her, surprised. "Oh, that? It's nothing special. I started writing them last summer. The newspaper pays well, so I decided to give it a try. How did you find out?"

"I want to read them."

"Umm.. Okay.. But don't expect anything special. They're in the study. You can read them if you want," Arnav replied casually.

Khushi nodded, suddenly feeling foolish for asking Arnav about it. As they prepared for bed, thoughts of her conversation with Lavanya swirled in her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if there had ever been a time when Arnav might have had feelings for Lavanya. The way Lavanya spoke, with such familiarity and confidence, made her question everything she thought she knew about her husband.

As Khushi lay in bed, settling into their favourite position with Arnav spooning her, her mind wouldn't quiet down. The insecurities gnawed at her, and she couldn't shake the fear that one day Arnav might realize he wanted someone different.

Someone like Lavanya—sophisticated, confident, and well-acquainted with his world in London, which was more like his present. All Khushi knew about Arnav was of his past. That though filled her with dread.

"Arnav, can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm, since when do you need permission to ask me anything?"

"Why don't you play cricket at home but do here? Every summer, Aman bhai, Akash bhai, and sometimes even Babuji join them to play, but you've never participated."

She felt Arnav hold his breath for a moment, then exhaled slowly. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and began speaking, "Umm, it's nothing serious." Arnav didn't talk for a long time and khushi almost thought he had fallen asleep. But then he said softly, "Do you know that when my mother died, I found her body in her room?"

"Hmm, Amma told me once." She had never heard Arnav talk about his mother.

"I was playing cricket with Aman and Akash bhai in your courtyard," he took another pause, then continued, "I couldn't play cricket after that. But here in London, one day when the team was in dire need of a player, I stepped up, and surprisingly, playing cricket here wasn't that difficult. So I kept playing... and I liked it." After a few moments, he buried his face in her hair and kissed the back of her head softly. He drew her even closer with the arm around her and murmured, "See, it's nothing deep."

As Khushi mused over what he was saying, she thought to herself, 'No, it was deeper.'

"khushi?"

"hmm".

"How did you know about Lavanya?"

"Last summer Kamlesh bhaiya came to meet Aman bhai. He told Aman bhai about her, about how you got a marriage proposal from her."

"Hmm," came his sleepy reply.

Khushi was dying to ask Arnav about the nature of his relationship with Lavanya, but she hesitated. It wasn’t that she lacked the courage to ask him; rather, she was afraid of what his answer might be. Her mind raced with doubts and insecurities. What if Arnav had once had feelings for Lavanya? The thought of hearing confirmation from him was too painful to bear.

She lay beside him, feeling the warmth of his body, but her heart felt cold and distant. The silence in the room was heavy with unspoken words. She could hear Arnav’s breathing slow down, a sign that he had fallen asleep. His steady, rhythmic breaths should have been comforting, but instead, they only amplified her anxiety. She wanted to shake him awake, demand answers, and seek reassurance, but she couldn’t bring herself to disturb his peace.

As she lay there in the darkness, Khushi’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions. She tried to convince herself that her fears were baseless, that Arnav loved her and only her. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, slowly but surely, consuming her thoughts.

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@arshifiesta @phuljari @featheredclover

[zapreportsblog]

A Gentleman's Pursuit - Alucard Hellsing's Encounter with (Y/n)

➥ summary - Alucard’s interest is peeped when he catches sight of the Hellsing very own shy maid.

➥ fluff

➥ one shot

Within the foreboding walls of the Hellsing Estate, where darkness and intrigue coalesced, Alucard, the immortal vampire, found himself captivated by the ethereal presence of a shy and demure maid named (Y/n).

Amidst the echoing corridors of the Hellsing Estate, (Y/n) moved with grace and poise, her presence a delicate whisper amid the chaos that engulfed their world. Alucard, with his piercing crimson eyes and enigmatic aura, observed her from the shadows, an unexpected yearning stirring within him. He was drawn to the shy maid's silent determination, her commitment to her duties reflecting a strength he found intriguing.

Days turned into nights, and Alucard's fascination with (Y/n) deepened, his thoughts consumed by the ephemeral glimpses he stole of her. His immortal existence, steeped in darkness and bloodshed, offered little room for sentimentality, yet her presence sparked a flicker of longing within his eternal heart. He felt compelled to unravel the mysteries that lay beneath her demure exterior, to discover the depths of her hidden soul.

One moonlit evening, as the Hellsing Estate settled into an uneasy calm, Alucard seized the opportunity to approach (Y/n), their paths converging in the tranquil confines of the mansion's garden. The air hung heavy with anticipation as he materialized before her, his presence both commanding and beguiling.

"(Y/n)," Alucard spoke, his voice as smooth as silk, "I have watched you from afar, fascinated by the quiet strength that emanates from within. I find myself inexplicably drawn to your presence, and I yearn to know you beyond the boundaries that separate us. Would you honor me with your company? Perhaps a walk in the moonlit gardens?"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened with surprise, her lips parting in a mixture of astonishment and intrigue. A delicate blush colored her cheeks, a testament to the power Alucard held over her. The weight of his words lingered in the air, their unspoken connection permeating the silence that enveloped them. Finally, she found her voice, her reply a gentle whisper in the night.

"Alucard, your presence has intrigued me from the moment I set foot within these halls. Your enigmatic nature both enthralls and unnerves me, but I cannot deny the curiosity that dances within my heart. I would be honored to accompany you on a moonlit walk, to explore the depths of our connection."

A subtle smile graced Alucard's lips, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and anticipation. In that moment, a pact was sealed.

As the nights bled into each other, Alucard found himself increasingly drawn to (Y/n), his fascination with her quiet strength and elusive nature deepening. He sought her presence, craving the respite she offered from the endless abyss of his immortal existence. (Y/n), too, found herself captivated by the enigmatic vampire, his ancient wisdom and magnetic allure proving irresistible.

Their paths continued to intersect within the vast expanse of the Hellsing Estate, each encounter unveiling new layers to their connection. Alucard, typically cloaked in shadows and steeped in his own enigma, discovered a sense of vulnerability in (Y/n)'s presence—a vulnerability that both intrigued and unnerved him. And (Y/n), in turn, marveled at the tenderness and moments of humanity that flickered beneath Alucard's immortal facade.

With each passing interaction, Alucard and (Y/n) discovered a profound understanding and kinship that transcended the boundaries of their respective roles. A shared appreciation for the beauty of the night and the secrets it whispered bound them together, weaving an invisible thread of connection that drew them closer.

Alucard, ever the orchestrator of darkness, found himself seeking (Y/n)'s company, his immortal heart longing for the moments they spent in conversation amidst the moonlit gardens. They shared whispered words that danced upon the night breeze, their conversations ranging from the profound to the mundane, from the weight of eternity to the simplicity of mortal existence.

As their time together extended, (Y/n) revealed a side of herself that few were privileged to witness. In Alucard's presence, her shyness gradually gave way to a quiet confidence, her reserved nature blooming like a delicate flower bathed in the moon's ethereal light. Alucard, in turn, bared fragments of his soul, peeling back layers of ancient sorrow and forbidden desires, exposing the complexities of his being.

Together, they explored the depths of their shared interests—books, art, and the enigmatic tapestry of human emotions. They engaged in intellectual debates that spanned centuries, their perspectives shaped by lifetimes of experience. Their bond grew stronger with each exchange, an unspoken promise to navigate the dark currents of their intertwined journeys.

But as their connection deepened, so too did the shadows that cast a pall over their union. Alucard's immortal existence weighed heavily upon him, a constant reminder of the chasm that separated them. He grappled with the knowledge that his darkness threatened to engulf any light that (Y/n) could offer, battling with the demons of his own nature.