#reblog if you wish no permission necessary

[medikits]

Ask Game - Dorky Edition

Send the following emojis or words to recieve the following from my muse:

🌻 [SUNFLOWER] - Recieve an inspirational message.

🌼 [DAISY] - Recieve a corny joke.

🌷 [TULIP] - Recieve a poem.

⚘️ [ROSE] - Recieve a cheesy pick up line.

🌱 [SPROUT] - Recieve a haiku.

🪴 [PLANT] - My muse will say which plant your muse reminds them of.

🌺 [HIBISCUS] - My muse will compliment your muse.

[00-jammy-00]

Yan!Commander HC’s

Yan!Commander x Royal! GN! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, mentions of murder, desperate yan, nsfw mentions

A/N - This is one of the yans I will be doing for my two year special. I’m sorry he didn’t come out earlier my internet decided to go out 😭

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Yan!Commander who had been working for your father for a very long time yet had never met you. He had heard stories and seen your back turned to him but had never actually seen you, you know? He had a bad reputation too. No one wanted the prized heir to be seen next to the cold commander.

Yan!Commander who had saved your father’s life from an assassin a few nights prior. He was offered your hand immediately, he felt too bad to say no so you two were to be wed in two weeks. Said two weeks turned out to be the very start of the best thing in his life.

Yan!Commander who fell for you so hard in those two weeks that he made sure you both were never to be apart. He had his eyes on you now. You, of course, only knew him as being the terrifying and rude Commander who never spoke kindly to anyone but the king so you weren’t too fond of him. He would change that with ease.

Yan!Commander who made it a point to worship the ground you walked on. You were his soon to be spouse, whether you liked it or not. He would do anything for you. Sometimes he would bring you back the heads of his enemies, desperate for just an ounce of your praise.

Yan!Commander who ended up killing more than just his enemies when he saw how touchy some of the Royal staff were. Was it necessary for your tailor to paw at you like that? Well he didn’t think so. Guess you need to hire someone else. Maybe someone who is less friendly.

Yan!Commander who will come home to you drenched in his enemies’ blood only to get on his knees and hug your waist. Oh, the things you do to him. He would never let you go. He wished he could lock you up and make sure you would never leave his side, often those thoughts led to him hovering over your pillow with his cock in hand.

Yan!Commander who, on most days, stands next to your throne like an obedient dog, shoulders tense as he glares down at the servant massaging your feet. He could do that with ease so why have someone else’s grubby hands touch you? He would find no displeasure in servicing you so why do you only shoot him a strange look?

Yan!Commander who is eager to show you how much he adores you. He’ll worship you from your feet to the crown that sits on your head. When he sees you all dolled up in your Royal attire he cannot help but drag you to your shared chambers and ravish you. He may be a commander but he is just a man. A man that treasures you.

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[velvetvexations]

I don't wish to hide behind a Native friend in voicing my opinions on the matter, but I asked said friend, Trickster Kisses, for permission to quote him so I can give context for why I have the stance that I do.

Here's him explaining it to me for the first time a few years ago:

Here's his tags on that post I reblogged yesterday:

Here's a post he made shortly thereafter:

And from a conversation we had last night:

Doubtlessly some Algonquin people disagree, but I've seen multiple say the controversy is silly, and like. Yeah. Saying "wendigo" is not going to summon evil spirits to possess you and turn you into a cannibal, it was a metaphor for greed. Natives are generally aware that the world doesn't work on Beetlejuice rules. Even if a few may insist on it, others find it deeply condescending to be treated like village peasants who cross themselves and warn the smirking white protagonist about the forest being filled with goblins and ghouls, except without the part where they turn out to be right because these things aren't real.

And it's different from creating images of Mahoumed, because (a) that's about respecting the single most important figure in the Koran short of Allah Himself, not being in fear of one particular mythical creature that got it's name popular with white people, and (b) non-Muslims depicting Mahoumed is literally only ever done purely to spite Muslims.

I even feel, as my friend does, that the necessary accuracy point is debatable, as other cultural beliefs include vampires, elves, and the Greek gods, and those are often distorted far beyond what the people that did or do believe in them would recognize, but in that I'm willing to concede more than my friend and say, yeah, getting something right and not just going with the pop cultural flow is almost literally the least you can do for a still very vulnerable and hurting group that's been done repeated catastrophic damage by your own group. You should, in fact, in my white opinion, just name your deer monster something else, and in that I "disagree" (it's more like a deferring perspective) with Trickster Kisses whose stance is much more relaxed.*

And I think if it were just "name your deer monster something else, be accurate if you actually use the wendigo name" a lot more people would be on board, that was the position of the Algonquin person on that post yesterday, but white people going all "stop it Patrick you're scaring him!" about it is really weird at best.

*from having asked about engaging with the wendigo in my own writing, a sequel to a story by Algernon Blackwood which got it very wrong:

Depends honestly, if you're not worried about backlash you can honestly just be like, whatever, sometimes vampires sparkle, it'd be cool to see more from the original myths but then you have to get into 'okay but like, which tribe's myths' ngl follow your heart in that regard, I personally consider all of them solid & acceptable

my own decision was to take it in a somewhat meta direction and directly address the fact that the Blackwood story was inaccurate

Okay, so like. This is the ask that prompted me to go to Trickster Kisses and ask him for permission to quote him, and in particular I asked if he could give a response to you specifically.

Listen. Anon. I truly did not expect him to be so angry. Like, I'm not kidding, I sincerely feel bad for you right now. This tongue-lashing is not coming from me. All I can tell you is that this is how an Algonquian person feels about it:

@gromlyn

Trickster Kisses, again four years ago:

[mysteria157]

Chapter 17

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~7.7k

CW: brief sexual content, profanity, lots of fluff &lt;3

Summary: You work hard to bring life to something dear to Nanami.

Notes: Thank you to all who have been supportive so far. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 Almost there! Happy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

You gave your mother an olive branch a few days after Christmas. 

A small part of you felt bad for not inviting her over for dinner that night. You planned a nice Christmas meal, and everyone was in attendance. Kento’s mother and father, his grandfather from Denmark, Ome and the rest of your friends, even Choso and Jin. 

But you couldn’t have her there. It was too intimate, too close to home from the last Christmas you spent with her sliding scathing words across her long and elaborate dining table a year ago. You wanted to start small, to give her small chances to test her change in behavior so you could make a decision yourself. 

Kento—who had no wish to entertain her after the little stint almost a year ago in Sendai—was more than happy to see less of her. 

“My love, if you wish to spend more time with her, then that is a decision I will readily support,” he had mumbled against the crown of your hair the night before as you both lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you. “But don’t give her too much. If she hurts you again, I’ll get the restraining order myself.” There wasn’t a trace of softness in his tone, not an ounce of sincerity or joke in the way he spoke.

So, your first olive branch manifested in the cool and barely touched air of Yu’s bakery. The floor was layered with a tarp, four buckets of paint unsealed, both of your hands holding long paint brushes as you rolled beige paint along one of the walls. 

The air was tense, the most you two had spoken was a simple good morning when your mother walked inside earlier that day. But now, an hour later with two walls already done, you could barely breathe through the thickness of awkwardness around you.

Should you say something? Maybe ask her how her week had been. 

No.

You repeated Ome’s mantra in your head over and over, pressing a little harder on your upward stroke, gripping the metal rod a little tighter between your fingers. 

“How was your Christmas?” she asked, her voice unusually soft, lacking its usual arrogance when directed at you. A bitter taste of disdain settled in your mouth, but you swallowed it down, allowing it to simmer in your stomach for the time being.

“It was fine.” Your words were rushed and curt, barreling out of your mouth before you could stop them and had you faltering, staggering your strokes for an uneven coat. “We had dinner. Kento’s family and a few friends came over.”

She was silent, brown hands pushing the rod up, her eyes following the movement as she watched the pain smear with her actions. “Do you own this bakery?” 

“No. It belonged to a friend who passed. It was given to Kento. I wanted to fix it up for him.”

Your mother hummed a soft noise that was rare for her. You were used to huffs of impatience, grunts of disapproval, a tsk, and a shake of her head when you had disappointed her. 

“I’m sure he’s happy you’re doing this for him,” she spoke instead, contradicting your inner thoughts and making you a little angrier.

In truth, Kento had no idea that you were here. Since that night he expressed his readiness to consider reopening the bakery, you meticulously planned your next moves. Between caring for Ulani and having more confidence to handle the influx of commissions, you had the power to determine your schedule and work around what you wanted. 

Kento had no idea that you were listening when he joked about the terrible paint Yu had chosen all those years ago before opening the grand opening. He had no idea you wrote down every single pastry item he envisioned on his menu. He had no idea that while he joked and teased of minor details, you were soaking them all up.

And now you were ready to make it a reality. 

“It’s a surprise,” you admitted, words slipping like gooey slime past your lips as you chastised yourself again for being so open. “So…don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” You ignored the smile that you could feel grace her features even though your back was turned. It cut through the tense air around her, the corners of her mouth pushing against tension that was suffocating you. “This is a nice thing that you’re doing—”

“I know,” you interrupted, harshly. Your eyebrows furrowed from your actions, a general sensation of upset sliding along your arms as you closed in on what was left of the old paint on the walls.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing!” you hissed at her, the disdain in your belly now a little more pungent as it shot up and out of your throat. “I just—why do you care all of a sudden?!” 

You yanked the rolling brush from the wall, careful not to whack your mother with the wet end even though the thought was a shrieking siren in your mind. She set her own down gracefully, without stumble in a way that made you seethe. 

“I told you why I care. I told you what I’m trying to do. So, excuse me if I apologize for insinuating things about your life. It’s not my place to offer you praise out of the blue and expect you to accept it. So, I’m going to apologize for the times I make you uncomfortable.”

Your mind was reeling from her words. Self-sacrificing and self-aware to a degree that it felt like a smack in the face. Even with her sarcastic quip, it was still filled with a level of sincerity that made you nauseous. 

The mental and emotional whiplash was too powerful, curling and bunching into a migraine that began to ebb between your eyes. Your fingers dug into the black cotton of your overalls, squeezing the fabric between suddenly sweaty fingers as you felt those dormant tendrils of anxiety dance along the skin of your shoulders with mocking movements.

Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe you weren’t as ready as you thought.

“You want me to stop apologizing? Done.” Her hand not on the metal rod lifted in concession. “You want me to only talk when you speak to me? I can do that too. Just let me at least…be here.”

Those tendrils whispered in your ears to kick her out, to make a fool of yourself and let you wallow in self-pity. 

But you did this for a reason. Stuck yourself out there for a reason. Got out of your comfort zone with her for a reason.

And you wouldn’t be able to see any results whatsoever if you had already made it up in your mind that she wasn’t worth the effort.

So, you pulled in a deep breath, the cold air sifting into your nostrils to wash away the irritation inside of you. You picked up your brush and dipped it into the paint bucket once and then twice before bringing it back against the wall.

“How about you start the accent wall behind the register? Once I’m done here, I’ll move onto the other side of the room.” 

You didn’t have much else to say, realizing that until you could control your emotions better, remaining silent was the best option.

You watched her nod, picking up a new rolling brush and a bucket of maroon paint, before offering a gentle smile towards you. You couldn’t help the flutters of warmth that erupted in your chest. It was foreign coming from her, unwanted and trespassing inside of you. You didn’t want to show her that despite your frustration, you were glad she was here to try with you.

So, you didn’t

And with a wavering glance away from her, you turned back to the wall, brushing the roller against it once more.

***

You could only do so much while Kento was at work because of Ulani. So, when you were at the bakery doing renovations, Chiyo and Santo offered to watch her since Ome had to work as well. You kept your work down to only two hours a day, careful not to run his parents ragged with something you still hadn’t told them about. 

No one knew your plans. You couldn’t risk it.

As much as you loved Ome, she would be quick to let something slip in the heat of conversation when she wasn’t paying attention. As much as you could have used Yuji’s strength for some tasks, he was too loose on the tongue and excitable, and it made him an unreliable confidant who was around his sensei far too much. 

You had to pick and choose your people carefully and track your movements without leaving traces behind.

So, you prayed to whoever was listening that the white-haired man in front of you would keep his mouth shut. 

He cradled a Tupperware container in long lanky arms, pressing it against his black Armani long sleeve as he stared down at the contents inside with glee.

“Taste one,” you demanded, admiring the way he ripped off the plastic cover before you could finish speaking. A thumb and pointer finger held a steaming piece of sweet bread, the golden brown flaky texture decorated with drizzles of honey. All sense of decorum left the second he inhaled thick billows of sweet steam, and with only two bites the treat was gone, and he was digging into the container for another. “Gojo, I need you to actually taste the sweet bread, please. You’re huffing it down like a dog.”

He was chewing on a large piece as he tilted his head down, white hair brushing against pale skin as he observed you. His bright blue eyes peeked at you from behind his glasses, cusped over the tops of round dark blue shades as they slid down his nose.

“Did Ome say something about me?”

“No?”

“Did I fuck something up when I watched Ulani a few days ago?”

“No. Gojo—”

“So why are you giving me sweet bread? I love your cooking, but you never cook only for me. So, what’s the catch?”

Your teeth dug into the side of your cheek, biting hard on the wet gummy texture as you watched him start on his third piece. He would be done with the entire container before he walked out of your door and you needed to think fast.

“If I tell you, promise not to say anything.” His eyes were still as he pondered you, blue ocean irises vast and overwhelming that you had to look away. “I’m trying to make sweet bread. For Kento. But I want to make it the way Yu did. And you’re the only person I know that has an affinity for sweets that borders on the need for clinical study.” He shrugged in indifference, somehow—but not surprisingly—flattered by the insult. “I just want to get it right. Would you be willing to taste-test all my batches? Your reward is the entire container each time.”

He scoffed, blemish-free cheeks puffed from the dough behind them, chewing thoughtfully as he considered your ask. Gojo missed Yu and thought about him almost every day. But he was never as close to him as Kento and Geto, never as understanding and pure when they were kids. And as a result, his recovery from grief was much quicker. He bounced back with a quickness that worried you but was no surprise to his friends around him.

“These are a lot of sweets; don’t you care about my health?”

“You are a thirty-one-year-old man with not even a hint of pre-diabetes despite the amount of glucose you ingest. You’ll be fine.”

Gojo was too busy stuffing another piece in his mouth to argue with you.

***

“Your hands are dryer than usual, love,” Kento spoke against the skin of them, kissing your knuckles and the deep cracks along the sides of your fingers. You were blissfully relaxed, pliant, and warm beneath the covers of your bed as you let him caress you. 

It was undeniable that your hands had become unusually dry. You took care of your skin with the amount of throwing you performed for commissions. But lately, you had been crafting more than usual.

Kento thought you were finishing piece after piece for the prolific ceramic artists who shoved their contact info in your hands at Choso’s exhibit a few weeks prior.

In reality, you were actually crafting pieces for the bakery. Specifically, vases of various shapes and designs intended to grace the center of the individual tables that Yu had sanded and stained himself. 

Day after day when Kento was at work and when Ulani was down for her nap, you were hunched over in the studio, wet hands molding against clay as it spun on your pottery wheel. 

You finished your last vase earlier that evening. But you were so exhausted and achy that even though you craved Kento’s touch and the feeling of him inside you, you settled for the soft and practiced movement of his lips and tongue between your legs instead. Letting him coax you in only the way he knew until you were arching into the sheets and moaning your orgasm into the night air of your bedroom.

His thumb smoothed along the sunken skin beneath your eyes, frowning at the sight. 

“You’ve been so tired. Do you need me to cut back on my hours? Extend my lunch too so I’m home more?” 

You snorted, burrowing deeper beneath your duvet and closer to him. He pulled you in without thought, wrapping muscular arms around your waist before yanking into him so that your lips brushed along the skin of his clavicle. You melted further into the warm woodsy scent of him, savoring the lingering hints of eucalyptus that clung to him from his shampoo.

“I’ve just had more commissions lately. I’m okay.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but you still felt bad when he frowned deeper in response, the corners of his lips down turning, narrow eyes intensifying in worry. “Do not take on so much.”

“Yea yea old man,” you sighed against the pillow on your cheek, closing your eyes slowly. 

You could feel his gaze on you even though you couldn’t see him, and you forced your lips together to avoid laughing as the eye not pressed into your pillow cracked open to look at him.

Burnt umber eyes glared at you, jerking a sharp chuckle from deep within your belly that pierced through the thin veil between your lips. 

Watching him fuss had been one of the many things you found yourself craving as your relationship with each other grew. You loved to tease him. Despite Kento’s typically stoic and serious demeanor, there were moments when his seriousness seemed out of place. And the fact that most of the time he was unaware of it, made it all the more humorous to you. 

So, you rolled with it every time and he voiced his fake irritation because it made you smile and laugh.

“Stop laughing,” he grumbled.

Right on cue. 

And like he expected, it made you laugh harder, deep chuckles morphing into giggles when large hands squeezed your waist in reproach, a sensation that only made you wheeze against him. 

The frown on his face twitched, threatening to curl into a smile, responding to the soft giggles that wafted onto his skin as he wiggled nimble fingers against you.

***

It was late February when everything finally came together. 

Twelve batches of sweet bread all either too sweet or missing a secret ingredient that you could never figure out. Gojo could only offer so much. While he didn’t know the exact ingredient that was missing, he could still determine if it ever tasted like Yu’s.

But it was the thirteenth batch that finally stuck.

You were used to drizzling the honey atop the bread when it was fresh out of the oven. But on a whim, you decided to add a tablespoon and halve the serving of vanilla to the yeast mixture instead. 

You were exhausted, swallowing frustration week after week for the sake of doing this for him. Because you wanted to bring this small piece of Yu back to him. Wanted to watch his eyes be a little less dim on his bad days. 

After all, doesn’t every baker need a prized recipe?

You didn’t think much else of it. You were already content with the somber thought that batch number fourteen would be better.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the light against Gojo’s handsome face when he chewed a piece of batch thirteen. His cerulean irises glimmered with a familiarity that made him pause, made him pull back the uneaten half between his fingers to look as if it had spoken a secret to him.

And then, with each movement of his jaw, as he ate the entire batch in front of you, you realized that you just might have gotten it right.

And it was Gojo sliding his hands across your kitchen island to clasp around yours. It was sticky fingers tapping along your brown skin and pearly whites shining brightly at you when you knew for sure that your efforts had finally paid off. 

“Tastes like you got it.”

You were so excited that you could hardly contain yourself, whipping up another batch with your remaining dough, uncaring of the chatterbox of a man sitting at your island as he began to pry questions about Ome from you, inhaling the rest of batch thirteen.

You were too happy. Too proud of yourself and riding on a high when an hour later you were knocking on Kaya’s door and silently offering the batch of sweet bread to her.

You had been at her house a few times since Christmas. Happy to know that the plants were alive and well and that she was coping as best as she could. Even though she had lost the love of her life, she pushed forward for Aiko, who held resilience in the face of despair that must have come from her father.

So, when she sniffed softly as you both sat in her kitchen, small sounds becoming more insistent and congested, you knew for sure that you perfected a recipe that only Yu knew. So, she became the second person you told your plans to, and her hazel eyes filled with tears as she listened, her smile stretched across round cheeks before she yanked you into a tight hug.

“I’ll bring the plants by tomorrow.” You were rubbing her back in soothing circular motions when she muttered the words over your shoulder. You felt faint echoes of her grief vibrating against you, but the resonances weren’t as strong as before. They weren’t as crippling. Not as suffocating as that first day she had broken down in the waiting room almost a year ago. 

You could smell the scent of strawberries from her shampoo flutter beneath your nose as her hair brushed against your cheek. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming damp from what was no doubt her tears against you.

“Kento will be so happy. Yu…Yu would be so happy. Thank you—you have no idea how much this means to me.”

And even though you were exhausted beyond belief. Even though your hands were dry and painful and cracking from throwing and not moisturizing correctly. Even though you had done more renovations than you could stomach for probably a long time. Feeling Kaya squeezing you tighter, seeping happiness through your clothes and into the pores of your skin made your heart swell. 

***

A cold Saturday evening in March is when you set your plans in motion. 

The air brushed against your cheeks, sharp and biting and drying your skin, but you couldn’t use your hands to shield your cheeks. Because those hands were occupied, holding both of Kento’s as you guided his blindfolded form inside the bakery. He was under the impression that you were both on your way to have dinner with friends. So, he was more than surprised when you decided to drive and forced a piece of cloth over his eyes.

You ignored every single protest that he muttered to you, pulling him to stand in the center of the lit room. 

For once, the air hadn’t been cold and reeking of painful traces of its past. Instead, cinnamon colored the air faintly, drifting around you both as you steeled your nerves, squared your shoulders and took a silent breath in front of his oblivious figure. 

“Okay. You can take it off.”

He did so immediately, brows furrowed in light irritation and worry before the expression fell from his face just as fast. 

The beige walls were a good choice, and the maroon accent on the wall behind the register created a warm aura that you were sure would make customers feel more comfortable and willing to stay.

You left the countertops untouched but meticulously restored the shine to the cabinets and replaced the metal accents along the sides of the display case below the register. The floor was redone—an act that you had no choice but to hire help for—and shining beneath your feet. The certificates of achievements and cherished photographs of families, employees, and friends no longer resided in their old frames, having been replaced with brand new ones that added a touch of freshness to the walls they hung on. 

The painstakingly crafted vases, which had taken you weeks to throw, fire, and glaze, had become the focal points of each table, radiating with an assortment of vibrant colors and intricate designs made by your hand. And in each vase laid the plants that Kaya brought back. 

Those same Peperomias and Hoya Carnosas had their bases wrapped in your ceramic art, the long philodendrons that were previously adorning the walls of Yu’s house had been returned to their original home between the crevices between cabinets and displayed in knitted holders suspending from the ceiling. Yu’s prized fiddle leaf had flourished despite his time away, its large, lush green leaves reaching out from its dedicated spot in the corner of the bakery, basking in the gentle March low lights that streamed through the nearby glass windows. 

You were proud. It was an indescribable satisfaction, knowing that every detail had been attended to with an unwavering dedication and care. 

You only hoped Kento would think the same.

Because the man in question was still silent and stone-faced from his perch, Chukka boots rooted to the floor, gelled and parted hair exposing deep brown eyes incredulous and unblinking as he looked around. 

You tried to quell the nerves zapping to life in your body, synapses firing chaotically, causing your fingers to twitch against your thighs, an uneasy silence lingering between the two of you.

“Well…say something,” your words trembled on the ends with an uneasy chuckle, tumultuous waves of anxiety roaring to life inside of you.

“I…” his voice trailed off, his gaze swept across the once missed vibrant plants around him, the upgraded display case, and the freshly painted walls. His heart thumped against his chest, like a bird yearning to be set free, as shock and astonishment surged through his veins, sending a chill down his spine. The weight of your gaze bore down on him, your increasing apprehension palpable as he struggled to find his words. He knew you deserved his undivided attention. 

Surprised or not. 

Overwhelmed or not.

“Is…is that new paint?” He mentally kicked himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his own obliviousness while stating the obvious.

But you smiled bashfully at him instead, eager to do whatever it took to reassure him and help him regain his composure. “It is. I painted it. Well…my mother and I did.” You frowned briefly, your eyebrows twitching with the urge to furrow at the mention of her. She didn’t need to occupy your thoughts at that moment. Not now. 

His eyes shifted down, fixating on the tile beneath his feet. The once familiar, plain linoleum that he had grown accustomed to over the years had not been replaced. The new floor was now made of a creamy-toned linoleum designed to mimic tiles.

“New flooring?” he asked, his voice stronger even though it wavered.

“That one I had to hire help for,” you excitedly told him, maintaining a safe distance, standing a few paces ahead to allow him time to take in his surroundings. “But I picked out the color and style and I even got to rip out a few chunks. I took a bunch of pictures.”

He couldn’t help the huff that puffed from his nose, a small noise of a laugh as his mind continued to struggle to keep up. You watched as he attempted to speak, lips forming words that his throat stubbornly refused to release. 

Sensing his need for guidance, you closed the distance between you, reaching out to slide a hand into one of his larger ones and squeezing gently. He didn’t try to speak again, realized that he couldn’t, but the way his eyes caught yours and held your gaze briefly assured you at that moment that he was here, and he was listening, he just needed you to pilot him in that way only you could do with ease.

So, you did.

You brought a few vases for him to hold and trace his fingers against, animatedly explaining the firing techniques you chose for each one. You pulled him to the kitchen, proudly presenting the recently polished equipment that bore freshly stamped inspection approvals. The pots and pans, put away to avoid dust not even a day after Yu’s death, now hung gleaming and ready to be used from the pot rack above cool concrete countertops. The stainless steel ovens were ready to be turned on, the large refrigerator ready to be filled with chilled dough and meat for savory buns.

With brush of your fingers against him, his skin tingled; overwhelming and strong, forcing currents of electricity along his dermis. His chest tightened with each step you led him away from the kitchen, walking in the direction of Yu’s office.

Faint memories were suddenly rich in his mind when he stepped into the small room. Vivid flashbacks of Yu’s slouched figure, head resting on a hand as he gazed out the only large window in the room. 

That familiar nerve plan, known to dramatically droop the minute it was off its watering schedule, sat once again on the windowsill. However, alongside it stood a new addition—a simple cactus, with curved and drooping spiky branches.

You spoke up as you watched his eyes take in the unfamiliar plant. “Ulani reached for it when I went to the nursery with Ome last week. I figured you would be happy knowing she picked it out for you.”

He didn’t speak, he still couldn’t.

Instead, he allowed his legs to guide him around the oak desk, which had been cleared of its usual clutter of paper and books. For the first time since Yu had bought this bakery, the stained surface was visible to him, and he reached out to run his hand along it, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. 

But his eyes stopped, freezing at the three small picture frames that sat on the corner of his desk. Picture frames that hadn’t been there before.

The first was of you both. You were in the corner of the photo and holding the camera at an angle to take a selfie, your smile bright as the sun, those familiar glints of mischief coloring your eyes. And he’s behind you, sprawled out on the couch with his legs spread and arms resting along the back of the sofa, head tilted back and mouth slightly parted as he was—despite how much he vehemently denied—snoring. 

It was so mundane, so informal, and not like him to have a photo like this out in the open. But it was so you. And the smile that curved faintly along the edges of his mouth as he took in the photo was more than enough for you to slink closer to him.

The second frame is of you and Ulani. She sat in your lap, her blue onesie covered in drool, light brown curls thick and messy, her gummy mouth smiling and showing the beginnings of a front tooth. Her hands were reaching for her father, who stood behind the camera. Vividly he recalled the playful antics he needed to elicit her infectious laughter for the perfect shot. Kento traced his fingertips along the edges of the frame, his smile pulling a little tighter on his face.

But it was the last photo that made his throat catch because he remembered it like it was yesterday. He and Yu were standing in front of the bakery, and he recalled how excited Yu was when he signed the lease, dragging Kento to stand in front of the empty building with Kaya ready with her camera. 

They were younger, Kento a little less bulky, Yu with a little more hair on his head than what you usually used to see from him. Yu’s arm was draped around Kento’s neck, both hands throwing peace signs, his smile just as bright and lively. 

“Why must I be in the picture if I don’t even own the bakery?”

“You will someday!”

“No.”

“Yes! Now are you going to smile for me? Or are you going to frown like the old man you refuse to admit you are?”

“I am not an old man.”

“You are!”

“Yu—”

“Smile!”

Those words reverberated in his mind, echoing ceaselessly as he gazed at his younger self frozen in the photograph. Because even though his posture was stiff, and his arms were folded over his chest. And even though the blue shirt and brown slacks were a little too big on him and his yellow and black spotted tie and glasses made him look old just like Yu had teased…he was smiling. 

Close-lipped and weak, but he was smiling.

Before he could fully be washed over with the overwhelming surge of emotions that boiled in the core of his stomach, you gently tugged him away, leading him out of the office and through the kitchen. The cinnamon-tinged air enveloped you both again as you entered the front of the bakery. 

Kento blinked away the blurriness in his eyes, and tried hard to focus on soft, billowing curls that peeked out from under your wool beanie.

He knew he needed to say something to you. 

He had to say something to you.

But once again you held him still and commanded him to close his eyes again. And when he complied, the sensation of his eyes closing softly, he sagged against the wooden counter behind him. His heart continued to race uncontrollably, refusing to calm down. Despite the deafening ringing in his ears and the tight, parched feeling in his throat, he found himself still standing. 

When he was told to open his eyes again, he found you holding what looked to be one of the chalkboard slabs that would hang on the wall behind the counter.

“A bakery wouldn’t be complete without a menu,” you declared with a grin, turning the chalkboard slab around for him to see. You soaked up every expression from him as he scanned the list.

Melon Pan, Anpan, Yakisoba Pan, and even Shu Kurimu; each item was meticulously written in delicate calligraphy. 

You cherished the moments you spent together that inspired the menu, with him patiently guiding you through the art of kneading, braiding, and perfecting other techniques during Ulani’s naptime. With every recipe, he absentmindedly spoke about which ones he would like to add to his menu.

And you had soaked it up like a sponge. 

The prices next to each food item were modest, and as he read line by line, item after item, the irresistible emotion to scoop you up into his arms became more palpable.

But when he got to the bottom, he froze. 

Because at the bottom of the menu, written in chalk and clear as day, was something that didn’t make sense to him but demanded his attention, nonetheless.

Yu’s Famous Sweet Bread: Daily Special

He shook his head, mind faltering and struggling to put the pieces together because those words shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t have written that. He couldn’t make Yu’s sweet bread because he never got the recipe. And he wouldn’t fabricate his own iteration and tarnish his best friend’s memory. 

Flickers of irritation flared inside of him, completely unnecessary and unwarranted, waves of embarrassment bubbling in his stomach from the thought of being upset with you. But with tremendous effort, he managed to swallow it down. 

The sight was enough to make you lean over the edge of the counter, reaching for the Tupperware hidden beneath.

For weeks, it had been Gojo who would eagerly tear open the top and devour every batch that didn’t quite meet the mark. But now, it was Kento who stood there, staring at the Tupperware, blinking as you tore off the top and gestured the container towards him, his hands curling hesitantly around the edges of the plastic.

The aroma was heavenly, still steaming and flaky and he couldn’t help but reach inside and pull out a piece. He faltered, uncertainty clouding his face, unease bubbling in his gut, before finally taking a bit.

The flavors exploded on his tongue—buttery, not overly sweet, with hints of honey and cinnamon, just like he remembered. Just like how Yu used to make. A treasured recipe, perfected and replicated as if Yu had somehow manifested and made a batch just for him.

And suddenly his chest pulled tight once again, his throat constricted, and his heart hammered against his ribcage. He wasn’t upset, not even close. The unease that simmered in his belly fizzled away, died town as swirling waves of nostalgia took its place. 

It was too much. He couldn’t—

“It took me a few weeks. But Gojo was a good test subject.” You chuckled, wringing your hands around a clump of your curls in faint motions of anxiousness as you offered him a gentle smile. “I figured the man who only ingests sweets would be able to tell me if what I made tasted like Yu’s. And Kaya was a good final judge. It was a hunch, but it worked.” 

Nervously, you fidgeted, releasing your hands from the ends of your hair and burying them deep into the cozy embrace of your thick wool coat. You tried to convince yourself that his dumbfounded expression was a good thing. 

“I hope—was I wrong? I wanted the recipe to be perfect before I cooked some for you.”

You were fumbling and restless, finally taking the brunt of his lack of response and letting it fester within you. Maybe you had gone too far, overwhelmed him, and made him angry.

You shouldn’t have done this. You should have pulled back, and let him do things at his own pace.

While you were slowly beginning to despair from your spot in front of him, Kento was trying his best to move. To speak. To do something. 

Nothing could have prepared him for something like this. If someone were to tell him that all of this would be possible again, he would have turned around without another word and walked the other way. 

But it was possible. 

Here in the form of a bakery that had been brought back to life with newly painted walls, long-missed plants, a handcrafted menu, and a special recipe that he thought would have died along with the best friend who made it.

And you had done it all. Alone and without an ounce of assistance. And he had no idea. 

You had taken his dreams and shaped them into a reality.

Just like he did with you.

And for the first time, since he walked into the bakery, blindfolded and unaware, he finally moved of his own volition.

He set the container of sweet bread on the counter behind you and pulled you into a kiss so blinding, so searing, so overpowering that you were caught in between breaths, your lungs aching to stretch.

It was the only thing he could think to do. The only way he could try to say thank you for being the one constant in his life that had brought him nothing but consuming happiness when he believed he would only see and feel pain and grief. 

His touch was fervent against you, his hands cradling your cheeks, gliding along your neck, tilting your head up, up sharply so he could fall into you. And you reciprocated and caught him with the way your arms wrapped around him and the way your fingers tangled through the growing undercut at the nape of his neck.

The feel of wetness on your cheeks made you pull away from him, your hands descending from his hair to cup his cheeks, thumbing away faint traces of tears as he breathed shakily against you. He couldn’t stop them and didn’t shy away as you wiped them away as quickly as they fell. 

You were that beacon of light that he always looked for when he couldn’t seem to hold himself together. Even though he could barely open his mouth to express his gratitude, you still illuminated with unwavering brightness, seamlessly intertwining your fingers with his, guiding him forward without hesitation. 

You let out a gentle hum, feeling the remnants of familiar teasing tones vibrating along the skin of your lips. “I didn’t bring any tissues. Gojo won’t let you live this down if he sees your cheeks tear-stained,” you playfully remarked.

A harsh and wet chuckle bubbled from the middle of his chest, erupting from his throat as he sniffed pathetically and shot you an unheated glower.

“Stop teasing.”

A remark that might have seemed out of place to others but fit you both perfectly. Two words that he always murmured against your skin or playfully glared at you when you purposefully made him uncomfortable. It was something he loved, took pleasure in, and couldn’t imagine sharing those little mundane exchanges with anyone else.

“I love you,” he spoke softly, his words carrying an unwavering conviction and strength. 

You echoed the sentiment back just as strongly, your fingertips gliding along his sharp cheekbones, tracing down the slight upturned angle of his nose. 

The silence of the bakery was for once not as imposing as you rubbed your hands down his back, and Kento melted into your touch, his arms wrapping around your waist and drawing you closer. The scent and feel of you, unyielding and powerful against him, was still something he struggled to grasp—was only for him. 

He had his own plans for tonight. Had expected things to go a lot differently after dinner. Had worked through it in his mind over and over.

But as always, you had plans of your own. And, without complaint, he relinquished control and let you guide him.

“While I love you very much, Ken, we’re gonna be late for dinner if you don’t let go.” 

Those words, colored with a touch of humor, drifted into his ears and elicited another gentle chuckle from his chest before he pulled back and pressed his lips against yours. You were content to let him have just one more minute before pulling him out the door when—

“Oh!” you exclaimed, withdrawing from his lips abruptly. A surge of excitement coursed through your veins as you ignored his surprised expression, dark blonde eyebrows twitching with the urge to pout at being pulled from you too soon. Your hand instinctively dove into your coat pocket, retrieving your phone with nimble fingers. You eagerly sifted through emails until your eyes finally landed on what you had been searching for, flipping the phone around and pressing it to his chest. He gingerly took it from you, glancing over the contents and trying his best to ignore the sharp return of thumping in his chest.

“It’s just a drafted advertisement that I made with Jin,” you spoke proudly, fiddling with the lapels of his own dark brown wool trench coat. “I was able to organize a meeting with all of Yu’s previous employees, and they’ve all agreed to return whenever you decide to reopen.”

As you rambled on, your gaze remained fixated on the exquisite fabric of his coat—a gift from her mother—as you grounded yourself with its presence.

Kento was once again floored, his eyes tracing every detail that oozed your touch from your years of marketing experience. It was an ad that could be posted on social media, featuring a picture of the bakery and a short explanation of its upcoming reopening. 

To you, it was simple, quick to do, and without effort for many others. 

But to him, it was another token of your love freely given.

“The assistant manager even agreed to take over all morning shifts if you are still working at the company whenever it opens. We can do a ribbon cutting if you want! Or maybe a soft opening. I didn’t put a date for when it would open, but I was thinking after Ulani’s first birthday we could—”

“My love,” his voice cut you off, firm and tender. The hand not holding your phone cupped your cheek, guiding your gaze up to meet his. His naturally narrow eyes radiated affection, drawing you in with their burnt-umber warmth. “You’re rambling.”

Your voice caught in your throat, excitement and anxiety coiling and thrumming in equal rhythm. “I know,” you whispered. “I wanted to give you the option to submit it. It goes straight to Jin and he’ll have the company’s social media manager distribute it.” 

Your eyes flickered down to your phone in his hands, drawing Kento’s gaze back to the perfectly crafted advertisement on the screen, a bright green button labeled ‘SUBMIT’ catching his attention.

If you hadn’t gone above and beyond to turn the bakery into something Kento could call his own, he might have continued to stall for as long as possible. He would have lingered to order paint for the walls and waited until the last minute to redo the floors. Because even with his firm resolution when weeks ago he said to you that he was ready, a tinge of fear still lingered within him.

But seeing how much effort and support you had offered, showing him time and time again that he was ready, that you would be there to catch him if he ever fell, made him realize that he could face that fear with you by his side. And you were always by his side. 

Unquestionably. 

Unwaveringly.

In just a second, he pressed ‘submit’, a profound sense of accomplishment filling his chest, a feeling that never would have manifested if it weren’t for you. 

He gently placed the phone back into your coat pocket, his other hand cupping your exposed cheek. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, heating the blood beneath and lighting an inferno behind your eyes, the heat licking against them to coax a prickle of tears to bubble at the bottom of your lashes.

“Did you submit it?” you whispered, the heat of his breath caressing your lips.

“I did.”

“I’m glad.”

It was a familiar exchange between the two of you, reminiscent of the last time you had walked into the bakery after rushing from Rory’s studio with Ulani strapped to your chest. Back then, he had been somber, searching for answers from Yu’s spirit that still lingered within the walls. 

But now. Now as you responded, a sense of satisfaction flowed through you, knowing that he had his answer and could show Yu, in some way—if he was even watching—that his efforts had not been in vain.

“The fact that you did all of this for me…words cannot express how grateful I am for this. For you,” he uttered, his words washing over you effortlessly, brimming with adoration that only you would ever truly understand. You smiled up at him, wordlessly expressing your own gratitude and contentment that he was happy.

“You can show me how grateful you are. How about,” you began, enveloping your arms around his neck. You playfully tugged at the tip of one of his ears as his eyes traced over the features of your face, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “After dinner, you take on all responsibilities with Ulani tonight, draw me a bath, and then later…” you trailed off, a playful purr dancing in your words as your fingers traced a featherlight touch along his ear, watching with barely contained glee as he shuddered. “Later after we know Ulani is asleep…you do that thing I like.”

That thing in question was something that he only used for rare occasions, and the flickering memories of it had him blushing quickly and his hands sliding down to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that shook from your chest as he leaned down to place a wet kiss on your cheek once and then twice on the other side, before drawing back, your lips only a few centimeters apart and that recognizable faint smile on his face.

“Deal,” he whispered, slanting slightly chapped lips against yours, dragging you impossibly closer until there was no space between you both. 

Distantly, you remembered your reservations that you both would definitely be late for. 

And even though you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket with a text probably from Ome asking where you both were, the feel of his tongue sliding along your bottom lip in his well-known request for entrance made you ignore the second buzz that rattled your coat pocket.

Your friends could wait a few more minutes.

[janeuary-month]

FAQs for Janeuary 2025

Janeuary 2025 is coming soon! Here are answers to some questions I’ve gotten or that you may be wondering about before participating in the event:

Can I join?

Yes! This is an open event with no sign-ups. You don’t need to notify me or get my permission. Everyone is welcome.

Do I have to do something for every one of the prompts?

No! Just one is fine. You can do more if you wish, or multiple works for the same prompt, but none of this is necessary. The list of prompts is here.

Can I combine prompts?

Sure! Just please note in your post all the prompts you’re using. If possible, post your work on the earliest day for the prompts shown in it, and we’ll reblog it on that day, but we’ll tag it with all the days/prompts you used. For instance, if you write a fic about characters staying in an inn (day 5) in London (day 15), post on day 5 and state in your post that it’s meant for both prompts.

Do I have to create my art/fic/whatever on the day itself?

No! That would be super hard to do—I’m not that mean! Create it now, and just hold off on posting it until the day of the prompt you used.

Does my fic/art need to take place in Regency England, or are AUs allowed?

As long as you have at least one Austen-work or Austen-adaptation character, you can stick them in whatever universe you wish. However, if you want to use all non-Austen characters, they need to be in an Austen universe. So, for day 11 “card playing,” you could draw Sonic the Hedgehog playing whist in a Regency drawing room OR you could draw Darcy and Elizabeth playing poker in modern-day Las Vegas, and either of these would be totally acceptable.

Completely canon-compliant works are of course also allowed!

Can I include non-Austen characters in my creations?

Sure! As long as you have at least one Austen-work or Austen-adaptation character, OR place your work in an Austen AU, you can include whatever other characters you wish. Characters from other media, OCs, reader inserts, they’re all fine. 

And remember that there is no bashing of others’ characters or ships! Accounts that do so will get blocked. Review the full list of rules here.

What does it mean that the work has to be new?

Basically, it can’t have been posted anywhere before. BUT this means that a new chapter on an old fic is totally valid! So is taking an old line drawing and coloring it and then posting the new colored version. That sort of thing.

And the work doesn’t have to be completed before the end of the month either, so if you have a long-running fic that has been going for years already and is going to keep going far after next January, you can still participate by working the prompts into a chapter or two during the month and then carrying on as you like afterwards.

Can I make [fill in the blank fanwork]?

Yep. Any type of fanwork you can dream up is welcome, not just fic and art. Crochet a bonnet for day 23 and post a pic of it, make a photo montage of yourself doing Emma cosplay, edit together a Bride and Prejudice music video, we love it all!

Is NSFW allowed?

Yes, with any sort of content and kink you like, but since there may be minors following this account, please tag it appropriately. If posting mature content directly on Tumblr rather than AO3, also use its community labels function and/or hide the content under a “keep reading” link. And minors—do not engage with content that is not meant for you.

Is AI allowed?

Absolutely not. This account will not reblog or include in the AO3 collection anything that was made with AI involved to any degree. Even if you just use AI to make a banner to go along with your fic that you manually wrote, we will not reblog it. Review the full list of rules here.

How do I post my work so it gets included?

You must tag the @janeuary-month account in your Tumblr post for us to see it and reblog it from this account. Also, state which day/prompt you’re following and use the hashtag #janeuary and/or #janeuary 2025. Full posting instructions are coming soon.

Should I post my fic on AO3 or Tumblr?

Whatever you prefer. If you post it on AO3 and also make a Tumblr post to link to it, we will reblog the Tumblr post. If you only post to the AO3 collection, we will have nothing to reblog, but it will still be in the collection for others to find that way.

I don’t post my art on Tumblr; can I still participate?

You’re welcome to post your creation wherever you like, but without a Tumblr post, we have nothing to reblog to make it officially part of the event. But, if you post elsewhere (Instagram, Twitter, DeviantArt, etc.), you can also post a link to your own work on your own Tumblr, and then we can reblog your Tumblr post.

I don’t write in English; can I still participate?

Yes! All languages are welcome—just make sure to clearly mark the day/prompt so that we can still easily reblog.

I’m not going to get my work done on time; can I still participate?

Please do! We’re happy to accept late entries! We understand that life happens, so just tag us when you’ve posted it and we’ll reblog it, even weeks later. The AO3 collection (link coming soon) will remain open indefinitely.

Also, remember that the work doesn’t have to be completed before the end of the event, just the portion of it that’s connected to the prompt. For instance, you can start a fic on day 31 for the manners prompt by just posting that one completed chapter, and then after the month is over keep adding more chapters to it.

How can I connect with the other people participating in this event?

Building personal connections between those in our fandom community is the best part of events like this, so while there’s no Discord server specifically for this event, there is the very active and positive “Jane Austen” Discord server where we can connect. Even if that sort of thing is not for you, please do your part to foster community by reblogging and commenting on people’s work!

Did I miss any questions that you still have? If so, please reply to this post, send me an ask, or send me a DM.

[hoshinoyozora]

Tale of the Timeless Couple

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Female! Reader

💛 Word Count: 1,1k+

❤ Warnings: -

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission. Also, don’t ask for a sequel unless I like the story enough to write one. Please reblog so other people can see my stories!

Youths were known for their naivety, and just like many others, it was the cause of your downfall too.

Beguiled by the promise of happily ever after, as shown in those romantic movies and books, you’d mindlessly agreed to eternal life with your soon-to-be husband, Malleus Draconia. It was especially enforced by the bitter knowledge that Crowley had never intended for you to return, and that you’d have no means of funding yourself after graduation due to the lack of necessary documents. It was either you marry a rich man and become slightly more ‘recognized’ as the proper citizen of Twisted Wonderland, or doomed to work as a maid in someone else’s house. Malleus, of course, saw no error in your judgment, despite the seeming shallowness of it, and swiftly carried out your transformation.

Due to your relationship with him, you’d always been a part of his little family. But only now did you fully integrate into it, into their lifestyle. The Draconia Family. The Royal Family.

It was blissful in the first few years, as many marriages were, burdened only by the new responsibility of being a ruler to both humans and dark creatures. Malleus and Lilia helped you with the Royal affairs, while Silver and Sebek familiarized you with the Draconia knighthood system. Sometimes, Malleus’s grandmother would visit and chat with you, offering either piece of valuable advice or rumors that would aid you in some way. You weren’t really allowed to go anywhere anymore, and definitely not without tight security. But Malleus permitted you to attend your friends’ weddings, just as how he permitted them to attend yours; a visit that excited nearly the guests in there due to it being a Royal one, and thus, exclusive.

Their occasional letters were probably the highlight of your day, and you thanked Malleus for having the bigger heart not to get jealous and cut off the only connection to your past and humanity. Your heart warmed when you saw pictures of their babies, noting all the resemblances in their features, and mused about what kind of face your child would have.

It was serene.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Perhaps it began when you received Deuce’s letter containing a photo of him and Ace in an overdue reunion at a restaurant. Your eyes, sharper from the transformation, noticed all signs of aging on their faces. Instinctively, you touched yours and felt only the youthful smoothness of the skin. You rushed to the mirror, and your stomach sank once you realized the signs would never appear in you. For some, it might be a blessing. But for you, it only served to remind you of what you lost.

Your humanity, in all its glory. Ugliness and beauty. The smoothness and the wrinkles.

And then, several years went by, until Jack passed away peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by his big family. You mourned in your office whilst clutching the letter Ace sent to you, unable to attend the funeral without messing with everyone’s schedules.

Black was the color of the Draconia family, but that day, it took on a special meaning.

Ace followed, still a mischievous man to his old age with a more tamed pride. Deuce remained as a policeman until a particularly nasty magic incident occurred, leaving Epel as your only living friend. No longer fixated on the idea of a ‘manly man’, he confessed to you that he was actually lonely. His wife had long died, and his children had all grown up and moved out of the house. You wished you could’ve visited and comforted him, but once again, duty was your obstacle.

Until you belatedly found out that Epel had suffered a heart attack after helping with his family’s farm.

“What are you thinking about, my love?”

A pair of arms hugged your swollen stomach from behind, but you remained motionless as you gazed through the window. Malleus rested his chin on your shoulder and stared at your profile.

“Well?”

“Nothing much.”

“You know better than to lie to me, my love.” said he, twirling a lock of your hair with his left finger. “If you have a problem, you can talk to me and we shall find a solution together.”

Malleus wouldn’t understand that the problem you had was beyond repair, and you feared his response should you reveal the truth.

“All of my friends died, Malleus. Except Sebek, but he’s just a guard to me now.”

“Humans have always had short lifespans.”

You flinched, and you wondered why you reacted that way when you were basically near immortal now. Perhaps some human instincts hadn’t fully disappeared yet.

“I miss them.”

Malleus fell quiet, and your heartbeat slowly picked up with each second passed in silence.

“It is a normal reaction,” he drawled as though empathy was something unfamiliar to him. “and you’ll get over it in due time.”

You wetted your lips, preparing yourself to ask the question that had been haunting you.

“What would you do… if I were to go home?”

“You don’t think I’d allow you to do it, do you?”

You stiffened in his embrace.

“… What?”

“Crowley had always been very slow when it comes to finding your way home, but he hadn’t completely stopped until I ordered him otherwise.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Luckily, you learned that it was futile to place any hope on him, so I wouldn’t have to inform you anything.”

“Why…?”

“Why? Because we were meant to be together, of course. The moment you agreed to be my lover is the moment you agreed to be mine forever.” Malleus sighed blissfully, tightening his hold on you. “And it doesn’t really matter whether you accepted my proposal or not, although it does make everything a whole lot easier. I don’t wish to hurt you, after all.”

You were mistaken. You were horribly mistaken. There was no happily ever after in marrying him. Financially, yes, but mentally? Literally?

“What about my friends?”

“I told you, they’re humans. They have terribly shorter lifespans than ours. Therefore, I don’t need to worry about them so much. Not when they’ll die sooner or later.” Malleus hummed, swaying your body in an invisible yet haunting tune. “Although, of course, I still have to supervise all of your correspondence.”

It was understandable, and you should’ve expected it. Some letters might contain threats, however unlikely it was, and Malleus was merely ensuring the safety of everyone involved. But the knowledge that he read everything that you wrote to them – intimate things that you were more comfortable sharing with your friends than your husband – unnerved you.

Maybe it was why he spent more time with you when you complained to Deuce about him being busier nowadays.

“Now, don’t overthink about the past. You’ll upset our baby.”

He caressed the bulge in your stomach, where the long-awaited child resided.

A shame that you couldn’t share baby pictures with your friends, not even the news of your pregnancy.

[xxstarlight-lifexx]

Some quotes I have from people speaking out against KOSA, please reblog, tag people, cross-post on other platforms, and share with everyone you can, all quotes are fair use &lt;3

“This law is a scam, created with the express purpose of persecuting LGBTQ+ people and silencing victims of abuse. That is the only possible outcome of these kinds of bills.

Oppose them on principle. Be skeptical whenever they are even brought-up.

This isn’t about safety—it is a takeover of THE major avenue to disseminate information in the modern world. It is more than censorship, it defines the avenues that thought may even take.

It will lead to identity verification companies like Clear or ID.me getting more of people’s private data and guaranteed, exclusive government contracts for surveillance and data collection, in violation of the spirit of the 4th Amendment, if not the letter.

It is also an absolute certainty that conservatives in positions of authority will use this program to persecute LGBTQ+ people, with the force of the State, under the guise of protecting children from pornography and "grooming". It has been an explicit misdirection tactic the right has invented to poison debate on trans rights issues and the (unconnected) growing evidence of sexual impropriety among the powerful, particularly conservatives.

Furthermore, I and most others will not abide by this law, if it is passed, and will take whatever actions necessary to safeguard our personal information via VPN, encryption, onion networking, etc., regardless of their permissibility.”

“This is a violation of basic rights on the Internet. Whatever happened to Freedom of Speech? Or are we just gonna ignore a literal Amendment in favor of “protecting the American children" while many of those children are the ones against this??”

“having full privacy on the internet may have saved my life growing up. don’t take away kid’s privacy, there’s already perfectly reasonable ways for parents to monitor kids.”

“I think that people have a right to privacy online, especially children. This doesn't seem like a bill that would actually protect children from anything, it would just make important resources more difficult to access, increase censorship online, and increase surveillance, all of which I oppose.”

“There are three things you never give out on the internet for your safety. 1) Name, 2) Face, and 3) Home. This bill guarantees that all three will be easily available to those who wish to hurt the children this bill falsely claims to protect. If you actually care about children, stop this bill. Listen to what those of us that actually use the internet are telling you. Children and adults deserve a private, anonymous space to be.”

“i'm a queer teen and i know full well the importance online spaces have in supporting lgbtq+ youth, especially ones who don't have supportive environments in person. censorship doesn't actually erase the information, it just makes it harder to access.”

“I’m writing to urge you to reject the Kids Online Safety Act, a misguided bill that would put vulnerable young people at risk.

KOSA would fail to address the root issues related to kid’s safety online. Instead, it would endanger some of the most vulnerable people in our society while undermining human rights and children’s privacy. The bill would result in widespread internet censorship by pressuring platforms to use incredibly broad “content filters” and giving state Attorneys General the power to decide what content kids should and shouldn’t have access to online. This power could be abused in a number of ways and be politicized to censor information and resources.

KOSA would also likely lead to the greater surveillance of children online by requiring platforms to gather data to verify user identity.

There is a way to protect kids and all people online from egregious data abuse and harmful content targeting: passing a strong Federal data privacy law that prevents tech companies from collecting so much sensitive data about all of us in the first place, and gives individuals the ability to sue companies that misuse their data.

KOSA, although well-meaning, must not move forward. Please protect privacy and stop the spread of censorship online by opposing KOSA.”

“Censorship doesn't keep kids safe. Censorship does not save abused children. Censorship does not save queer children. Censorship will not save any of us. Freedom for us all. Freedom for the internet. This shit cannot stand.”

“This bill is a massive overreach on civil liberties and freedom of speech in particular. It should not be within the government's purview to determine what content is acceptable, no matter which party is in power.”

“As we all know, the major threats to American children today are books, bathrooms, and the Internet.

Not getting shot in their own schools or attacked on their own streets.

Since graduating from the public school system in 2007, I haven't seen anything from elected officials to contradict this.”

“KOSA is a censorship bill in sheep’s clothing. It would erode Americans’ rights to privacy, especially that of vulnerable and marginalized Americans, and gather information about the whereabouts and identities of the children it play-acts at “protecting”.”

“This is a ridiculous law

KOSA is a giant bill that is pretending to be about child safety, but is actually overreaching government censorship. It is a violation of free speech and the 1st amendment.

This bill would require that internet users upload their government ID to access any site, and state attorney generals could sue to remove any site that contains content deemed "harmful" to children. The government will be able to censor ANYTHING - such as abortion info, LGBTQ+ resources, and any content relating to protesting or organizing. They will also be able to ID you if you search for any of these topics. This is the opposite of a free internet!”

“The law is pretty much just a trojan horse for censorship.”

“frankly i dont want to be put on a list the gov has of every queer person who opposes their anti-lgbt laws”

“I care about actually helping people instead of making a bill that is going to kill any ability for anyone to get help. That is going to be used to police anyone who disagrees with the absolute mess everything is right now. The conservative morals don’t allow for anyone not white, cuz, straight, or male; and I won’t have that enforced on the fucking public forum.”

[kawaiiakamaru]

THE NOTEBOOK

noritoshi kamo x megumi's sister!reader

fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, sibling comfort, does mention motherhood/children?, etc. trigger warning: mention of death

word count: 1.6k ; not proofread

i do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted anywhere else! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated:)

the moon shone through the large bedroom window as noritoshi toyed with his blood-dipped arrows. its luminescence was much less prominent in tokyo than back in kyoto, but just for a few days, he didn't mind—especially if it meant he got to see you again. with missions and the 360+ kilometers between the two of you, it was safe to say you didn't see each other nearly as often as you both deemed necessary.

having been sat criss-crossed on the ground and hunched over for about an hour, his back began to cramp. groaning, he rose and rubbed his eyes before picking up his phone from his bed. scrolling through the kyoto groupchat, he rolled his eyes at the series of messages.

miwa: i'm nervous for tomorrow. i just don't want to be the reason we lose the event. i mean, they are the students of gojo satoru. 🤷‍♀️

kokichi: please do not let this worry keep you up tonight. mechamaru will protect you, miwa.

mai: 🤨

kokichi: by that i mean we are a team, so mechamaru will protect everyone. 👍🏻

mai: ANYWAYS, that white-haired oaf? no, girl. we'll be fine. 🤚🏼⚔️

todo: do not worry. the bigger they are, the bigger they are! 🥔

momo: todo, what does that even mean?

his eyebrows furrowed as he saw another notification pop up.

y/n: hii, love. do you want to spend the night? 🥰

much to his dismay, the brunette's heart began racing as he typed his reply: i will begin to gather my belongings, please be patient.

two hallways down, you smiled and chuckled softly. always so formal, you thought.

lighting a candle and fluffing your pillows before lying down on the bed, you attempted to patiently await your lover’s arrival. a few moments later, you heard a soft knock.

shooting up from the bed, you darted across your room before swinging the door open excitedly.

your wide smile immediately turned sheepish as you stepped to the side and allowed the individual into your bedroom.

sliding out of his slippers and making his way to the edge of your bed, he was the first to break the silence, "are you doing okay?"

the room went silent once again as your mind raced. sucking in a breath, you decided on an honest answer, "i'm not sure."

megumi nodded his head and began looking everywhere but you. honestly, part of him was hoping you'd just say yes, and you both could go on with your nights knowing neither of you were truly okay. however, the other part of him was relieved that you was feeling the same way.

"you know I'm not the best with words," he began, "but i think that whatever you're feeling—whatever we're feeling—is justified. gojo-sensei didn't really give us an opportunity to react." a mild grimace played on his lips as he thought back to the events earlier that afternoon.

you nodded slowly. "it's not every day that you see your newly-acquainted teammate rip his heart out in front of you and return in a box weeks later." you fidgeted with the chain around your neck.

"sorry, i'm rambling. i just." you paused, "can i say something awful?"

your brother hummed softly, waiting for you to continue.

"i'm grateful he's back, but part of me wishes he wasn't-- i'm just so worried. what happens when word gets out that he's still alive? or alive again? god only knows if sukuna is part of the reason why he's here, which could mean that yuji has even less control over his body."

megumi remained silent, taking in your words carefully.

"we watched him die, ‘gumi! i just can't handle losing him again, and i know you can't either." your voice became muffled as megumi rose and wrapped his arms around his sister.

you remained there for a few seconds before a knock interrupted your embrace and megumi gave you a questioning look.

walking over and grabbing the door knob, you pleaded, "just be civil, that's all i'm asking for." you took megumi's silence as promised adherence to your request.

swinging the door open for a second time that night, you sucked in a breath. you didn't know if it was his casual attire, his freed hair, or simply your eagerness to see your lover, but one thing was for certain: noritoshi kamo was breathtakingly beautiful.

stepping into the room, he opened his mouth to say something before locking eyes with the eldest of the two.

"fushiguro." he stated cooly. megumi could hardly take him seriously with the glittery hello kitty keychain clipped onto his duffel bag--presumably a gift you had given him in private.

placing a kiss on your forehead and grabbing the door behind him, the ravenette responded, "good night, y/n. kamo." holding eye contact for just a few more uncomfortable seconds, you rolled your eyes and forced the door shut.

"sorry about that." you began, "i wasn't expecting him to come over."

noritoshi, visibly more relaxed now that it was just the two of you, hummed. "please do not apologize, y/n. you know that you could never do any wrong in my eyes."

a tinge of pink painted your cheeks before you cupped the archer's soft face in your hands. thumbs stroking his pale cheeks, he nodded, giving you permission to lean in.

your lips connected and noritoshi, purely by instinct, grabbed your waist gently and pulled you in close, whispering softly, "you are everything to me."

looping your arms around his neck, you kissed him with more passion and lust than before. lips moving in sync, you carefully walked the two of you backwards until you felt the back of your knees hit the mattress.

noritoshi, without breaking contact, cupped the back of your head and pushed you back gently, gingerly placing your head on a pillow.

he hovered over you, legs straddled around your figure as you kissed each other hungrily; tongues dancing together with so much passion, desire, and love, it could have been mistaken as your last. deep down the both of you knew that a jujutsu sorcerer’s life was shorter than most, which further prompted you to cherish each other’s presence.

in desperate need of air, noritoshi broke the kiss and used the mattress to push himself off of you—admiring your swollen lips and staticky hair before laying his head on the pillow next to yours.

as the combination of your panting ceased, you picked up a few loose strands of his hair. wondering aloud you asked, "do you think in a world without curses or clans, we still would have found each other?"

noritoshi was silent as he pondered this idea. eventually, he settled on the words, “no, i do not think so.”

before you could protest and voice your disagreement, he continued. "i don't know what we would be doing if we didn't live in this world together, but i can imagine that a world without curses to exorcise and the pain felt from comrades dying at the hands of them and other sorcerers, without the loneliness and anxieties that come from leading a clan, life would be much closer to perfection. and i think the lack of perfection in this universe is part of what drew us together. raw human suffering is romantic because it connects us, in some grotesque way.”

your vision blurred as you attempted to blink back tears, whispering, “i never took you for a poet, kamo.”

the kamo heir snorted and lifted his thumb to your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

god, you loved when he was like this: when he spoke his mind freely without fear of damaging his clan’s reputation. when he was vulnerable about his feelings. when he snorted, for christ’s sake.

“you’re right, you know.” you whispered. “the fact that we found each other amidst the chaos of this life is beautiful.”

noritoshi gave you a small smile. “almost as beautiful as you.”

you rolled your eyes and bumped your shoulders teasingly. “do you say that to all of your girlfriends?”

noritoshi sighed, but played along anyway. “only to the ones i can envision as a mother to my heirs.”

your heart fluttered. “i will be anything you want me to be.”

noritoshi thought for a moment. checking an imaginary watch on his wrist, he tsked before shrugging. “for now, being yourself will suffice. ask me again in 10 years.”

you grinned before reaching an arm over to your nightstand to grab a book, checking the time simultaneously.

“it’s nearly 12, ‘toshi. i’m still not that tired yet, so could you read to me?”

noritoshi huffed in fake annoyance. “is my voice really that boring?”

seeing his adorable pout, you assured him that that was simply not the case; instead, because his voice was soothing and gentle.

opening the book to the page saved by the bookmark, noritoshi’s eyes danced over the words to remind himself where you both left off.

“Poets often describe love as an emotion that we can't control, one that overwhelms logic and common sense,” he began, stroking your scalp in a way that was sure to coax you to sleep in minutes, “That's what it was like for me. I didn't plan on falling in love with you, and I doubt if you planned on falling in love with me. But once we met, it was clear that neither of us could control what was happening to us. We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has happened only once, and that's why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I'll never forget a single moment of it."

author’s note: ahh! first fic done! i know it’s not the greatest, but i haven’t written anything in the realm of creative writing before—just academic essays! i am open to feedback on how i can improve so i can do right by you all. thank you so much for taking the time to read this through! likes, comments, and reblogs are all very appreciated.

dividers: @cafekitsune

[the-common-cowgirl]

The Lost Children

- Chapter 5

Summary: You get to an inn on the road and the lie must continue under the watch of two of Edward’s men. You and Osferth must share a room and dun…dun…duhhhhh…..there’s one bed. Words are shared and feelings - along with other things - arise.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, Innuendos, Cursing, Blasphemy, Religious guilt, Period typical slut shaming, mentions of sex work, sexual tension, spiteful pet names, slight dry humping? Reader not really being a menace anymore!

A/N: if you enjoy this, please let me know by commenting, liking, sending me a message or rebloging - it keeps me motivated! Lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

In the days following your near-intimate encounter with Osferth, he grew cold toward you and distanced himself from you except whenever necessary. Eadith now only tended to your wound and once you were able to walk again, Osferth had urged Uhtred to sell the wagon and buy a horse for you so the entire gang could move faster and freer without the burden of a large wagon trailing behind the riders. Without the burden of you in Osferth’s space, you thought.

Two days after Osferth made the request, you rode into a little village on the coast of East Anglia with a decent livery stable and Uhtred went in alone to trade the wagon in exchange for a steed.

Uhtred walked out of the stable with a young, brown mare that had an upside down fishhook on her face. She was sturdily built and looked like a far more capable horse than the wagon horse Osferth had kept for himself. You assumed bitterly that Uhtred would give the dashing brown mare with the hook on her face to Osferth and leave the little flaxen wagon horse for you but Uhtred neared you with a grin on his face and handed you the reins. “She’s yours.”

You looked into your father’s eyes - Uhtred’s eyes - trying to find his jest or maybe an ulterior motive but he looked genuine, if not apologetic. You took the reins in one hand while the other hand ran along the muscular neck of the young mare, appreciating the strength and fire she seemed to posses under her shiny, young coat, much unlike the horse he had given you before. You looked to Uhtred again and almost smiled, “Thank you, she’s perfect.”

Uhtred smiled. Triumphant and bold. You knew then, this horse was an apology of sorts from Uhtred. You’d accept the mare, not the apology. He’d have to try harder, do better.

You hoisted yourself into the saddle of the mare, pain shooting through your healing leg but as soon as you relaxed on her back, it settled into a small ache. The rest of the group mounted their horses too, waiting Uhtred’s direction.

“The livery owner said there is an inn only a short distance north of the village on this road.” Uhtred looked around to his men with a gleam in his eye, “We shall race?”

Finan whooped and turned his horse around. Before you knew it, he took off North, Sihtric following close behind. Uhtred kicked his horse into a gallop next and your new mare beneath you danced in anticipation of following the others.

Truly, you wished you had time to know her before you took off. If she was spooky, hard to control, or even a bit wild but the mare gave you no chance, she took off in pursuit of the other three horses racing without permission from you.

The first ten or so strides, you tried to pull her up, slow her down but she wasn’t having any of it. If anything, your struggling spurred her on more and she set a faster pace. Even though you were a good distance from the three that took off first, you caught up to them in little time, then you passed them without much effort.

Finally deciding the speed in which your mare could move was something to be treasured, not afraid of, you squeezed your heels into the mare and released the pressure from the reins. She raised her head slightly at the loss of tension and picked up an even faster pace. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes from the wind smacking your face and you laughed to yourself giddily. Soon, you both passed a row of trees to see the inn on the other side but your mare wasn’t slowing down now that she was leagues in front of the rest of the group. You sat deep and spoke to her lowly, trying to get her to slow down, which she eventually did, not before you were a good distance north of the inn.

Once she stopped, you patted her strong neck and thanked her for your ride. Her breathing was rushed and she broke a sweat but she seemed to have more fire within in her to sprint for miles longer. After some time of sitting there and letting both of you catch your breath, you heard one of the horses in the distance near the inn whinny and your mare snorted impatiently and turned south on her own, walking briskly back toward the inn. You laughed at her demeanor and you knew that this pairing was right. It’s like Uhtred asked the livery owner for a horse just like yourself.

That thought made you chuckle, perhaps he did.

When you got back to the inn, you saw the rest of the crew’s horses tied up outside and you quickly figured that they must already be inside. You hopped off your mare, pain struck in your healing leg. You were used to riding shorter horses and had forgotten about your leg entirely from the adrenaline of the ride with your new mare. You stumbled backwards from the pain only to find two hands that caught you from falling into the mud.

“I’ve got you,” Osferth’s voice rang into your hair as he set you upright on your balance again.

You felt that familiar feeling of anger boil up in your chest at Osferth coming in to rescue you after pretending you didn’t exist for so long. You turned to Osferth with an expression of confusion and disgust written across your face so clearly it made him take a step back, “What happened to you avoiding my existence? You know, since I am such a sinner. What about those lessons you were teaching me? You’d prefer to have me die then teach me how to defend myself?”

You were growing heated in your body from the fire and anger raging in your heart. This was the first time you had talked to Osferth since he practically called you a harlot, and you’d let him have all your rage. You voice was growing louder now and you figured in your mind that the best time for the truth was the present, you could regret it later if you needed to. “You know, there was a time when I lust after you? I thought our unique upbringings made us equals. However, I was wrong in both aspects, you’re nothing but a pious,” you took a step closer to him, “self-loathing,” another step, “little,” you were nearly nose to nose, “monk-“

He cut you off before you could add the “-ey” at the end of monk, just to add insult to injury but Osferth would never know since his hands now reside firmly, nearly painfully on the back of your head and over your mouth. He had a firm hold of your head and brought it closer to him, his lips, as he spoke these next words lowly and threateningly through his teeth and into your ear.

“Two of Edwards men are in the inn. They had begun questioning Uhtred and I on your whereabouts when you did not come in with us.” He removed the hand from your mouth, leaving the one on the back of your head, tangled in your long hair to keep you from moving away from him. “You remember that we are supposed to be lovers right?”

You looked into his blue eyes, blown wide with - adrenaline? And you scoffed. “That will be a hard task for us. To pretend to be lovers, to pretend to even like each other…”

Osferth rolled his eyes and detangled his hand from the back of your hair. His hand fell down your shoulder, arm, and found purchase in your hand. Weaving his fingers with your own, “come along. We’ll pretend you’re not feeling well and just wait tonight out in our room.”

“OUR room?” You echoed as he drug you toward the inn’s door. Before entering the door, he handed a coin to a boy near the door, “Please unsaddle, feed, and water her mare.” He pointed toward the big brown mare at the end who was shifting nervously. “And if you have room in any in the barn, please stall her. She looks like she will tear the hitching post down.”

“Like myself with the inn if you force me to sleep in the same bed with you.”

Osferth only rolled his eyes in annoyance at your retort. Pushing the door to the inn open, “Time to pretend.”

You had quickly made your way to the second story of the inn while Osferth made fake excuses for you to Uhtred (who was sitting with both of Edward’s men) and explained he’d retire with you to make certain you were well throughout the night. When Osferth found you waiting in the landing of the inn’s second story, he showed you your room. Your shared room.

It was smaller than the room in Winchester and there was one bed….of course there was one bed. “You’re sleeping on the ground,” you stated as the door shut and you walked further into the room.

Osferth grunted, “As my Lady wishes.”

Surprised he had not given up more of a fight for the comfort of the mattress, you turned around to where he was in the corner of the room - undressing. Seeing only his top, chiseled half as he left his trousers on. You feigned being struck in the eye with an arrow and turned as if in pain.

“Osferth! You could have let me know you were getting nude! I would have stepped out of the room!”

Osferth only rolled his eyes at your comment which you did not see due to your hands protectively covering your eyes. “If you would have stepped out for me to change, that would raise suspicion.”

He walked to the door behind you.

“I doubt Edward s men are up here now waiting with their ears to our door. Should we jump on the bed to feign lovemaking or can you just whimper and moan all night in your sleep to make the entire inn believe that we are humping?”

You turned to Osferth with a devilish smile on your lips, hoping that your crude words had embarrassed him but he only stood with his hand on the doorknob, half naked with his robe in his hands, staring at your darkly. You had to admit, this took you aback.

“Tis not the man that whimper and moans,” he corrected you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, unsure if you had heard him right. “What?”

Osferth leaned in close, “Women are the creatures of sound in the act.”

You felt you chest heat up and a strange feeling in your core. “I wouldn’t know,” you breathed out honestly.

He eyed you up and down, then hummed to himself as if deciding against his internal wishes, “God would want to keep you that way. Innocent until marriage.”

You narrowed your eyes, “God can go fuck himself.” You nearly spat as you walked away from Osferth with a strange sense of defeat. “Where are you going anyway?” You turned back to him with your arms crossed over his chest.

Osferth dropped his dark gaze and seemingly returned to his recent self. Cold and rude. “Since you won and exceeded the little race we had, you didn’t see me come dead last on the little wagon pony. Nor did you see the little beast throw me at the end of the road.”

You giggled at Osferth loosing and being covered in mud. You wished you could have seen him fall. “So you’re going to wash your clothes?”

He nodded, opening the door. “And take a warm bath to ease the aches of the fall.” He stepped out, “Don’t wait up for me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, my love,” you called as he gave you one last tired look and shut the door.

You were asleep in the bed when the door to your room opened and Osferth stepped through. He viewed your sleeping frame and was abruptly reminded that when you slept was the only time you looked peaceful, angelic even. He thought bitterly to himself as he blew out the candles of the room you had kept going for his return, that if you were as peaceful when you were awake as you were when you were asleep, maybe he’d marry you. Start a family with you. If only you loved God as he did. If only you were tame and gentle. If only you weren’t a heathen daughter who was content in sin, maybe there would be a future in which you and him could live as man and wife. Away from fighting and politics of the crown. Away from places where words like “bastard” or “lost” followed you two around. Maybe, in another life, there was a world where things were different. He could only dream though, he knew that. Heaven existed after death, not during life. Life was for suffering, if the monastery taught him anything, it was that. So he’d have to suffer and pine after things that could not be, like a life where he could love you.

You stirred as the second to last candle was blown out and Osferth turned to view your sleepy stare on him. “I can sleep on the ground,” you said with a tired gravel to your voice. “You’re hurt.”

Osferth felt heat embrace his cheeks and he almost smiled, “No, you can have the bed. It’s improper for me to let a lady sleep on the ground.”

Suddenly, you shocked him, offering a gentle kindness by moving the covers of the side of the somewhat spacious bed that wasn’t being used by you. “You can sleep with me then.” He stared at you with trepidation, wondering if this was a good idea, “I don’t bite,” you said turning onto the other side and your back facing him.

He wondered to himself if this was a good idea. The aches in his bones told him yes but his own morality told him no. Eventually, he decided to join you in the bed, moral loosing to physical ache and if not for an ache in his bones, an ache somewhere else.

The bed was soft, the covers were warm. The person lying next to Osferth in bed was quiet….until you weren’t.

“I was just reciprocating the feelings I felt in the moment.” Your voice was so small now, full of defense but no malice. It was strange for both of you to hear it that way.

Osferth lie with his back flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the night. “What?”

You took in a deep breath next to him, it made the bed move slightly. “I thought you wanted me too.”

Osferth now sighed, long and quietly through his nose. He did. He wanted you so badly that night. So much he cursed himself as he left the wagon you were in, lying defenseless and denied. “I’m sorry I gave you that impression,” he spoke with an underlying tone of bitterness.

You took in a shaky breath next to him. He wondered if you were on the verge of tears. “Gave you that impression,” you echoed, “sure.” You sounded defeated.

Osferth turned on his side and grabbed your shoulder, pulling you gently to rest on your back. You looked over at him through the plushness of your pillow and side of your eye. His fingers lingered on the shoulder of your shirt, gently rubbing the tips in a confined space he had drawn on your body, daring not to move further but also not having the restraint to pull his touch from you.

“I struggle still with the set of morals which I was raised on.” His voice was a whisper, daring not to raise in fear that God would hear. “I know I’m a sinner - in many ways. For that, I repent daily.” His fingers stopped, he was lost in thought, you could tell from the distance look in his eyes. A silent second passed before he focused again, “But I cannot, in good grace, bring others into a life of sin.”

You shook your head, “You didn’t just refused me Osferth, you made me feel like a common whore.” You stared into his eyes, seeing odd regret. “And if I ask to commit atrocities against God with you, it’s my choice, not yours. My choice on my own path of damnation.”

Osferth blinked away your blasphemy, choosing to pretend he had not heard it. “I cannot take your innocence. I won’t be a part of a sin of that nature.”

You scoffed, “But you can fuck desperate women who had to turn to a life of whoring to escape starving.” You rolled to your side, your back to Osferth again. You’d had enough of his stupid excuses.

You both lied in silence so long you thought he had went to sleep. “Not all of them.”

“What?” You turned around angrily, thinking he should have been to sleep. Propping yourself on an elbow, you looked down at him and he looked up to you.

“You made a broad assumption about brothel maids and you’re wrong.” His eyes were soft.

You narrowed yours. “Oh so you get to know them too? Tell me, do you have a favorite?” You mocked him with a fury.

Osferth chucked, “It’s hard not to get to know them when you’re-“

You held up a hand in disgust, “I don’t need to know what you do to them.”

Osferth raised on an elbow and mirrored you in challenge, his own eyes narrowing. “I thought you would want to know what I do with them since you’ve been begging me to bed you.”

His words shocked you beyond comprehension and when you regained your composure, you slapped him across the face.

Osferth reached up and rubbed his face, looking at you darkly.

“I wasn’t begging, I was simply reciprocating what I believed were shared feelings. It’s clear I was wrong, I’ll admit.”

Osferth grabbed your free hand and pulled you flush against him, now lying on his back. You were sprawled atop his body, lying your full weight on it. You felt a hard, strange length against your stomach. Once you escaped your state of shock of his bold actions you raised yourself up on your arms and looked to him below you with bewilderment.

“What has gotten in to you?” You exclaimed a little too loud.

Osferth breathed out a needy sigh and pushed you flush against him with a strong hand on your back. “I just want you to know, the feelings are reciprocated. I pray every morning and night, sometimes even when you were in the wagon behind me, for God to end my lust for you would come to an abrupt end.” He reached up and brushed your long hair behind your shoulders. You felt the hard length against your stomach again and realized finally what it was when Osferth bucked ever so slightly into your weight above him. “As He often does, God denied me.” Osferth leaned up to kiss you. Eyes closing, lips pursing and you pulled away, off of him.

He looked confused at your sudden denial. “No, you’re not allowed to decide you suddenly want my body because your piety failed you,” you practically spat. You stood from the bed, looking down to Osferth who was more confused than hurt. “If you want me, you’re going to have to earn me again. You’ve been nothing but a pious prick since that night in the wagon.”

You grabbed the feather pillow from your side and all the covers from the bed, making a place to sleep on the floor. “Enjoy the bed.”

Taglist: @godrakin @tssf-imagines @brianochka @victoriagaunt @fan-goddess @sarahkimtae

*Bold means I cannot tag you!*

Also, here is my horse that is written into this chapter! I couldn’t help myself honestly, I just had to.

Her name is Hooker!

[beauty-beast-week]

FAQs about participating in Beauty and the Beast Week 2024

Beauty and the Beast Week 2024 is starting soon! Here are answers to some questions I’ve gotten or that you may be wondering about before participating in the event:

Can I join?

Yes! This is an open event with no sign-ups. You don’t need to notify me or get my permission. Everyone is welcome.

Do I have to do something for every one of the prompts?

No! Just one is fine. You can do more if you wish, or multiple works for the same prompt, but none of this is necessary. The list of prompts is here.

Do I have to write about the specific plants in the prompts?

No! They are meant to be metaphorical and spark inspiration. Go with the vibe that the plant suggests to you. Some suggestions are shown on the prompt list, but you can interpret each plant however you wish. And if you do wish to depict one of the literal plants in your work, that’s fine too!

What should I do if my work doesn’t fit with any of the prompts?

That’s what day 7, the free day, is for! Anything goes, that day (provided you still follow the rules, of course!).

Do I have to create my art/fic/whatever on the day itself?

No! That would be super hard to do—I’m not that mean! Create it now, and just hold off on posting it until the day of the prompt you used.

Does my fic/art need to take place in the Disney BatB universe, or are AUs allowed?

As long as you have at least one Disney Beauty and the Beast character, you can stick them in whatever universe you wish. Make Belle a mermaid in a pirate AU, make Gaston an astronaut in a space AU, give Cogsworth and Lumiere a meet-cute at a coffee shop, or just keep everyone in the canon-compliant universe of the film. Anything goes!

Can I include non-BatB characters in my creations?

Sure! As long as you have at least one Disney Beauty and the Beast character, you can include whatever other characters you wish. Characters from other media, OCs, reader inserts, they’re all fine. And remember that there is no bashing of others’ characters or ships! Accounts that do so will get blocked. Review the full list of rules here.

Can I make [fill in the blank]?

Yep. Any type of fanwork you can dream up is welcome, not just fic and art. Crochet a Beast hat and post a pic of it, make a photo montage of yourself doing cosplay, make a music video, we love it all!

Is NSFW allowed?

Yes, with any sort of content and kink you like, but since there may be minors following this account, please tag it appropriately. If posting mature content directly on Tumblr rather than AO3, also use its community labels function and/or hide the content under a “keep reading” link. And minors—do not engage with content that is not meant for you.

Is AI allowed?

Absolutely not. This account will not reblog, include in master lists, or include in the AO3 collection anything that was made with AI involved to any degree. Even if you just use AI to make a banner to go along with your fic that you manually wrote, we will not reblog it. Review the full list of rules here.

How do I post my work so it gets included?

The most important thing to be sure to do is to tag the @beauty-beast-week account in your Tumblr post so we can see it and reblog it from this account. Also, please use the hashtag #batbweek and/or #batbweek 2024. Full posting instructions are here.

Should I post my fic on AO3 or Tumblr?

Whatever you prefer. If you post it on AO3 and also make a Tumblr post to link to it, we will reblog the Tumblr post. If you only post to the AO3 collection, we will have nothing to reblog, but we will still link to your work in the master lists.

I don’t post my art on Tumblr; can I still participate?

Yes, but you’ll need to send us a DM via Tumblr with a link to your work on Instagram, Twitter, DeviantArt, etc. We will then include it in the master lists.

I’m not going to get my work done on time; can I still participate?

Please do! We’re happy to accept late entries! We understand that life happens, so just tag us when you’ve posted it and we’ll reblog it, though it may not make it into the master list post at the end of the event.

How can I connect with the other people participating in this event?

Building personal connections between those in our fandom community is the main reason @firawren created this event, so while there’s no Discord server specifically for this event, there is the “Frozen Hearts Worth Melting” Discord server. It’s a super chill server for Beauty and the Beast and Frozen fanfic writers and artists; DM @loonysama if you want to join this server. Also, feel free to DM @firawren if you’d like to connect one on one; I’m always hungry for more BatB friends!

Did I miss any questions that you still have? If so, please reply to this post, send me an ask, or send me a DM.

[keepblr-writing-challenge]

RULES:

be respectful towards other's writing

anyone can participate, you do not need to inform me! simply write what you want, mention the prompt and tag me on that post / reblog the prompt with your writing. (If you choose to post it on ao3, just put the link on a tumblr post, and do the same.)

please give your works a title. this isn't necessary for wips, but ficlets and fics do require a title.

add trigger warnings where appropriate

there will be about 3 featured works each round. if you feel that my pick of works is biased, you may find somewhere else to participate.

ask to be added to my taglist here. you will be tagged for all three challenges.

feel free to use the ask box for your questions.

i will be tracking #keepblrweekly

I will post prompts thrice a week; Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays.

WIP WEDNESDAYS: post the last five sentences of any kotlc wip of yours. go crazy! just because you haven't finished writing the story does not mean it shouldn't be appreciated. provide context, or don't, it's your choice. these do not get featured works, as the whole point of them is that they are wips.

FICLET FRIDAYS: write a ficlet using a word i choose as a prompt. the word can be mentioned as many or as few times as you wish, as long as it's used once. The word limit (and it has one 😔) is 500. I will link some featured works (with permission from the author.) You may choose not to abide by the word limit, or post late, but your work will not be considered for featured works.

SHIP SUNDAY: i will give you two tropes as prompts. your job is to write a fic using one or both of those tropes in a fic, with any ship of your choice. minimum length for this is 1k, but there is no maximum. you can choose to make these as long as you want, but if the fully completed work is not uploaded somewhere i can access within 7 days of the prompt being posted, it can't qualify for featured. however, if you originally posted a oneshot and later decided to go back to it, and expand more, feel free to do so. it's still your work-- i have no rights over it.

I will always ask for your permission before featuring your work, if I fail to do so, do not hesitate to remind me. My timezone is GMT+8, so I will post depending on my schedule. I will always wait 24 hours after the prompt is posted before considering featured works. This is open for everyone; you need not sign up, or inform me whether or not you're participating.

If you have any questions or queries about this, feel free to ask.

Have fun and happy writing!!!

[untitledmemes]

The Prince of Egypt Prompts

Part III An assortment of prompts taken from the movie The Prince of Egypt (1998). Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ I've indulged you long enough. ”

“ It is only beginning. ”

“ There is one thing he cannot take from you: Your faith. ”

“ I wish God had chose another, serving as your foe on his behalf is the last thing that I wanted. ”

“ You who I called brother, how could have come to hate me so? ”

“ I hoped I would find you here. ”

“ We must bring this to en end. ”

“ Talk to me. We could always talk here. ”

“ No, it was you. I didn't do that. ”

“ You were always getting me into trouble. ”

“ You were always there to get me out of trouble again. ”

“ Why can't things be the way they were before? ”

“ I will not be dictated to. I will not be threatened. ”

“ I am the morning and the evening star. ”

“ You bring this upon yourself. ”

“ You and your people have my permission to go. ”

“ We were moving mountains long before we knew we could. ”

“ There can be miracles when you believe. ”

“ Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill. ”

“ Yeah, me too. ”

“ They're coming! ”

“ Look at your people. They are free. ”

[postplus-protest]

We’re about a day into my poll testing the theoretical waters of some kind of potential event and there’s a few things I want to address.

1) The number of votes for only one day are pretty neat. Got some pushback too which is always a good sign. Make sure you reblog to help spread the word. As I’ve mentioned in the other posts, I’m not yet committed either way but if I see those numbers cross the 1000 mark it would help justify the work going into any future event/protest.

2) If there is an event the three issues I would be pushing on are the lightbox viewer, an off toggle for Live, and a the padding/display issue. Lightbox is definitely first on my agenda. Seeing how many of our fellow disabled users have been blatantly ignored by staff with their accessibility concerns with the lightbox (to the point of leaving tumblr!) is downright disgusting. If there’s any other issues you want discussed, send me info in asks please!

3) Also, if you have any ideas for what can be done as events drop those in asks too.

4) It’s a bummer seeing the artist linked in the recent changes post wasn’t asked for permission beforehand. Remember to credit and ask permission when necessary folks. Respect your creators!

5) THIS IS AN IMPORTANT ONE. If we do wind up protesting, we don’t need to “roll over” at the first sign of doom posting . This happened right before I “retired” with so many users. If we do another event there WILL be posters (staff/ex-staff/bad actors) who come in claiming “inside information” that the site is ‘weeks if not days away from shutting its doors unless something major changes’. They will take advantage of the situation with guilt and/or fear at losing the site. In fact I wish I still had the screenshots of someone doing this and then when the site wide Armageddon didn’t happen admitted they were full of shit, but I digress. Staff are in a crappy situation, we’re in a crappy situation, but there must be middle ground; let’s find it.

Remember to vote!

[sketch-guardian]

I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE THEM TwT 💕💕💕💕

When I made the original ask I realized too late that I didn't explained why the witches were such a problem but then again, the question was getting long and I got nervous about it so I skipped it, but now that I'm actually drawing the kids and explaining their histories it was necessary at some point.I love explaining how their hybrids forms work and I'll get more details when I reach the youngest ones (you're free to guess who are them if you wish) and yes Aurelia is going to become the new "mom friend" once they get better because right now everyone is anxious

Zarala is one of the original ones I made, I wasn't going to mention any them because it would be too confusing but I couldn't resist with this friendship, actually the fankids for the RAD classmates and new exchange students came way later, I had the au for about three years but I just recently made them this year because I'm normally afraid of making fankids of someone's oc because it's like "is it rude?" "Do I even have permission?" "Will they even like it?", people don't usually like fankids at all so that's what is always stoping me, this time I decided to risk it because I really like your oc's and as I read more about them I started to see them as part of the cast so it felt weird for them to not be in the au and well, here we are now -I almost cried when I read you liked them-

I'll probably start posting the au after I finish drawing all the kids but I want to send them all to you first (only the ones from your oc's) because you're the creator of their parents and I want to hear what you think about them first :D

Also yes! I love the mental image of Aurelia and Lionel playing while Zury and Uriel are just standing there awkwardly, I had a similar one with Demya and Domnra bickering in the background and Azul silently laughing because their kids are playing together and Nikolai is clinging to Azure AND Kabir with a happy Mobim following them around (bonus when Kabir let's them sleep in his nest)

Don't worry☺I sometimes forget details that I would have liked to add to my headcanons and only think about them later as well🙈or I omit them out of fear of writing too much and consequently bore people😥

In your case and others who send me asks, I like reading details, so I don't mind😌it's gratifying to know my OCs interest some people actually😳even if not many🙈💜

Also I don't find the idea of ​​fankids offensive, as long as it is mentioned that I created the RAD classmates and the New exchange students, I don't see where the problem would be🤷🏻they are original ideas and I like to see other people's creativity✨stuff like asks and fanarts are welcome in my blog💖moreover I'm grateful that you feel like my OCs are part of the cast😭💕(don't cry because I like your AU, please😂🙈-).

I'll wait patiently for the rest of the fankids then☺I'm curious to see the other members of your Obey Me Prophecy AU too and I'll try to reblog as soon as you post them🎉(regarding the idea of ​​Zuri, Uriel, Demya, Domnra and Azul, I agree, it's very plausible🤣)

[crownhcart]

rules. ( i don't require a password, but please do throw an eye at them! )

i. mun & activity. hello! i go by ghost, 28 years old, any pronouns. i'm italian, and english is my second language, hence you might see mistakes or weird phrases in my turns! i can get pretty busy and lately i worked to take the habit of staying as little as possible at the computer, which means that sometimes i can't get to it for days or even weeks. because of this, this blog, as all my blogs are, is permanent low activity! it might take a while for me to reply, but eventually always will! this blog is a sideblog of ghostories!

ii. adult content and tagging system. due to the nature of most of the muses i take on here, mature themes might be present very often. because of this, this blog is 18+. everytime a trigger appears in my turns, i will tag it with the name of the trigger, followed by "//" - for example, blood //. if i forget or don't think about tagging something, never hesitate to tell me!

iii. shipping, suggestive and smut. i tend to ship only with people i know, and write suggestive rarely and with the ones i trust the most. do not force a ship on me, because it's the right way to not get me to write it to begin with. as for smut, it makes me extremely uncomfortable, so i will avoid it altogether.

iv. starting threads and prompts lists. anything works for me to start a thread - prompts from lists or original ones, or plotting, anything! i just really enjoy writing, and love receiving things that give me new excuses to write even more. send anything anytime you like! i do my best to send often prompts as well, but i might always be a little late for prompts lists or for particular events for the aforementioned low activity. if you want to reblog a prompt list i reblogged, please go to the source and don’t reblog directly from me, unless the source itself is broken.

v. dropping threads. if you don’t feel inspired anymore for a thread of ours, don’t be afraid to drop it! no need to tell me, and i promise i won’t get mad, it’s alright! due to my constant low activity, i know inspiration can simply disappear after a while. don’t be afraid to drop it and move on - we can always start something new!

vi. mun's drawings. i like to draw little things that might involve my muses as much as my writing partners’, and sometimes i like to post them. if the drawing is posted on the rp blog and i specify that only certain people can reblog, please do not reblog them unless you have permission. if i post them here instead than my art blog, it is because i’d rather keep them in a smaller circle.

vii. muses' thoughts. mun =/= muses! i often write muses i disagree with, and some of them do appear on this multimuse. what they do or think is not necessarily what i would do or think. don’t compare me to them.

viii. fixing and rewriting turns. if you can’t understand something i wrote, don’t be afraid to ask me for clarifications! as aforementioned, english is my second language: while i do my best, mistakes might not be that uncommon in my turns. furthermore, i might misunderstand your turn as well - if it happens, or if more in general i need to change anything in my turn for any reason ( be it also that i might have written you into a corner or you don’t know how to continue! ), don’t hesitate to tell me! i have no problems at all in fixing my turns, or even rewrite them entirely if necessary!

ix. turns length. i tend to write A LOT, especially when i’m very inspired by a thread. please remember, you don’t need to match my length in your reply! don’t feel pressured to write more than you wish, write as much as you want.

[shadowmaat]

Reblog etiquette

Certain neighborhoods of tumblr develop some really strange rules.

A couple of days ago I learned that there are people who think it's bad etiquette to reblog a post from someone who isn't a mutual.

Today I've seen a rage anon railing at someone for- *checks notes* ...adding onto a post without OP's permission.

I feel like these two belong in the same neighborhood and it's just so damn alien to my own experiences with tumblr. I'd be fascinated to know why these "rules" came about and why they think them necessary. I'm not aware of any other social media site where it's considered bad manners/wrong to share someone else's (credited) content or where you need permission from the OP in order to reply to something.

I do know it's possible on twitter to filter who can interact with a tweet, but that's made to be very obvious and it's encoded so that people who don't follow the OP can't reply. That isn't a feature tumblr has, AFAIK, but if it's something a lot of people want it might be worth mentioning to the WIP staffers. Anon harassing random tumblrites for not following a set of unexpressed personal requirements isn't really the best way to go about things.

One counterpoint I've seen to the "don't add on without permission" rule is that while it's generally acceptable to add on, there are some cases where it isn't. Such as when someone posts a gifset.

The gifmaking community of tumblr (and beyond) has their own set of rules as well, and apparently a lot of frustration with how their creations are used here on tumblr. I know almost nothing about gifmaking other than it's VASTLY labor-intensive, involves a lot of fiddly shit (color correction, lighting, smoothing, etc) and that tumblr's crediting algorithm sucks. Hells, I've had gifs credited to me when all I did was use tumblr's own gif finder. I can imagine how rage-inducing it can be to see your work credited to someone else. I can also understand the frustration of having your gifs, art, or other creative labor used in a way you don't like. But yelling at each and every individual who wrongs you is ineffectual and exhausting. You want change? Tackle The System, not the internet randos.

For now, however, there isn't a lot you can do to stop people from being, well, people. If you don't want people to interact with your posts, STATE THAT. In the post itself, not in your tags, since those will get lost. People aren't mind readers. People frequently aren't tag readers, either. Make your wishes known before you release a post into the wild. Not everyone will listen, but generally speaking, if you make a polite and reasonable request, folks will abide by that.