#soap thinking himself funny by telling your that your necklace is pretty :)

[shotmrmiller]

simon keeping his massive mitt curled around rookie!reader's nape when at work, whether you're eating lunch, sitting at a debrief or when simply heading toward the armory or something and if anyone asks, it's because he's gotta keep you on a short leash.

[sturniolo-rat]

Am I the Villain? I Don’t Think I’m the Villain.

Part Two: I Might Be The Villain. Coming soon

Sub!chris X hard dom!reader

A/N: Please forgive me this is mostly just foreplay but it's 1,000 words long so I needed the chop the original fic in half

Contains: little choking, mostly just reader being dominant

TW: It's just vibes tbh

In which Chris misbehaves at dinner and needs to be punished

“Baby, I need you to behave tonight,” I tell my boyfriend. It’s only an hour before my boyfriend, and I have to head out to dinner with his brothers. He’s been rowdy today, and I really need to make an excellent first impression. I can’t have him saying anything unhinged about me or our relationship tonight.

“Sure thing, Mamas.” He says as he slaps my ass.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Chris, I’m serious.”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good, I promise.” I give him a stern look, and he smiles sweetly back. I take his hand and lead him upstairs and to the master bath so we can shower together before we get ready.

I ask him to undress and sit on the counter as I turn the shower to his favorite temperature. Personally, I think it’s way too cold, but I’m hoping if I treat him really nicely and show him what will be waiting for him if he acts right, he’ll control himself at dinner. When I get the water at his perfect temperature, I turn to stand facing him. He stares at me with anticipation. He’s unsure what I plan, but he’s happy to participate. He’s a good boy, and he loves to do his part.

I slowly take my shirt and pants off. I’m only in my bra and pants when I say, “You can take the rest off, Baby.” His cock jumps at the thought. He starts with my bra. It hooks in the front, and I can see his eyes light up as my breasts become available to him.

“Can I touch them, Mommy?”

I hold his chin and tell him, “No, Baby. You haven’t finished your job yet.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“It’s okay, Baby. This is a present. You promised to be good, and since I believe you, you deserve a reward.” I push him to his knees so his face is level with my pussy.

“So, finish your job so we can get to the good part.” He kisses both of my hips softly before slowly pulling my panties down. He’s so sweet. I love it when he acts all nice and thankful. I lift my left foot, then my right foot, and step out of my panties. He looks up at me and waits patiently, holding my hips.

“Did you wanna be the boss for a little bit, Love.” He shakes his head enthusiastically.

His grip on my hips gets harder. “Yes, please.”

I hold his face in my hand, kneel to kiss him on the cheek, and trace my thumb on his bottom lip. “Only for a little while, Baby, so don’t get too excited.”

He bites my thumb, and we rise to our feet together. Standing at his full height, my face comes up to his chest. I have to look up at him. He looks down at me with darkened eyes and tells me to get in the shower. I do as I’m told, and he follows behind me. He positions me so I’m directly in front of him, facing the stream of water. The water is cold, and my nipples pebble instantly at the sensation. His boner pokes me, and I wiggle my ass on it in response. Chris grabs my hips hard and forces me to stop. “Stay still.”

I stand there quiet and obedient as he gets the bottle of soap and drizzles it over my breasts. Chris wets his hands, cups my tits from behind, and pulls my body flush to his chest. I can feel the cold metal of his necklace on my back. “You’re so fucking pretty, Mommy.” He whispers as he begins washing me, making sure to squeeze my boobs gently and stop periodically to tease my nipples. He pours more soap and lets his hands roam over my arms, torso, and hips until he’s satisfied they’ve all been washed. I never asked Chris to wash me. It’s funny how he still chooses to be useful to me even when I give him free rein over my body. He doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not servicing me.

I feel his body pull away from mine, and I groan. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed him close. It almost hurts now that he’s stepped away. I’m distracted from my despair by liquid soap dripping down my backside. Chris massages my ass with both hands. It’s not soft like how he was with my tits. It’s hard and desperate. He stops to give my ass a few taps. I look back and smile at him before shaking my ass again. He moves closer and lines himself up so he fits between my cheeks. He grabs my hips and digs his fingernails into my skin, and rocks me back and forth on his cock at a slow controlled pace. He’s using my ass to tease himself. He’s such a good boy.

His slow pace doesn’t last long. He lets go of my hip with one hand, wraps it around my throat, and keeps me in place with the other. When I look back at him, he kisses me roughly and starts rutting into me relentlessly. “Thank you, Mommy.”

I can feel his sharp, shaky breaths on my neck. Chris can’t help but be frustrated. He’s aching to fuck me, but he knows it’s the one thing I won’t allow. “Time’s up! You can cum when we get back.”

He yells, “Fuck!” And it’s not your typical upset fuck. It's a grown man’s favorite team just lost the championship fuck. It comes from deep in his gut and expresses his pain perfectly.

“Let’s finish washing up.

He grabs my hand. “Mommy, please!” His puppy dog eyes break me down a bit, and I tell him

“Fine. You can make yourself cum once I leave to get dressed.”

“Thank you so fucking much.” He kisses me on the cheek, but I can tell he’s unsatisfied. I feel a little bit bad for him, looking all mopey and sad as he watches me rinse off. I’m one step out of the shower when I see him reach for his cock.

“Not now, Baby. You get yourself nice and clean before you touch yourself.” He lets out a pathetic groan as he pumps the soap onto his hand. I genuinely am torturing this man. Am I the villain? I turn around to reach for my towel when Chris suddenly gives my ass a really hard playful pinch. He’s right back on his bullshit. I don’t think I’m the villain.

@rafecameronsbitch @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mrsmiagreer @lovergirl4387 @gdsvhtwa @ashley9282828 @j-worlds-blog @stephanienwf @achrisgirly @draculaura123 @abbypost @Cind2224 @crazychrisl0v3r @ryli3sworld @bkwrld @pinkishpearls @pepsienthusiasts @stunza @chrattstromboli @sturnssmuts @angelic-sturniolos111 @69isabella69 @maryx2xx @sturniolo04 @bigbeefybitch @klaus223492 @r93339 @sturnzsblog @spotconlon55 @robins-scoop @junovrsmp4 @sturnlover4eva @blahbel668 @lilahnowheretobefound @luxy-nyx @tuffsturns @m0r94n @sturnstvs @pepsicolapussy333 @maddyslifesstuff @dogblof @honeymoonxxz @xplr-sturns-e-m @hayhjelmstad15 @thetriplets3 @y0urm4m

@slxtformatt

[misterghostfrog]

[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]

Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.

Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)

(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)

Jon forgot his cane.

It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed. 

For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?

Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.

(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)

Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.

And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.

“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin. 

He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.

Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His  jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.

“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.

“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-

It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.

“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.

“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.

Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.

He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder. 

“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.

“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”

“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.

“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.

“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,

“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick. 

“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.

Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-

Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air. 

He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can’t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.

His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him. 

Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.

The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.

And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.

Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.

“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.

It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.

He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.

It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.

Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.

Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.

Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.

He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.

“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?” 

Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.

“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”

“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters

“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.

“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.

“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”

“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.

“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”

Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.

He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.

[ihatebnha]

denki + mafia!au

Thinking about mafia!au Denki as your hot, older boyfriend, who first chats you up at a cafe as he’s picking up coffee for his coworkers…

He’s so tall, handsome, sleek, in his unbuttoned shirt and dress slacks, as he very genuinely compliments you on your baggy pajama pants and slides before offering to pay for your coffee.

He’s so funny when you meet him, charming, humble, laughing with you as he flirts, blushing when he gets your number and promises to take you out for a nice dinner somewhere private…

That it’s such a change when, after a couple weeks of dating, after he makes good on his promise to take you out (to which you end up fucking like rabbits), when he introduces you to his line of work, you’re a bit taken about.

He tells you that really, he’d understand if it were a dealbreaker, he can’t drag you into something you’re not prepared for, especially since he’s never been one for secrets, but when you assure him that it’s okay, you’re alright and you most definitely want to see him through, he can’t help but want to marry you right then and there.

He’s a little insecure at first, especially before everyone gets to know you... All of his friends are already married, and as the only bachelor left in the group, he’s so desperate to find a wife that he can impress with, that he’s all puffy cheeks and kisses when he apologizes for being so excited to show you off, a pretty, young thing in comparison to him…

Despite this, you’re the talk of all the parties he takes you to, the fancy ones, celebrating the wins of new territory or successful alliances made with a man called Deku and his cronies… and it’s at these parties where you meet everyone else’s wives, who already love you more than anything, welcoming you with sweet kisses and praise, admiring you for your golden heart and ability to love Denki.

Who just nods and agrees, accepting the teasing punches on his arms from Sero and Kirishima, who congratulate him on finally finding someone worth it. Even Bakugo, who’s busy breaking bread with other allies, nods in your direction.

Because it’s true, you’re so, so worth it to Denki, who in turn, of course, would do anything for you! Anything!!

Whether it’s buy you things, eat you out on his leather office couch for hours, even kill for you, he’d give you the world if he could, and damn, if he doesn’t have the money and ability to do it, the gang your new home.

He moves you into his provided suite, setting you up at the sink next to his in the bathroom, jumping into the shower with you every chance he gets, just so that you both can be prepared to meet either the day or night together… Which just means Denki dragging you around the mafia base and enjoying the way you look standing by his side when he’s talking to Mina about new infiltration plans or showing off and making you laugh by testing out the weapon shipments they just got in.

He even starts decorating you with gifts, buying you an entire new wardrobe consisting of cocktail dresses and high-heeled shoes, even necklaces with his name on them in gold, and bracelets with charms of little lightning bolts and stars that he picks out himself.

And when neither of you are busy, he lets you go shopping with him, both of you always the best dressed at the shops in matching black, as he follows you around with your countless bags on his arm, of clothes and soap and shoes and jewelry that he practically begs to buy you, and when the both you stop to admire the new smartphone in the window of the tech store… he just cant help himself from getting you one of those, too.

Which you start playing with during all the meetings he takes you to later, sitting on his lap as he discusses important mob things with his coworkers, sometimes unconsciously stopping his chatter to press kisses into the crown of your head, which you snuggle into, almost unbelieving of the fact that the man discussing money and guns and drugs is the same goofy boy who buys you all these nice things and still manages to fuck you to sleep.

Not to anyone’s surprise, it’s really not long before Denki presents you with the biggest ring he can find, engraved with his initials, and promises to marry you as soon as he picks out a tux and you pick out a dress.

[ccsthemovie2]

trick or treat 2021 letter

DEAR MY KIND AND HARDWORKING GIFTER,

hi there my ao3 is zagspect and thanks in advance for making me a piece of fic or art in this fun little exchange! heres some food for thought to munch on.

i loooove slice of life, character moments, outsider povs that make things we’re used to in canon seem absurd or funny or weird or scary, humor, horror-in-fluff’s-clothing, sweetness-found-in-horror, and also just plain sweetness. feel free to get weird or experimental with your writing if you think the moment calls for it :3 im not really requesting anything sexy-nsfw in this exchange so pls keep things down to a nice pg13 (high-rated gore for higurashi work is an exception, lol, like, it’s when they cry. that’s just part of the deal.)

🌸✨

cardcaptor sakura (trick or treat!)

clear card manga spoilers are fine with me! manga and anime canon are both fine, and mashing them up is cool too. no aus past that though, please!

clow reed

the big man himself! scare me with his his manipulative tendencies, his eternal pushpull fear of both being eternally relied on and being no longer needed, the way he treats other people, especially people who love him. (yue! the madoushi! i am into both of these being unrequited romantically on his end, but he’s not gonna just gonna tell them that, you think he’s straightforward like that?) what’s daily life like in the clowse? creating a new card, what’s that like? does everybody get along with the normal, non magic neighbors? 

yelan li

what’s up with her??? what’s her relationship with her children like, what are the responsibilities of a magician family’s head, how weird is it that clow is kind of back all of a sudden, what’s her thoughts on sakura? fleshing out a minor character is always fun :]

eriol & li

okay, so, we get to the end of the original series. syaoran returns to hong kong. ????????. syaoran is in cahoots with eriol to (vaguely alluding to cc spoilers in case you haven’t caught up in the manga), do some pretty serious magic behind sakura’s back.

so, like... what went down in the ?????

kero & sakura & yue 

they’re FAMBILYYYYY. magic found family i love them so much. show me the depths of their care for her, and hers for them, the way there’s absolutely some ice to break with yue but when he gets loyal he will DIE for you, the way sakura can mend the rift between kero and yue, the way the two of them are balancing this wonderful openness and equality with oh yeah, she’s eleven, we kind of said some seriously dark stuff in the haze of sleepover talk didn’t we? 

ruby & spinel & eriol 

pre-canon or mid-canon or post-canon! what’s the dynamic between them, a quiet night in, a day out telling people that you’re connected by whatever lie you find funniest. going to tomoeda and having to pretend youre a kid, a teen, and a cat, but goddd you could all go for an elegant and adult glass of wine right now (especially the cat). what horrors are lurking in that house from the clow era that no one cares to address? like emotionally and also because it’s a magic wizard house with magic stuff in it. 

touya/yukito/yue 

i am here for any and all angles of this ship- all together, your touyukis, your yuetouyas, your yuekitos if you wanna get in on a rarely seen angle! (but pls have touya and/or yukito be 18+ at a time where yue shows interest in them). i wanna see the way they interact! how they deal with, you know, the everything! pre-relationship pining, going on a date, touya and yukito in college wondering if they’ll end up having different majors, different paths for the first time. yukito seeing yue on video for the first time (OH NO HES HOT), yukito and yue figuring out internal boundaries, etc etc etc.  

naoko and touya 

the girl who loves ghosts and the guy who sees (or, used to see), ghosts! does she follow him to one of his haunts (pun intended)? does he have to go to her for ghost sensing advice now that he’s a regular old human? does he have to save her from a ghost that means her harm? how excited is she to tell sakura about the COOL GHOST I MET WITH YOUR BROTHER OMG U DIDNT TELL ME HE LIKES GHOSTS??? and how much does sakura wanna sink into the ground lololol

🌹⚔️

revolutionary girl utena (trick or treat!)

ohh, what a place of scary happenings! tell me a fairytale, even if it’s not such a good idea. pre, mid, postcanon, im fine with it all. feel free to weave a web with easter egg references to any other media you feel is right for the moment- utena is all about Genre and Stories!

shadow girls 

i love them i love their whole everything. i wanna see a play, i wanna see them interact with other characters! what if they do a play AS the other characters, ooooh.

anthy/utena 

THE GIRLS WHO INVENTED LOVE THEMSELVES. ive read a thousand stories of them finding each other and it never gets old. id love to read about their life post-ohtori, especially the not-so-happily-ever-after parts- the old wounds reopening, the fights, and how they work through it, wont lose each other ever again. 

saionji/touga

what’s spookier than toxic masculinity? both of them miserably stuck, saionji obsessed with touga, touga believing anyone who believes in friendship is a fool. bro we are taking shirtless pictures among 500 potted cacti....why does my heart hurt..... oh shit its the cactus i rolled onto it ow ow

nanami

nanami being nanami! she’s got no clue how to act ever, she’s desperate, she’s trying SO HARD. i’d love to see a nanami finally getting out of there, too. leaving home with nothing but the clothes on her back, diamonds in her necklace, and a wheeled suitcase of raw eggs.... (crunch crunch crunch)

🎲🗓

higurashi when they cry (trick or treat!)

i’m a gou/sotsu enjoyer and gonna prompt about that a lot but original flavor is, of course, great too. pls dont go too heavy on info outside the main 8+saikoroshi+gou/sotsu? i haven’t read those. ive read umineko+ciconia though so references there are fine :3

rena/mion/keiichi

college days! getting together, crushing on each other, poly relationship figuringouts? dates that are just club meetings with kissing and all the ridiculousness of that.

satoko/rika

gou/sotsu era TOXIC LESBIAN EPIC MOMENTS!!!!!! obsession and desperation and satoko putting all her emotional eggs in rika’s basket no matter how angry she is with her, rika’s love for satoko across 100 years and how that all crumbles (to satoko) in the face of rika’s Cool School. rika wanting satoko to go to school with her so so so bad. deep pain and misunderstandings and acting badly (like, murder badly), and then, we hope, atonement and something new beginning? i love character moments where someones so obsessively in love it feels like its eating them up inside.

rena & satoko

look, rena’s smart and really pays attention to how people feel and i think, before or after satoko becomes a looper but especially after, she would make an attempt to have a heart to heart with satoko. and satoko, as a looper, will politely brush her off, will go you dont know me you can’t affect me. youre just a chess piece. when i get to the miracle world where rika loves me, ill listen to you. this you is here to die, or to kill. 

eua

oh eua is just using satoko up like a bar of soap and it takes satoko way, way too long to realize. evil girltalk/crush advice from the witchmom perhaps?

shion

meakashi made me LOVE her. internal shion moments, perhaps? shion being an empath (decides what ppl are thinking and instantly believes it)? shion in gou-era wanting to talk to satoko about st. lucia’s, but she never shows up to dinner?

okay i think that’s all for now!!! thanks and i hope you have fun!!!

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs 39: The Toys

Cover art by TEA nominee @paradigmparadoxical​

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

Belle plays with herself

Read on AO3

A/N: Don’t forget to vote for Golden Cuffs in the Rumbelle TEAs!

Leaning back on Jefferson’s lounging naked body, Belle watched as Leona opened up her bag. She pulled out a fat bundle of plum-colored velvet, bound together with leather straps and buckles. After unfastening the buckles, she rolled out the bundle like a sleeping sack.

Half a dozen objects were laid out on the velvet, each loosely wrapped in a clean linen handkerchief. Grinning slyly at Belle, Leona began to remove the items from the handkerchiefs, one by one.

Rumpelstiltskin had gone back to the bench to watch the proceedings. He was alone now, Belle saw with a pang of pity. Leona and Jefferson had both stayed by her on the cushioned ground of their pleasure-nest. Rumple was composed, his body covered by a dressing gown, while the three of them lazed, naked, in various stages of recovery after thoroughly fucking each other.

“Now, of course, this is only a sample of our toys from home.” Leona brought Belle’s attention back to the toys in front of them. “But this selection should do nicely for an experimenting beginner.”

Belle licked her lips and looked at the things laid out on the velvet. They all were made of metal or colored glass, and seemed to be sorted by size. Half of them were much shorter than the others--the smallest object was about the size of Belle’s thumb. The short toys were all wider than the longer ones, pointed at one end and rounded at the other. They seemed to have handles with rings or raised buttons on the ends. Belle could only think that they looked like fruit with the stem still attached. How were they toys? 

It was easier to understand the purpose of the longer objects. One of them was even shaped to look like a man’s cock--complete with veins and a bulbous head. The longest one was dotted with a pattern of raised bumps in the glass. Was that supposed to induce pleasure or pain? 

The third toy had no markings. It was a smooth silver rod, tapered to a blunt point on one end. Belle’s guts twisted as she recognized the familiar shape. 

“Regina had something like this,” she said. She pointed to the silver cock but didn’t touch it. Odd how matter-of-fact she could feel right now, as she prepared to tell them what had happened to her. It would hurt her more to keep it a secret than it would hurt to be open with them. “Hers was much longer, though. She had to use magic to keep me from feeling pain when she--” Belle swallowed and clenched her fists, fighting herself for the ability to say the terrible words out loud, “--when she raped me.”

At those words, Leona visibly started, her eyes widening and her mouth tightening into a sharp line. Behind Belle, Jefferson pressed his body against her back, covering her with his arms, holding her close. Rumpelstiltskin looked away from them.

“We can stop,” Leona said, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Gods know we’ve all had enough excitement for one evening.”

But Belle shook her head. “I’m all right,” she told them. She put her hand over one of Jefferson’s to get his attention and she spoke to both of them when she said, “I know you’ll keep me safe.”

Leona’s head swiveled to glare at Rumple. His head was bowed, and he looked at the floor, not seeing her. “Are you not safe without us here, Belle?”

With her other hand, Belle touched Leona’s thigh. She looked the other woman in the eye. “I’m not afraid of him,” she said. “He asked you here for a reason, to help me feel more like myself. I think your toys can help with that.”

Leona’s face softened, just a little, as she looked at Belle. The clench of her jaw still held a maternal ferocity, the sort of unexpected power that would move boulders or fight lions to save a child in need. 

“One word,” she said with a voice like steel. “You say one word to me or Jefferson and we will make you safe. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Belle said softly. Emotions flooded her heart--relief and happiness and affection. She threw her arms around Leona’s neck and kissed her. 

Jefferson joined the embrace, holding Belle between himself and his wife. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said. “We’re on your side, we’re here to help you.”

“I know,” Belle whispered, basking in the love they gave so willingly.

Even in the midst of this affection, Belle looked over at Rumple. His face was not closed off now. She could see him hanging his head. His mouth was pulled into a frown, his eyes full of resigned dejection. 

Her heart went out to him. Rumple had done terrible things to her, but she still loved him. He still was a man who needed goodness and love in his life, whether he deserved it or not. Catching his eye, she mouthed the words, Join us.

His lips quirked into a sad smile and he shook his head. He stayed where he was, apart from the love he encouraged in others but could have no place in himself.

Jefferson and Leona pulled back. They were still on either side of Belle, still encircling her with their warmth and affection. Leona’s smile was back, and she gave Belle a kiss on the forehead. 

“So you want to try playing with our toys?”

Belle nodded cheerily and turned her attention to the plum-colored velvet. “I understand the cocks, or at least I think I do. But what about these little ones? What do you do with them?”

“Well, the cocks are called dildos, first of all. And the stubby ones there are plugs. They go--well, they go up the arse.”

“Like me,” Jefferson grinned.

Leona giggled and blushed. “It’s funny explaining these things to someone who isn’t in the know. It’s the sort of thing that only makes sense once you’ve already done it.”

Belle tried to wrap her head around the purpose of these toys. “Can I touch them?”

“Course!” Leona said. “And don’t worry, they’re thoroughly washed after every use.”

“Boiled for safety and cleaned with soap,” Jefferson added on.

Belle picked up the smallest plug and held it in her hand. It fit neatly in the crease of her palm. If she made a fist, no one would know she was holding it. The thing was made of clear glass, with blue and green lines swirling inside. It was so pretty. There was a ring on the larger end, a circle of glass big enough to fit a finger through. If she hadn’t known its true purpose, Belle might have thought the plug was a pendant for a necklace. 

She squeezed the thing in her fist and tried to imagine having it inside her. It was so small, smaller than any of the fingers that ever had been in that position. The other plugs were larger and rounder, the largest one was almost a sphere. How did all this work? 

“If this thing was inside me,” she asked Leona, “would I even feel it?”

Jefferson answered. “You would, yeah, even if it wasn’t noticeable all the time. It’s subtle. The feeling has a way of creeping up on a body.”

Belle blinked. Still holding the plug, she turned and looked Jefferson in the eye. “You use these? On yourself? On your own body?” Did Jefferson enjoy being penetrated and filled up the way she did? Could men enjoy such a thing?

He chuckled a little and gave her one of his boyish smiles. “I do, actually. Especially when I’m away from home. Sometimes Leo and I wear matching plugs, and we both get worked up. But sometimes--”

“Sometimes I like to remind him of what he’s coming home to.” Leona reached around Belle, grabbed Jefferson by the iron ring in his leather collar, and pulled him up for a kiss.

As happened so often when she saw them love each other, Belle’s heart sank. How long had it been since Rumple had kissed her like that? Since he had really meant it?

She looked down at the plug in her hand. Perhaps it would help her if she wore one, especially if Rumple asked her to. Would it make her feel less lonely, to have a piece of his will in her body while he was away? Would it make her nights alone in the library more bearable? She left the castle rarely, but still she needed a reminder of what she was coming home to. 

If Rumpelstiltskin was truly her home anymore. If he ever had been.         

“You don’t have to bother with it if it doesn’t spark your interest,” Leona said when she broke away from her husband. “We just wanted to show you some possibilities.”

Belle’s hand clenched around the little plug. “May I try it?” she asked Leona, and then looked over at Rumple. “Would it please you if I did?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s mask was firmly in place. He smiled benignly and leaned back on the bench, his arms stretched out along the edge. His eyes did not meet Belle’s. “Tonight is about your pleasure, my sweet. Nothing is more important than your comfort.”

Leona’s eyes flicked to the ceiling for a moment, but all she said was, “Where’s that lubricant?”

Without getting up, Jefferson reached for the brown jar and handed it to his wife. “It never hurts to use more lubricant,” he told Belle. “Especially in the ass.” 

“Mind if I do the honors?” Leona reached out her hand. 

Belle gave her the little plug and watched as she coated it with a generous dollop of the clear lubricant.

“Lean over Jefferson now, luv. This shouldn’t hurt, but it might be cold. You want me to stop, just say so.”

“I will,” Belle said softly as she got into place. She got on her hands and knees over Jefferson’s body, presenting herself to Leona.

Jefferson rested a hand on her back. “Just breathe,” he said gently. “You’re gonna be great.”

The lubricant was cold, but Belle found herself grateful for it. If it hadn’t been, she might not have known the plug was there. She was mildly surprised when Leona patted her on the behind and told her how good she was. 

“Is that it?” Belle asked as she raised herself up. Still on her knees, she shook her hips back and forth, trying to feel for the plug.

Leona laughed out loud. “A reasonable question after you’ve had my husband’s cock!”

Jefferson snorted and reached up to place a hand on Belle’s hip. “We probably could have gone with one of the bigger ones. You are pretty experienced. But like I said, sometimes a subtle feeling is nice. Just relax, let yourself get used to it.”

Gradually, Belle did find herself becoming aware of the weight below her belly. It pulled her down physically, made her aware of her body, of the thing in her ass.

“It’s not going to fall out, is it?”

Jefferson shook his head. “You’re going to hold around the end, it’s just what the body does. That’s why there’s the length that’s much narrower than the rest of it.”

“And the loop is a handle, so we can pop it right out if you don’t like it anymore.”

Slowly, Belle nodded. The longer she wore the plug, the more it seemed to affect her. Her mind was going to the same hazy, lovely place that it went when she and Rumple played games. She shivered at the thought of games, at the thought of him hitting her while she was wearing something like this. How would it feel to have the impact of his hand against the surface of her ass and the interior at the same time?

“Where are you, Belle?” She felt Jefferson’s hands running up her arms before she could piece together his words. “You wanna come back to us?”

She had to blink several times before she could focus enough to use words. “Sorry,” she whispered, strangely lightheaded. 

Jefferson held her face, ran his thumb over her cheek. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” he said. “The plug feels good, doesn’t it?”

She nodded, smiling like an idiot. “You wear these when you go on your travels?” she asked him. “You do business in this state?”

“I don’t think I’m ever in as much of a state as you are,” he grinned. “But yeah, it gets a little distracting. Leo always likes to know that I’m going to be very happy to see her.” 

Belle was happy already. There were moments when she forgot about the plug in her body, but she always felt it in her mind. She was so aware of what she was doing, of what state she was in, that so many other things were stripped away, became unimportant. Oh, how she loved this heady, drunken safety. She hadn’t known that she could feel this way without being in pain. She hadn’t known that she could feel this way without Rumple.

She gazed up at Leona, only vaguely aware that she was touching the woman’s neck, caressing the collar that was exactly the same as Jefferson’s.

“Do you wear these all the time?” she asked. It was a small effort to keep her words from slurring. “In front of everybody?”

Leona nodded and stroked Belle’s hair. Jefferson was behind her and he was stroking her too. They were so kind to her, so lovely. 

“We wear these collars because we belong to each other,” Leona explained. She spoke slowly, as though she knew Belle was liable to get confused. 

“We don’t fit into roles as easy as some,” Jefferson said. “So both of us are the master and both of us are the slave.”

Together, Jefferson and Leona said the same words: “I am yours as you are mine.”

Belle closed her eyes against her tears. “That’s beautiful,” she whimpered. She made herself small, rolling up into a ball on Leona’s bosom. “You’re so beautiful!”

Jefferson picked her up and held her for a moment.  Then he wiped her tears away with his thumb. “Okay, gorgeous, you need to take a deep breath now.” Belle nodded and he coached her through the process. “Come on, breathe in--and breathe out. Atta girl.”  

The leaking tears had brought some relief. Now that her heart was not so full, and her head was a fraction clearer, Belle could listen to her body again. The pressure in her rear entrance made it all the more clear how empty the rest of her was. It felt like ages since anything had been between her legs. Belle found herself itching for that satisfaction.

She wanted a cock, preferably Rumple’s. Of course, it might be nice to have Jefferson in her cunt for a change. Or Leona’s fingers pushing deeply into her core. Or even her own, if no one else would oblige her. The more she thought of it, the more the desire built in her. She thought she might go mad from it, until she remembered the whole point of this part of the evening.

“Leo?” Her voice was whining, needful.

Leona’s smile was slow and playful. “Yes, luv? Do you need something?”

As she pointed at the toys, Belle realized just how much her hips were rocking, how much her body trembled in desire. No wonder Leona knew just by looking at her.

“You wanna use words for us, darlin’?” Jefferson asked. 

“M--” Belle licked her lips and started again. “May I please have one of your toys?”

Leona’s hand wandered over to the row of cocks. “Do you remember what they’re called, little one?”

“D-dildos.” Sitting on her knees, Belle rubbed her hands against her thighs, scraping her nails against her skin. The pain inflamed her desire and assuaged it at the same time.  

“That’s a good girl,” Leona praised. “Do you know which one you want? Or should I pick for you?” 

“The silver one,” Belle said quickly. “The one that scared me.”

Hesitating, Leona looked to her husband. Jefferson sat up so he could hold Belle’s body against his own.

“You want the one that reminds you of Regina?” he asked.

Belle nodded. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“I mean, sometimes that works, but it’s not a sure--”

“Let her have it.” Rumpelstiltskin broke in, his voice clear and commanding. He stood up and strode over to them. “Trust Belle’s intuition.” 

Leona set her jaw. “I don’t think--”

Rumple cut her off, not with words, but with his actions. He snatched the silver dildo off the plum-colored cloth and crouched in front of Belle. He leaned in close and held it up for her to see.

“This is just a thing,” he said gently. “An object that exists to give you pleasure.”

Belle smiled up at him from out of her daze. If she weren’t so off-balance, she would have reached for him. “Like I am for you.”

“No.” Rumple set the dildo on the ground between her legs and threaded his hands through her hair. “No, you are so much more than a toy to me.” He pressed his forehead against hers and in that moment she knew he was telling her the truth.

Leaning forward, Belle moved to wrap her arms around his neck. She wanted to pull him toward her, to kiss him, to open her body to him and only him. They could forget the toys, forget Leona and Jefferson, forget everything in the world that wasn’t the two of them loving each other. That was all Belle wanted, all she would ever want. 

But Rumple took her by the shoulders and stopped her. He held her at an arm’s length. “I want you to pleasure yourself,” he said. “Use that thing and once you come, then it will be time for the next part.”

Leona crossed her arms over her breasts. “You keep a tight schedule, Mister Dark One. Your heart must be made of clockwork.”

Rumple gave her a tight smile. “My heart, Mrs. Ogg, is the least interesting organ in this room.”

Before Leona could say anything else, Belle picked the silver dildo up off the soft floor. The metal was a dull gray--clean but not polished. There was no handle to this thing, Belle had to grip it along the smooth shaft. Her fingers wrapped around it easily at the thickest part. At the tip, it narrowed to form a rounded point. The dildo wasn’t that big, and she would be controlling it. She would determine how deeply it went into her. She could use it to fill the aching emptiness between her legs. 

This was nothing like Regina and her glowing, purple cock. That monstrous thing had been the length of Belle’s arm, as wide around as her closed fist. Regina had only wanted to fuck her with it to hurt her and humiliate her. Tonight was nothing like that. Everyone here cared for her, and they wanted nothing but good for her.   

She looked around at them. “Are you all just going to watch while I fuck myself?”

After a moment of silent consensus, Jefferson nodded. “I think you’re responsible for whetting our appetites.”

Rumple sat down behind Jefferson, still robed, but finally at the same level as the rest of them. “Nothing is more important than your pleasure, my Belle.”

Leona gave a slight nod, like she was agreeing to a truce. “But you can use one of the other ones if you want to. Just tell us what you need, sweet pea.”

Belle gave Leona a kiss on the cheek, as chaste as possible under the circumstances. “Right now all I need is that pillow over there.”

Rolling over on the cushioned ground, Leona grabbed two pillows and handed them both to Belle. After arranging them behind her back, Belle lay down with her legs spread and the silver dildo in one hand.

There was a weight to the thing that steadied any nerves Belle might have had. Holding the dildo in one hand, she opened her folds with the other. She was drenched in wetness, her flesh so hot and swollen she almost couldn’t feel her own touch. She began to clench the instant her fingers brushed against her pleasure spot. What was the word Jefferson had used? Her clitoris.

From somewhere above her, Belle heard a low groan of desire. She couldn’t tell which one of them it was, but she did recognize Leona’s voice saying, “Fuck, you’re juicy!”

She let out a breathy chuckle. “Do you want to eat me again, Leo?”

“Everybody wants to eat you out,” Jefferson said. “We should just pass you around between the three of us like a fucking hors d’oeurve.” 

Even though she didn’t know the word Jefferson had used, she understood his meaning perfectly well. Her hips bucked up suddenly at the thought. Her free hand traveled up her body to her breast.

“The toy, my sweet. Don’t forget.” It was Rumple’s voice, gentle and coaxing.

With a moan, Belle nodded. “Yes, Rumple.”

As soon as she nudged the dull point of the dildo onto her folds, Belle gasped. The metal was cool against her heated flesh, both a relief and an agony. After the delicate teasing of Leona’s tongue and Jefferson’s fingers, this blunt pressure was exactly what she needed. Breathing deeply, she stroked the tip of the toy against her outer lips, savoring the sensation. 

“You make that pussy look real good,” Jefferson sighed. “I wouldn’t mind spending some time there myself, enjoy that countryside.”

“And so you shall, my boy,” Rumple said softly.

Through bleary eyes, Belle looked up at Jefferson, at Rumpelstiltskin pressed against his back, caressing his naked skin with his dark claws. 

“Yes,” Belle agreed in a whisper. “You’re welcome to come by as often as you like.”

How often could Jefferson come before he had to stop? How long could this evening be made to last? How many days and how many nights could the four of them devote to finding new ways to pleasure each other? Belle slid the point of the dildo into her center, her back already arching and her body yearning for more. Surely she could go on forever. Between the three of them--including Leona’s toys and Rumple’s magic--surely they could keep her in a state of constant delight until the end of time.

Already she was impatient for more. Her greedy cunt all but swallowed the dildo, taking it in deep until she could feel her short curls against her hand. She had planned to go slowly, to give herself time to adjust to the twin feelings of the dildo in her cunt and the plug in her ass. But her body was already used to it. Her body already yearned to be fucked.

“Oh,” Belle moaned. Her hand held the dildo still while the rest of her thrust in a steady rhythm against that wonderful hardness.

“Fuck,” Leona whispered.

Was Leo touching herself? Was she pleasured by Belle’s pleasure? Even as her fantasies were coming to life, Belle’s imagination wandered to the possibilities around her. Had Leona grabbed one of the other dildos off the velvet cloth and pushed it inside herself? Was she lying on the ground next to Belle with her hips rolling as well? Were both of them synchronized, matching each other thrust for thrust?

And what of the men? Was Jefferson’s cock straining for release? Was he stroking himself while he watched her? Or was he fighting the urge to work himself up? Was he denying himself because he knew his cock would be called upon soon?

Or was Rumple touching him? Belle jerked suddenly at the thought. Rumple’s hands on Jefferson’s cock, teasing light strokes along his length. The slightest scrape of nails against his yearning flesh. She imagined Jefferson wincing in pain and Rumple comforting him, cooing at him that he was good, he was perfect, he was his.

“Rumple!” Belle whimpered. She needed him, needed him to claim her again, to own her and take her back--even back from the people they liked. She didn’t begrudge Jefferson what he had had with Rumple, or what he might have again, but right now she needed him for herself.

“I’m here.” His voice was hushed and thick. With her eyes closed, she felt him hovering over her. His hand stroked her face. “What do you need, my beautiful girl?”

“You,” she breathed as she opened her eyes. 

And he was there. His face over hers, smiling sweetly. He was beautiful like this, open and honest and hers. Without saying a word, he bent down and kissed her on the lips. Her hand stilled as she kissed him, but Rumple placed his hand over hers and pushed the dildo deeper into her.

She broke the kiss with a moan and Rumpelstilskin grinned. 

“Come for us,” he whispered. “Come for me and I’ll keep your mouth busy with my cock.” 

Belle jerked forward with a grunt and felt herself clenching around the dildo. She pumped it in and out, faster and faster, the gold of the cuff on her wrist scraping against the silver. Pleasure rose up in her body, building in her mind until she threatened to burst. On either side of her, Belle heard Jefferson and Leona giving off their own moans and sighs. Their noises were so lovely, musical accents that spurred Belle into a crescendo.

“Rumple,” she murmured again and again. He was there, she could feel the heat of his body--so near her, but not touching, not yet. He wanted her to have this for herself. He wanted her to want this for herself. 

The dildo slipped in and out of her cunt, slick with her wetness. She pushed it, deeper and deeper, her whole body rocking around the invasion. She clenched around it--hard--then clenched again with such a force it made her shriek. Her body jolted up and Rumple caught her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck--in the warm inch of bare skin his robe left exposed--and came until she was spent.

He held her. He didn’t make her get up. He didn’t pass her off to Leona or Jefferson. Belle didn’t know what the other couple was doing right now, and in that moment she didn’t care. Rumple held her. Rumple’s hands rubbed her back. Rumple’s voice was soft and soothing in her ear.

“You perfect girl,” he murmured. “You beautiful woman.”

“Yours,” Belle breathed.

She had both arms wrapped around his neck, and she felt his skin against her fingertips. Drowsily, she played with the crinkled ends of his hair. 

Below her waist, she felt the dildo slide out of her cunt and fall to the floor. Jefferson got between them and picked up the toy with a clean handkerchief. A mischievous gleam lit in his eyes. Holding the dildo, he looked at Rumple. 

“Should I ask our Belle to clean this up with her mouth?” 

Belle clenched at the words, the shock of arousal pulling her out of her daze. She blinked several times and then answered, “I will. If you want me to, Rumple.”

But he just shook his head and patted her body. His hands rubbed slowly along her naked legs and up along her torso. “Let’s let her rest a few minutes more. But I’ll thank you to take the plug out for us.”

Weakly, Belle rolled over and lifted her ass into the air so Jefferson would be able to fit his finger around the ring and pull the small plug away. She fought the familiar shameful feeling that accompanied such a removal--like she had fouled herself. Having a hearty supply of lubricant inside her--as well as Jefferson’s own seed from earlier--only made the sensation more unnerving. 

“Lovely girl,” Rumple reassured her. “I’m so proud of you. Do you see now that you have nothing to be afraid of? You can try new things, and you can conquer them, you brave, brave girl.”

“Hmf!” Leona didn’t say a word, but the noise she made eloquently expressed her skepticism. Jefferson had been busy cleaning the soiled toys, but now he looked up at his wife.

Rumple grinned at her and Belle could see that he was ready to humor the woman. “You disagree, Mrs. Ogg?”        

Sitting up on her knees, Leona put a hand on her hip. “I don’t know what kind of headology you think you’re usin’, but it’s never going to solve your real problem.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It seems you have strong opinions on this matter.”

Leona looked Rumple dead in the eyes and delivered her judgement: “Belle deserves better than you.”

“Oh, I am desperately aware of that.” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice was a soft hiss, not a threat, but a warning.

“And frankly,” Leona’s voice rose in the manner of someone looking for a fight and not finding it. “I don’t see what it is about you that gets otherwise sensible people so mesmerized. You’re not that impressive, my good man.”

“Leo.” Jefferson went to his wife with steady but urgent movements. “Let’s not forget that we’re guests here.” 

“No, no,” Rumple said, now indulgent and amused. “My boy, your wife is quite right. I haven’t been taking my steps in this dance. And we did make a deal, after all.” Gently, he set Belle down in a pile of cushions and stood up. He bowed at the waist and extended his hand to Leona. “Mrs. Ogg, would you allow me to impress you?”

After an appraising look at Rumpelstiltskin, Leona set her jaw and put her hand in his. She allowed him to pull her to her feet. “If you think you can.” 

[rekamohcs]

Miniature

Ah, here we have a pretty old fic that I wrote a few years ago. I’m working on moving all of my work to this blog, but this was originally posted on FF.net. Anyway, here we have the freshly edited re-post of one of my favorites!

Title: Miniature

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts, set after KH2 and before DDD

Pairings: Soriku

Summary: Because sometimes, all it takes is a little sand, a little heat, and a whole lot of heart. In which Sora grows, Riku adjusts, and Tidus becomes a problem.

Genre: Romance/Angst/Friendship

Rated: G

There was sand everywhere.

Sora shivered as he stepped into the shower, the cool water rushing over his heated skin, rinsing off the gritty sand from his body. It was unreal how tired he was. He had spent all day out at the beach with Riku, Tidus, Selphie, and Kairi enjoying the sun and having what was supposed to be a "relaxing day".

And they had relaxed. Sora couldn't say that he missed roaming the worlds and fighting big baddies that much now. He was content with the Destiny Islands—it was peaceful, the people were happy, there were no heartless, and most of all, the people he had fought so hard to protect were safe there.

That made him happy.

He released a hot puff of air as he leaned his back against the cool wall of the shower, letting the water drench him. He slowly reached out and grabbed the bottle of shampoo off the sill near his head. His mind wandered back to when he was young and had to struggle to reach up to the sill and grab the shampoo. Now, he stood taller than the sill. It made him feel strong.

He snorted in humorless laughter to himself. He had saved the worlds twice now yet being tall enough to reach the shampoo on the windowsill of the shower was what made him feel strong. The irony was almost funny. Almost.

He shook his head, ridding it of the thoughts flooding his head, the thoughts that reminded him of all the hurt the worlds had gone through—all the hurt that the people had gone through. His journeys had changed him, made him more down-to-earth, more aware of the pain in the world around him - the pain, and the darkness.

He was still Sora, though. Cheerful, bubbly, optimistic, determined. He smiled to himself. He liked being Sora.

Absently grabbing the soap, he scrubbed his body clean of sand and heat and salt. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed—because, while he was still Sora, he knew the darkness had gotten to him along the way, and he was determined to scrub it off him, even if it made his skin raw.

Lately, Sora had been noticing more things.

Things like: how Kairi's hair would fall in her eyes when she would bend her head down to focus on her homework a little more, or how Selphie always seemed to smell like apple pie—and he loved apple pie—or, or, or how Tidus always seemed to have his eyes watching Riku.

That last one was the one he noticed the most.

When Riku and Sora had returned to the Islands, everyone had been ecstatic. Riku and Sora had been, as well. Reunions had taken place, and then they were back in school—eleventh grade for Sora and Kairi and Tidus and Selphie and Wakka, and twelfth for Riku.

Now, Sora didn't deny that Riku had changed during their journeys—emotionally, yeah, but physically, too. He was taller now. His silver hair fell past his shoulders in a cascade of shiny cleanliness. His shoulders were broader, his chin always held high. His arms, back, stomach, chest, legs, everything was toned in what girls seemed to think was just right. His eyes glowed brightly like burning pools of aqua water. The biggest change, though, was his smile.

His smile was beautiful. It always had been. Whenever he smiled at a girl during school, those girls were goo-goo eyed the rest of the day. It was white, wide, and only slightly sad—but Sora was pretty sure that only he, and maybe Kairi, could see the hint of sadness in his smiles.

So, Sora noticed how Tidus seemed to notice Riku who seemed not to notice that Tidus was noticing him or that Sora was noticing Tidus notice him. When Sora noticed Tidus noticing Riku, Sora felt something akin to unhappiness settle in the pit of his stomach. Sora found it odd, too, because he would notice Tidus noticing Kairi and Selphie, but when Sora noticed Tidus noticing them, that unhappy feeling never settled in the pit of his stomach like when he noticed Tidus noticing Riku.

Sora tried to tell himself that the unhappy feeling he got from noticing Tidus noticing Riku was because, and only because, Sora had searched the universe for Riku, and in Sora's mind, Riku was only his to notice.

But why was he noticing Riku in the first place? Why did he care?

The first time Sora and Riku sparred since coming back from their journeys had made Sora feel extremely hot.

The sun, Sora told himself, was just too hot. That's all.

But when Riku closed in on him—shirtless, toned, slightly tanned, confident Riku—Sora began to doubt that it was the sun that was too hot.

He spun and ducked, avoiding a blow to his neck from Riku's keyblade. Sora blew sticky, mocha locks out of his cerulean orbs and struck at Riku's ankles, but Riku was quick, and leapt over the offensive blade, whirling his own down toward where Sora was crouched.

Sora sprang up, blocking Riku's attack and pushing his opponent backward with the force of his block. With a triumphant smile, Sora leapt toward Riku at his time of unbalance and swept his keyblade toward Riku's side.

Somehow, Riku regained his footing, ducked, and then tripped on Sora's keyblade as Sora swept it back to try to hit a knee or thigh. Riku went toppling face first into sand, his silver hair flopping into his eyes and sticking to his glistening neck.

Sora froze, watching as Riku spat out gritty sand and raised his eyes to look at Sora.

When Sora's eyes met Riku's heated gaze, he felt his body warm up, tingling with something that made Sora find Riku's disheveled appearance very, very attractive—honestly, he told himself, who wouldn't find a shirtless Riku attractive, anyway? It was normal, he told himself. Normal, normal, normal, definitely normal.

But it was Riku's voice that was Sora's undoing.

"Looks like you win, So-ra."

Sora swallowed. Riku only spoke his name like that when he was teasing him. A thirsty tongue flicked over dry lips, and Sora decided that Tidus had better stop noticing Riku because Sora didn't know what he would do if Riku ever spoke Tidus' name or looked at Tidus like that.

Normal, Sora told himself. Normal—Riku was his best friend, after all—and it was totally normal to find your best friend attractive.

Sora finally admitted to himself that he had the tiniest crush on Riku when Riku gave him his birthday present.

Riku had come over to Sora's house to spend the night in celebration. He was turning seventeen! Sora couldn’t remember ever being so excited to get older. Maybe it was because the last two years he had missed his birthdays and hadn't gotten to celebrate them, but this one—this one, he was able to celebrate.

He blew out seventeen blue candles that were dripping wax onto the homemade chocolate cake his mother had made him, and cut a few slices for his mother, Riku, and himself. Kairi had given him his present earlier—a necklace made of delicate, gleaming shells she had found on the beach. She said it would keep him safe. He remembered her making a similar necklace when she, Sora, and Riku were collecting parts for their raft when they had so foolishly thought they could jump on a raft with a few mushrooms and an egg and survive to make it to another world. He had smiled at her, given her a hug, and thanked her. She had kissed him on the cheek, wished him happy birthday, and gone home. She couldn't spend the night. She was a girl.

Riku and Sora ate their cake in Sora's room, chitchatting through full mouths and cheeky smiles. It had been a while since they had hung out like this. Sora felt his heart glow. He missed Riku.

After cake, Riku had smiled at Sora—it was beautiful, as always, but this one had more sadness in it than his normal ones—and told Sora that it was time Riku gave him his present.

Sora was excited. He loved gifts! He grinned, setting his plate aside, and agreed. Riku rolled his eyes at Sora's eagerness to get a present, but he smiled nonetheless.

Riku reached into his pocket and pulled out something small, about the size of a quarter, and yellow. It was shaped like a star and shone in the yellow light of Sora's bedroom. It was a miniature, glass replica of a paopu fruit. Sora swallowed, feeling a little nervous as Riku pressed the cold sculpture into the palm of his rough, tanned hand.

And then, Riku spoke, and Sora thought he would cry.

"Happy birthday, Sora." It was quiet, his gaze never leaving the item in Sora's hand. "I figured—I figured that since you went and risked your life to find me"���a very sad smile—"I may as well give you mine in return, so this little paopu fruit is to symbolize that"—a slight frown—"Thank you. You're my best friend, and I'm not going to leave you ever again."—a light squeeze to Sora's curled hand.

Sora swallowed back tears. For the billionth time, he damned Ansem and Xemnas and whoever else deserved to be damned because of what Riku—what they all—had gone through.

When Sora embraced Riku in a tight hug and realized that he could fall asleep in the boy's arms, he concluded that Riku was to him what Axel had been to Roxas: something undefined, but something that was much more and much closer than just a best friend.

Sora admitted that he might just be in love with Riku when Riku knocked on his window in the middle of the night during one of the nastiest storms Sora remembered since the Islands were overcome by darkness.

Sora opened his window, letting in the howling wind and the cold rain to let in a shivering, drenched Riku. He didn't ask any questions, and Riku didn't provide any answers as he entered. All Sora did was scowl slightly, grab a blanket, and wrap his best friend in the soft material.

"Thank you." Was all he received in return. Sora only nodded before rubbing his tired eyes with his tanned hands.

After many tense moments of silence, Sora had climbed back in bed and lay on his side to face Riku, who was sitting against Sora's wall wrapped in the blanket Sora had provided. Honestly, Sora was confused, but he knew that when Riku wanted to talk, Riku would talk, but if Riku didn't want to talk, then Riku wouldn't talk, so no matter what Sora did, he would just have to wait for Riku to decide that he either wanted or didn't want to talk.

Fortunately, to ease Sora's confusion, Riku did happen to want to talk.

"I thought maybe it was the darkness again."

That's all Riku had to say for Sora to understand: the storm. When the darkness had come, Sora had thought it was just a storm, as well, until he entered the domain of purple and black skies and impending doom—that was when he knew it wasn't just a storm.

"Riku." Sora spoke, slipping out of his bed and ignoring a clap of thunder overhead. He slid next to Riku and wrapped an arm around his best friend's shoulders, nuzzling Riku's shoulder affectionately like a cat. "You don't have anything to worry about."

Riku nodded, barely, and swallowed. Sora blindly reached out in the darkness toward his shelves, grabbing at the cold, pointed object he had placed there. He fingered the mini yellow paopu figure shortly before placing it in Riku's hand.

Riku furrowed his brows, turning his head toward Sora's slowly, a question hanging in the air. Sora smiled a very Sora-like smile before squeezing Riku with the arm around his shoulders. "I just want you to know that I'd still risk my life to bring you home, if you were to leave again." Sora's words were so soft, he wasn't sure if he was actually speaking. "I know that the figurine you gave me for my birthday was a gift to me, but I think that it should be a gift for us to share; a token to remind us that, when we're scared or in trouble, we'll always have each other."

Sora was blushing, but it was okay. Riku smiled through the darkness, closing his fingers over the miniature paopu. Sora laid his head on Riku's shoulder, closing his eyes and listening to his friend's heartbeat, and that was when he realized: sometimes the biggest things come in the smallest packages—just like how the love and care that the two felt for one another through everything they had endured could be expressed by one glass, miniature figurine.

[sheogayrath]

canon facts about red team

grif:

likes ben folds a lot he will fuckin jam out to the over the hedge soundtrack

msi too his fav song is seven minutes in heaven

reads sweet bro and hella jeff and thinks its absolute comedy gold. 

doesnt know it’s homestuck. he once referenced it in casual conversation and simmons just lost his shit

has the most majestic long beautiful hair he looks like a merman

runs a secret tumblr funnyman type blog where he “ironically” posts a bunch of weird fetish art

said funnyman blog is wildly popular

simmons:

he reads homestuck and gets his friends to take the extended zodiac test and makes a classpect chart for all his teammates and starts planning out a whole fansession for them

tries to get grif to read it

is part of the Spore Collaborative Fiction Community

owns an dakimakura.

said dakimakura is a commissioned image of his own dnd character

you just know he plays settlers of catan too

donut:

has the most outlandish wonderful fashion sense

wears bright neon pink punk attire and torn jeans with galaxy tights underneath and spiked wristbands and a bunch of rings and necklaces and lots of peircings

he’s a brony (like, the good kind)

runs a stim blog

his room is full of coloured slime

he has a rainbow projector too

thor style beard + hair combo

sarge:

can do the best nickelback singing impression its genuinely scary

is actually the one person alive who likes nickelback

he doesn’t know what a vriska is but he really likes the spider devil lady from simmon’s funny internet comic!

is a cancer

(a canrist, to be specific. simmons got him to take the test)

is warriormale

lopez:

started an online petition to have dora the explorer cancelled

“deigo de go go puede quedarse pero es de puto en hielo fino” (go diego go can stay but it’s on fucking thin ice)

gets an account on education perfect just to fuck with humans in live math competitions

starts getting real buddy-buddy with grif to the point where he overrides his programming that tells him to hate him because whatever, he basically has free will at this point

bonus caboose because i love him:

donut lets him play with his slime he loves it

loves scented candles and soaps and perfume take him to lush and his heart is yours

is actually pretty good at drawing!

he drew himself as a dog once and showed tucker and he said “what is that, your fursona” and donut overheard and now he and donut are like a platonic furry power couple

does minecraft lets plays. his channel has thousands of subscribers and to this day he hasn’t recieved a single ounce of hate because he is just too fucking lovable

[mindstreason]

Finch had always expected that the ambassador from that strange northern land, with his funny accent and strange way of dressing, would leave him with nothing more than a few pairs of expensive earrings, a necklace or two, some very pretty hairpins and maybe a few coins to hoard below the loose floorboard under his bed. That was, after all, how most grand lords ended their affairs with pretty brothel boys.

“If I buy you, would you want to come with me?” Zariel had said, at the end of one evening, after he had bathed and while he was getting dressed.

Finch had laughed, thinking it was some sort of joke. Many men made such offers after spending nights with him, but in the cold light of morning most remembered that he was a brothel-born slave, no more suitable for a normal household than a turd in a hallway. The ones that did not were dissuaded easily enough by a high asking price and his master’s unwillingness to sell a slave so lovely and so loyal. And anyway, it was a dirty thing to sell a house-born slave, an ugly act in the eyes of the gods. Finch was safe. Everyone expected that. Even the master – who paid for tutors to teach him to read and write and do sums in the desire to make sure he would still be useful when he was too old to just be pretty.

“Of course,” he had answered the great lord, thinking the offer was no more real than anything else in this room. He liked this lord – Zariel was kind enough, even if very foreign, and handsome, unlike most of his patrons.

Zariel did everything properly. He paid the master exactly, even though it would not have been required from the likes of him. He gave Finch appropriate little gifts – sweets and small boxes of tea and the occasional bit of jewellery. He did not get Finch naked immediately every time. Sometimes he spent almost the whole evening sipping sweet tea while Finch played the zither. Finch had absolutely no idea what went on in the man’s head. Zariel’s handsome features were as opaque as a wall.

Finch forgot about the conversation for weeks, busy with appointments, helping train one of the new boys, practising the zither, helping the master with accounts, and very occasionally managing to play cards with the boys he shared his room with. No doubt the fine people at the gaming tables would turn their noses up at that game played secretly on the floor with playing cards worn paper thin, for stakes no higher than a couple of coins or a minor piece of jewellery, but it was played with far more skilful bluffs and better wielded smiles.

It was a surprise to everyone when the morning game got interrupted by the steward. It was even a greater surprise when none of them were to be punished – when the only thing the steward said was to Finch. “Get dressed and pack your things.”

“What?” Finch was the only one who had dared speak. The words made absolutely no sense.

“The foreign madman has told the duke he wants you. We are to deliver you.”

Finch was frozen, blank with an absolute terror. This house was home. He had been raised here, had his first patron here, grew up in the backrooms where the whores talked about everything out of earshot of the free, sunned himself in the garden in the mornings when no one was up, took beatings from the master, learned to climb the roof when he wanted some solitude. He had never been anywhere without the house guards looking after him, keeping people from touching what was not theirs and settling his tiny bills at the sweet stand or at the tailor or at the tea house.

“We will get him ready, sir.”

“Dress him in day clothes. No need to give the foreign madman any silks. And bring him to the office.”

A short time for a private goodbye was all the kindness Finch could have expected. Everyone knew the fear of being sold to a stranger, and thus those who cared for him made sure to show all their regard. One person combed his rich brown hair and pinned it up with a gold-plated pin that glimmered just right. The day clothes were plain linen trousers and a shirt, but it was important to give a new master a good impression, so Finch ended up wearing the emerald earrings Zariel had found to match his eyes and a bracelet that some patron had given him years back. He was far too pale, so a little powder and rouge were necessary.

Someone wrapped all of Finch’s belongings with a scarf because he seemed utterly lost, unable to start. His ivory offering bowl, his small purse of coins, a small collection of jewellery, a few cosmetics, a scripture book, a scrap of cloth that still vaguely resembled a toy rabbit. There was no guarantee he would get to keep any of it, but there was always hope.

Finch had to be led to the office, holding the bundle and trembling. A couple of swift hugs and kisses to his cheek and that was that. Inside the office, the bundle was opened up again, to checked for anything stolen.

“Are these not Sparrow’s?” the master asked, picking up a pair of delicate silver earrings.

“He gave them to me, master,” Finch answered immediately, staring at the floor. He was not going to say that he won them in a game none of them were allowed to play.

The only response was a sigh. The master flicked though the book, counted the coins. He did not even remove the earrings. Finch got the entire bundle back. It was a very small life indeed. He could have taken more and not been punished for it.

“I did not sell you.”

Finch looked up.

“You are a gift to the ambassador. Behave accordingly.”

“Yes, master. Thank you.” Finch had spent too long here not understand both the regret and the warning. He knelt, pressing his forehead to the carpet to show that he was grateful. And he was. His life could only be harder now.

“Get out of my sight.”

“Yes, master,” Finch said, retreating. He bowed twice in the doorway, knowing the gruffness hid something warmer. This would be the last time he ever got to see this man, who had determined every aspect of his life from when he was born.

Then it was time to go to the waiting carriage. The guards were in the duke’s livery and they treated Finch exactly like a parcel. He felt the absurd urge to flee, back up the stairs and back to his master’s feet. But he got in meekly, sitting down alone. He listened to the guards chatter as the carriage started to move – he was so far below their notice that the more interesting subject was whether there would be any meat in the lunch stew today. Progress was slow through the busy streets.

At a grand house, he was deposited in an antechamber and left to stand in a corner, utterly ignored as servants and slaves passed him on their usual tasks. He waited until his legs began to hurt, and then with no explanation he was taken to kneel in a drawing room. The sheer boredom made his terror dissolve a little. He knelt for so long that his legs began to go numb, but he did not dare move, just in case someone would catch him misbehaving.

And then abruptly, the wait was over. “Yes, that is the right boy, thank you. I will take him to my cousin. Up.”

The last word was aimed at Finch. He stood up as fast as he could, stumbling as his legs almost refused to bear his weight. He knew the voice, and the accent – this was one of the ambassador’s men.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes, lord,” Finch answered, keeping his gaze low.

“Follow me.”

Finch had to almost run to keep up. He was out of breath by the time they went down several corridors, up the stairs, down the stairs, though a garden, across a courtyard, and then to another carriage. Finch knelt on the floor of it, as was proper, holding his bundle and stared at the embroidery on the man’s robe. Feathers and hawks, picked out in delicate silver thread on dark silks.

“I am Taehe. I manage my cousin’s household. Do you speak Rwene?”

“Some, Lord Taehe,” Finch said. He spoke it well enough, but it was better to under-promise and seem modest than over-promise and disappoint.

“Good,” Taehe said, instantly switching the language. “You will tell me when you do not understand.”

There was a pause, so Finch said, “Yes, Lord Taehe.” The Rwene words always felt weird to him, too soft, but so many traders spoke it that every whore in the city needed to know enough to at least ply their trade.

“You stink of a brothel. First we will have to bathe you.”

Finch flushed, going red to the tips of his ears. He was clean. He always made sure to bathe properly. “Yes, lord,” he said quietly.

“And what is that on your face? Ridiculous.”

Finch did not need to comment on that. He stared at Taehe’s hands. They looked scarred and hard. The hands of a warrior, despite the fancy silks. From what he had glimpsed of the man’s face, Taehe was older that Zariel, but had the same almond shaped eyes, so dark they were almost black, and same golden skin. The hair was the same straight black, tied back in the single braid. Taehe was handsome too. It would not be so bad if he had to please this man too, but it would be hard. This man was never going to treat him kindly.

When the carriage stopped, Finch had to chase after Taehe again. He could not even take a look at where he had arrived until they stopped in a luxurious bathroom. Finch was quite sure that he was not going to get to enjoy it. Servants fluttered at Taehe’s gestures, already fetching hot water and soaps and oils.

“What are you holding?”

“My things, Lord Taehe,” Finch said, holding the bundle tighter.

“Put that down and undress.”

Finch bit his lip, and then put the bundle down. A servant took it away instantly, and Finch wanted to run straight after it, but he behaved. He could not start his life in a new household so poorly. This was a dangerous time for any slave. He had to be obedient, and quiet, and make absolutely no enemies. He dropped his clothes to the floor. They were taken away too.

“Wash him.”

Taehe’s gaze burned all the way while the servants washed Finch from head to toe, scrubbing him with a rough cloth until all of his skin was red. His hair was washed multiple times, getting the fragrant oils out. His skull stung from the rough handling. He winced as his hair was combed out, but made no sound. Once it was over, Taehe circled him once, watching him shiver with absolute indifference.

“Take that silver off him. Gold is better.”

Finch twitched as hands replaced the jewellery in his nipples and dick with simply fashioned gold.

“Cut his hair.”

“No!” Finch gasped despite all his manners.

“To his shoulders is enough,” Taehe instructed as if Finch had said nothing.

Finch tried to pull away, but the hands that held him in place were too strong. He watched his hair fall to the floor and be carefully swept up. It had not been cut since he was a child. It had been a part of his value, a part of what he had been admired for. Now it was garbage on the floor.

“Let it dry and burn it at the shrine.”

This had to be some foreign custom Finch did not understand. He told himself that hair would grow again. His new master had liked to play with his hair. Lord Zariel would want it to be long again, surely.

Someone put a light robe over his shoulders, plain and unadorned, and demonstrated how to tie it. She whispered, “Lord Tae���s not always such an ass. Good luck,” and that made Finch almost smile, a little more at ease. Things could not be so terrible if servants had nicknames for their masters, surely.

Next he was taken to a dressing room, where Taehe considered silks against Finch’s skin. “I know you are a little slut, but my cousin is in love with you. Should you take advantage of that, I will feed you to the carrion birds, piece by piece. I will begin with your feet and your hands and work my way to your heart. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Taehe,” Finch said immediately. He was not sure that he had fully understood, but he got the gist and the tone of voice suggested that was the only correct answer. It seemed utterly absurd that the ambassador might be in love with him. Taehe could not have possibly meant that.

Taehe threw a robe at Finch that was dark green silk and some gauzy things that were probably meant to go under it. “Get dressed.”

Finch caught everything and draped it over his arms, not sure what to do. These robes were in the northern style and he had never had cause to wear such things. “My lord. I am sorry. I do not know how to—”

There was no need to understand all the things Taehe called him, in Finch’s opinion. He was glad he did not know all those words. But eventually, it was made clear to him he was meant to put on the thin trousers under the plain underrobe, then the gauzy thing over that, and then the silk one on top, fastened by little buttons. It seemed like an absurd amount of clothes. He got socks, but no shoes. He was certain that he was never going to see the sandals he had arrived in ever again.

“That will do, I suppose,” Taehe concluded.

When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, Finch could barely recognise himself. He had rarely covered so much skin. His face was too pale, and his hair was drying in a fluffy mess around his face. He had never realised it might curl. He tried to flatten it with his fingers. He looked absurd.

“Lord Taehe—” he began, very quietly.

“What?” Taehe snapped.

Finch had to finish the question now. “May I have something to tie my hair with?”

Taehe made an irritated sound and found a strip of leather. Since nothing better was on offer, Finch tied his hair back simply, just wanting it out of the way. It looked a little better tied up, at least.

“Lord Taehe, how may I please my master?” Finch asked warily, not knowing who else he could ask this thing.

“How would I know?” Taehe said. “Follow me.”

And Finch scrambled to chase after him again. Down a servants’ corridor. Up one flight of stairs. Along another long corridor, with windows down into the courtyard garden. Finch tried to look, but a moment later he had to run after Taehe, his socks a little slippery on the polished wooden floor. Then into a servants’ corridor, and then out onto a main corridor again. The ambassador’s residence seemed vast and Finch was lost.

Finally, Taehe opened the door to a small but luxurious sitting room. Finch saw a window seat piled with cushions, a small table with two chairs, empty shelves. Two doors led out from it. Taehe opened one – it led to a bedroom, and Finch glimpsed a bed piled with pillows and fine quilts.

“Zariel will see you when he feels like it,” Taehe said, and left. The lock clicked as he turned the key to the little suite.

Hearing the lock click as the key turned made Finch laugh, slightly hysterically. He tried to stifle it with his hands, not wanting to hear that awful sound. As if he would have anywhere to go. All he could do was wait.

[evenstevensranked]

#21: Season 2, Episode 15 - “Sibling Rivalry”

In an attempt to settle their never-ending rivalry, Ren and Louis compete on a ridiculous game show called “Sib Wars.” There’s also Ren/Bobby/Mandy drama on the side which is beyond juicy. Meanwhile, Donnie has a date with a French girl and has Nelson translate for him. 

This one opens with Louis "Flossercising” -- A combination of flossing your teeth and exercising. Right off the bat, you know this episode is gonna be an outlandish one. He’s just chillin’, incorrectly lifting weights in a bathroom full of dental floss lol

How do you even buy that much dental floss? Also, I can’t deal with Shia’s face in this screenshot. ALSO, I’d like to talk to Sarah and Suzie and ask them what drugs they were on when they came up with “flossercising.” 

Ren starts freaking out at Louis because she needs to get ready for a date with Bobby and he’s cramping her style. They chase each other into Donnie’s room where we see Donnie super focused on learning French. I love how he’s dressed in the stereotypical black and white striped mime shirt -- sitting in front of a pile of French books, Eiffel Tower statues and a bowl of french fries while doing so. As if it’s a freaking séance to reach the ghosts of French experts. 

Cutting off his head was the only way I could get everything in the screenshot lol. 

This scene is pretty funny. After Louis and Ren come running into his room, Donnie tells them to knock it off because he only has one day to learn French. “That’s realistic” Ren says so sarcastically, I crack up every time. This is also where Ren calls Louis “infuriating” and he tries to call her it as well, but butchers the word and says “In-flirt-in-ate-ter-ing.” I remember this being used on a few ads for the show back in the day. Just then, Donnie grabs a VHS tape, shows it to them very dramatically and says “You guys need to see this.” And Louis is all “What? You lifting weights in your bathing suit? We already saw that.” HAHA!!! I love how Donnie is so obliviously vain, it’s great. Imagine subjecting your brother and sister to that. He quickly picks up the VHS he meant to show them, which is an accidental taping of a show called “Sibling Sessions.” 

This show within a show is so freaking hilarious. It’s like Dr. Phil if it were a show within a soap opera and filmed in a therapists office. The brother and sister (Kevin and Wendy) who appear on it are so lame and fake, it’s so good. The host makes Kevin apologize to Wendy and I died laughing. 

“It’s nothing against you, Wendy! You’re the BEST! I guess the reason I act the way I do, is because of my own insecurities. Deep down... I’m just a loser.” HAHAHAHAHAHA. The acting is purposely incredibly bad here, almost like an infomercial -- which makes it even better. The kid looks like he’s about to burst out laughing when he says “I’m just a loser” lol. 

Even Stevens seriously wins the award for Most Original Humor on Disney Channel. Ever. No other show has a strut quite like this one. I also thank god every day that ES didn’t have a laugh track. It simply doesn’t need one. 

Ren thinks the show seems professional and is down for appearing on it. Louis, on the other hand, is vehemently against it -- Until the host announces that Kevin and Wendy will receive two tickets to Happy Mountain Amusement Park for being on the show, lol. 

You just know this was an ad-lib, tbh. How does Shia even think of this stuff? What even is that facial expression? He’s too much...

I also just realized that Ren is definitely wearing the necklace Louis bought her in Swap.com. Ya know, the one she gave back to Ernie? Oops. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rings and Ren is expecting it to be Bobby, but *dun dun dunnn* It’s Nelson. This marks the start of the DRAMA!!! Bobby sent Nelson as the bearer of bad news. He’s there to let Ren know Bobby had to cancel their date because he has work to do with his lab partner. Hummmmm... Ren is immediately suspicious. Clearly, she does not trust Bobby and this relationship ain’t healthy. 

Somewhere around here, Donnie finds out that Nelson can speak French. So he asks him to translate on his upcoming date with some ~beautiful foreign exchange student.~ We also get the “HAAAAPPY MOUNTAIN! THE BIG OLD ROCK OF FUUUUUUN!” from Louis which is iconic. I’m just gonna go ahead and assume that most of the things Shia does in this episode are ad-libs.

The next day at school, Ren happens to catch Bobby working with his lab partner... who he conveniently forgot to mention is Mandy “Always-Gets-Her-Man” Sanchez. RED FLAG!!! MAJOR RED FLAG. 

When class lets out, there’s this awkward/passive-aggressive/mean girl moment between Ren and Mandy -- and it’s gold. Mandy says “Ren, love the lipstick! That color works so well on your THIN lips. :)” To which Ren responds, “You know? I wonder what it’d look like on a FAT LIP :)” hahahaha. Salty overload. Ren decides to privately confront Bobby about the situation after. Asking why he neglected to say that Mandy was his lab partner because Mandy is definitely into him, and he essentially tells her it’s all in her head. “Come on, it’s just Mandy. She flirts with everyone!” So, Ren convinces herself that she’s just overreacting. THIS IS SUCH A TEXTBOOK CASE OF A BAD RELATIONSHIP. You can clearly see that Ren is still suspicious though.. and it only gets worse when Bobby kisses her goodbye on the cheek instead of the lips. Oh, boy. Bobby sucks. 

Ren and Louis go to an audition for “Sibling Sessions” but when they get there they see that the show has been rebranded as “Sib Wars” -- a competition show. Apparently the ratings were in the toilet. Can’t imagine why!!! Who wouldn’t want to watch a low-level, PBS knock-off of Dr. Phil?! The show is on the verge of being cancelled all together, unless they can find two bickering siblings to compete ASAP -- and Louis and Ren answer their prayers. They come barging in like two arguing tornados. I love their little fight here though, lol. Ren claims that Louis got ice cream in her hair and Louis says “Did it ever occur to you that YOUR hair got in MY ice cream? Did that enter your skull?!” He has a point. Ren obviously considers herself to be the superior sibling, so she has no doubt that she’ll win the cheesy competition. “I could even grow a mustache before you!” she threatens. And Louis comes back with one of my favorite burns everrrr: “You could. In fact, it’s coming in quite nicely!” HAHA. Shia and Christy go on to totally ad-lib a heated argument and I love it. 

The host, David Blackburn, is so over the top with everything he does. On “Sibling Sessions” he was over the top melodramatic and on “Sib Wars” he’s over the top excited. It’s like he’s incapable of acting like a normal human. Normally, I cannot stand when shows go overboard with obnoxiousness.. but I can’t help but laugh at this guy. He starts wearing a cheap, short, dreads wig to try to seem more ~hip~ and young, (”Is my hair on straight?”) which is hilarious to me. And this dude delivers every single one of his lines with such a perfect balance of fake enthusiasm and the insecurity that comes along with trying way too hard to be cool. It just gets me for some reason, lol. I’m also almost positive that HE’S doing the voiceover announcing HIMSELF as “the handsome, the talented -- DAVID BLACKBURRRRRNNNN!” haha. I have to gif the footage of his introduction because it’s honestly so meme-worthy and hysterical imo: 

If I had the power, I’d make nearly every other moment of every Even Stevens episode a popular meme. It’s beyond deserving... Yet, the only meme that’s come out of Even Stevens is Beans. Great. This show is truly one of the greatest, overlooked TV gems ever. 

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the “TV G” was edited in for “Sib Wars” specifically. I don’t remember Even Stevens ever having a rating pop up like that before, so that’s pretty awesome lol. I’m not sure what part of this gif gets me the worst, though. When he flips his “hair” back, the zoom-out shot of him like “ :D ” or the “THAT’S ME!” It’s all brilliant. I’ve been laughing at this for 5 minutes straight.

The game show ends up being incredibly stupid with the dumbest questions and categories ever... So it’s basically tailor-made for Louis Stevens. Therefore, he literally leaves Ren in the dust -- 500 points to 0. There’s also a “Pudding Pit of Doom” round where yet another bad Louis stunt double flips into the vat: 

I never noticed how many stunts happen on this show until now. This guy is obviously older and has a completely different build than Shia. They really don’t even try lol. 

David Blackburn announces that Louis and Ren will return the next day for the “Ultimate Humiliation” round -- where they have 1 minute to totally mortify the other on public access television. Fun! Louis is scrambling to find some dirt on Ren, and he fails. The closest thing he gets is her “brushing her teeth inefficiently” on tape. This bit always stuck with me though!! He explains the footage to Twitty and says “Look at the technique. She’s doing that upward thing, you’re not supposed to be doing that! You’re supposed to do the little circles!” I think about this every single time I brush my teeth and have since always brushed in a circular motion lol. 

The drama reaches the climax right about now when Louis and Twitty catch Bobby and Mandy walking down the hall together very flirtatiously. Their first thought is to start recording -- and boy did they end up capturing the most DRAMATIC TEEN DRAMA MOMENT THE SHOW HAS EVER SEEN: 

Is this Even Stevens or Degrassi???

When I rewatched this episode for the first time in a few years, I was genuinely shocked. I knew Bobby was “cheating,” but I always remembered it as only flirting or a lingering hug. (Ya know... because Disney.) But, NOPE. It was an actual kiss on the lips. Bobby is a RAT and I never liked him. It’s really too bad they didn’t end the series with some comedic plot where Ren and Larry realize their feelings for each other because trust me..... the feelings are there. That’s way better content than Bobby freakin’ Deaver. HE WAS NEVER FOR YOU, REN!

Louis’ plan is to be a slimeball and use this footage in the Ultimate Humiliation round. That’s honestly so messed up, I can’t even fathom that idea. Imagine video of your significant other kissing some other person airing for everyone to see. Dang. I told you this was dramatic. 

This subplot is really, really short. So I’ll wrap it up now as usual. It’s just Donnie on his date with Sandrine (played by Danica McKellar from The Wonder Years) with Nelson translating. Basically, Nelson’s allergies to everything flare up. He takes over the date and steals Sandrine’s attention away from Donnie. That’s it. There’s this one screenshot that’s pretty great without context tho: 

Back to the main plot. Ren decided to use Louis’ nasty bed sheet as her way to humiliate him. I love how she titled the exhibit "Louis: An American Tragedy" lol: 

When it’s Ren’s turn to sit in the hot seat, she takes a moment to give a shout out to Bobby. Saying how happy she is that they’re together and she hopes they can stay together. Of course. Meanwhile, Louis is standing there holding the VHS tape of Bobby cheating. It’s intense. Ultimately, Louis makes the right decision and doesn’t show the tape. He just gives up and says he didn’t come prepared with anything. I LOVE SEEING GOOD LITTLE BROTHER LOUIS, MAN!!! Ren is declared the winner. 

Louis knows that Ren doesn’t deserve to continue to be lead on by Bobby. So at home that night, Louis simply gives Ren the tape. The footage is pretty self explanatory. It fades to a very dramatic shot of Ren breaking up with Bobby by giving him his letterman jacket back. I hate Bobby. He’s standing there all sad. Like... Come on, man. Don’t act like you're upset about what you did. You knew full well what you were doing. 

Ren’s head to toe light blue ensemble is... something. 

Ren thanks Louis for not showing the tape on TV and he says “Ren, you’re my sister. I wouldn’t do you like that.” MY HEART. That vibe changes quickly though when Louis asks if he can be her plus 1 to Happy Mountain lol. 

And that’s it. The episode ends with Donnie watching the video of him lifting weights in his bathing suit. haha. 

I really like this episode. It’s not one of my personal favorites, but this episode is most true to the series' premise. If you look at it literally, it’s the most "Even Stevens" episode ever tbh -- which is why it's higher on the list. I also just cannot get over the level of legit drama here with the Bobby/Mandy stuff! Crazy. Louis is a great brother here, too.. which is so amazing to see. There aren’t any giant laugh-out-loud moments, but the dialogue here is so snappy and smart. I found myself laughing quite a bit due to how great the writing is and the delivery from the cast all around. Everyone is on point here. 

Thanks for reading!!

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