#sorry about the furry reference

[werewolfstonertboy]

Indigo, drummer of Drowning Machine! They’re a non-binary butch lesbian who goes by any pronouns but tend to prefer they/them. They love technical thrash metal and their favorite bands are Hazzerd, Znöwhite, and Megadeth. Also of note, they’re nonverbal and communicate in Morse code through their drums with their band mates (hi hat for shorts, bass drum for longs, and tom drum to break up letters), and use a notepad and pen for talking to others, but they don’t yet know sign language.

[prince-liest]

Hey, I just read this post which I found interesting

https://www.tumblr.com/theroselens/742154059538104320/i-know-theyre-probably-not-going-to-go-into-this?source=share

and it made me wonder if you had some headcanons about Alastor's background as well! (Like, how his experience as someone of "mixed race"/Creole background from 1920s Louisiana impact his character)

That is a baller post that I read and loved earlier! It has some really thoughtful insights and I highly recommend giving it a read.

That said, I am in no way qualified create headcanons about what it was like for Alastor to live as a mixed person in the American deep south, and I don't think that trying to do so would be wise or decent of me! I try to defer to the perspectives of people with relevant personal insights and opinions, and do my best to synthesize said perspectives into my work where appropriate without overstepping the bounds of what I can reasonably say on the subject! I want to be considerate of what people have to say (ie. not pussyfoot around the subject of Alastor's race like it doesn't exist) about things I otherwise have no fucking clue about while also really not being in the game of speaking over people.

I'm always really interested in what people have to say on the subject of Alastor's race, though, because there are... definitely layers to it, both within the scope of canon and from a meta perspective.

[vimbry]

god "hello mrs. wheelyke" is just an Excellent song. I love their duets ("spoiler alert" is another great one), their vocals sound smooth in this, I love linnell's verses recontextualising flansburgh's and the satisfying cleverness of these new sentences forming like a song made of invisible ink, and the melancholy that sets in when it's solo again

[whobeheadedaster]

Here’s my persona if u care btw!!1!

his name is aster, more info is beloww

He’s trans (if ya couldn’t see those flags down there he’s also t4t)

HES GAY (he has my sexuality and gender omg <3)

I made him

his scars aren’t optional. so yes you have to draw him with burn scars

Likes: Men (/j), Chilli, the warm smell of books, librarys, fruit, really carbonated sodas, ramen, etc.

dislike: stinky people! (transphobes.) vegetables, homophobic people, etc.

and now here’s my persona as a furry:

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Ok I KNOW I should just ignore this but????? What's wrong with my username??????

I get that it says "bitch" in my banner (which I didn't even know was called a banner so shout out to this person for letting me know) but - is it the bit about the TARDIS? Is that what's upsetting them? My username is what's wrong with that response??? So many questions. On the other hand it did make me laugh though.

This is definitely a hot take but:

JK Rowling invented fursonas.

Think about it. Animagus, patroni. How many of us growing up took quizzes on what our would be? JK Rowling invented furries and I would LOVE to tell her that to her face.

[larcenywrites]

All About Fur!

Nightcrawler HCs

I have lots of thoughts about lots of things, and Nightcrawler’s fur is one of them! So I had to get a few things out of my brain 💙 Some x reader stuff in here too ;)

Warnings: a few sexual references | a few fluffy (no pun intended) references | no pronouns or specifications on reader obvi

⚜️Unfortunately, he doesn’t get any fluffier, much to your dismay 😔 a fluffy winter coat would have been cute, after all!

⚜️But even that short fur does get thicker and longer in certain places on the daily 😏 you may notice his jawline is a bit shaggy by the end of a lazy weekend 🤭 that there’s more fur on his chest when you run your fingers through it 🥺 his belly and a line above and below is belly button gets fluffy and curly if he lets it 🥺🥺

⚜️Even if you’ve typically preferred your past partners more… clean-shaven or well-trimmed down there, you surely can’t have any issues with his fluffier crotch and thighs 🥰 the saving grace here is that all of his fur is velvety soft 😌

⚜️Now, while it doesn’t grow any longer outside of those places, he is naturally shaggier in some other areas!

⚜️His forearms are a bit more furry than his upper arms

⚜️The backs of his thighs and his little booty have longer, curled fur 🥰🥰🥰

⚜️Rub a balloon on him and watch it stick :)

⚜️Bathing with him is fun because you get to play with his fur! Run your fingers through it! This is a feature, not a bug!!

⚜️Except now he’s more like a soggy kitten 🥺 a happy one at least!

⚜️The tail is surprisingly not just, like, skin! It is fuzzy! The fur there is very very short and fine, but still soft and fuzzy! It kinda feels like one of those lamb’s ear plants! Or peach fuzz!!

⚜️But the tip isn’t covered in fur 😔 just like the bottoms of his hands and feet!

⚜️He says belly rubs are degrading, but he likes them 😘 especially when that fur on his chest and belly hasn’t been trimmed in a while, he’ll absolutely stretch out and let you run your fingers through it during late morning cuddles 🥰

⚜️Don’t be afraid to pay extra attention to his quasi-beard, too 😉 it’s not the same as pubic hair on a human! It’s just as soft as the rest of him!

⚜️And for better or for worse, you won’t have to worry very much about beard burn, at least!

⚜️He really doesn’t mind being petted anywhere and everywhere— so long as you do, in fact, have a close and/or (preferably) more intimate relationship!

⚜️Though, if all your past partners have been more on the human-presenting side, you’ll have to get used to always getting a mouthful of fur whenever you want to kiss his cheek or affectionately bite his arm 😅

⚜️This also makes it a little more difficult to do body shots tbh 😔 not to mention trying to get any sticky wine out of that fur later 🤧

⚜️Among other sticky things 🤭

⚜️And when you’re trying to be sexy and trying to lick him down from neck to abs 😔

⚜️But!! At least he’s all soft and cuddly :)

⚜️You’ll probably literally be rubbing your cheek against his like some kind of cartoon couple! You can’t help it that he’s so snuggly 🥰

⚜️But it’s gonna get very warm under the covers— and not just because he’s getting frisky 🥲 sorry if you get hot easily!

⚜️Also sorry if you're ticklish 🥺 he’s probably trying to be very sexy and romantic by kissing down your stomach all slow and teasingly 😏 but those fuzzy cheeks are probably going to have you giggling and squirming away from him instead 😅 it’s okay, he’ll work with it 😘

⚜️His tail is also a major offender of this! Sometimes, he does it on purpose, but other times, he’s genuinely trying to be sexy when he wraps his tail around your thigh or waist, but it’s so fuzzy! It tickles!

⚜️And that’s okay, too :) he does love making you laugh 🥰

⚜️But there’s another disadvantage… sweat and fur don’t mix— there’s a reason dogs and cats don’t sweat!

⚜️Bandaids and fur also don’t mix 😬 but hey, it’s a lot more intimate wrapping medical tape around his arm or whatever 😏

⚜️And no! He won’t get fleas 😤

[dark-moonlust]

Heyyy so im so weak for bear hybrids and i just saw the one you posted, (LOVE IT btw), and i was wondering if you could do a sequal where reader decides to stay and lives a happy cozy life, with like cozy fires and all the bestest fur blankets and coziest bed and BIG FLUFFY BEAR MAN CUDDLES, but also like yk mad crazy sex where he likes to show off his strength and just like tosses her around, like up against walls, that thing where u like hold a girl on ur shoulders to eat her n stuff, if not thats ok i love all ur work sm 🙏🧎‍♀️🤍

Hello anon!!! Thank you for all the lovely words and the smutty idea!! I love bear hybrids, too. I'm sorry I took so long to complete. I have a lot of requests and I've been so busy lately. I'm trying to catch up on them slowly. Anyway, I hope this is to your liking!

Happy reading everyone!

Check out the first part of my bear hybrid oneshot here.

Cozy Life with your Bear Hybrid

Pairing: bear hybrid x fem reader Summary: you live a cozy life with your giant bear of a man. And you love it. Warnings: minors-ageless accounts don't interact, 18+, smut, size kink, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), huge 🍆, p in v sex, lots of 💦.

The wind screamed outside, rolling through the trees, yet it was only a whisper in the warmth of your cave. The fire crackled in the hearth and you were wrapped up in your mate's thick, muscled arms—the big bear of a beast who smelled like woodsmoke earthy perfume. He was warm and super cuddly, his big frame spooning you from behind.

Thick furs were heaped high on the bed their softness wrapping around you like a cocoon. Your bear hybrid always ensured you were warm and cozy, and took great pleasure in cuddling and loving you for hours on end. That night, he had a fond deep look in his eyes that spoke of his desire to keep you close and shield you from the outer world.

His mate. Forever.

Yes, you loved your life as his other half.

Shifting slightly, he moved, drawing you even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his furred bear face scratchy but exquisite against your skin. His fingers, strong and calloused, trailed carefully down your belly, over your thighs, making sure his sharp nails were sheathed. Humming in satisfaction, you sunk deeper into him.

There was nowhere else you'd rather be, nothing else you'd rather do than spend every day surrounded by the warmth of your giant, soft bear, who was just as possessive and tender toward you.

"Hmmm, I could stay like this forever," he drawled in a low voice that vibrated through your chest. “But I’m also thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”

“Like?” you challenged, hands caressing his furry arm.

“Taste your sweet honey for one,” he murmured, his voice a low, dark rumble that sent goosebumps all over your skin.

“You just love to use this reference!”

He cocked a brow. “Why not?” His voice deepened. “Your cunt leaks the sweetest honey there is. I can vouch for that.”

“You are a horny bear beast.”

Chuckling, his hand moved down your thigh, fingers pressing just hard enough to cause you to open. “Hmm, and as the bear beast I am, I should taste again. Make sure your lovely cunny is as delicious as before. I love honey. Your honey.”

“You are insatiable.” Your face felt warm at the memory of him eating you out just hours ago. Your pussy had no issue whatsoever; it clenched and pooled with your juices.

Damn… You were both insatiable.

He grinned, that familiar, smoldering look blazing in his eyes. “Sleep, cuddle, eat you out, fuck. Then repeat. That’s our schedule. Now come, mate,” he playfully tapped your thighs. “Time to let me taste your pussy.”

His tone was straightforward. As if what you did every day was perfectly normal. You touched each other, rolled around in bed, kissed, made out (a lot), and couldn't keep your hands away from each other.

And you weren't a coward or an idiot to turn away from such joy.

In a playful mood, you smacked his hands playfully and scooted off the bed. You were in the mood to tease him. He growled and you hardly had time to move when he lifted you effortlessly, as if you were weightless in his massive arms, whisking you off the ground. You hugged him firmly and moaned as he hoisted you again, slamming you against the wall.

Strong hands maneuvered you so that your legs were draped over his shoulders, your pussy exposed and dripping in front of his eager mouth. You clutched his head and peered down at him, seeing the passion in his eyes as he licked up your mound, manipulating your folds with his long thick tongue. Your head tipped back, spine arching as he sucked you in, savoring your juices as if he were eating his favorite meal—which he was.

You were his favorite delicacy.

It went on and on, his tongue playing with your tender clit, circling the tender nub. You went wild, buried your fingers in his silky fur, and tugged violently as you shattered, your body coming alive with energy. He kept going, his big hands clutching your ass, his tongue thrusting inside to taste your honey. He growled primitively, his breaths vibrating over your clit.

He could go on for hours if you let him, feasting on your cunt and doing incredible tongue tricks just to see you lose yourself in pleasure.

“Pl—ease…ha~” you trembled, your voice strained from the toe-curling orgasm he’d given you.

With a husky moan, he gently flung you back into bed, onto that sea of fur covers, his large bulk crushing you with this delicious, heavy warmth and scent. You sighed with happiness and stretched your legs wider. He leaned over you, his cock thrusting up from between his broad thighs, already dripping seed.

His hands robed over your body, caressing your legs, belly and your breasts. You arched against him, whining when his leaky cock pressed against your entrance. He toyed with your nipples and leisurely rubbed his cock across your slit, his massive shaft appearing inhumanly large in comparison to your little human hole.

“Want my big bear to fuck me,” you whispered, fingers reaching down to open the outer lips of your pussy. “Pretty please?”

He whined and pushed the blunt cockhead a tiny bit inside. “How can I deny you, love?”

“Yessss,” you moaned, wiggling your waist. You were half-dazed with pleasure and you craved every inch of him inside you.

The spark in his eyes told you he was barely holding back. He was always so gentle despite his raw desire for you.

“Easy. Look at you,” he drawled, eyes on your pretty cunt, spread by his cockhead. “Every inch of you… mine, open and soft for me.”

“Come on, no more looking,” you warned. “Inside. Need you inside. All of you.”

A gentle roll of his hip, a little wiggling from you and he was inside, every inch of him buried in your depths. He was so deep you could feel him throbbing in your bellybutton, his balls crushed against your bum. You clutched his biceps, let out a gentle pants at the thick girth spreading your hole. You felt full, but not uncomfortably so. You’d learned to take him, to accommodate his hybrid cock.

“Good girl,” he drawled, his tongue plunging into your mouth.

Tongue down your throat, he fucked you, pounded into you in deep, unhurried thrusts. He kissed you as if he was starving, as if you were the only precious person he’d spent his entire life searching for. Which was entirely true. His hands cupped and kneaded your tits, his breath warm on your mouth.

Pleasure hit you again, and you sobbed mutely, your fingers tangling in his furred shoulders as he continued to claim you, his magnificent cock pumping in and out of your slick cunt. You heard his feral grunts and the squelching sounds of your bodies colliding. Two more thrusts and he exploded, loads of cum filling you up. He spurted for several minutes, your cunt overflowing with hot seed.

“Pretty, so damn pretty,” he roared. “Good mate, taking my cock and my seed. It drips so beautifully down your thighs.”

“Too much! It always is,“ you whined, feeling the final spurts of his release.

“Oh, that’s nothing.” His eyes had that dark hungry gleam, one that told you he wasn’t done with you. “Let’s see just how much more you can take, mate, ‘cause I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Did you enjoy?! Like, comment or reblog! It would make me so happy!

[deadghosy]

So I saw a lot of your work, and I love them. Keep it up, please. You're doing great... but I wanted to ask or well request something see if the requests were open or not so so sorry if they were but I saw your Enderman reader and I wanted to have a creeper reader and see how the hotel would react to them. gender neutral, please 🙏 .

I got these pictures off the internet, and I thought these would give you a good idea of what the reader would look like.

They could also have a humanoid form similar to this, but you could easily ignore this. I was just giving you examples or pictures you could go off of

OOOOH THE FIRST DESIGNS ARE CUTE! IMA DO THATTTT HEHHE💗💗🦆 I LOVE MINECRAFT

HAZBIN HOTEL X CREEPER! READER

prompt: Steve accidentally knocked you into an unknown portal.

Steve had a leash on you as you hiss softly smiling and nuzzling against his hand that has your leash. Steve put the leash around a fence trying to make a portal to the neither as you sit down smiling at your human. Steve uses his flint and steel as the portal is red which makes Steve back away. As he backs away, he accidentally knocks you forward into the portal.

“READER NOOOO!” Steve yelled as you hissed in a quick panic.

You hiss with a cry as you plop on your face on some blood. You couldn’t even get up as your arms were short. You were 90% of body and 10% of legs….

Soon you felt someone pick you up grumbling drunk. “What the fuck is this?” A rough voice says as they shake you making you hiss. The person turned you around to see your black eyes and full black mouth as you hiss at him. The drunkard laughs and takes you by the leash, oddly gently walking you as he blabbers about being lonely and selling his soul to some smiley asshole.

Next thing you know, you are in the arms of this cat demon who is drooling passed out drunk

And that’s how you got into the crew as you became the server who serves the residents of course.

Literally you walk with a severing tray on your head as you smile with a “pst” and go back to the bar.

I headcannon they all woke up to see a four legged fuzzy creature literally walking around and they were like “what the fuckkkkk…”

I can imagine you falling down the stairs into Angel and you both just fall on the floor like idiots

You know how cats go towards the creepers and the creepers run away? Yeah. Literally husk got oddly attached to you making Charlie make you part of his bar as you serve drinks out to residents.

You were literally walking, holding a tray in your mouth. Husk just stares at you with dilated eyes and purr. The crew noticed this but didn’t confront him. Well alastor did of course and he didn’t get an answer out of husk.

Imagine a cartoony moment where Angel scares you, making you literally poop out gun powder😭 Angel gave the same face to you when sir Pentious called him “son”

Alastor definitely thought you were a cannibal because of your black eyes. He brought you a dead sinner, like literally he thrown a small sinner in your face. And you just stood there confused with a “pst.” And walked forward to Alastor and purr against him.

Mission failed successfully, Alastor gained a furry child-

I headcannon creeper! Reader to have a tongue just like the reference and picture because Steve mostly heard the sounds from their mouth.

Charlie and vaggie tried to make you a room, but Lucifer couldn’t help but love your fluffiness as he picked you up and ran as the others chased him.

I headcannon even if husk was the one that took you in. You can sense he is a cat demon, mostly a cat in your eyes as you run away from him as husk just walks normal speed confused behind you.

“Where you goin'?” Husk asked as you cry out a hiss running away on your stubby cute legs.

It was basically giving, “WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING!”

You ran into Lucifer’s room to hide from husk-

Lucifer likes to pick you up at times. Literally he knows when you get too nervous you explode things. So he has part of his room your calm down station with fluffy pillows 💗

“PST.” “Why yes you fluffy boy??? Uuh girl. I did make you a duck. And look!” Lucifer says turning around dramatically “it was a rubber duck, green with green fuzz with a red button on its head. “It also explodes!” Just as he said that, a tiny exposure hit his face making his face look smoky as he gags and cough.

One time a sinner had yelled at you for accidentally giving them the wrong drink, and immediately they were thrown out by husk who had a dark expression at you cowering at the yelling. He’s not taking disrespect towards you lightly.

I can see you just casually walking outside only to get mistaken for grass, and an old lady was trying to cut your fur off.

“Hey has anyone seen Reader?” Vaggie says as she looked at the crew who showed up for the meeting. The crew looked around confused until they heard a big ass boom. *VINE BOOM*

I headcannon you sometimes explode based on intense emotions, mostly fear or being scared.

The old lady didn’t survive the explosion.

I imagine creeper! Reader having behavior issues like a cat. Like there was a small ball and you hit it like a curios cat.

The Vee’s were confused to see you as you were shopping at the beer store. And you walked minding your business, catching vox’s attention as he stopped the two other Vee’s. Literally they were intrigued at how different you looked. They’ve seen sinners and demons before. But you are so different.

I imagine you getting so much attention for your weird creature look. Literally either people wanna skin you, or pet you.

Valentino probably seen you on Angel dust’s post that said “what a cutie, they can’t pick up the teddy bear” and Valentino was raising a brow at your appearance

Rosie would also think you are a cannibal as Alastor brought you to cannibal town to show you off. Rosie admires your affection towards her as you just purr and help her around.

Creeper! Reader is definitely a child by heart as they thrown up one time and went to a “trusted” adult to say, “pst.” Which translated to “mom/dad, I threw up.” 🥺

You once blowed up one side of the hotel over a nightmare 😭 Alastor sighed with a smile and fixed it

You actually once had Alastor scratch your back as you couldn’t reach it . Alastor wasnt sure how he wanted to touch you since he wasn’t prone to being touch himself. But he did for you.

Why do I headcannon for a creeper and creeper! Reader to blow fire….

IMAGINE THE ABSOLUTE FOREST AND HOUSE FIRES YOU MADE😨

Cherri bomb would literally be friends with you since you can explode. So yeah I can imagine the chaos you two cause around the pride ring

Velvette probably would get ahold of you to give you a cute cloak that goes around your “shoulders” . It’s just so cute that you would have a cloak.

LMAO STOP CAUSE WHAT IF VAGGIE HAD THROWN YOU IN THAT ONE EPISODE WHERE VAGGIE THROW THE CAST DOWN INTO A FIELD😭 YOU KILLED SO MUCH PEOPLE WITH YOUR BOOM

Meanwhile Steve is just standing there shocked at the lost name tag you had as he sighs pulling out another creeper egg. Only for the creeper to blow up in his face.

I can see him posting out a missing poster with him coughing out smoke.

I headcannon Lucifer made you a duck pool seat as you just float in the pool smiling like a child as you drink lemonade. You’re so Adorable 😭💗

I imagine reader to go through a lot of training to be a waiter as you just trip on one of your legs to serve a resident their drinks

Niffty likes petting your soft fuzzy paw..she literally rubs her face in your fur hypnotized in it.

I headcannon you to smell like gun powder and a soft scent of fresh air that makes anyone relax as you are mostly outside back where you came from.

You mostly pick things up with your mouth of course. So imagine how awkward it is trying to put on your waiter outfit in your room. 😭

Sir Pentious definitely steals gun powder from you by making you scared so you can drop the gun powder. And then he apologizes to you after almost getting a heart attack.

I can see a calm moment of you snuggling with the crew as your favorite hotel crew member hold you.

The egg boiz definitely nap against you as you sleep in your fluffy pillows that Lucifer got you

You blowed up a resident on accident cause they didn’t tell you that they were behind you before you could see who it was.

You like getting groomed by niffty as it reminded you of how Steve combed your fuzzy fur while you smiled relaxed.

Adam had picked you up as you followed Charlie behind her back since you wanted it do errands.

“The fuck is this shit?” Adam says as you hiss at it. “Did this shit just hiss at me?” Adam asked with an amusing smirk as he noogies your head

Adam would definitely know what you are cause I headcannon he goes to earth to see what games online they have 😭😭

I headcannon that you just shed around the hotel with your green fur. But who can complain when literally it’s just small pieces that smell like gun powder.

[patricia-taxxon]

hi, sorry if this is something you've said before and I missed it, but since conceptualizing Amber and Avery, has the way you want to be addressed by the parasocial internet hoard changed at all? is Patricia Taxxon still a singular entity that goes by she/it? Or are they a group of two entities who individually go by she/it and collectively are they/them in the plural sense?

it occurs to me that when I reblogged you yesterday I used plural they/them out of the habit I've formed talking about other systems I know, but its been bothering me since then that like, you never told people to do that, and it feels weird to they/them you even in the completely epicene "multiple entities" sense without your go-ahead. i know that your self conceptualization at this point is more complicated than "i'm definitely a plural system" so there's that too.

anyway, hope you're faring well, and I basically just want to be able to refer to you comfortably. see you on the internets

Thanks for asking, I'm not entirely sure yet. I'm still using singular first person pronouns naturally, cus it feels like I'm one point of view exchanging emotions, preferences, and identity between two different consistent clusters of traits that I call Avery and Amber. Which one I am at any given time is only really crucial information for my friends who have to talk with me. It helps to personify us sometimes, like when I feel Avery clambering to front, but it probably won't be important for everyone in my audience to participate. Patricia is still one entity that prefers she or it.

Basically, the only boundary that I think concerns most of you, cute dog furry asks are fine but cute raccoon asks are not. Avery just likes indulging in roleplaying as a dumb animal wayyyyy more.

[bedoballoons]

Don't know if you take crack requests. What if reader thought the guys were females but find out they were actually a dude.

Venti, Lyney, Tighnari, Kaveh

You can add another of your choosing

I take every request I think as long as it's not pedophilia/incest/ or anything with animals/mobs!

This idea had me laughing!! Oh my gosh! I won't lie I thought Venti and Kaveh were females the first time I saw them! I also kept confusing Lyney with Lynette 😭 I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Finally now it's all making sense~༺}

CW: Fluffy! Characters get a little embarrassed cause the reader thinks they are a girl!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Venti!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

"You must be thinking of my sister...Lynette?" Lyney chuckled shyly, finding his heart racing and his cheeks flushed. You were extremely cute in his eyes and you'd just complimented him on his magic tricks...if only you hadn't called him miss.

"Oh no I'm talking about you! You're assistant was wonderful as well, but you truly wowed the crowd!"

"Well I thank you for your words of praise, I'm afraid I have to correct you. I'm not a girl haha"

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, I should go now. I'm so sorry."

"No please, I'd like to talk to you more. Perhaps I could show you a few more magic tricks!"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

"Excuse me Ms.? Do you happen to know the best medicine for a migraine? I've heard you're good with medications and even make some?" You tapped the fennec foxes shoulder, hoping she could help you with the painful headaches you'd been experiencing.

"Ms.?" He turned towards you and upon hearing his voice you instantly realized your mistake...

"Mr.! I'm so sorry, I didn't- I shouldn't have just assumed!"

"It's alright, it could have been far worse. You could have called me a furry."

𑁍༄Kaveh:

"Hi, sorry if this is strange, but as I walked by I noticed your sketches and I just wanted to say they are beautiful ma'am" You shyly stood a bit away from him, hoping that he wouldn't find your compliment to forward...if only you'd known that was the least of your problems.

"Thank you, but I'm sorry, did you just call me ma'am? Did Alhaitham put you up to this?"

Your face went beet red, embarrassment playing on your features, "I don't know who that is and I sincerely apologise!"

"Oh no I'm sorry, I shouldn't have accused you of working with Alhaitham. He's my roommate and...and you probably don't need to know that." He looks away from you feeling flustered, "Can we start over?"

𑁍༄Venti:

"Ehhh, what did you call me?" Venti scratched the back of his neck, cheeks turning crimson as you chuckled sweetly...it would have been cute really,...if only you hadn't just referred to him as miss.

"I called you miss! Oh I'm sorry is it Mrs.?"

The poor bard sighed, wondering why so many people assumed the wrong gender...did he really look that much like a girl? "Aha, actually it's neither! I'm a boy."

"...I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have assumed!!"

"It's alright, happens more often then you think..."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Spoiled Brat {pt.2}

Remus Lupin x Gaunt!Reader

Summary: Remus and the reader reunite, but it doesn't go as well as either had hoped. Remus finds himself dealing with an evolution in his furry problem. (There will be a part 3- I'm sorry)

WC: 4895

Warnings: Not proof read. Sexual themes and references, this one is mostly angst and yearning, use of {Y/N}, fem reader, self doubt- let me know if I missed anything!}

Part one

You had no idea where you were going. Not that you would know if you had thought about it, you didn't have a clue about this damn school. You turned every corner and kept pushing through the sharp pain in your calves.

Your mind was racing. What the hell!? Why was he here!?

You turned another corner and ended up in just an empty corridor again. Eventually, you gave in and shoved your way into an empty classroom as you heard his footsteps grow closer. Fuck fuck fuck.

You began to pace. This should have never come home with you. What was he? A muggleborn? You had forgotten that Hogwarts accepts them. Was he a halfblood? No way in hell he was a pureblood, no chances you found someone that similar to you.

During the training over the summer, Mrs. Black made a heavy point of schooling you in infatuation. Well, at least that's what she called it. Longing for someone who you couldn't have. She taught you how to ignore the feelings, how to shove aside such thoughts and remind yourself you had a greater purpose.

You almost felt sorry for her, if she wasn't so vindictive and cruel, she would almost be a sob story.

Though, that was the only thing that helped. She seemed almost.. sympathetic with how taken you were with those lessons. Even a monster can use her heart once in a while. You had used her practice religiously, a rubber band around your wrist, flicked it throughout the day, and if you thought of him, or let your mind wander from your duties, flick it particularly hard.

She seemed to trial off when she noticed just how much you did it. By the dent around her forearm, she knew what she was talking about. What a cruel fix, seemed appropriate for her.

So here you were, pacing, your wrist turned upward and snapping the rubber band repeatedly, not thinking about just how much noise you were making. You were too wound up. You felt like a caged animal, just praying to Merlin that he walked past the classroom and somehow, for the next year, you'd be able to avoid him.

You could never be so lucky.

The door opened with a start and you hissed out at a particularly hard snap of the rubber across your already raw skin. Your eyes locked with a familiar face, you both were frozen. No one dared to move. The sound of his friends running down the hall and gaining on them seemed to catch Remus’s attention. He closed the door quickly behind him and you both held your breath. Listening as his friends all shuffled past the doorway.

Once they got further away, their shouts of Moony’s name fading out, he moved first.

You fumbled for your wand the second they were gone, looking down to your robe pocket and cursing as the colors blended together in your panic, the dark classroom was only illuminated by the moonlight from behind you, you didn't stand a chance. You missed your old uniform. You heard his footsteps, but by the time you looked up his long strides had already covered half the space between you.

You grasped your wand and snatched it from your ruffled uniform, before he grabbed your wrist and took your cheeks with one hand. You pointed your wand to this throat, but his grip on your wrist made you hold it at an odd angle. His thumb dented your cheek and his other turned your wrist. Something that could be seen as aggressive, domineering, but Merlin you knew that touch fondly.

His eyes locked on your panicked ones, he stared into them with so much desperation, your heart was blaring against your chest in a painful way. He moved closer, until his exhales became your inhales. You took a sharp breath in and held it, you could almost taste that familiar tang, chocolate and coffee, just like every night.

Your free hand applied pressure to his shoulder, but you hardly tried. You caved so easily for him.

It wasn't long until his lips were on yours. Your body relaxed on instinct, pressing against his as your wand dropped to the floor. “Mmm…”

He smiled into the kiss and pushed you back until you hit some poor professor's desk. Hand moving from your cheeks to your lower back, taking control as if laying claim to what he was cheated out of over the summer.

Sirius’s words, for once in his life, made sense. You were distracted with Walburga, of course you wouldn't have been able to come over the summer. You didn't hate him. He knew you didn't. It did make him wonder. What was a Gaunt doing hanging around muggle London? It drove him mad, he knew you so intimately, but clearly didn't have a clue who you really were. He wanted to know more than anything, trying to communicate it wordlessly and taking it out on your bruising lips. You gasped when he bit you, and the sharp pain snapped you out of it.

Looking away quickly he took that as a sign you wanted his kisses elsewhere. He found your neck easily, running his teeth along your jugular, bringing that familiar haze to the forefront of your mind. Only for you to snap out of it again when he took a punishing nip at the sensitive flesh. As if to show you that you've done wrong. Like some kind of dog.

You quickly shoved him back, and got a good look at him. He was flustered, hair a mess from what you realized had been your hand tangling into his lochs. You didn't even remember doing that.

“Get off.” You hissed at him and he seemed taken aback by the pure anger in your voice.

He did as he was told, letting go of you and taking a few steps back. He stared at you and you quickly fixed your clothes, hand going up to your neck and cursing at the tender wet mark. That would bruise, you knew that very well.

“Don't ever touch me again, do you understand me?” You snapped at him. The look he gave you made your heart break. He looked so.. defeated, like you had just taken the world away from him. What? Did he assume things would be like it was? That you would just go back to summer? To be that free… You huffed and leaned off the desk, his eyes scanned over you as if he was trying to decipher what was happening. “You need to keep your hands to yourself, Remus. I need you to tell me you understand that.”

He frowned a bit and slowly nodded. “Yeah. Understood.” He mumbled and you leaned down to get your wand.

“I don't need anyone knowing I associate with anyone lesser than.” You were being harsh, you knew that, but you had to. Less he got ideas this was something he could keep alive.

Much to your dismay, he scoffed. “You don't believe that. You're going to have me believe you would go around with a muggle all summer, but a half blood is too much for you?”

Halfblood.. of bloody course he had to be a half blood. You rolled your eyes hard. “I thought you were a muggle I would never have to see again.”

Another lie. And by the look of it, he knew this one too.

“Sure, sure you did.” He huffed at you and crossed his arms.

You had only seen Remus angry twice, once when you were at the beach with your friends and a random boy came over to try and talk you up, while he was standing right next to you. Remus did not like that. He snaked his arm around your waist and locked his eyes on the poor chap before he left.

You felt cocky, having made the usually well mannered, civil boy so angry. You had looked up at him through your lashes, knowing every move that made the boy crazy, and ignored the flirt outright. Like it was a display of your commitment to your situationship.

The second time was when you were at home and one of your neighbors had been making a racket while you two tried to sleep. He found an easy solution to that problem, and even if he took it out on you in a very exhilarating way, he never had his anger directed at you.

Tonight, it seemed like he had a million different thoughts in his head and all of them pointed at you as the cause. You didn’t blame him.

“I'm serious, Remus. Don't make what happened between us anything more than what it was.” You spat harshly and slipped your wand in your pocket, moving to pass him but he spoke up and stood in front of you. It was slow and calm, like he was herding you.

“What was it then? Enlighten me. You are a clever girl, and you never hesitate to tell me what you want.” Remus’s tone was terrifying at first, you had never heard so much strain and anger in someone's voice before. “So what was it? A three month long game? You introduce me to your friends for a little hit of something dangerous? You take me home and beg me to stay the summer for a quick fuck?” Remus had his hands out and threw them around to emphasize his point. You could see how he was clenching his hands, the veins in his arms harsh and visible. “You tell me you love me for a quick. Fuck?”

You snapped your thoughts back to reality, memories rushing back with every ounce of blood in your body, flushing your skin a tint of embarrassing red.

Your eyes widened, lips parting. “I-I never said that.”

“You did. I know because I was bloody begging you to. I had been imagining it for weeks, and it finally happened. And you acted like it was nothing.” He threw his hands down, putting them to his sides as he looked down at you.

“I thought I imagined it. But that look in your eye,” He gestured to you in aspiration, a clear disjointed hopelessness flickering between his eyes and relayed in his tone. “You can't fake that. I fucking hope you can't.”

He could not explain how much it rattled him. Your arms around his neck while he was rutting against you, your soft sounds egging him on. His hands holding you like you were glass, running up and down your legs to map out your figure for nights without it. Just begging himself. Begging himself to just say it. Just to hear your featherlight words piercing him a knife. The worst part? It was true. He knew it to be true.

You scoffed and turned your back to him, trying to hide your glossy eyes. This felt worse than how you expected. “... I wish I could say, I hate to disappoint you.”

Remus gave a laugh at your display. “What? You don't even know the worst about me, and you're this fucked up about it? That's it? That's all I get?” He stared down at you and you ran your fingers through your hair.

“That summer meant the world to me, you can't sit here and tell me you didn't feel a damn thing about it.” He spat harshly.

You pulled at the strands of your hair and laughed. It truly was like arguing with a partner, your mind kept going back to your concerns for him. You know, however, this time, his self deprecation was your fault. You were doing this to him, and it hurt like hell. “Yes!” You shouted and turned to face him, hands held out to exaggerate. “It meant nothing, Remus. Not a damn thing! I had done it before. Plenty of times.”

Remus rolled his eyes and you walked past him, shoving his shoulder as he tried, in vain, to stop you from running again. He turned to watch you open the door, as you looked back at him. His eyes widened and he looked right past you, but you didn't think about it.

“Stay far away from me, Remus. I mean it. I don't plan to ruin my name and my family legacy over a half breed.” Your words were aimed to kill. Glad his eyes weren't focused on you, you'd surely break. If he hated you, he wouldn't be so obsessed with the idea that you two could be anything more than what you truly were. He didn't need to know you were destined for a loveless life of pamper and spoils. He didn't need to know you would be married off once summer ended. He needed to forget that you fell in love with him that summer. In fact, he needed to think it wasn't true. It would just make this worse. “You need to realize that summer was a mistake. You're right, I don't know the worst of you. I don't care to. It's over. Be a big boy and let it go.”

Remus flinched and looked away, taking a small breath and you relaxed at his reaction. Seeing him finally give in broke your heart, but you were doing far worse to him, you were sure of it. You closed your eyes and turned to look away with a long pause.

“Listen-”

“Man, I hate being right sometimes.”

Your head snapped around and you locked eyes with Sirius Black. Now, you knew him, knew him as Walaburga warned you to stay far away from her disgraced son. You took a sharp breath as you looked across the alarmed and unsettled faces of who you recognize as students who were sitting around Remus in the hall. Lovely, so they surely know.

You collected yourself and straightened your back, waving your hand in a dismissive way. A red headed girl who was staring at you with the most confused look you'd ever seen, stepped aside. You quickly brushed past her and turned sharply to make it down the hall. Not wanting to hear the group talk about you. More so, not wanting to hear how bad you had hurt your moony.

~~~

The walk back to the dorms was hell.

He never knew Sirius could be so quiet. The only thing that could be heard was their soft footsteps making it towards the staircase.

What was worse than the silence, was the whispers. The second the five entered the common room, everyone seemed to be alive with chatter about what had gone down merely an hour ago.

“Remus! What was that?” Marlene shouted from her seat on the couch, turning to face him with a bright smile. Mary closed her book on her lap as Marlene began to turn with her knees in the cushions.

“Come on, Remus! You don't just call the new mystery girl by first name and run away!” She called after him as he walked his way up to Sirius and Peter’s dorms. Mary reached up and yanked Marlene down by her ear. The blonde yelped and fell easily into Mary’s lap. Looking up at her with a cheeky grin, much like James, puddy to her girlfriend. “Hey! I mean- Hey~”

Mary rolled her eyes and glanced back to see Lily send her an appreciative look before she followed the boys into what was once their shared dorm room.

She closed the door behind her and looked up to see Remus sitting in his old bed and staring at the wall. She sighed and put her hands on her hips.

James bit his cheek and rolled his jaw a bit. “Hey, Remus, I know it's not what you want to hear-”

“Then don't say it.” Remus groaned and covered his face. His lips still tingled from the kiss. It shouldn't have been this hard. He knew you were out of his league, the moment you mentioned your causal springs in Paris and winters in Australia. Your small comments while you spoiled him through the summer, with gifts and sweets, he knew at least three of his outfits in his luggage were from you. He didn't know if he wanted to frame or burn them.

Lily gave him her soft eyes, the ones that usually made Remus feel at his safest. Now, all he could think about was what it meant to be held by you, just hours after his transformation. True safety was your arms.

“Lily-”

“I know.” Lily whispered and moved to sit beside him on the bed. He looked at her as she placed her hand on his wrist and lowered it. She interlocked their fingers and she traced shapes along the back of his palm. It burned, almost like she was branding his very flesh. Another reminder he would never feel you trace your name in his back again. Like how you had done, on the beach, leaving your initials along his spine when the tan took over.

“How's Moony?” Lily whispered and Remus gave a deep sigh.

“He won't shut up. He's clawing at my throat.” He mumbled and Lily slowly rested her head against his shoulder, hand running up his arm and rubbing it.

“Do you think.. maybe he'll grow to get over it?” She whispered, slowly pressing her nose to his arm. “Like before?” She whispered lower and Remus grimaced.

“It's nothing compared to knowing she's.. she's so close. And I just can't-” He lifted his hands and she let hers untangle from his. “I can't..” He clenched his fists and slowly rubbed his forehead. “I need her.”

“Remus, you don't need her,” Lily tried to interject before she flinched at the look in his eyes. He looked dangerous, like she had denied him something vital. Then she realized, right. Three days, coming on the next full moon.

Moony was on edge. Remus wasn't usually this in tune with him, he did his best to ignore him day to day. But you had been his weakness from day one.

Normally, for Remus, he wouldn't dare say anything to a pretty girl in a record store. One who carried herself with so much confidence and determination. He should have taken note, your expensive shoes for a casual walk, your outfit wreaked of old money and your attitude alone showed you were used to being treated like a princess.

But Merlin, if you didn't have him and Moony on the same page for once. You were just his type, and yet the complete opposite at the same time. He was whipped before he knew your name.

By the time you said his, he was done for.

So he did everything in his power to avoid running into you again. A muggle and a half blood wizard tainted with wolf blood, what a romantic pair. He would do far more damage to who he thought you were then to any witch he'd ever meet. He would never want to force himself on someone so perfect. Then you showed up that night on his walk home and ruined everything. Ruined him.

Yet he still wanted more.

Remus snapped from his thoughts. He noticed Lily’s hesitation before slowly sighing. He shouldn't be taking it out on his friends, he knew that.

Peter snuck his way over to Remus. He wasn't one for many words, but he handed him a chocolate bar. Remus couldn't help but smile, the same thing Peter always did to comfort him. “Thank you.” He whispered.

Lily looked back to James and Sirius, giving a long sigh through her nose.

They both seemed locked in a silent conversation with their eyes. Lily gave a huff through her nose and slapped her hand down onto her lap as she glared at the two.

“Merlin's beard! Your friend is here distressed, say something!” Lily snapped at them and Remus put his hand on her shoulder.

“Lily, it's okay.” He mumbled before Sirius spoke up.

“I would! But James said I'll only make it worse!”

“Because you have a habit of it!” James challenged and Lily scoffed.

“Sirius, say what you must.” She groaned and Sirius bit his cheek before he sighed.

“Well.. she's a pureblood. You described her completely different then how she is now, and she got special training from mother dearest.” Sirius mused as he counted each point on his fingers. “Three strikes and she's been brainwashed.”

Lily furrowed her eyebrows before she looked at Remus who shook his head. James began to gesture wildly at Sirius. “Told you so!”

“She.. she's too strong willed to be broken so easily.” He mumbled and paused. He remembered your words carefully. Every memory of you was tainted and made Moony howl out in desperation for his pack back. His love back. You seemed so real.

You would be so prim and proper outside, Merlin, you used proper dining etiquette at the rundown muggle diners he could hardly afford to take you, like it was second nature. But behind closed doors? You were more of a gremlin then you were a girl at times. Huddled up on the couch in his oversized clothes with your hair a mess and eating cereal from the box. Eyes still messy from sleep and drool still dried on your chin.

He wanted to believe that was the real you. That was the one he fell in love with. If that was you, and it had to be, then maybe not brainwashed but.. the pressure was getting to you. He knew Sirius struggled with it at times, being an heir to an entire dynasty was daunting. That had to be it.

“... I can wait.” He resolved, earning a curious look from everyone in the room.

“I can wait for her to realize I'm worth it.” He whispered, and earned a shocked look from Lily, James seemed ecstatic, Sirius looked bewildered. Even Peter’s jaw dropped.

Sirius slowly smirked. Hell yeah moons, you are worth it.

Lily engulfed him in a hug, smiling bright. Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder, but no one looked prouder than James.

Tomorrow was a new day.

~~~

The second you got back to the dorms you were overwhelmed by the eyes on you. You were aware the bruise was already forming on your neck, so you had wrapped yourself up in your green scarf. Chin high, practiced and poised, you had to remember.

This wasn't Dumstrang. You had actual power here.

You stepped past the couch, glancing over to a boy. He had straight black hair and bright eyes, a lazy smirk on his face. You knew him, you knew every pureblood your father seemed to think it was worth knowing.

“Mulciber.” You quipped and took a moment to pause. He looked you over before he leaned forward, elbows to his thighs. “Well, if it isn't the Slytherin princess.”

His tone made your nose scrunch up, waving your hand dismissively. “Do not address me so informally.” You snapped back and it seemed to only egg on his interest. The voices around you quieting down, as if your conversation was the most important thing in the entire common room.

This would be interesting… By the looks on everyone's faces, the two of them must have looked like dragons raring their fangs at each other.

“Sorry, sorry doll, just saw that Half breed calling you by first name, I was wondering what kind of privileges us purebloods had.” He chuckled and stood up, earning a laugh from the boy beside him, Avery. You crossed your arms and turned to face him with a harsh glare. Even Avery had the good sense to fake a cough in the chillingly silent common room.

“Watch your tongue, Mulciber. I think you forget who you're speaking to.” You snapped and he put his hands up and playfully flinched back, like you were a caged cat hissing more than a Gaunt. “I suggest you learn to respect your superiors.”

“Superiors?” He laughed, walking closer to lean down. He was as tall as a bloody tree, not as tall as Remus, but enough to remind you that your wand was very hard to salvage in an emergency.

“Are you my superior, love? Who's yours?” He smirked and reached for your scarf. Your hand found your pocket, securing your grip on your wand handle. “Let me guess.. that little half breed had some-”

His wrist was grabbed harshly before he could remove the cloth covering up any evidence of Remus’s wandering lips. Your eyes followed the pale arm and your eyebrows raised at the sight of the youngest Black son, Regulus.

You suddenly remembered that old hags warning, that her youngest son and new heir would be at the school, in your house, as if there was not a shred of doubt you would be in Slytherin. That she would inform him to look after you, ensuring your father there was no funny business happening. Just great…

He looked a lot like Sirius, just angry and a bit more feminine. You wonder how two boys clearly so similar could be so different. It was evident, even if you couldn't see the peaking snake tattoo on his wrist from where you stood.

“Back off, Mulciber.” He warned in a cutting tone. You looked back at the offender as he scoffed and snatched his hand away. “Just looking, Reggie.” He sneared with a smirk. You huffed and turned to him with an apprehensive look. Sizing up the boy two years younger than you, he couldn't be older than 16, he still had a bit of a baby face, and a hollow face. Terrifying how much he looked like his mother.

He just gave you a nod and gestured to his side. “I'll take you to your room, Gaunt.”

You cautiously accepted his help, hands behind your back as you walked towards the steps he gestured to. Resolving within yourself to return back to your younger mindset.

Merlin this would be a long year.

~~~

The next day, waking up was a chore in itself.

Remus toughed through it, making his way to the great hall with some prodding from Lily. He couldn't say no, she had traveled all the way from the head dorms to the prefects to retrieve him.

When he sat down, the table felt lively again, but he could still feel all the eyes on him. He caught you at the Slytherin table, you had done your makeup and you were dressed up in subtle jewelry he remembered from the summer before. You took extra care of your appearance, and you seemed to effortlessly have every Slytherin wrapped around your finger.

You seemed so.. fake. So doll-like. You had a harsh and exact scowl, you looked dangerous but alluring, your eyes fluttered despite your clear stoic expression. When attention was given to you, you held it so effortlessly and that made his stomach turn. You used to look so much happier. When you were with him.

Sirius made some comment about your company, it was only then he noticed you were sitting with Regulus Black.

Remus didn't like to admit he could be a jealous person. Anytime you had teased him about his protectiveness, his unspoken claim over what was ‘his’ he would deny it.

Or better, blame it on Moony.

This time, it wouldn't be an entire lie. He felt his worse half begin to tear at the back of his head, shooting a painful jolt down his spine. His grip on his spoon tightened, as he watched you look at the younger boy with a practiced pout. Your eyelashes fluttered again as you played the part well, just a pretty arm piece with a valuable name.

Regulus seemed indifferent to your behavior, but still entertained your presence. More then could be said for most. Acting like a proper pureblood gentleman, and as he leaned down to whisper something in your ear, he heard James let out a shocked squeak.

Snapping back to, Remus looked over to James and narrowed his eyes, practically fuming. “What?”

“Mate.” Sirius prodded and met his eyes. The black haired boys were full of a strange kind of worry.

“What?” Remus pressed.

“Look at your arm mate.” Sirius stressed and gestured to his hand. The one clenching the metal in his palm, patches of discolored grey and long hairs spread across his hand and arm. His nails growing claw like, just a few of them, before they greyed out. His body grew stiff and dread filled him. What the actual fuck? What was happening?

Then the pain came, the very familiar bone breaking stretch of his flesh. He dropped the spoon in shock and gave a sharp hiss.

As shock overtook his anger, his hand began to return to normal. He sighed and rubbed his wrist and looked back up at you and Regulus, watching you get up and Regulus grabbed your bag for you, walking you out of the Grand Hall.

Remus felt a growl leave his throat and he quickly reached up to grab his throat, and his eyes widened. They locked with Lily’s own wide eyes from across from him. “Remus…” She whispered, and he avoided her eyes, looking down at his food.

Great, He thought, another freakish thing she can hate about me.

[balkanradfem]

Okay, I'm about to step on some toes, but hear me out; I need to do it. Okay? Good.

There's a lot of funny 'Girl what were you doing at devil's sacrament' jokes and memes, and isolated from context, it's very funny, I know it's funny, it's 'telling on yourself haha' because you had to be participating in a 'bad activity' in order to catch someone else who was also there.

However I know the original context, and it's less funny if you do. Why would a woman say she saw another woman at the Devil's Sacrament, incriminating both herself and another woman, who would both then get burned alive? I know why.

I'm going to take you back to my childhood, where I was reading every book I could get my little hands on, and one of these books was called 'Grička Vještica', or 'Grič's Witch'. These were fictional books set in the age of witch burnings, and the main character gets accused of being a witch. Even if the characters are fictional, the historical places, events and laws were real. The main characters ends up locked in a tower with the other accused 'witches', and there she finds women who were horrifically, unspeakably tortured. I won't go into what happened to them, but their limbs were ripped, their bodies shutting down from pain, they were begging for death. What happened to their bodies was described in detail, and to the child me, it was traumatic to hear about it, it created a heavy fear in my heart, that something like that could even happen, to any human being.

The books gave some insight of what was happening during the torture, and the torturers were leading these women to not only confess to their own 'witchraft' under torture, but to incriminate other women. And if they wouldn't, the torture would get worse and worse. And human beings break after a certain point of torture. They'll do and say anything. They had already confessed to being witches under torture, and now they were facing more torture + death by burning, or just to die in fire without further mutilation, if they talk.

Torturers usually already had their minds set on a certain woman they wanted to incriminate; women with medical skills, money, estate, land, women who wronged them, rejected them, who had rejected or angered their friends, whose houses or land they wanted to claim, widows, unmarried women, anyone they wanted to eject from society, whose assets they wanted to harvest. All they needed to do was brutally torture (and often, sexually torture) the women in front of them, until they were willing to say 'Yes, okay, I saw her at the devil's sacrament' and they could have whatever they wanted.

It was done under the worst agony the human being could experience.

So whenever I read one of the memes, that's what I remember, because I know how it happened. For it to be used in feminist jokes... we could find another funny instance to use? What were you doing at the furry convention? Or something like that, that doesn't reference women being tortured. We could reference something silly and non-consequential. I mean, I hope we would want to.

I'm sorry to ruin your jokes! I feel like the women from the past wouldn't love us using that either, and they're not around, so I have to speak up for them.

[conflitdecanard]

HAHA HA !! HELP !

Okay sooo...

I hate talking about my private life but Ig you guys need to know why I'm making that post Basically: medical bill ! 14,000 euros total ! I wish I was kidding ! :'D

We were already tight this month and we knew it would be tight for the incoming months but this is the final nail in the coffin and I need help !

I'm opening commissions, I will even make backgrounds again if you wish but it will need to be discussed bc I need to be careful and not burn myself out more !

I also made a paypal me link if you don't want to commission me/just want to help ! >>> Here ! <<<

I will do :

- Ocs - Canon Characters - Furry Anthros or Feral - Pokemons - Humans / Humanoids - Ponies Anthros or Feral

I will not do :

- NSFW - Mecha - Anything racist, lgbt-phobic etc..

I need a clear digital reference

Payment in euros and via paypal

Contact via PM if interested

-

I don't expect to gather all the money needed for the bill but I wish to lighten the weight of it :']

Sorry for sudden post and all ! Thank you for your time !

[sleepybambiloves]

Realised I never made a new pinned post about who I am before now, so here it is :)

First off: This is a VERY NSFW Blog, if you're under 18 leave. Now.

Who Am I?

My name is Bambi. I'm 26 and from Ireland. My pronouns are She/ Her, and I'm Bi. Kind of shy so sorry if I seem that way.

This is like my fourth time having a blog on here, I sort of go through these phases of being like wtf am I doing and then deleting everything, so we'll see how long that lasts this time.

No the woman in the profile image isn't me, and no I won't share actual pictures of myself, sorry :(

What am I into?

I'm a huge submissive in every way, don't ask me to be in charge because it's not me, I need to be controlled, I need to be corrupted, I need to be told what to do. Once you understand that, I start to make sense :)

- Hypnosis/ Brainwashing/ Being out of control/ Mind Control/ Resistance Play.

Ughhhhh, all of this, so much, so bad, take away my will and make me mindless and yours and everything that means, pleaseeeee.

- Smoking/ Vaping/ Nicotine/ Breath play/ Cigarettes/ Cigars/ Intox/ Forced Intox.

A lot of this kind of plays into eachother, but smoking is one of the first kinks I've ever had, I vape a little but not much, but I find everything about smoking in all shapes and forms so sensual and sexy. I also really enjoy being forced to take it in all of its various ways :)

After that, it's a lot of little things:

- CNC (Consent Non Consent), Denial, Teasing, Roleplay, Being loved for once in my life 👀, Degradation, light pain, Sissification, Feminization, Bimbofication, being forced to do things in general is really hot, Dumbification, Cumplay, Spit play, Daddies, Mommies, Masters, Owners, Petplay.

What Do I Not Like?

Generally I'm pretty open to trying things at least once, if a Kink isn't listed above you can usually ask and see how I feel. But there are some hard no's for me:

- Anything illegal

- Scat, poop, pee play.

- Serious pain or blood.

- Furry stuff, I like being referred to as a pet or things like that but actual animal stuff I'm not really into.

- Ageplay if it includes like ADBL or diaper play or any of that.

I like to think I'm kind of cool and welcoming and fun to talk to? But idk lol, I wanna make friends, I wanna have fun, I wanna be more involved in the community here.

I hope you liked my post, thank you for reading ❤️❤️

[heartthrobin]

my bleeding dream, my shadow in the night

jake lockley x female!reader

wc: 9.5k

warnings: mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda?), angst, jake lockley is emotionally constipated, there is heavy steven / marc x reader but mostly jake centred, description of wounds and stitching them up, blood, a couple references to sex, there is a dog (i see him as a leonburger btw), jake still works for khonshu, post mk s1, heavy handed on the spanish fight me

an: hey loves !!! sorry it took so long, but here you go. obvs this is my interpretation of jake cause we don't see much of him in mk :// remember to comment and repost to support your fav writers

summary: you were convinced, no: you were sure, that Jake Lockley couldn't stand the sight of you. then why was he consistently banging at your door in the middle of the night, dripping in blood and begging to be stitched up?

Mouse was noisy.

You really wished he wouldn't be.

He was a big boy, the largest puppy you'd ever seen when you'd picked him up from the shelter. Tall enough now to sit straight up at your kitchen table and swipe leftovers off the middle shelf in the fridge when left unattended.

Despite his monstrous presence, Mouse yipped and whined like a teacup terrier.

It wasn't too bad most days. You were more than welcome to lug his eighty kilogram bum with you to the veterinary clinic where you worked, which you did, but it was the weekends that were tough on him.

When he'd be left alone in the flat.

Mouse would whimper at the door all the hours you were gone, whine until he heard you shuffling back up the corridor after a couple drinks with friends or between all the mostly horrible dates with monotonous men you subjected yourself to.

You couldn't call him a nuisance - he was your baby, you could never - but the guilt picked at you. You wondered most of all if he bothered your neighbours.

There was a sign up in the elevator: no pets allowed in the building! which you avoided eye contact with on a daily basis.

It wasn't all bad, Mouse's noisiness.

After all, it was his dramatics that brought Steven Grant to your door in the first place a Sunday night somewhere deep into April.

Steven had knocked so lightly, so politely on your door.

You'd opened it just slightly, enough to hide the furry mountain who was hovering curiously behind your figure. Who's there? Who's there?

He'd stumbled out a greeting, introduced himself as your neighbour. Two doors down.

You were long lost in the confusion of how you'd never realised that the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on was living less than a few feet from your front door, when he mentioned Mouse.

Not by name, exactly, but rather asked if "the dog" was alright. That he'd heard whining into the early hours of that morning.

That morning when you'd been in a bar two streets up from the apartment building listening to a man tell you about why Bitcoin was the "future of finance". God.

Dread had drained your face of colour, you remember how you'd tripped over your apologies, and begged him not to mention it to the landlord.

Steven's face reflected your panic. He assured you that everything was fine, he was just worried that something had happened. He apologised about as much as you had.

You invited him in that night, let Mouse sniff around the edges of his pants.

Mouse had sat with his bear-sized head in Steven's lap the rest of the afternoon when you'd poured them tea. Steven chuckled nervously: you figured that he hadn't anticipated the size of the dog when he'd come to make his welfare check.

From that day, things rumbled into a colourful blur of neighbourly dues to genial friendship to ... god, you didn't even know anymore.

Stops in the corridors became twenty minutes for tea which morphed into "I cooked too much pasta, care for a plate?" and then three hours over your kitchen table.

Steven, you found, was cheeky and endearing, and shy in all the right places.

He talked more than he listened and you would warm yourself happily with the sound of his voice for hours before he'd stutter out a "I'm so rude, I didn't even ask how was your--", and then you'd give a little too.

There were books he put you on, mostly about Ancient Egypt, but others were poetry or mysteries or biographies. He'd invite you for tea in his flat, poke and prod you on your thoughts on the book while Mouse sat quietly invested in watching Gus and Gil float up and down the tank for hours.

You met Marc eventually.

He was soft in different ways to Steven, eyes wearier than his counterpart's. Marc was hesitant, following slowly when Steven tugged him out into the light of your eyes.

You worked on him gently, steadily. Brought him baked goods when you'd made, walked out with him some mornings to work and offered to stop with him for a coffee.

More than that, none of the boys took to Mouse more than Marc.

It was something about the military in him, you thought, that brought Marc around to bury his hands into the spaces behind the dog's ears. Coo at him and fish pieces of jerky out his pocket just so long as Mouse sat draped over his lap the whole time.

It rolled into walks with you on the weekends, when you'd need to sneak Mouse out the building, and then dinner on the way home.

The ebb and flow of it was sweet, and slow, and you sunk into the boys' presence like a cat bathing in sunlight.

Jake came later. Later, in the early days of July when the tendrils of Summer had sunk themselves deep into the heart of London.

He wasn't like Marc, not skittish. Neither welcoming nor open to your meddling, he seemed distinctly above it. Above you.

There was an explicit distinction between him and the other boys, maybe just to you.

Jake avoided your eyes and your conversation. He kept up with his alters' wishes but entertained you no further.

You'd heard about him long before you'd met him. A rainy afternoon, chasing down the foyer of the building with a "hold the elevator!"

His eyes found yours and you beamed at catching Steven or Marc before heading up.

"Hey--" you watched his eyes turn you over.

Jake didn't slouch like Steven, nor was he taut and tense in the shoulders like Marc. He stood with an ease about him, his head tilted down under the flat cap that worked to shield his eyes.

He greeted curtly, a definite East coast twang to his speech.

"You must be Jake." You said plainly, finding no other way around it.

The man's brow tightened, "Sure."

There came a realisation to his expression, twisting up again. "You must be the doll from down the corridor."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Neither of you moved.

"Uh ... I suppose so."

Jake nodded, moving without another word down towards his door. Your feet tripped over themselves to follow him.

Jingling keys broke the quiet of the corridor and his door creaked open.

"It was nice meeting--"

It closed with a thump.

"... you."

Your interactions with the third member of the system were spread out, bumps here and there. No more than a few words.

Steven worried about him, about Jake.

Him and Marc had told you about Khonshu, about the Moonknight, in the darkness of a Thursday night following a few glasses of whisky.

"But ..." the glass teetered over the wooden table where Marc was twirling it round. "He's gone now, right? I-I mean, you're done, aren't you?"

Marc's eyes flickered up just once.

"Yeah, yeah ..." he nodded, words blurred around the edges with alcohol. "Just some days ... I ... I don't know."

"You don't know?"

His eyes flickered.

"Yeah, love. We just worry about Jake some days, he comes home with bruises and stuff--" Steven.

His expression twisted again, this time almost painfully.

"Nothing to worry about." Marc had returned, clearly intent on shutting Steven up. He took a long slug of the brown remnants in his glass. "You still got any of that cake from yesterday?"

And so it passed that way, for weeks.

Jake was a ghost that haunted the corridors between awkward elevator interactions or sometimes when he'd pop into the middle of you and Steven's documentary movie nights.

It stayed that way for a long while, until the visits began.

The landlord arranged a check-in once a month, just to ensure that nothing was broken, that you were keeping the place clean, that you weren't hiding one of the hounds of Baskerville in your flat. Things of that sort.

Steven had graciously offered to let Mouse come stare at his fish tank for a few hours until the check-in was over.

You lingered at his door and knocked twice, eyes flickering nervously up and down the corridor for signs of any other tenants creeping out their own flats.

The door opened and with one glance over his figure, you knew it wasn't Steven.

"Jake?"

He squinted at you, clad in pajamas and looking you up and down affronted as if it wasn't already three o' clock in the afternoon. It was clear that he'd just woken up.

"Yeah?"

His hair was tousled in a way that was making your stomach churn. God, surely there were laws in place to stop men from looking this handsome in the middle of broad fucking daylight?

"Sorry to bother," your hand tightened around Mouse's leash where he was inching forward to lick at Jakes exposed ankles. "Steven said I could leave Mouse here for a couple hours while the landlord comes to check my place?"

Jake's eyes dropped to the dog, as if he was noticing him for the first time. He nodded, pulling the door further open for him to slip past.

You smiled softly, feeling the awkwardness crowd over your face and redden your cheeks. "Thanks, I-I really appreciate it."

He nodded again. "Yeah, no problem."

When you collected Mouse later that night, Marc opened the door with the dog merry under his palm and Jake was foggy memory.

That was the first night.

The street outside had already dimmed to a soft whir of taxis and buses when you'd slipped off into bed. Mouse was taking up most of the space, as he did most nights, and you'd passed out before the blinking light on your bedside clock had even hit midnight.

It was thunderous, the knock, when it came. It jostled you from sleep with the immediate panic that the door was being broken down.

Mouse was scratching at the base of the door before you'd even sat up, adrenaline pumping through your system. The clock flashed four thirty-seven.

"What the fuck ..." your bare legs kicked off the sheets, stumbling towards the door.

In hindsight, maybe checking the peephole would have been wise, but you threw open the door in oversight.

Leaning, head down and panting, against the wooden frame stood the figure of your neighbour.

"Jake?"

The jacket with the fur lining, the cap crumpled in his fist. It had to be him.

"What are you ..." Your eyes found the side of his waist, white shirt blossoming with a crimson stain.

Jake looked up with wide black eyes. Even in the darkness, they curled with remorse.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I just--"

"Get inside," your hand reached for his arm, helping him off the doorframe and guiding him to crash down into the nearest chair at your kitchen table.

He seethed, head leaning back over the seat. "Fuck ..."

Your knees found the wooden floor, hands creeping up his legs towards his shirt. "Can I?"

He nodded.

Cold hands crumpled up the edges of the once white t-shirt and you lifted it up against his chest. A deep gash was reaching from his armpit towards his hips.

You drew a shaky breath, "Jake, you need to go to the hospital--"

"No." His voice was stern. "No hospitals, I can't ... they can't know."

Realisation was dawning on your reeling mind.

"This has to do with Khonshu. Doesn't it?"

Jake's gaze burnt into yours, but he made no move to answer. It was the response you'd expected.

You sighed, running a hand back over your hair. "I ... I don't know what you want me to do?"

Mouse was sniffing curiously at Jake, sensing where the tension was building.

"You're a doc, aren't you?"

"For animals!"

He shrugged, "I'm as close as you're gonna get, muñeca."

Sucking in another deep breath, you glanced back at the wound. The dim light in the kitchen worked to hide where you were sure other cuts and bruises were forming over his torso.

The thought of Steven and Marc occurred to you. When they would wake up tomorrow morning in a hospital bed, panicked.

You nodded eventually.

"Fine." It was barely a whisper. "Give ... give me a second."

There was a small set-up in the cupboard beneath your sink, the basics you'd need to stitch him up.

He made no other comment in your movement to the bathroom and back. You placed the box onto the table noisily.

"You need to get up on the counter," you said, flipping the light on in the corner of the room. "I can't work kneeling down like this."

With a grunt that made your cheeks warm, Jake rose from the chair and hauled himself up onto your kitchen counter, knocking your toaster back against the wall loudly.

"Lose the shirt." You said it without meeting his eyes.

When his jacket and shirt had been tossed back against the table behind you, you neared him again: letting your fingers graze softly around the wound. You worked hard to ignore the sharp inhale he made at your touch, or the goosebumps that rose around your hand.

He was watching you with heavy eyes, you glanced up to meet them and if you didn't know better, might have said that they twinkled with a shine of endearment.

"I don't have any anaesthetic," you whispered, sure he could hear you at the close proximity you now found yourself with him. "You'll feel everything."

"He tenido peores."

I've had worse.

You considered him for a moment, before reaching behind his head for the knob on the cupboard: swinging it open.

Behind some coffee mugs was the last of a bottle of vodka you'd gotten for your birthday. Not a lot, but maybe enough.

You handed it to him and he took it without question, spinning off the lid. He took three big gulps, face twisting as he sat it down.

Picking it up before his hand had even left it, you took two similar sips to wash down the panic rising in your throat.

When you found his face again, a smile had curled into his lips. Like he was on the verge of a laugh.

"Oh no," you set it down, "Don't go starting to like me now right before I have you put your life in my hands."

The objects from your little medicine box clattered out onto the counter beside him, you pretended not to notice where his face curled up in confusion.

"What makes you think I didn't like you before?"

You huffed. "Jake, please."

It seemed he didn't have an answer. Silence grew stale between your figures as you sanitised the utensils and your hands.

You drenched a bandage in alcohol, giving Jake a sympathetic look before pressing it over the wound.

He seethed at the pain, but not enough that you worried. You wiped it down as gently as you could manage, resting your other hand on his shoulder.

When the dried blood had been cleared and only fresh blood was leaking out did you reach for the needle.

"You ready?" You whispered, voice trembling.

He shrugged, "Are you?"

Mouse nudged at your leg, whining lowly. You ignored him and nodded.

Your fingers pushed at the skin, nudging them together where you pierced the needle and Jake let out a jolt.

The needle wove in and out, your fingers stained in blood against where Jake was groaning. He'd reached for the bottle of vodka again, guzzling down sip after sip: the rim of the bottle working to quieten his moans of pain.

Your eyes flickered up between the wound and his face, his face twisted and his chest reeling with heavy pants.

"I'm sorry," your words wobbled, the vision of the wound growing blurry behind gathering tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so..."

A hand found your jaw, pulling you back up into Jake's line of sight. The grip was warm.

"Hey, hey ..." his other hand released the neck of the bottle, swiping a calloused thumb over your cheek where a tear had run down. "You've done this before, I'm just like a ... a big dog. Just not as hairy."

You nodded, ragged breaths escaping you. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

His hand stayed over your face and you hoped it would linger for a little longer.

It moved, returning to the safety of the last swigs of vodka.

Your hand came to find the needle again, working it into his side to finish out the last few stitches. He was making more of an effort to stifle his groans, you could tell.

When you finished, you patted it with alcohol again before setting everything down against the counter. You wiped your hands, watching down as you stained the kitchen cloth with blood.

Jake investigated the wound site, hunched carefully over. "It looks good. You did a good job."

You handed him a roll of fresh bandages, ignoring his needless compliment. "It needs a fresh wrap every time you shower ... and put some antibiotic ointment on if you have. If you don't have, go buy."

He slipped gently off the edge of the counter, you took a seat at your kitchen table: sucking in hard breaths and avoiding his face.

The jacket and shirt slid off the table, he pressed them against his chest.

"Thank you."

You nodded, still not looking at him. "You need sleep, Jake."

But he lingered, made no move towards the door. The quiet stretched long enough to where your head came back up to find him.

His fist was curling and uncurling at his side, lips pursed.

"What is it?"

Jake's brow softened. "Please don't .... don't tell Steven or Marc that I was here."

You stared at him, affronted. "I think that's the least of your worries, Jake. If I were you, I'd worry about how you're gonna explain the twenty stitches in your side."

"You'd think." He shrugged, an air of charisma to his tone that you were realising was characteristic of him. "They'd freak those two, if they knew I woke you up in the middle of the night for this. For anything, actually."

"Meaning?"

He huffed, tugging the blood-wet shirt over his frame carefully. You avoided where your eyes were desperate to follow the trail of black hairs down over his stomach.

"You're a smart woman, princesa. Playing dumb doesn't suit you." Jake tightened the jacket to his side. "You've got those two wrapped around your pretty little finger."

The implication made your cheeks flush. Made you itch under your skin with his remarks, with how little care he tossed them at you.

"Right. So that's why you don't like me, is it? Cause I care about Marc and Steven?"

He shook his head in place of answering.

"I'm gonna go." Jake's feet shuffled backwards.

The door clicked behind him and Mouse whimpered at his absence.

-

In the weeks following that night, days dissolved into a technicolour blur of work and sleep.

Things had picked up at the clinic: you were tied down by late night surgeries and early morning consults.

You didn't see Jake once in that time.

Steven invited you around in the few moments you were home when you had them, with the pot boiling, offering a store-bought muffin warmed on a plate and good intentions.

Even Marc had stopped past your work, a coffee in hand and a smile lit between blushing cheeks. It was the one you liked from the place around the corner.

But Jake remained a foggy memory and as they days passed, you were growing more and more sure that his visit had only occurred in a dream.

That was until he came again.

Another knock, another confused shuffle through the darkness towards the door.

The light from the hallway framed a halo over his head, throwing a shadow over where you knew a cheeky grin was forming. "Princesa."

You drew the door back, rubbing the sleepy buzz from the corners of your eyes. Too tired to indulge him with argument, you motioned for him to pass into your flat.

He limped past your frame, hand kissing his bloody shoulder.

"On the counter, Lockley." You mumbled around the sleeve of your pajamas.

Jake lifted himself with his left arm, groaning where he slid onto the surface. He reached into the cupboard, bumping past mugs to where you'd stashed the bottle of vodka. There was hardly two sips left in it and he cleaned them out before you'd even returned.

Mouse was watching the action from a spot on the couch.

When you'd set the kit onto the space beside him, his shirt was already pulled to the side: revealing two stab wounds up his right shoulder.

You made no move to lift your arms from your sides, instead your eyes traced the wound where blood was leaking steadily out.

"I thought there was a suit? Steven says it used to heals wounds."

Jake's gaze hadn't left your face since he'd sat down. He shook his head.

"I don't wear it, the suit." He said simply.

You said nothing else, instead moving to wash your hands and wipe down the needle, attaching some thread to the end of it.

Silence rung in the space. You could tell by his fidgeting that it bothered Jake, but still, he made no move to talk.

Your hands, cool from the water, ran up over his arm and pressed gently into the skin surrounding the cuts. He sighed and you pretended that the sound didn't eat you up from the inside, pretend that you weren't thinking about how it would sound muffled against your own mouth.

The needle pierced his skin without warning and he jerked against your hand before apologising quietly.

Compared to his last visit, these cuts were deeper rather than wide: like the perpetrator only managed a nick before Jake threw himself back. It would only need five or six stitches and you sewed them in gently, but this time, insensitive to his twitching and squirming.

Annoyance flared beneath your skin. He doesn't show his face once in the time since he last appeared at your door, but here he was again: offering his wounds like a struck puppy.

"You know I could lose my license for this." You say it quietly, more of a comment than a question.

He observed you from under thick black lashes. "Why're you doing it then?"

There hung a pause where you grappled for answers. Different combinations of words fought to leave your mouth - all of them reaching out from your bruised heart.

"Because Marc and Steven are in there." You settle on. "And if I left it to you, all three of you would die of sepsis."

Something akin to hurt flashes across his face, but it's hard to tell through the darkness and easy to chalk up to the needle dipping in and out of his skin.

"Good to know you worry about me, too, muñeca."

You wipe the now stitched wound unceremoniously, not even admitting to the end of the procedure and definitely not addressing the fact that you do worry. That since his last visit, you worry about him every fucking night before you sleep. But he doesn't need to know that.

"Let me see your side." You motion over his shirt where you'd stitched him up less than a month before.

Jake lifted the shirt tentatively. You were met with the pink stretched scar down his abdomen.

"Who took out the stitches?"

His abdomen rippled where he shifted. "I'm sure you can guess."

The image of Steven poking around between dried stitches and gagging dramatically made a chuckle rise up in your throat. "Marc."

"Yeah."

"What did they say? About the scar?"

Jake's hand brushed along where your forearm rested at the counter, but - not for the first time - drenched your question in silence.

Irritation picked at you again. You pulled your arm out from under his touch. "Whatever, Jake. Keep your fucking secrets."

Before you'd even been allowed the chance to storm back to your room, he caught your arm: slinging you back against the counter.

Your breath caught on the back of your teeth when his forehead pressed against yours.

It was warm and sticky with sweat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his nose pressing against the side of your own. "I'm sorry, don't be angry at me princesa. Please?"

His eyes were so intoxicating this close. You unstuck your face from his, far enough to wash him with your gaze but close enough to still feel the puffs of warm pants across your jaw.

You pressed some hair up out of his face, letting your fingers venture softly through its brambly depths.

"I'm ... I'm not." His forehead was salty where you pushed a kiss there. "Go to bed, Jake."

You'd already disappeared under the comfort of your duvet when your neighbour's footsteps faded out into the hallway.

-

Steven and Marc had taken to asking you about Jake. More than they ever had and far beyond what was necessary.

It peaked suspicion in you.

"No, I've barely seen him." You'd shrugged. Not completely untrue in your words, but not letting on what you knew you could. "Why's that?"

Steven would shake it off. "Nothing, just wondering."

Marc's responses were laced in a little more candour. "He's been asking about you. Talking about you."

"What's he say?" You pretend it's unimportant, like you're not burning to know.

Marc raised his shoulders. A part of you knew that Jake had to be imploring him, insisting he abandon it. Leave him alone, and you alone, and you and him alone.

It was a matter your mind twisted over: did they know? know about Jake and Khonshu and your medical handiwork? -- until it wasn't.

Steven asked you out on a Monday night outside your flat door.

He'd stuttered and stumbled through: "I'd like to take you to dinner."

"Sure, that sounds great Stevie--"

"No, like ... like a date. I'd like to take you to dinner. On a date, i-if you want to."

You'd paused, delight crawling up over your face and manifesting into two cherry red cheeks. "I'd love that."

That Friday after work, you sat across Steven at a tiny round table in a dress you'd not had opportunity to wear in ages.

It was at a pizza place up the road where a single candle lit the space between you, like it did in the movies, and a bouquet of white roses sat in the open chair with your purse. Steven had bought them for you.

You noticed his eyes flicker back in intervals when you spoke, but pretended you didn't.

He was attentive and funny, like he was most every time you saw him, but this time seemed more nervous at it. Your hands curled around his across the red tablecloth and he smiled over words when you brushed a forefinger over his own.

The night ended with a takeaway pizza box interrupting the space where you pushed against his chest, taking his jaw gently into your hand and kissing him sweeter than you'd offered a man before.

It was barely Monday morning when Jake came again. Hardly a week since his last visit.

He hung at your doorframe, fist hovering over the wood.

His head was throbbing something terrible and he could feel where blood was trickling between the tendrils of hair down past his left ear.

A part of him wished he could feel an ounce of shame for it, for creeping out into the night in search of a fight. In search of a reason to end up back at your door.

He didn't.

The knock scraped his knuckles and echoed down the hallway past the other flat.

Jake waited for it. The sniff of the dog at the door, then the sleepy shuffle of feet over wooden floorboards.

It played into the space like his favourite song. The door clicked open, spreading to reveal your figure against the light from the street beyond the window.

The image was burnt into his mind the first time he'd seen it, playing like a video on loop until the next moment that he was blessed with the sight again.

Your sleeping shorts rumpled up against the top of your thigh, sleeves reaching down to your fingertips and a stretch of stomach peeking up at him. So soft, so domestic - he wanted to squeeze you between his calloused palms and press you against him until your forms fuzed.

Instead he settled, like he's done before, with a "princesa" and a finger motioning to wherever he let a deadbeat land a punch or a swipe of a blade on his body.

Tonight, he was dripping all over your doormat. The sky lit up the flat behind you with a crack of lightning, followed with a rumbling that could just have easily grown from the back of your throat as it did from the sky.

Jake felt your eyes, felt it's warmth over his neck where the trail of blood was leading down like the Nile.

"Have you ever thought of coming to visit me when you're not fresh off the bad end of a beating?"

I never stop.

"You gonna patch me up or not, doc?"

He found his usual spot, up on the counter. You disappeared, like you did each time. The dog rested a friendly head on his lap and Jake offered him a pat.

You'd bought a new bottle of vodka, he found it behind the mugs just as he did the time before. He wondered for a moment if you'd gotten it specifically for him.

Cool hands found the base of his neck. This was always his favourite part, when he'd get a taste of your touch against his begging, desperate skin.

And as much as this was his immediate reason for coming, your skin lingered further in his mind: a memory that didn't belong to him. It had kept him up for days.

You were working quietly, like you'd done before and the time before that.

"So." He broke the crisp air that had settled around you two. "Steven asked you out?"

Your eyes flickered up from where you were patting an antiseptic drenched cotton ball at the bump on the side of his head between his hair. The smell was reminding him of the last time you'd pinned him against this counter.

Why're you doing it then?

Because Marc and Steven are in there.

They were words that punctured a new wound into his gut every time he thought on it.

"What's it to ya, Lockley?"

Your hands went back to work, unconcerned for his question.

He shrugged like he didn't care. Like he hadn't scratched violent tears into the sides of his shared brain for a fraction of a sight of you that night: in the prettiest green sundress he'd ever seen and looking like heaven on a plate.

Satisfied with just that, he'd slunk back into the shadows again.

Steven deserved the moment to himself. Deserved you to himself.

It didn't mean that Jake was any less jealous. Any less ripped apart by your place in their life, the place he could never make for you in his own.

"He took you to Lorenzo's, right?"

You hummed, not looking at him.

Jake shrugged noncommittally. "I mean ... everyone knows that the pizza at De Luca's is better. The wine too, but whatever, I guess."

A nail raked gently over a spot behind the cut and Jake tried - failed - not to shiver at it.

"Isn't that place run by the mafia?" Curiosity weaved through your tone.

Jake hummed, "That's what makes it the best."

You laughed softly at that, just barely under your breath, and it made the pit in the base of his stomach warm. He could grow drunk on the sound.

He noticed the red vase on your kitchen table, white roses peaking out the top and watching him merrily.

"And white roses?"

"I like them, Jake." you dug a finger into soft spot against the side of his neck, no doubt on purpose. He jerked against it. "Steven put in a lot of effort."

It struck a funny chord in him, listening to you defend his alter.

"You'd prefer carnations though, wouldn't you? You said they're your favourite."

"Not to you, I didn't."

Sure, you hadn't. You'd mentioned it to Marc one afternoon stroll past the new florist that had opened up around the corner, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard. Didn't remember.

He leaned closer to your face, watching how your eyes flew up from wiping the blood down his neck.

"You forget ..." He whispered, tapping a finger against his temple. "I'm always here, muñeca."

You stepped back and out of his space, tossing the bloody tissue into the bin.

"Well, if it bothers you so much ... you're welcome to take your complaints up with Steven when you see him. Alright?"

"You kissed him."

That made you stop. Made your hands freeze over the kitchen cloth you'd been using to wipe his blood from your fingertips. Another line of lightning cracked beyond the window loudly.

Your eyes moved slowly between resting on his knee and taking sips of his own gaze. There was a sliver of moonlight grazing over your cheek, Jake was sure it was Khonshu taunting him.

"Is that the only place you were bleeding?" You deflected his question with another.

Jake watched you with desperate eyes. He didn't know what he wanted, he just knew that he wanted all of it. All of you. It's heat dissolved when he looked down to his boots. Sticky drying blood smudged over the toe.

"Yeah. Tha's all."

He was surprised when a warm palm closed over his cheek. Droplets of water chased down from the edges of his hair over the back of your hand.

The hand was gone before he'd even a chance to acknowledge it.

"You could have a concussion, Jake." You perched yourself at the edge of your kitchen table across from him. "I think you should go shower and put on warm clothes and come back ... so I can watch you for a bit. Okay?"

As tempting as the offer was, and it did tempt him something terrible, he nudged himself off the counter shaking his head. "No. I should go."

"Jake." Your voice was stern. "Just ... please. I want to make sure that you're okay."

"That I'm okay, or that the others are okay?"

You swallowed. "That you're okay."

His chest inflated and deflated loudly against the hum of the rain at the window. Was it a crime to want more than just a few blood and pain filled moments under the solace of your hand?

"You have work in the morning."

A simple huff escaped you, akin to a chuckle. "Never stopped you before."

He flashed you an annoyed look that held absolutely no substance. His hands itched for yours.

"I'm not gonna go change."

"But you're wet."

"A little rain never killed anybody."

"Does someone pay you to be difficult, hm? A little something on the side?"

You grinned, proud of your little jab at him and he could melt under it's sticky sweetness.

"Shut up." He mumbled.

You sighed and he followed you without instruction towards the couch where you fell back against it. He sat more civilly down beside you - purposeful in the space he left between your thighs.

"You wanna watch something?" You ask quietly.

He shakes his head. No. You nod. Fine.

The fabric was growing damp under his wet jeans, Jake could feel the cold creeping up his legs. The dog was snoring loudly from a spot on the carpet.

"Where did you find this giant dog--?"

"Why do you only talk to me when something's wrong?"

Jake's eyes flew to you, but your gaze remained steadfast on a dark corner of the book shelf across the room.

"I found him at the shelter. Named him Mouse, thought it would be funny ... cause mice are small. And ... he's so big." Your voice was only barely more than a whisper, meandering between words like you didn't know where the sentence was going. "Your turn."

He ran a hand down the jean over his thigh, adjusting in his wet seat. Honesty choked him with the way it was clawing it's way up his throat. You make me nervous and I'm too scared of how much I care for you to face you in the light of day.

A hard swallow washed that confession back down from whence it came. You still weren't looking at him.

"I like it when it's just us." He mumbled instead. A half admission.

You sniffled like you might be crying. Jake was too scared to look.

"It could be just us during the day sometimes too, you know."

There was nowhere left to look for answer, so he didn't bother. Instead, he reached tentatively across the space where your hand was curling on itself at your side.

He pressed his palm against yours and it uncurled, fingers drawing around his like they knew all the curves and dips and callouses there. You shifted so your head pressed into the side of his arm, it stayed there.

Nothing else was said. Not for the rest of the night.

A long quiet hour had drifted past when Jake realised that you'd fallen asleep. Soft, predictable breaths were drawing in and out from your nose.

He shifted to look down at your face, a movement that jostled you off of him and he almost mourned the loss when you curled instead onto the plush of his lap: arms twisted up against your chest.

It took a long moment of convincing to lift his hand from his side: letting it brush along your hairline, tucking back pieces that fanned over your forehead.

His fingertips trailed down over your face, brushing along the bridge of your nose - he watched where it scrunched up and twisted, feeling his heart melt stickily over his ribs - and softly over puffy lips.

He thought again about how you'd kissed Steven.

Jake knew because Steven had told him, voice breathless and heart thumping against his chest just moments after he'd shut the door on you. Marc was proud, Jake was too - but it burnt where it lingered.

Marc would no doubt get there with you too, ask you on another date and have his moments with you. Have something to tend to, to grow, and he knew it because he saw how you looked at them.

That endearment that he knew he could have too if only he just--

He blinked the thought away.

There was danger in allowing himself to love you, far too much to consider it. A weakness that one of Khonshu's adversaries could surely exploit. 

Sure, Steven and Marc could bask in your warmth. Taste the sweet fruit of your intelligence and kindness, wrap themselves around your heart.

But not him.

It’s what kept him so far, you at arm's length. 

Only in the moments where pain and adrenaline blinded him to sense could he offer himself pathetically at your door in the dark of hot London nights. 

You twitched against him.

"I'll come for you one day, muñeca." He whispered for nobody but himself to hear. "Te lo prometo."

I promise.

-

Life fell into a sweet sway after that, it curled around the edges with the warmth of finding home in a person.

You drifted between work and the comfort Steven's presence.

It took three more dates and a shy kiss along a bridge over the Thames before he asked you to be his girlfriend and your heart swelled three sizes at the look on his face when you agreed.

Many weeks passed that way: Saturday mornings were warm despite the creeping winter where you found the morning light between the crack in Steven's arm over your waist.

Marc was around almost as much as Steven.

He'd asked you to the ice-rink in the days after Steven and you had become official. He wouldn't have asked if Steven hadn't thought it fine so you smiled and accepted his offer too.

You'd promised and delivered on the fact that you couldn't skate. Marc spent most of the time catching you moments before hitting the ice and your stomach cramped with laughter. He laughed too, loudly and with a shaking chest pressed against your own. It was the most you'd ever seen him smile.

He'd held you close under the gazebo where you'd bought him a coffee and yourself a tea, his nose brushed against yours almost as nervously as Steven's had. A different kind of nervousness though, more ... tentative. He shivered with it.

His hand slipped into yours, nose against yours but shifting no further than it. Quiet in his plea for permission.

"Steven?" You whispered against him.

Marc's eyes found the puddle below his feet, the hint of a smile teasing at his mouth.

"He's been begging me to ask you out for months, d'ya know that?" He chuckled softly, warm breath drifting over your lips. "Been holding out. Kind of forced him to do it first."

You laughed too, brushing your top lip over his. "You two are ridiculous."

He snorted. "Just wait till you get to know, Jake."

You kissed him.

Marc was confident, leading the kiss where Steven only followed. It was all-consuming, hand at the bend of your throat and sucking oxygen from your lungs until it's absence forced you apart.

You'd already made peace with the fact that maybe Jake was just a ghost. A figure that appeared to you in the night and you'd never see his shining beetle-black eyes in the light of any day.

But as you should have long since made out, Jake had a special talent for surprising you.

He appeared in the five minutes between making eggs and toast that you'd run to the bathroom. Nearing the kitchen: you found Steven leaning against the counter and biting down into a piece of buttered bread, wide back turned to you.

Your face found the centre of his back, nuzzling your cheek against his warmth. Cool from being freshly washed, your hands slipped under the flimsy layer of Steven's pajama shirt and chased up his hot stomach.

"Ay, mierda!" he flinched, but his voice stayed soft and even, "your hands are freezing."

It took a hard second, digesting his exclamation, before your hands withdrew from his chest as if scorched by a hot stove.

"Jake?" Disbelief laced your tone.

He glanced over his shoulder, clearly unconcerned when he nodded, "good toast, this."

That same wave of irritation was crawling over you, the one that found you late when the banging on your door deafened you, but it was numbed by the endearment. The fondness at hearing the lilt of his voice, seeing him so bright in the daylight.

"It wasn't supposed to be for you." You grumbled but the words held no malice.

Jake bumped his shoulder against yours, he shrugged: "Same stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"But," he sighed, sipping on Steven's mug and making a face, "If you want your darling back so desperately, you could have just said."

"Jake, wait--"

His eyes rolled back and Steven returned, gripping the counter. "Was that Jake?"

He chuckled softly, reaching for the mug Jake had just abandoned. "Sneaky man."

You nodded, sighing quietly. "Yeah ..."

It wasn't the last time. Jake cropped up again and seemed determined to surface in the moments where things were most tender, the most private.

Late one night, your bare chest draped over Marc's. His fingertips drifted up and down your back, and you smiled while he talked.

"Why're you looking at me like that?"

He was grinning though like he already knew, fishing for affection.

You shrugged, pressing closer to him. "Like what?"

"Like that."

"What, like I'm lying against a very handsome man and enjoying his conversation but also thinking a little bit about how I wished he'd kiss me again?" Your nail outlined a little heart over his tanned chest. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A warm hand moved up your side, finally resting up behind your neck and steering you in the direction of his face.

"What, like this--" His voice crackled out like a television losing signal and his eyes rolled back as they'd done time and time before.

Pupils straightening out again, you knew who it was immediately: that tight, thin line tugging between his brows giving it away.

"Jake, what the hell--!" Your hand grappled for the sheets, ripping it up over your chest to hide your body. You straightened up to sit on the bed.

His eyes widened, hands inching himself backwards. "I ... I didn't know-- perdóname. I'm sorry--"

He was gone again.

It carried on like that, Jake popping in for a few minutes at a time: once at lunch, once when you'd arrived from work, again when you'd fallen asleep against Marc on the couch - you'd awoken to find him there.

Sometimes, he lets you get a question in edgeways: "you gonna stick around, Jake? I'm about to put the pot on?"

"No, no. Just ..." he always looked around like he came for something but he'd forgotten what. "Never mind."

-

Christmas leered in the distance. Almost two months since Steven had asked you to be his, nearly one since Marc asked you to be theirs, and Jake remained the elusive man in the shadows.

There was ten days to New Years when Jake appeared for the fourth time.

You'd long dropped the habit of waiting up for him, having done that in the early times he visited. It was almost enough to put him out your mind, almost enough to pretend you didn't miss him miserably.

The door rumbled against the hinge as it had all the times before. You sat straight up, Mouse was already bounding noisily down the hallway.

Your hand ran up over your face, waiting for the knock to sound again. Maybe you'd dreamt of his return.

But it delivered, and the sound echoed through your flat.

With little concern of the sheets tangling around your ankles, you leapt from the bed and stumbled to where Mouse was scratching at the foot of the door.

The knob rattled under your hand where you threw it open and, as you'd hoped, there stood Jake: illuminated by the starchy yellow light of the building hallway.

"What's wrong?" Your eyes pressed over his figure for another bloody wound or ripped tendon. "Where are you--"

Your eyes could only find one smear of red. Barely more than a trickle edging down from the bridge of his nose. He pointed tiredly up at it.

Jake drank in your figure with his eyes. You'd abandoned the shorts that he loved so much, replaced by winter bottoms: the ends too long and trapped under your heel. A worn jumper hid your hips.

Like all the times before, you moved aside and Jake found himself up on the counter. He'd be surprised if the cut on his nose even bruised come morning, and he hadn't even gotten it in a fair fight. If you didn't consider hitting himself with the cupboard door while looking for a mug a fair fight, that is. But the pain had his eyes stinging with tears and the blood against his fingertips reminded him of you, again, and he'd crushed his tight fist through the cupboard door where it ripped clean off the hinge.

It's what lead him down the corridor, down the six steps separating your door from his.

You reappeared beside him, little first aid kit in hand and your side brushing his knee. When you dug through the box, your calf nudged at his hanging ankle.

The sharp smell of sanitiser made his nostrils itch but warmed his insides. Reminded him where he was, who he was with.

Your hand was gentle where it overtook the stubble of his cheeks. "This is gonna hurt a little, okay?"

Jake nodded, before realising that he still had yet to say a word since entering the flat. "Sí, amor. Está bien."

The cotton was ice cold against his nose and he groaned against it.

“Why are you here?” You wiped the drying blood down his cheek.

He watched you down the bridge of his nose. “Whad’ya mean? I’m all banged up here. Needed the doc to fix me up.”

He couldn’t tell if you appreciated his little sarcastic comment, but you didn’t answer him.

“Oh, you didn’t miss me?” He asked, digging and prodding in the hopes of hearing your teasing voice again.

“I missed you so much it made me sick, Jake.”

It was so quiet, a sentence said half into your chest and Jake thought he might have imagined it.

The words bubbled something inside his chest that was making it hard to breath. Hard to think.

But maybe that’s what made it so easy for his envy to creep up around the lump in his throat and jump out of his mouth.

“Didn't look like it.” His voice didn't come out as strong as he'd hoped it would have. "Got those other two keeping you plenty busy."

Your eyes flew up where to him. They were wide and wet.

"Like I didn't ask you to stay all those times you decided to pop in? Huh?" You pressed, tone crumbling around the edges. "You're the one who jumps in and out as he pleases."

"Not everything is about you, y'know that princesa--" It was a disgusting fat lie and Jake knew it too. Every breath he drew was in your honour, he'd long decided.

"Just answer me, Jake." Your hands trembled. "Just this once, can you give me something more than shrugs and silence. Can you answer me this once?"

He betrayed you with his silence.

"What do you want?" The wetness was collecting at your waterline, shivering like your frame.

Jake shook his head, the threat of your tears was making it hard to focus. "I can't ... I just can't."

"Can't? Can't what?"

"I can't have what I want."

You stepped closer again, hips pressing into his knees where he was still up on the counter. The gap of silence egged him to continue.

"Khonshu ... someone, they'll--" he sighed, hands curling into fists at his side. "I'd be putting you in danger."

Your head shook. "You think I didn't know that when Steven told me? That I'd be in danger?"

"It's not the same. thing"

"It is, Jake, it is!" your hands tightened against his thigh, "Do you forget that you're walking around with the same face? That I'm holding the same hand walking down the street?"

Mouse was peeking up at him from where he'd crammed himself under the kitchen table. He whined miserably.

"So what now?" He asked, not exactly sure what he wanted. "That solves everything?"

You retracted your hand and Jake desperately wished you hadn't.

"You still haven't answered my question." A whisper.

He shook his head, as if his thoughts would come tumbling out his ears at the motion. Frustration willed him off the counter, he huffed like a wild animal and pushed past your still figure towards the door.

His hand hadn't even collided with the doorknob when your voice rung out again.

"Don't come back, Jake."

Your tone was soft, apologetic, but the words hit him like a curled fist to his windpipe. He stopped.

"I ... I used to wait up nights for you. Hoping you'd come by. It's the waiting that'll kill me ... and I can't do it anymore."

Jake's forehead pressed against the wood of the door. He sighed deeply against it. Is this really how it ends?

"I want what they have."

He made out the sharp breath you sucked in. "What?"

His shoes squeaked against the wood where he turned. "I want what they have. I want what Steven and Marc-- I want you."

You seemed suddenly uncomfortable in your body, weight shifting between each leg and hands folding over themselves. "Oh."

It snapped a cord in him and his legs were moving before they'd been commanded, urging himself against you in three long strides.

"I also want to take you out," His voice was course, but pressing gentle words where he nudged his cheek against yours. "To De Luca's because Lorenzo's is shit--"

You giggled wetly under tear kissed lips and it made Jake's knees buckle. His hands found your jaw, face still hiding in your neck.

"-- and I'll bring you carnations or whatever the fuck you want. I want you to make me toast and coffee, too, and I want to come home to you. Let you patch me up like you do, but I want to stay. Want to fall asleep next to you afterwards and not ... not disappear like a coward anymore."

Your hands found his waist, scrunching his shirt into your fists. "Jake, I--"

His own hands slipped down from your face, caging your hips between his wide palms.

"And I wanna make you feel good." His thumbs dug welts into the soft skin there, he pressed a hot kiss against your neck and watched where the skin rose with goosebumps under his mouth. "Fuck, princesa, I could make you feel ... so good."

Hot pants were warming the shell of his left ear.

There was a long moment where nobody moved and nothing was said. Fear was starting to drain him of the courage that had so readily devoured him moments before.

When your hands nudged at his chest, he stepped resentfully back. Your face was twisted into an expression he couldn't place and you motioned him back toward the counter.

"Come on ... I haven't finished patching you up yet."

He slid himself back onto his usual seat. You rustled back in the little first aid box, your hand emerged with a little slip of paper.

"This is my last plaster." You flashed it at him, he made out the little pink poodles and sparkling hearts decorating the glittery little patch. "Is it fine?"

He sighed, pretending as if he cared even at all. "'s fine."

You smiled, the kind of smile that could stop traffic down the Lincoln Tunnel, and pressed the sticky end over the bridge of your nose.

"You not gonna say anything?" He asked quietly.

You chuckled softly, laughter bubbling like you'd been holding it in a while. "Oh, not so nice is it?"

"You're very annoying."

Shrugging, you pressed yourself into the space between his knees. "And yet, you seem pretty in love with me, Jakey."

His face ran hot all over at the allegation.

"Jakey?" he guffawed, his heart thrumming against his ribcage like a rabid dog. "Worse than annoying, I'm afraid, you're absolutely aggravating."

Your face drew closer against his own.

"And you are exhausting. You're worse than a child." But you grinned the whole time, "And you make me want to rip my hair out."

His nose prodded your own. "Well, you--"

"Jake, will you shut the fuck up and just kiss me."

It took all the willpower not to melt off the countertop when your lips met his. They were warm and soft and tasted sweeter than he could have imagined them to.

His hand pulled you all the way against his figure, desperate to swallow you whole. Your breath stuttered over the bow of his lip, parting for a fraction of a moment before pressing hot surging kisses against him again.

"I want that too," words huffed out between wet, red lips. "I want to take care of you, Jake. All the time, until you get desperately sick of me--"

Jake licked into your mouth, aghast at the accusation. "Not ever, mi princesa. Nunca."

Your hot tongue chased over his and he swore he was moments from floating off the counter. Your soft sighs were making his hands more desperate where they brushed over the warm skin of your back.

You pulled back abruptly, eyes wild and lips swollen. Guilt was twisting at your face. "We have to tell Steven and Marc."

Jake shrugged, his pulled you back against him by the sides of your pajama pants and kissed you again.

"Ugh, don't worry about 'em. They already know."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, "Who do you think told me to come here in the first place?"

A silence divided you, words sinking in when you slapped his chest: plaguing him with a widening grin. "I was worried, you asshole."

"Claro, pero al menos ahora soy tu imbécil."

Sure, but at least now I'm your asshole.

-

comment and repost <3 mwah!

[gothofasaia]

What your favourite nevermore character says about you 🫵 (personal edition)

Lenore: you’re a hopeless homosexual

Annabelle lee: you’re a hopeless homosexual but with a very bad taste in women.. (type of person to pet a venomous reptile)

Duke: you’re a sucker for sidekicks aren’t you? you’re praying that he won’t die (again) aren’t you?

Pluto: you’re a furry and all of your Original characters have a tail and cat/dog ears (I see that mcr t shirt in your closet you can’t hide it)

Berenice: Nothings wrong with you you’re perfect (please let my family go now)

Eulalie: So,,, how’s that autism diagnosis process going?

Montresor: You think he’s hot and you’re desperately waiting for a redemption arc (not happening buddy.. sorry)

William: you didn’t have many friends growing up did you..? stop hanging out with people you don’t like just because you’re afraid of loneliness

Ada: No amount of tiktok “share and they’ll fall in love with you” videos will save you from your very bad talking stage (you’re also hoping for redemption aren’t you?)

Morella: you have definitely unironically referred to yourself as a smol bean/potato in the past and own at least one frog related item

Prospero: he’s your AroAce kin isn’t he? (i don’t blame you, i see it)

Theo: … you’re sad he isn’t in more panels and desperately trying to find fandom content about him