#yes I am aware that they are drawn lines

[starwarmth]

an irrelevant opinion i have: as iconic as the chipmunks are, the chipettes just have more starpower

[luveline]

YES to luna lovegood/dreamy!reader!!!!!!!!! Can we possibly get one with Spencer? <3

“It’s not as bad as you think.” 

Hotch appreciates the softness of your voice, as someone who also speaks in a very measured tone, but the sound of it has his brow furrowing. You’re a brilliant analyst, and a worse distraction whenever you’re in the main office. 

“It sounds terrible?” 

Hotch peers through the window to get a good look at the scene. You’re sitting in Spencer’s desk chair with your hands stretched out in front of you. Your outfit is very pink, considering the occasion, but it’s a non-abrasive light pink that flatters your skin. You have a clip in your hair, a small silver star with pink jewels embedded along the lines. 

Emily sips at a cup of coffee, leaning against the desk, her face to the side. Hotch can see her perturbed smile. 

“It’s fine! I’ve just been sleeping on the sofa.” 

“Well. That’s a call to pest control.” 

Spencer returns to his desk with a frown and two mugs. “Pest control?” he asks, the mug he places in front of you steaming. 

“There’s a raccoon living in her bedroom.” 

Spencer burns himself on his coffee, swearing as he puts it down hurriedly beside yours. “There’s a what?” Spencer asks. 

“He’s friendly. He came in through my vent.” 

“So friendly he’s stolen your bedroom?” 

You lean back in Spencer’s chair like it’s a La-Z-Boy, blowing at the hot surface of your drink with a similar lazy smile. “Imagine being that little and having such a big bed? When you usually sleep in the garbage?” You give a breathy laugh. “He must be having the time of his life.” 

“How are you getting ready in the mornings?” Spencer asks worriedly. 

“We’re cohabiting.” 

Spencer licks his lips. He likes you, and you seem aware of that fact, and that’s nerve-wracking for everyone involved. 

“Um, maybe we can make him a house? Like, outside? Raccoons are far happier in their natural habitat, and they’re also, you know, highly diseased and contagious compared to humans. I really don’t think you should let him inside.” 

“Spencer,” you say, giving him a dozy grin, “I didn’t let him in. He knows how to get in all by himself.” 

“I’ll call a repairman, too,” Emily says with a groan. 

She walks away, probably to find JJ and get her in on the repairs. Spencer looks at you for a long time, just drinking your tea, and Hotch mentally goads him into making a semblance of a move. Even if it’s just to fix your drooping hair clip. 

“You’re looking at me strangely again,” you say. 

Winces all around. “Am I?” Spencer asks. 

“Yes. Is this about Thursday?” 

“No.” Spencer swallows. “Yes. You didn’t answer my texts, after. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” 

“Yeah. I thought about it a lot, so maybe you did too. Or maybe you didn’t, and it didn’t mean anything.” 

“Of course it meant something, Spencer.” You put down your mug, dusting your knees off before you stand. Spencer is not much taller than you where you’re standing in front of him, but you look up at him anyways. Your face tips ever so slightly to one side. “Would you want to do it again?” you ask softly. 

Spencer looks around the office. He neglects to check Hotch’s window, perhaps because the blinds are more often drawn than not, and so he doesn’t realise Hotch is watching as he draws you in for a kiss. 

You preen and lean back, hands fighting to cup his cheeks, a gauzy, practically gleaming aura around you as you smile into his mouth. Your fingertips tease his hair, and Spencer’s hand settles in place against the small of your back. You kiss back for only a few seconds before you’re laughing.

Spencer moves away quickly, taking your wrists into his hands to pull them away from his face. 

“You give up too fast,” you say. 

“I don’t think this is the place for it.” 

“Well, we can’t do it at my place. What if the raccoon sees?” 

“Good point. How about Marina’s, would that be better? We can get dinner at the same time.” 

Hotch feels oddly proud of Spencer’s suave suggestion, but he also has a migraine brewing between his brows. He really doesn’t need the extra paperwork. 

[nekropsii]

Hello, pardon and I don’t want to be a bother but I would like to ask for your take on something. And if you’re not down to answer this question, that’s completely fine, you seem to make large opinion posts on a noteworthy basis so I understand if you don’t have the energy or motivation to give an opinion right now.

But I wanted to ask for your take on the ethics of enjoying Homestuck in the modern day. Many people such as myself and seemingly you as well enjoy Homestuck but are painfully aware of all the gross stuff in it. And as I see the comic pop up in more and more dni lists, with people claiming that enjoyers of Homestuck are supporting these things inherently, no matter the fact that most of us stand against Hussie and attempt to reclaim Homestuck as something to express joy and our identities in, it makes me wonder more and more the ethics of enjoying Homestuck. Since you seem to have thoughts on the matter, I was wondering if you’d like to share your take.

I once again want to stress though, absolutely no pressure to answer. I am not entitled to your time or hearing your opinion. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. I was just asking in case you wanted to speak about it.

Hi, Anon! This is a very interesting question, and you were right to assume I have thoughts on it. They might not be as long and complicated as some of my other essays, but they still exist, and I would quite like to share them. Thank you for the opportunity.

My opinion on The Ethics of Enjoying Homestuck is that I believe it's perfectly fine to do so. I also think it's perfectly fine to dislike, or hate, or not want to associate with it or any fans of it. This is a personal boundary set by and for the individual, and it's not my business to question, nor my place to cross it. However, I don't really agree with the way some people go about communicating or enforcing this boundary. I've seen some people put Homestuck and Harry Potter on the same level before. I've seen some say that enjoyment of either piece of fiction is, at least in part, comparable. I heavily disagree with this- and the fact that this is a point that comes up shows to me that there's quite a few people who don't actually fully understand why so many people are saying to stop supporting Harry Potter.

The conflation of the two things reads to me as if some believe that Harry Potter has been "cancelled for having a problematic creator"- and that's not wholly true. Yes, J.K. Rowling is, by definition, problematic, and she is the creator of the Harry Potter franchise, but people have drawn such a hard line against supporting the series not just because J.K. Rowling is Transphobic, but because she has honest to god legislative power. She is, as it stands, currently the backbone of the TERF movement, and is spending a lot of time and money to ensure that Transphobes dominate the government. Monetary support of Harry Potter pools into her funds, which adds to her ability to further Trans Genocide. Communal/Fandom support of Harry Potter increases her visibility as a public figure, which adds to her ability to further Trans Genocide. J.K. Rowling has made very clear statements saying that she takes any support of the Harry Potter franchise- any at all, including Queer/LGBT+ Friendly fan content- as support of her beliefs. Support of Harry Potter is a method of legitimizing and validating Transphobia, and is being used as a way to further Trans Genocide.

If J.K. Rowling was just an average Transphobe, the outcry would not be nearly as severe, and the line wouldn't be nearly as clear cut. It would just be disappointing, bring to mind the phrase "same shit as always", and many would make the personal choice to distance themselves from it. But that's not the reality we live in. We live in the reality where J.K. Rowling has sway on the government, and is getting real people hurt and killed.

Andrew Hussie, creator of Homestuck, however, is just some random asshole with no political power outside of his own vote. Yes, Homestuck is filled with plenty of unsavory elements- random out-of-place interjections of Hussie's own past bigotry included- but at the end of the day, Homestuck has no influence over government action. Hussie has no tangible political influence, and does not want to have tangible political influence. We don't even have evidence that Hussie still holds the same beliefs as he did during and prior to the creation of Homestuck. This is just some random indie comic, made by some random guy in 2009. J.K. Rowling is dangerously close to billionaire status, and using that power for evil.

It's fine to like something that's not very morally clean- or something made by a not very morally clean artist, during a not very morally clean point in time in a not very morally clean place in this world. It's okay. The fixation some have on this is OCD-inducing. The best that can be asked is that one recognizes the bigotry, and doesn't perpetuate them. That's all. You can read, watch, play, and enjoy just about anything, as long as you don't make the more unsavory elements out to be a good thing. Don't start acting like Racism is awesome, or Antisemitism is cool, or Transphobia is based, et cetera, and you'll be totally fine.

The ability to find value in something impure or unsavory is a valuable one. Some may not want to associate with that, or find the particular flaw in the work in question to be too uncomfortable to stomach, and that's fine, too. Not everyone can just sit through Era-Appropriate Casual Homophobia or Racism and come out feeling fine enough to keep going. I'd argue- hope, even- that most feel at least a bit bothered by such things. It's all about personal tolerance levels. No one's committing a moral crime by either enjoying it or not wanting to even look at it.

[little-diable]

A complicated man – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 5/?)

Chapter five, here we go! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, some heated making out, Aaron is a big asshole in this, mentions some typical CM violence

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.3k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six

“Yes, Emily, I am on my way. I promised you I’ll show up, didn’t I?” A tired sigh left (y/n) as she watched the houses and streets blurr by, being driven to the BAU. Her heart was aching, mind racing, still hooked onto her last conversation with Aar- Professor Hotchner.

She wasn’t proud to admit that she had cried through most parts of that night, cursing herself, but mostly cursing the older man. Deep down she had expected the situation to go south, very well aware of his stoic self and the lines both had crossed.

And yet a small, pathetic part of herself had believed that everything would work out, that he’d want her as much as she wanted him. Fuck, how foolish she had been, how naive she had been, all because of a man who was almost twice her age. A man who should be more mature than how the professor was acting at the moment. 

Emily had called her a few days later, quietly begging (y/n) to find her way to the BAU, since JJ was sick and they were desperate for any help they could get. It hadn’t taken much convincing, even though (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder how crossing paths with him would play out. 

The brown haired agent was waiting for (y/n) to arrive, smiling at the young woman with a visitor’s badge already in her hand. Both shared a bit of small talk as they made their way upstairs, momentarily managing to distract (y/n) from her nervousness. But the second they stepped into the office, (y/n)’s blood ran cold, eyes instantly drawn to Aaron Hotchner’s dark ones.

An expression of confusion, annoyance, and anger crossed his features, instantly forcing the young woman to slow down the speed of her steps. Of course Emily hadn’t told the others about her plan, a fact (y/n) shouldn’t have been surprised about, and yet her insides didn’t stop churning. 

“(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you.” Penelope was the first to break the few awkward seconds of silence, pulling the young woman into her grasp as Derek and Spencer also stepped closer. She tried to stop her eyes from searching his as her professor growled a loud “Prentiss, a word please”, but the second he had turned away, her eyes had snapped towards his frame once again.

“We missed you, sweetheart, you’re just the woman we need on this case.” Derek’s sweet words managed to make a smile tug on (y/n)’s lips, a smile that grew even bigger as Spencer quickly hugged her, and as Rossi squeezed her shoulder. But there was no time left to exchange any further pleasantries, falling quiet as the two others stepped back into the room. 

“Alright, let’s focus on our case. Reid and Morgan, I need you to go back to the crime scenes, go through the events that have happened, maybe we missed something. Rossi and I will talk to the people who worked at the slaughterhouse. Prentiss and (y/n) talk to the families again, dig deeper with Garcia's help."

……

“Why didn’t you tell him?” (Y/n)’s voice filled the car, fingers wrapped around her hot drink as Emily drove them back to the BAU. With a sigh leaving the agent she let her eyes flicker towards (y/n), taking in the sad expression the young woman couldn’t shake off.

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he knows that we need you, we shouldn’t let go of this chance to have you on the team. But I knew he’d be too stubborn.” A laugh left the both in unison, momentarily taking some weight off (y/n)’s shoulders. “Do you want to tell me what went down between you two?”

“You can’t tell this to anybody, I need you to promise.” A hum left Emily, wordlessly promising that she wouldn’t spill (y/n)’s secret. “We, uhm, that night where we went to that bar and he picked me up, I stayed at his place. The next morning we did some things, but then he was called back to the BAU, and it was as if the switch had been flicked, he was such an asshole to me. Fuck, I’ve been crushing on him for so long and was so happy that something had finally happened, but now - I don’t know, Emily.”

It took the older agent a few moments to ponder over (y/n)’s words, letting the story sink in before she shared her perspective on Aaron’s behaviour. 

“He’s been hurt a lot in the past years, I can’t tell you what goes on inside his head, but I think he’s scared. He is clearly into you, we can all tell, but he’s your professor too, and probably your future boss. Aaron is very compliant to rules, I’d say he’s currently fighting some inner battle.”

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do with Emily’s insight, didn’t know how to accept the truth the woman had just shared. Her heart was pounding, and yet it was weighed down by what had happened, unable to shake off the worries clouding her mind. Aaron Hotchner had her trapped, perhaps without fully realising what he was doing to her with the way he kept behaving.

……

“Let’s recap what we got so far.” Aaron's voice boomed through the room, drawing all eyes to his tall frame. With one hand he smoothed his tie, eyes focusing on the picture he was holding, avoiding (y/n)’s eyes at every cost. “We know that our unsub stabbed our victim in the slaughterhouse, but the victim tried to escape, making it about a block before our unsub stabbed him again and finally killed the man. His stomach was cut open and he was beheaded, the head was left at another man’s house. Prentiss, (y/n), anything you can tell us?”

Emily’s eyes met (y/n)’s, wordlessly encouraging the young woman to speak up, leaving her to clear her throat before she took over, “Nothing we weren’t already aware of, but to me it seems like this was about a love interest that connects our victim to our unsub.”

“We first need to rule out other options before we take that route.” It felt as if Aaron’s words cut through her skin, almost forcing bile to rise in (y/n)’s throat. His eyes were cold, now staring at her as if she was their unsub, interrogated by every single member of the team.

“But why? If I remember correctly you didn’t deny my theory the last time you presented this case in class, what changed?” The unfamiliar undertone of her voice even managed to surprise (y/n) herself, not used to hearing herself speaking this coldly, challenging the man. She was too focused on him to pay attention to the others, not feeling their curious eyes on her, wondering how this would play out. 

“If I were you I’d watch my tone, (y/n), you’re not part of this team, and if you keep on behaving like this, you’ll never be. Either accept my decisions or leave, I certainly won’t stop you from doing so, you’d all do us a favour.” A silent gasp ripped through (y/n), followed by the sound of David Rossi warningly murmuring Aaron’s name. For a second neither of them moved, till (y/n) pushed her chair back, rising to her feet with a trembling “Excuse me” leaving her. They watched her leave the room, back turned to them as she moved towards the bathroom.

(Y/n) had to blink her tears away, not wanting to give Aaron the satisfaction of crying over his hurtful words. A few deep exhales left her as she stepped into the bathroom, both hands placed down on the cold sink, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t tell what she was feeling, torn between anger, embarrassment, and heartbreak, hearing him speak to her like that had felt like daggers being pierced into her heart, tearing her last strings of hope. 

“(Y/n)?” Her eyes snapped up towards the mirror, finding Aaron’s frowning features. Without speaking another word, he stepped into the small bathroom, locking the door behind himself. She watched him approach, only turning towards him as he came to a halt in front of her. (Y/n) didn’t dare move as his warm hand slowly cupped her warm cheek, didn’t dare move as a deep sigh left the tall man, eyes burning straight through hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be sorry for, if that’s how you feel I guess. I don’t understand you, and frankly speaking, I no longer want to. You’re too old for these childish games, professor.” His frown deepened, but he didn’t pull back, kept holding her as (y/n) rambled on. “You played me, but hey, I guess you got what you wanted, huh? It was easy, too easy, but you should know that breaking my heart-” 

She didn’t get to speak another word, shut up by his lips finding hers, silencing the young woman with a heated kiss. Almost instantly her hands found his dark hair, tugging on the roots to pull him even closer. (Y/n) melted against him, eyes fluttering close to relish in the feeling his touch elicited. 

With a gasp leaving her, (y/n) found herself pressed against the sink, small of her back coming in contact with the cold metal. The sounds he drew from her left the man smirking, tongue fighting hers to once again prove the power he held over her. She was his puppet, allowing him to toy with her how he pleased, pushing and pulling her around without caring about what he was doing to her – at least that’s what he wanted her to believe, not speaking on his true feelings. 

“Fuck, Aaron.” His name slipped from her lips as he kissed his way down her throat, hands finding her behind, squeezing the soft flesh. Both were panting, riled up by the still somewhat unfamiliar touches. And yet neither of them wanted to escape this very moment, finding comfort in the racing beats of their hearts, in the heavy breaths leaving one another. 

“I wish I could understand what you’re making me feel, but I can’t.” He kissed her once again, urgency dripped from his words, making her toes curl in excitement. But (y/n)’s mind was still hooked onto his words, wondering what he meant by them, ripping her out of her blissful state. Slowly she parted from him, hands placed on his chest, forcing them to give into the once again growing distance.

Aaron’s lips were just as swollen as hers, pupils dilated with lust swimming in them, but the glance she threw at him seemed to prepare him for the words that were about to roll off her tongue. With a sigh clawing through him, Aaron let go of (y/n), taking another step away from her.

“I don’t get you, I don’t get what you are trying to do, what you want me to do. You need to figure that out before you toss me around like that again. Do us both a favour and come clean with your feelings. Till then I’ll step away from this case, and the team. I can’t be around you, if you keep acting like that.” Wordlessly he watched her leave, not throwing one glance back at the heavily sighing man. 

……

The sound of her keys being tossed to the small side table placed near her door echoed through (y/n)’s dark apartment. Her heart was heavy, shoulders slouched, clearly projecting the emotional chaos she was fighting against. Deep down she had hoped that he’d stop her from leaving, coming clean with his feelings right there and then, but she knew him better than that, all too aware of the struggles he was fighting against.

She didn’t bother to light her apartment, glassy eyes unable to focus on anything as she poured herself a glass of water, drowning the sips one by one. Exhaustion clung to her, body tormented by the battle she kept fighting, hoping that she’d eventually get out of this very mess. 

A groan ripped through (y/n) as she pressed her forehead against her kitchen counter, palms pressed flat against the cold surface. Fuck, she’d do whatever she could to get rid of her longing for Aaron Hotchner, the man who had claimed her heart all these years ago. Nothing would manage to break the spell, chaining her to him as if she was the Titanic itself, sinking to the dark ocean ground without any help coming her way. 

Her exhausted body carried (y/n) to her bedroom, plopping down on the mattress the second her phone beeped, gaining her attention. (Y/n) reached for it with another yawn clawing its way through her throat, a sound that got stuck in her throat the second her eyes focused on the message that had been sent to her, from an unfamiliar number. 

It took (y/n) a few seconds to take in the picture that had been sent to her, some blurry screenshot that pictured a kissing couple. A gasp left (y/n) as her mind finally realised that it was a picture of her and Aaron, lips locked in the bathroom at the BAU. Attached to the picture was a short message, words that left the young woman shuddering. 

“You’re mine, you belong to me, (y/n). Now you’ll have to pay for betraying me with him.”

[qqtxt]

[🌸] jealousy, jealousy w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / reader is friends with a couple of the stray kids’ members for each member’s part (don’t ask, i’m about to be a stay and it’s not okay) / curse words, cursing at each other as friendly banters / mentions of food and eating ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 700 words for each member / altogether, word count: 3,071 words (i couldn’t help myself on this one, it simply wrote itself i swear) ✿ when they’re jealous but try not to show it... (yet fail miserably because you can tell) [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut! / @kflixnet​ ✨

[🐰] soobin soobin swears he didn’t mean to intrude with your chat thread. it’s just that he heard you giggling and he wanted to know what was so interesting because if it’s a cute cat or dog video, he’d most definitely want to see (also he gets drawn to the sound of your voice very often). he notices it seems to be messages from... hm... that name looks familiar... regardless, he feels this small twitch in his chest, even if it doesn’t sound logical to feel this way. 

he didn’t realise he was still staring at your direction until you peek up from your phone and turn the cheek, sitting up to align your faces together as you two sat on the sofa side by side. “yes, handsome?”

his mouth opens, and closes when he doesn’t know what to say. what does he say? i think i might be jealous over something or someone i don’t even know the context of? he swallows and tries to muster up a reply, only to widen his eyes when you seem to click in your mind that–”ah, why i was laughing? here, seungmin texted this meme of jyp,” you snicker, showing him the message.

his lips are pursued, gaped with a small ‘o’ as he nods in response, smiling a little after that when he sees how funny you think it is. then his lips press into a thin line as he looks back down on his phone, seeing his wallpaper of your smile mirroring his as beomgyu helped take a photo of the pair of you on a swing; grinning at each other like the sun and moon colliding and soobin can’t help but wonder if he makes–”you’re thinking too much, bin-ah,”

“i didn’t even say anything.”

“you can say quite a lot with that face of yours.”

“...what am i saying, then?”

you use your eyes to point at his wallpaper, well-aware that it’s yours as well. it’s a favourite picture you two have (cue to him asking you which photo of the two of you was your favourite and sparking a two-hour debate, ending only when you can find a photo to agree on to set as your wallpapers). it’s all because soobin was telling you something out of seriousness but it was too funny to be serious, which is why you two were smiling that widely in the photo beomgyu managed to capture; because soobin automatically smiles when you smile.

"nobody makes me smile the way you do.”

“augh, how cheesy.” is the first thing that comes out of soobin’s mouth, out of habit, he can’t stop himself. but soon, that cheesy goodness spreads in his body and it makes him feel warm inside that he can’t hide the smile threatening to show on his face. that makes you smile on cue and remember, it’s a domino effect so now soobin’s a blushing, smiling mess with you mirroring him with a smile just as wide.

tl;dr: poor boy tries to pretend he isn’t jealous and is nonchalant about it, even if in his mind he’s having multiple layers of debate if he should say something, if it’s okay to ask, if it’s appropriate to show he’s possibly jealous. but it all shows on his face based on how he reacts because he can’t control it. would appreciate if you brought it up but honestly, he brings it up without saying anything because it’s all over his face, which you appreciate, too. just an assurance or two would make him all smiles again, to remind him that there really is no one else that makes you feel the way he does.

[🦊] yeonjun yeonjun didn’t mean to eavesdrop (because let’s be real, he’d just blatantly ask you to put on loudspeaker if he wanted to, that’s the kind of trust you two had) but he was headed to the bathroom, only to stand by the doorway of the kitchen when he hears you’re on the phone with–”lix, i’ll beat your ass in mario kart. don’t even pretend like your hand coordinations work with a controller just because you can dance.”

he crosses his arms and leans his head next to the wall, squinting his eyes so hard that maybe–oh, right, he’s not exactly invisible–he straightens his back when he’s captured your attention, fixing that look on his face to a sheepish grin and waves a little... even when he knows he’s not fooling anyone, especially not you.

“ah, i’ll text you when we’re leaving. see you, ass face.”

“where are you going?” yeonjun tries to make sure he doesn’t sound upset, but it’s safe to say he’s not managing well when you chuckle at him like that. “why do i get the feeling that you may be a little jealous?” 

he huffs and uncrosses his arms, already pulling you by the waist to keep you close to him as he narrows his eyes at you, “a little? you’re giving me too much credit here. i think i looked like i could beat someone up if i wanted to.”

“so... you wanna beat up felix because he invited us over to play mario kart?”

“i mean, yeah if it fits–wait, what?”

his expression immediately changes when he processes what you mean, and picking up earlier that you said ‘we’re’ leaving instead of just you. if jealousy was first, inclusiveness was second because yeonjun just loves being with you. sure, he’s all about having your own circle of friends but sometimes, (most of the time) he loves being around you with your friends, too.

“ah... so we are going together?”

“depends. do you still wanna beat–”

“augh, what’re you talking about? we’re all friends, best friends!” he puts a hand over your mouth to stop you from calling him out, even when he already knows whatever he’s thinking isn’t true. he feels you laughing against his hand and allows you to pull his hand from your mouth, so you can reveal to him that pretty smile that numbs him almost instantly, “you know you have nothing to worry about, right?” he feels his heart swooning when you turn his hand, so you can kiss his knuckles, “you’re all i want.”

he tries to press his lips together, so it doesn’t reveal just how hard he’s smiling as he nods... but fails automatically when he lets out a chuckle, happiness taking over his system as he nods again, “yeah, i know.” he moves to grip onto your hand, half-dragging you to the bedroom to–”let’s get ready to kick some asses!”

tl;dr: man’s not jealous because he trusts you with his whole heart but he uses his jealousy as a way to playfully show you how much he loves you. he’s confident in who he is as your lover and partner, but wants you to know that he does care who you go out with and who you interact with because he cares about you. wouldn’t shy from asking directly or use innuendos; would just ask as it is.

[🐯] beomgyu beomgyu’s number one goal in life since he’s met you is to make you laugh. when you’re happy, laugh twice as much. when you’re sad, find a reason to laugh. when you’re mad, he’s trying to ease your nerves with laughter. now... just because he loves hearing you laugh, doesn’t mean he appreciates someone else making you laugh. doesn’t matter who it is; he’ll feel a prick to his chest.

more so now when you’re laughing at your phone, him walking out of the bedroom (as he was taking a nap) to see you on a video call with–he squints his eyes at who’s filling your screen–han jisung. you were laying on your stomach, arm stretched out on top of the arm rest as you two talked leisurely. 

sure, all of you have hung out before but... that doesn’t mean beomgyu doesn’t feel anything. he can pretend all he wants but he knows it’ll only get worse the more he tries to suppress it. he’s talked about it with you before and he does feel secure, but sometimes, the feeling doesn’t last very long that his intrusive thoughts take over.

so instead of heading to the kitchen, he ends up plopping on top of you and effectively squishing you on the sofa. jisung immediately waves and greets–”gyu! hey!”

“sup!” beomgyu waves back and the two boys are now chuckling at your breathless state now that your nearly two meter boyfriend decides to use you as a mattress.

“g-gyu, get off!”

“you’re comfortable,” he snorts, pressing his cheek to the side of your head, resting his weight on you as his chest moulds to your back, legs tangled between yours and he supports your hand holding your phone up.

“how’re you, han?” 

that’s how beomgyu steered the conversation and you accepted your fate. chiming in here and there, until the video call ends with plans to meet up later at han’s dorm with a couple of the other boys. when you end the call, you flop your phone down (not caring if it slides off to the table conveniently next to it) and try to get a glimpse of your boyfriend, “and what was that about, mr. choi?”

“augh, that’s mr. handsome to you,” he kisses the side of your head, refusing to get up as his arms snake around your waist, coming between your body and the sofa beneath you. “i have a question,”

“can you please get off first?”

“no, you gotta answer first.”

“ask me. ask me quick before i pass out.”

“hypothetically, if you were single and if han was single–”he tries not to laugh when you immediately respond with han’s probably gonna die alone with that mouth of his”–and let’s say you didn’t meet me. would you two have dated?”

“that’s your golden question? that’s the question you’re willing to suffocate me for?”

“answer!”

“hypothetically, realistically and currently, no. i’ve only got eyes for one man and it’s the same one that’s trying to kill me!”

“augh, i love you too.” he coos, lovingly clinging onto you despite your protests, but with the way he’s smiling at you and peppering kisses to your face, you can’t quite push him off if you wanted to.

tl;dr: could be insecure, could be just playful, or the mix of both, depending on the mood. most of the time, he’s fairly confident in him being a boyfriend and a partner to you but there are moments he’ll feel insecure. he’ll mask that with playfulness and whenever you reassure him, it feels like he had nothing to worry about in the first place; because he trusts you, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need the reassurance.

[🐿] taehyun taehyun know that this isn’t something he should feel anything about but... he can’t help himself. he’s only human. the great thing about taehyun is that he doesn’t hide whenever he feels this way so... he’ll... just ask.

now is one of those times when he sees you on a video call with chan–the bang chan from stray kids–as you were fiddling with the computer, phone propped to the side and chan seemingly doing his work with tunes and bits and bobs playing in the background. taehyun stands a distance away, remaining hidden from both of your screens as he thinks whether he’ll want to speak about it now or later but it seems like the answer is decided for him when you–”earth to kang taehyun, you there?”

he seems to snap out of reverie, blinking a couple of times at your direction as his eyes grow wide at the attention now on him. chan gives him a wave, with the pixelated voice of hey, tae! then the line gets wonky and you’re ending the call momentarily to direct your attention fully on–”what’re you up to?”

“just... wanted to get some water. you want some?”

“water?” you snort, and taehyun rubs the back of his neck, regretting a bit on how silly that sounds, “yeah?”

“can we go get boba instead? i can call chan to come with? might do him some good to get out of that studio dungeon.”

you watch as he thinks about it and he starts to make his way towards you. kneeling before you. automatically, you turn to face him and you lean forward when he peers up to you with pressed lips. the shift in his gaze makes you a little antsy, using a hand to put on his shoulder, the other reaching up to run through his hair. he tries not to get sidetracked with your touch, having one hand on your knee, the other reaching up to hold your waist lightly.

"could we... just go together? alone?”

through his question, you’re able to pick up on the subtlety of how he’s feeling. you nod with a smile, “of course, handsome.”

“n-not that i don’t like chan or anything, i just–”

“you don’t have to explain yourself,” your hand moves from his hair to press a thumb over his lips. from speaking midway, he seals his lips into a smile; one so... pretty that it makes your heart swoon at how he’s looking at you.

“but... for me to make it clear, you know i only have eyes for you, hm? chan’s just a good friend.”

“of course,” he starts to regain the usual, silly side he has with you, “have you seen this face?” he tilts his head to the side, showing off his side profile that it makes you chuckle. that draws out an instant reaction of getting taehyun to laugh with you the second he sees that pretty smile on your face.

“that is a very nice face.”

“a face that likes looking at you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your palm hovering next to his cheek. the cheesiness makes the both of you visibly shiver and in the next, you two are brushing it off to get ready to head out for boba. (which taehyun suggests getting one for chan to drop by at his studio on the way back)

tl;dr: taehyun’s pretty secure with who he is, knowing well that you chose to be with him for a reason. however, he’s only human to feel a bit envious when another guy or person has your attention that he truly appreciates. he’s not obsessively jealous but he’ll just acknowledge it as a way to recognise he’s feeling that way and feel better when you acknowledge it, too. with a reassurance and acknowledging how he’s feeling is more than enough to keep him happy.

[🐧] kai in all honesty, kai forgot that you were hanging out with hyunjin and changbin until he scrolled through his social media to see a posting of the three of you hanging out in a cafè. his heart flutters seeing you smile and he loves how happy you look but he’d be a liar to say he didn’t feel a small pinch to his heart seeing you with two other guys. 

he debates if he wants to text you to ask, knowing it’ll be a bit too much to call but the second he’s about to pull up your chat thread, your name pops up on his screen. giddy, he swipes and answers the call with: “hey!”

“hi hun! i was just leaving a cafè and i wanted to drop by with some cakes and coffee–oh my god, guys, get off!” kai chuckles at how you’re quite literally fighting your way to speak to him, knowing the kind of friendship you had the the two guys. if he’s being honest, it’s like you three depicted the sibling squabbles better than him and his two sisters. more so when he can hear his name being called out by said guys in the background, cooing about how they would rather hang out with him than, you know, you. things like these made him feel at ease with how your friends respected your relationship with him, which is why it made him feel conflicted whenever he feels a bit of jealousy.

“as long as i get to see you, that’s all that matters to me.”

“augh, sweet boy. i’ll be right over–okay fuck you, hwang hyunjin! come here!” kai doesn’t have time to respond when the call ends abruptly and he’s reassured you’re on your way over when you snap a pic of your retrieved goods.

a good twenty minutes later, he hears a knock on the door of his dorm. he opens it to reveal you being escorted by two guys who have you in a partial headlock. it’s only until they meet with kai’s amused smile that they let you go, as if they’re doing a transaction trade. after bidding goodbye, you’re now finally at ease to be able to rest. you place your things on the dining table and turn to him with a huff. he fixes your hair and pulls you into a hug, unable to resist the urge to kiss your forehead before he asks: “had a good time?”

“i still don’t know why i hang out with them. it’s like a death wish each time.”

“then hang out with me more.”

“i’m quite literally in your bed at the end of every night.”

“eh, could be improved,” he shrugs, to which you snort and hit his shoulder before diving in to hug him properly. he hums as he has you in his arms, swaying you a little as he rests his cheek atop your head. still, he has the cheek in him to ask: “you only love me, right?” he only gets a smack to the back as an answer, knowing of his playful tone whenever you hear it. but still, you allow for a couple of beats to pass before you softly reassure him: “of course.”

then, you feel his lips to the side of your head, with a murmur of: “good, because i love you.”

tl;dr: this sweet bean loves seeing you with other people even if it’s not with him. though, he does get a bit jealous but he tries to mask it through being caring and asking questions... which ultimately you see through because of how he texts you or speaks to you. even with the way he acts could subtly imply he might feel jealous but he’s able to respect your space and you having your own friends, too. it’s a good mix and balance of both, playful jealousy that kind of reassures you two of your love.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You admire the tattoo through the plastic film. It’s so vibrant and red. The outline is beautiful and precise. You worried it would be less than with all your fidgeting but the hours of sitting paid off wonderfully.

You set your feet flat as Sam tosses his gloves and gathers up his tools. You fix the flat pleats of your straight cut skirt and smooth your white blouse. Plain and simple and neat. Just how everything in your life is. Well, except your tattoo.

You’re almost giddy. You feel so… edgy. You know you’re not but you’re going to enjoy the idea.

Your excitement is short lived as a heat settles over you. Like a shell you can’t see. You latch onto your wrist, holding your arms in front of you meekly as you peek across the shop. That man, Steve, he’s watching you again. You’re not sure he ever stopped as you kept your eyes on your round-toed flats for most of the time.

He smiles. The expression deepens the lines in his face and adds definition to his bearded jaw. His blue eyes sparkle deviously as you shy away. That’s the kind of boy, well, man, your mother would warn you about. Fifteen years ago and today.

You follow Sam to the counter and stir out your wallet from your black purse. You count out the rest of the fee in cash and hand it over. He explains the after care as he checks your count.

“Once you see blood under that film, you should take it off. Don’t keep it on longer than six hours. Don’t wrap it after and try to wear light clothing.”

“First ink?” The man interrupts, causing you to visibly flinch. Sam looks over your head and you hesitate to answer.

“Um, yes,” you turn your head only slightly and raise your voice so he can hear over the buzz.

“Can’t see it from here. What is it?”

“Steve, mind your business,” Sam retorts as he closes the till, “sorry about that. He’s always been too nosy for his own good.”

“You don’t gotta apologise for me,” Steve calls back, “I’m curious, is all. Sweetheart, if I disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you bend your ankle nervously and try to muster a smile at Sam, “thanks, I really like it. I love it. The colour is so good.”

“Appreciate it. As long as you're happy, I’m happy,” he grins, “here, take this.” He takes out a small booklet, “it’s everything you need to know about aftercare. Keep it clean, don’t touch it.”

“Oh, great,” you accept it, “that’s wonderful.” You tuck it into your purse, “thanks again. I’ll, er, I’ll go.”

“Have a good day,” Sam responds smoothly, a much needs balance for your awkwardness.

You turn and head for the door. You hear a low growl and peer back as you push through. Nat lifts her gun and punches Steve’s arm as he leans to keep an eye on you.

“Would you sit fucking still?” She hisses as he snickers in amusement.

You escape his gaze and the shop swiftly. That went a lot better than you thought. You only wish he hadn’t been there. Watching. A scary man like him, tattoos and all.

Well, you’ll never have another reason to go back to the shop or see that man. You had your dose of rebellion.

🎹

You resist the urge to scratch your ankle. You have discipline. An overbearing degree of discipline. Hammered so deep that you’re left hewn in rigid stone.

The rules. You’ve always been good at following those. It’s the one talent you have.

Aside from the piano.

You set up for the day, your ritual the same as every other. You change the water in the vase and place the long stems inside. The lilies are starting to wilt but they look good enough. You put them on the window sill, a soft breeze flowing in and fluttering the curtains.

You quickly brush a feather duster around the apartment, searching for any spec of dust. You’re gentle at the piano, the old boxy instrument is finely tuned despite its worn varnish. The bench is in a better state as you recently had it reupholstered.

You kick the corner of the carpet down as it folded over with an errant step and you pause to check out the tattoo. It’s so cool. Or cool to you. It’s probably lame to everyone else.

You imagine the rolling eyes and low whispers. Not really the tattoo type…

The boring type. That’s what you are. You live in your corner of the world and you keep to it. You don’t impinge, you don’t intrude, you are a very mindful person. Of others as much as yourself.

You fold the dusters and hang it in the closet from the hook on the inside of the door. You shut it, the hinges squeaking slightly. The walkup was inherited along with the piano. Both belonged to your grandfather. The same man who taught you how to play.

You breathe out as you run your fingertips along the belt of your dress. Some would say it’s out of style, you say it’s vintage. Nothing too flashy. Forest green with cap sleeves.

It’s always a bit nerve wracking to take on a new student. Amanda moved away and so the vacancy needs to be filled. You keep to a particular capacity. Both to maintain your sanity and your finances. Too many and you won’t be an effective teacher, too few and you won’t be able to afford the keys to practice.

It’s not too difficult. Usually their parents walk them in, talk a little bit, and go. Some of them stay after a few lessons to hear their children’s progress. You offer them tea if they do and some shortbread cookies; your grandmother’s secret recipe.

You pace as you check your watch, a slender golden chain attached to an oval face. You tap the glass with your fingernail and sigh. Two minutes.

You twirl and repeat your steps across the rug, just across the top of the stairs. You pull down your lip anxiously but correct the impatient habit quickly. Don’t fidget so much. Stop picking at yourself. Your mother’s voice lives in your head.

You circle around and straighten the framed embroidery above the antique side table. You lean back on your heel and consider it. Still a bit off. You work at getting it perfect, your obsession pierced by the doorbell.

You recoil and go to the top of the stairs. You look down and see a silhouette on the other side of the half-moon pane set into the thick walnut door. You glide your hand down the banister as you descend and steady yourself at the bottom.

You set your shoulders and smile. You’ve done this so many times before. Why are you so unsure? When have you ever been sure? Oh gosh, what if they see your tattoo? What if they think you’re trouble?

You grasp the curled handle and twist it. You pull the door open and your cheek twitches in surprise as you face the unexpectedly familiar face. You blink long and hard. You don’t believe it. It can’t be him. You must be dreaming. That must be why this whole day has felt so surreal.

“Hi,” Steve’s deep tone washes over you like a tide.

“Um, hello,” you look to the right, then the left, then at him. He’s alone. It’s just him. Why is he here?

You can’t be mistaken. You see the tattoos peeking out at the ends of his jacket sleeves along his knuckles. His newest addition shows through the white fabric of his plain cotton tee. It’s definitely the same man. How could you forget those eyes?

“I’m here for piano lessons? This is the right unit, right?”

“Piano? I– yeah, I teach but, er…” you reach to rub your neck and his gaze follows the gesture before returning to your face. He watches you intently, just like at the shop. “I usually teach–”

“Beginners,” he smirks, “yeah, I know I’m a bit old but I always wanted to learn.”

“Well, of course, um, anyone can learn but I…” you try not to show your confusion.

It’s not his age. You’ve taught adults before. No, it’s that he’s even there. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? Or maybe he doesn’t even remember you.

“So, you healing up?”

“What?”

“The tattoo.”

“Oh, uh,” you look down at your feet, “sure. It’s… alright.”

“I’m dying to scratch mine,” he chuckles, “which is why I need something to keep my hands busy.”

“Yes, I mean, okay,” you grip the door tightly.

“All cards on the table, I heard you in the shop say you taught piano,” he confesses, “I looked you up. I’m sorry. I hope that’s not weird.”

You let out a long breath. It is weird but he is being honest. He doesn’t seem like he’s up to anything. And anyone can get a tattoo, even you. So maybe he isn’t too bad. And maybe you need the cheque.

“You’re late,” you say, “usually I ask my students to be ten minutes early.”

“Got it,” he nods, “promise, it won’t happen again.”

“Put your shoes on the mat,” you back up and open the door, “since we’re already behind, I won’t have time for the tea.”

“Maybe next time,” he breaks the threshold as he peers around at the entryway, “nice place.”

“It is,” you say, “the piano is upstairs.”

You spin on your heel and scurry up the steps. You cling to the railing to keep yourself on your feet. Now that he’s inside, you’re even less sure about this.

[kaybreezy3000]

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

Sometimes your fanfic best friend gives you a shout out in an anon ask reply, and then you get excited and make your quickest Five fanart and first-time sort of animation based on a pairing she mentioned and that you wrote years ago. 😄

Link to Bad Kitty's ask

Link to my other art and stories on Tumblr

Link to my long read/3-part Five Centric TUA story with Five paired with a character similar to the one above (and yes-she has Harley Quinn vibes but don't worry if you don't like her-she is not her, I just borrowed some of her wild and fun and qualities. 😉)

------

Updated note added late 6/28/24 after a continuous thread of harassing comments from one user that now has been blocked. No this is not 'AI' made or traced like that person repeatedly said it was. I did not steal someone else's art like they accused me of with no back up other than ripping me apart with more mean comments about what looks so bad about this. They also said my other art posts are 'AI,' and that I have no drawing skill or understanding of how clothes fold.

The AI accusation is a very mean thing to say and it's happening to so many people on here and in the actual profession art world. I do agree that I am not great at art or writing but that doesn't mean I am using AI and claiming it's mine. It's very sad that people feel the need to attack art in this way when it's clearly not even good like mine.

This picture/animation was done with me doing a very bad, very fast sketch, and then hardly correcting my lines before I quickly color filled the drawing that I MADE based off the fact that I have drawn Five in a suit more times than I can count and I have basic drawing skills, not great skills but basic. The reason the hard lines are both gray and black in some spots is because I went in after to correct stuff like gaps that needed to be filled for color filling and I did that in a different layer with black rather than the gray I used the first time. It's an error but one I was aware of but didn't care about because this was supposed to be fast and messy.

So yeah... this is NOT TRACED, and from what it was supposedly traced or 'stollen' from, I have no idea what this user thought that was because they never backed that up with some image that they seem so sure I used. This was based on Five with one of my original characters, so that image they claim I stole didn't exist until I made it.

I'm just trying to have fun with my friends on here while learning to draw better digitally. I am not an artist, and I definitely don't get paid or try to make people support me.

To those like the user who did this, please just chill with the mean comments and be kind to art makers on here and writers and all content posters. If you don't like something ignore it or keep your negativity inside instead of spreading hateful intentions and saying things that are not true about people and their work or their ideas.

Sorry to go off about that on here when it was just supposed to be silly and fun, but this stuff isn't okay and needs to be shut down. I am not always going to post 'proof' pictures of my works in process. I have done that before, but it's not what this is about for me, so I don't even think to do it normally. I have other art posts on AO3 with hand drawn stuff so I figure I don't need to prove I can draw. If someone wants proof, it isn't hard to find it through my posts.

I know most people are only here just for the fun stuff and let's have more of that. ❤️ Peace and love to you all.

[weiszklee]

@fandomsandfeminism Let's take this to its own post, I like this discussion, but it has gone on a bit of a sidetrack.

fandomsandfeminism you...can't think of any reason why Germany specifically might not be super quick to embrace "traditional heritage" nowadays? And that this might not be a universal experience? Could there be a reason why you don't see that specifically in Germany that might not hold true in another country? weiszklee Of course, but I don't think the lesson of WW2 was "Germans can't be trusted with nationalism." For me at least, it's "nationalism itself is suspect." fandomsandfeminism Have you considered that not everyone would equate feeling a strong connection to their cultural heritage with nationalism? weiszklee Well that's kinda what I am asking. What other reason could there be besides nationalism? fandomsandfeminism there are many reasons that a person might feel connected to their culture and heritage that aren't specifically tied to nationalism. Like, this is a very US American perspective from me, but consider like... someone who is Cherokee or Tejano or African American. If they felt a strong connection to their culture and heritage, would you assume that was nationalism on their part? this might be a great time to remember that your experiences are not universal. weiszklee Well, indigenous cultures holding on to their heritage is kind of a reaction to the forces that try to suppress these cultures, no? So while I am still wary of this, because obviously yes it is nationalism, I can sorta understand it. Gotta hang tight to the things nobody can take from you and stuff. I don't see how this applies to Greece. I am aware that my experiences are not universal. That's why I explained my experiences, to make them legible from the outside. fandomsandfeminism I'm...not sure we are using the term nationalism the same way if you think that indigenous people in America having cultural pride is nationalism. like, again, this is a very American perspective. But like...to me, strong connection to cultural heritage tends to be a very minority and immigrant expression, and if anything tends to stand in opposition of American Nationalism (which would have you identify as *American* first and foremost). and with that in mind, this kind of connection to the cultural heritage of classical Greece has its own context as well. Applying your (very valid) experience as a German outside of the context of Germany...doesn't always work. Different cultures with different histories create different contexts for that kind of thing.

Firstly, I resent the insinuation that I only reject nationalism because I'm German. Nationalism is actually quite common here still, even in the mainstream, which I find quite worrying. I reject nationalism because I'm a) a humanist and b) a socialist. And I think nationalism a) stands in the way of the people of the world realizing their commonalities and working together for the good of all, and b) tries to paper over very real intra-national class differences. Living vicariously through one's nation's greats is a poor substitute for material liberation and emancipation.

I think these two aspects make for a good summary of my understanding of nationalism in general: Emphasizing (or rather constructing) firstly differences with other nations and secondly cohesion within the nation, whether the nation is defined legalistically, pragmatically, racially, culturally or however.

In a way, nationalism can also denote the status quo, of course. Our world is divided up into nation-states, and we just accept that this makes sense, that it makes a difference on which side of a drawn line someone is born. In this wider sense, all national liberation movements are nationalistic, too, but I would really only find that concerning if they try to establish themselves through nationalism in the stricter sense of emphasizing inside cohesion and outside differences.

With all that in mind, I can repeat the claim which you originally took issue with: Besides historical curiosity and neopagan reconstructionism, the only other reason I can see for being very invested in traditional (and even ancient) heritage is nationalism.

If you think there are other reasons, I would be interested to hear them. But your examples so far do look like nationalism to me (even though, again, they don't seem super threatening at the moment, because there is not much power behind them, and they mostly exist as a reaction to attempts of suppression, so it's reasonable to assume that with material liberation, the need for being so invested in "cultural heritage" would wither away over a few generations). Membership in the groups you mention is predefined, typically by being born into them, and the "cultural heritage" works to a) reinforce outside differences and b) emphasize inside cohesion even across class lines. So even though it doesn't seem particularly threatening at the moment, and I don't think it makes sense to expend too much energy working against it, I would not support this nationalism. There is no substitute for class struggle.

[daystarvoyage]

The Dana Terrace Vs Vivienne Medrano, The Great Debate of Two Female Creators

Hello Starry Knights, This is the lovely Kyoko Cane, The Brown Sugah Queen, & cosplayer who performs and visits numerous cons throughout, while making blogs/vlogs on animated media & entertainment.

as you know or are new to this page, I am an artist who also dedicated my fashion in drag, on all my platforms along my artwork & discussions (be it anime or Western) that can affect real-life even fandoms, with a variety of videos.

the title of the post is about The two proclaimed talked about animators, Dana Terrace & Vivienne Medrano, I'll be critiquing how these two women of animation tackle the industry. This will have strong opinions from recent interview videos I've watched.

(I'll be calling Vivienne VIVI FOR SHORT & letting you know, if I were to watch ones in the future affecting my post come on the comments to ask freely, AND YES ALL PROJECTS AND TOPICS ARE NOT WITHOUT THEIR CRITIQUES, FLAWS IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT, CHECK OUT THE DAYSTAR VOYAGE, DON'T HATE, APPRECIATE! )

OK LETS GET STARTED In this 3-part segment

1. The Different Artstyles That Made Us Love These Shows.

Vivis work (Helluva Boss & Hazbin Hotel)

Now We all know as fans & lovers of animation when we hear a series that's greenlit after viewing on a television screen, in a magazine, or sponsored in commercials, right? As for these two,

The first time I heard of VIVI's work was on a YouTube ad commercial in line & premiered for the pilot, I was fully captivated by its groundbreaking story, from hazbin hotel to the comedy in helluva boss, along with its ghoulish Beetlejuice-inspired art style.

(which I'm a sucker for the niche, indie projects & gothic horror.)

observing her sketchbook on YouTube, I was drawn in by the captivated humanoid shapes she sketches, along with her fluid & flowing style.

the worldbuilding version of heaven & hell drew me in, after watching hazbin hotel. The pilot had a lot to offer from its dreary horrific turns/obstacles from its character debut, story & distorted beauty that there was a lot to tune Into along my first episode of Helluva Boss,

Now we are gonna get down to lore storytelling and character growth.

(and im fully aware of how the fandom treats the rest of the main & supporting cast not letting them flesh out including the females, btw)

Vivi has so much to offer, after watching the latest episode of Helluva Boss and finishing Hazbin Hotel, I see she has the potential to make a good show on drama & sell it, however with her controversy coming through I feel she needs to learn on how to perceive herself online, so makes it hard for me not to hate her series, be it art and her work.

(its truly good when it wants to be as for the writing ima get to that later. with the stolitz & lumity discourse on part 2)

The owl House by Dana terrace

Now you all know by now, I am a full-on Owl House fan regardless of its show ending early, and my many critics on Dana Terrace drew me in with her macabre art and full-on passionate skeletal pieces after looking at her socials and sketchbook online, as a debut showrunner who made her great stance on lgbt representation she has cemented herself as an acclaimed cartoon creator.

However, she does have her flaws ever since rewatching the series, and a lot to learn about the business, after rewatching The Show and yes I have notes written to prove them,

To add I felt if alex Hirsch wasn't on the project, everyone wouldn't watch that show since yall want it to be the next GRAVITY FALLS,

I love the fandoms that discuss the errors of these creators cause it gives more insight on how to portray yourselves on in the real world, cause lemme tell you, it was all watered down I'm get to that in a minute

one problem i have with particularly since she's a good artist & creator is her depending on certain tropes to carry out her cast, cause some may be harmful, along tropes being flanderized & the writing of character being generic & stereotyped.

She needs work on being a better showrunner cause those skills need Cleaning up including writing certain characters on who gets the spotlight.

NEXT SEGMENT

2. The Good, Great, Bad & Ugly in Fandom Discourse,

Vivis Work (Wow Yall can be Wow)

Vivienne Has made her mark in the YouTube market ever since making her pilot debut on Kesha video & hazbin hotel pilot,

I'm so glad for her contributions towards the indie market cementing her way to showing great representation in the general audience for an adult show, not to mmention disablity rep, yes an adult show and that's not without its controversy,

with her grand debate, I feel everyone took this woman's artwork turning it into something ugly, which is so uncool.

and I for one will not stand for the hate trains of now popular shows flip-flopping and then float back to it cause your series is acclaimed now, let's be real she deserves her crowns and laurels, Just keeping it real, regardless cause its a fire show

The fandom has shown their love of the show cause it knocked down so many doors in many ways, but let's be real the audience is now geared toward children cause we all know, this generation can be doing some crazy things, the way they all need to tone down the language, and let characters breath in the show

which I feel viv needs to work on the jokes. I get, it's an adult show which is concerning and it's a Gen Z world where people have access to computers 247, which contributes to all the nasty discourse and crass behavior not to mention,

fandom needs to calm down her fans when it comes down to her work and the way stoliz is perceived.l can be questionable, not to mention how the females are written which I do know the key word for this below.

cause i rarely do find the females are compelling, but yet to fleshed out like the rest of the male characters so misogynist comes into mind in this show and how it sells

there some moments it only aims to the infamous ship Stolitz (and doesn't let other characters breathe (this is a problem with the owl house which ill get to right now cause the pacing is wow smh)

(next to the owl house which I'll get to cause OMG)

THE OWL HOUSE FANDOM (GRRRR) lemme calm down

If you haven't seen my posts, including the bashing and discourse there's also a list I swear lemme quote

in the words of Biggie Small - if you don't know now ya know.

The owl house fandom i was on ride or die for lumity. however we all know how that ship got it start and built up cause they expected it to be this thing to say (F you to Disney) which is good cause disney had its comuppence howver, after the show ended

fans have become the most foulest ugliest & disrespectful fandom ever since the Steven Universe, Voltron and miraculous incidents,

its sad to see how these two franchises fell into the worse cases, the two creators may come across not caring of there fandom acts cause there's a saying

The captain always goes down with his ship MEANING

A captain should not have to sacrifice their life or crew, simply because the vessel they are in control of is in distress

There’s two fandoms such as Steven universe & voltron fell from grace into toxicity down below that are prime examples

The Owl House fandom has got to be some of the most entitled, uppity if not (racist) fans!

yall clearly have not listened to other fans or can't take criticism, yes the show did make very feminist undertones and the male characters didn't shine at all in their titular episodes or moments, which doesn't help at all.

Since Dana drew inspiration from Powerpuff Girls

(which comes on and the writers being all female, might have some damaging effects)

Cause its stifled the male characters in a way where there not as prominent or impactful,

So this word MISANDRY comes to mind

The fandom has gone down to the point of no return, I mean,

one fan from a webcam interview WANTED DANA's ADDRESS EWWW! (in one disccus video0

its not that the Disney drama was too blame for the project, (to an extent) which I'm proud for the fandom for banding together on animation, but need to take off the lgbt glasses, cause boy the show's writing was pushed in favor of that.

CONGRATS You did at the cause of Harassment and bad behavior in fandoms,

NEXT TOPIC

3. Make The Business Makes Sense & epilogue

THE OWL HOUSE

Dana Terrace has the makings of doing good shows however when it comes down to an audience to kid she has some major damage control on how the fandom will come across,

i mean have we not learned from the Lilith and Camilla toxic issues, you can tell the show likes to demonize the adults which is unacceptable, and can damage storytelling and characters.

the truth i feel there needs to be proper staff on how to write POC, ethnic and cultural representation In the show, Amphibia, Molly mcgee, Haileys on it and other break-out shows did it better,

hell even Amphibia doing those cuisines food culture in Frogworld, can you imagine the boiling isles taking on Hispanic cuisine.

Which i felt could've hit a mark on luz home life and culture if written & fleshed out,

Like the staff didn't know how to write those topics, they've coulda gone so far with it but unfortunately fall flat in that area,, not to mention the fashion. UGH

sigh.

ViVI WORKS ( i try not to make this quick but i can discuss more on comments be NICE)

Vivienne Medrano has good fashion and business sense

its important to have that cause having a Cloud Nine franchise coming from nothing can do wonders for how you are perceived as an artist,

The discourse has come due to her take on the controversy on platforms talking on her many harsh topics

(in my opinions she too needs to work on controlling scenarios & damage control that can affect her

So tried but yeah

vivi is a dominant artist who takes her business seriously so I am glad to have her flourish in Spindlehorse,

but just i wish i cant help but fall outta love with her work, knowing of the problems in today's animation comesacross how you say even snowflakes can break under if heard by there favorite creators.

lets be honest these two can learn from each other. and vivi does sure know angles and promoting

very glad to get this written so I put some thought into this

i wish nothing for the best for these awesome artists and creators thank you all for coming so far and have a wonderful voyage thanks.

[jmscornerlibrary]

Unravelling Umbridge: Part 2

In which plans are made, Luna Lovegood unwittingly gets the better of Snape, and Fred and George Weasley are about to be caught completely off guard.

(Part 1 is on my blog :)

Featuring: Madame Rosmerta, Snape's pink cheeks, two fat nifflers and McGonagall as a cat.

Disclaimer: No pairings! This is a Hogwarts Professors being chaos fic. Everything is nice and proper (as it should be).

Enjoy!

***

The Three Broomsticks were relatively empty during the dark hours of after-student curfew: after ten. The hour was half-past, fires blazed in their places and the inn was as toasty as it could be on a chilly September night. The faint babble of chatter and clinking of glass coming from the kitchen and the bar was like honey in the ears of the two teachers sitting in the corner of the inn, after a whole day of shouting and chaos in the classrooms and common rooms.

Madame Rosmerta smiled as she wove her way across to the two of them, a glass of gillywater and Ogden’s upon her tray.

“Hello, Minerva, Professor Snape,” she said, with a little wink at the latter. “What brings you here on a late Monday evening?”

Severus Snape started at the wink, then averted his eyes from the pretty lady and instead grasped his glass of whisky. Minerva McGonagall spied a very faint tinge of pink upon his cheekbones and barely kept her face under control.

“Nothing much, Rosmerta,” she replied with a faint smile. “We have some marking business to discuss. It’s a lot more peaceful here, away from the students… and I daresay not much can happen when everybody is asleep.”

Severus inclined his head a fraction as a way of contributing to the conversation.

“I won’t interrupt you then,” Rosmerta replied with an eye-roll and smile. “I’d rather not get involved with such dark business.”

“Very wise,” McGonagall replied. “Thank you, dear.”

There was a moment’s pause during which both Heads sipped their drinks and fixed their eyes on the table, as Madame Rosmerta made her way back to the bar. Snape sighed faintly.

“Your cheeks are red,” Minerva said, not looking up. Severus didn’t retort, though he had to clear his throat quite thoroughly after swallowing.

“A lot of things can happen when everybody’s asleep, professor,” he replied stonily once he regained his breath. “Let’s talk quickly and return.”

Minerva put down her glass and folded her hands, placing her head upon them. “Let us do that. You are aware, perhaps, that Dolores is fond of cats?”

Severus’ eyes were directed to her as he swallowed his Ogden’s and stayed there as he put his glass down. 

“Cats.”

McGonagall smiled at his baffled tone and expression - the latter was a very peculiar one, for his eyebrows always formed a low, straight line and his eyes narrowed along with his mouth, so he looked as though he had just swallowed an amphibian - and inclined her head, her glasses flashing peculiarly in the light of the candles above them.

“Indeed. She’s really fond of kittens. Have you been in her office, yet?”

He scoffed. “I am yet to experience that pleasure.”

“Oh, you’ll absolutely love it,” she said, recalling her own disgust after she had set foot in it after an invitation. She had almost been surprised that her clothes hadn’t turned pink from exposure. “But all in good time.”

She pulled out the piece of parchment she had drawn up in her office and splayed it out onto the table. Snape leaned over, studied it, then turned his eyes onto her.

“This is just a print of a cat,” he observed, doubt and severe judgement lining his tone.

“That’s right.”

He studied his older counterpart for a few moments longer, but when she gave no answer, he grimaced. “Would you care to enlighten me, Professor?”

“With pleasure,” McGonagall replied, unmistakably smiling now. “You see, Severus… Dolores is fond of cats.”

“Yes, that we have already established.”

“And I, Professor Snape, am an animagus. More precisely…”

She ran a weathered finger over the rim of her glass, her grey eyes flashing with something which made Severus slightly uncomfortable. He had seen this gleam in the eyes of Gryffindor students fairly often when they were intent on acting up in his lessons; it usually meant they were about to toss things across the classroom into one another’s cauldrons, or something that was equally insipid.

“...I am perfectly capable of turning into a cat at leisure.”

Severus Snape’s face did not change, but as he reached for his whisky, his eyebrows crept upwards onto their highest step. The two Heads stared at one another for one long moment, both their eyes now gleaming, after which Severus put down his glass and inclined his head, slightly begrudgingly.

“I must admit that you, Minerva, are full of surprises.”

“My.” She chuckled. “Was that a compliment?”

“I’m disgusted with myself too.”

“A compliment,” she repeated. “From you?”

Severus looked at her long and hard, then shrugged. “You sound astonished. As though I rarely give out compliments, professor. I will have you know that nobody is as generous in their bestowment as I am.”

Minerva humphed, then rolled the parchment up and carefully set it on fire.

“I should give Slytherin a few points just for the sake of it,” she murmured, tilting the parchment with her wand, as it disintegrated above the table. “Perhaps one or two.”

Snape didn’t look impressed, but something of a smile still lingered on his features.

“I am no longer an adolescent, professor.”

“Nonsense. Unfortunately for you…” McGonagall made a little sound of satisfaction as the rest of the parchment vanished, then turned back to him. “You’ll never be a day over fifteen, for this old crone.”

Severus watched this old crone wriggle on her chair for half a second before emptying her glass, revealing as much excitement as her own stiff person perhaps would ever allow itself to, then returned to his usual stony expression after a moment and scoffed.

“I would hate to be in your place, professor,” he said, imagining short, square, flabby fingers with pink nails before him, magnified from a feline’s perspective. “Though, tell me, what exactly do you plan on doing when you enter that disgusting hellscape of magenta and primrose?” He spat out the last three words. “Are you really going to let that woman cluck and coo at you, perhaps even scratch you behind the ears?”

His lips curled upwards and black eyes began to glint. 

“I suppose that would be quite a poke at your dignity. The Head of Gryffindor in such a precarious position? Hm. I reckon you would be giving her a piece of your mind with your steel claws before you could stop yourself, but then the whole plan would be ruined.”

“You would be right.” McGonagall sniffed, no longer liking this turn of events. “Yet I am willing to put it to the side for the greater good, Severus.”

She sent him a pointed glance from behind her spectacles. He rolled his eyes and finished his drink.

“It is a very good idea,” he admitted, placing the glass down with a thunk. “I assume it is to gather more information than we are aware about. Perhaps she hides some strange letters of correspondence in her desk, or something equally vile.”

“Not my thoughts exactly, but whilst I am there, it would not do any harm to sniff around.”

Minerva placed her glass in the middle of the table, neatly. “However, it will not happen straight away, perhaps not even this week. The first few are always the most chaotic. Let us wait until everybody settles down, back into routine… or as much into routine as it can be, with the changes our subject of discussion has so boldly introduced this new order of things… before disturbing it”

They stood; Severus drew a finger over the surface of the table, then turned to Minerva.

“I expect to be informed as soon as you make your first venture, professor.”

“You will be the first,” she replied, as they made their way out of the inn, “and probably the only person who I will inform about this. Stay sharp. And Severus,” she added, looking back at him. “If you are so interested, why don’t you tell Rosmerta directly, instead of being so pathetically discreet? It’s incensing.”

Snape scoffed and averted his eyes from the white smile flashing from over by the bar, surrounded by a cloud of blonde curls, hastily.

“Don’t make me laugh, professor,” he muttered. “Interested. As if.”

Then he stepped past her and stormed out of the inn with his fists clenched and his dark cloak billowing.

*

And so the wait began, though nobody who observed the Potions Master would have thought that he was waiting for anything, for his masks of indifference were so close to perfect that everybody was convinced that Severus Snape was simply living his best life, or at least as close as it could get to that in present circumstances.

In fact, the Head of Slytherin and the Head of Gryffindor hardly spoke to one another at all that week, though they sat next to one another during meals to oversee the miserable silence in which meals were now spent. Both, however, had the pleasure of not sharing the company of Dolores Umbridge directly, who had taken to sitting next to Dumbledore and bestowing her little observations and ‘hem hems’ onto him. Since Albus was so polite as to never reveal what (as everybody was convinced) he really thought of her presence, he was the one who was suffering at large, running his fingers through his beard, his eyes rather solemn behind his half-moon spectacles though his mouth was always politely smiling and baffling Frog Pinky with stories - which most of the staff had heard before and chuckled at, since they were always told with that in mind - which verged on nonsensical.

Sometimes during these meals, Snape would glance at his colleague, who would return his glance without as much as an inclination of her head, and he would understand that it was yet to happen. He didn’t complain, nor grow more impatient, for he had far too much to do in his own time and his temper was put to the test on many occasions anyway, especially when teaching the fifth years, since Potter and his hilarious camaraderie didn’t have any less nonsense in their heads and twice the usual vigour to bring it into his life this year.

None of that put him on edge in the sense that he dreaded, however. Since Severus operated mainly on logic and common sense, he knew there was no way that anybody but his house rival knew of their conspiracy, and so he had no reason to be - and was not - nervous. Nor was he expecting any sort of confrontation with the amphibious, bureaucracy-hailing blob of magenta which terrorised students with greater ease than he did, regardless of the fact that he was almost double her height. 

Confrontation did not come, but eavesdropping did, though it was entirely unintentional. Severus was returning from the staff room after lunch break when upon turning the corner and a suit of armour to where the DADA office stood, he encountered the despised Miss Bufotes-Roseaus at her office door, deep in conversation with Argus Filch.

“I’m telling you, Mr Filch, it was a very pretty little cat, grey, with little black markings on its face. I’m sure you must have seen it before… you do have such a sweet little creature yourself.”

Severus stopped, then receded back behind the corner, into its shadows, and hid behind the suit of armour. From this position, he was almost impossible to see, for there were few windows on this corridor and his clothes were as black as the shadows sticking to the walls, so logic dictated that he ought to listen and collect as much information as possible for the good of the Slytherin-Gryffindor truce, before making his way back. He watched Filch shaking his balding, old head.

“Can’t say I’ve seen it before, professor, but that wouldn’t be the first time Hogwarts has attracted such creatures. I’ve shooed many away on such an occasion myself… my cat is allergic to others of its species, I’m afraid.”

“Well, please be sure to let this one walk around as it pleases, Mr Filch,” Umbridge said with a nod. “I think it’s taken quite a liking to me, and I’ve come to be fond of it myself.”

Severus hardly restrained himself from snorting aloud, though his lip did twitch at the image brought before him of this woman cooing over a po-faced, stiff-backed Minerva-the-cat. He owed his colleague for making him laugh, he thought - it wasn’t a common occurrence and he prized it. But then the conversation turned, and they began to speak of something different, something which had rather the opposite effect on him.

“Tell me, Mr Filch,” Toadus Pinkus began in her sickening sing-song. “What do you think of the professors here?”

Filch pushed out his lips as he thought. “That depends upon what grounds.”

“Why, teaching, of course!” came the reply. “And their beliefs. Those are important qualities, the most important qualities a professor can have. After all, they unknowingly bestow their views and upbringing upon the ones who they teach, and in a world as this one…”

“I see, I see,” Filch said, frowning as he searched in that knock-hollow head he carried on his dowager-humped shoulders. “I suppose most of them are quite good, Professor Umbridge.”

“Hm. Have you ever partook in any recent Care of Magical Creatures lessons, Mr Filch?”

Snape didn’t quite know why, but his fist tightened into the fold of his robes where was currently holding them. Filch nodded.

“I have, actually. I myself have helped with amassing some creatures Mr Hagrid had gotten ready for the lessons.”

“And are they fully approvable? The lessons?”

Filch hesitated. Severus could almost see his little brain working. Umbridge filled the care-taker in.

“They follow the Ministry curriculum? Does he communicate on an acceptable standard?”

Filch frowned; Severus felt his temper rising up like fiery bile from his lungs and into his head.

“Why, I suppose he does…” Filch scratched his chin. “I’m hardly ever there, really. I couldn’t really tell you, professor. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

“A good idea, Mr Filch.” Severus could see the toad smile, as she adjusted the pink bows stuck to the side of her head. “Your domain is mainly the castle corridors, I assume?”

“That’s right.”

“So you know how the other professors do, I suppose.”

“I’ve seen this and that.”

“What about… hm, the dark, unpleasant-looking man. Severus Snape, I believe his name was. Thin, with a crooked nose, surly expression?”

Snape barely repressed a scoff. They could laugh at him if they wished to, he thought, for he was immune to such abominable slighting and often did some of his own in his head, though his slighting was directed at others too. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him, Professor Umbridge,” Filch waved his hand with a snort. “The students get on quite alright in his lessons, that’s without a doubt. In fact, I often find myself wishing other teachers would take a leaf out of his book.”

“Hm. Indeed,” Umbridge hummed again. “And the old woman?”

Severus felt the veins in his neck begin to grow hot. He held his breath, expecting more. Filch frowned again. 

“Old woman?”

“Yes. I believe McGonagall was her name.”

“Oh!” Filch nodded, then lowered his voice and flicked his eyes around the corridor nervously. “I cannot complain about Professor McGonagall! She’s taught at Hogwarts long before I walked its halls, professor, and from what I’ve seen she has not a single fault in her teaching. A very good witch. Doesn’t quite believe in punishing students as they ought to be, however. A shame, if you ask me.”

“Indeed,” Umbridge pursed her thick lips. “It seems to me that she’s a little too above herself.”

Ha, Severus thought, not even realising he was running his fingers along the smooth material of his wand in his sleeve, does she now.

Filch merely inclined his head at this, but kept silent.

“As though she owns the place,” Umbridge continued. “Perhaps she fancies herself the Headmistress, one day. Quite a prolonged goal, if that’s the case… she must be almost at the end of her life, and she’s spent most of it here, from what I’ve heard… She doesn’t have long to realise it.”

Severus slowly drew out his wand.

“Why, she has,” Filch said.

“A rather sad one… but, that’s simply how life is. It’s not fair, as we both know, Mr Filch, life. Some people amount to greatness, some people…” She sighed, looking pitifully at probably an invisible McGonagall beside them. “Well, they contribute something to the world, but nothing of significance.”

Severus’ hand didn’t tremble as he lifted it, as he saw black and red, his lungs constricted, fire in his veins, pointing the tip of his wand at Umbridge. Fury only increased precision and potency in his spells.

“Some people are simply good enough to be turned into dust,” he found himself murmuring as he took a step back, readying himself, “and that’s the best thing they can hope to amount to… as do the people around them.”

He was about to flick his wrist; just about to hiss out something uncontrollable in the pit of his mind and step back, when something rustled behind him and he froze, shooting a look over his shoulder, his heart stumbling in its thudding plunge from fury to shock.

Two unnaturally-huge, silvery-blue eyes stared up at him, standing a mere two steps away from where he hid. Severus recognised this student; he would be a fool not to, for she stood out with her crazy ornaments, jewellery and distinct bolt-crazy habits. At present, she was clutching a stack of magazines with a pair of strange goggles on her forehead which pressed down her platinum-blonde locks and she was looking at him without a hint of trepidation or concern in her expression.

“Please carry on, professor,” Luna Lovegood murmured dreamily. “I just wanted to watch.”

Severus would have never admitted it, but he felt a strange shudder roll through him which pulled at his nerves. He was uneasy; only for a few moments, however. 

He stepped out from behind the suit of armour and retreated back around the corner to where Lovegood stood, leaving the gossiping pair at Umbridge’s door, then sucked in a breath, felt his temper restart, shoved his wand up his sleeve and made motion with his head for her to follow him.

When they got a safe distance away, he stopped his march and rounded on her. The only trouble was, now that he had been caught about to hex another colleague, he didn’t quite know what he should shout at her. But he didn’t need to. She spoke first.

“She’s an awful creature, isn’t she, professor?” Luna Lovegood adjusted her grip on the stack of magazines she was holding - most of them were upside down - and blinked once. “To be truthful, I wish you’d had done it. Please don’t worry about me telling anybody. I would have done it myself, if I could.”

Snape unfastened his jaw, still quite at a loss for words. “Would you, now.”

“Yes. She reminds me of a doxy. Quite a large and fat one, but a doxy regardless.”

He paused, actually snorted in amusement, feeling his muscles protest at the unnatural action of grinning, then regained himself and looked at Lovegood long and hard. After a moment, he just flicked his head towards the other end of the corridor and folded his arms.

“Go,” he said. “Before I take any points off for skulking about the castle.”

She nodded, not taking her unblinking eyes off him for a moment, gave him a little bow, then turned and walked off calmly to her destination. 

Snape watched her, perplexed, then remembered what he had heard upstairs and clenched his fists. Nothing he could do now, however, would do anybody any good, so he simply turned on his heel and swept off to his classroom before anything else made him explode again.

*

It was on a grey Thursday afternoon - three days after the incident with Luna Lovegood - that Severus, whilst rubbing at his temples and muttering darkly under his breath, still smelling the smoke which had coated the surface of his classroom after a particular accident, found that his waiting had come to an end. Minerva finally nudged the topic which had bubbled on his mind and reminded him of the days in which he had tossed a dungbomb into Sirius Black’s bag - the latter hadn’t noticed until it went off halfway down the corridor and Severus hadn’t forgotten the surge of delight which had took hold of his chest for two days after and whenever he had recalled it. 

McGonagall matched his step on the way to the staff room so silently and without announcement that he had glanced to his left and ended up flinching when he spotted her black hat, balanced upon her head at its usual degree.

“You look like you’ve swallowed an eel,” the elderly witch observed, as he scowled and grimaced at the way his heart thudded against his will.

“I feel as though I’ve swallowed an eel,” Severus muttered, shooting out a sigh through his nostrils. “And I will go as far as to swallow a poisonous one if you comment on any house points, crying students, my expression, or whatever it is I smell like. I’ve had it up to here with everything today, and I’m unwilling to make any exceptions, whether it be to my elders or betters or whatnot.”

Minerva’s lip twitched. 

“Oh, please,” she said once he had finished grouching. “You must realise that you say that every other day. So many times, in fact, that your threats are no longer imposing. But don’t worry Severus, I wasn’t going to, for I have many more important matters to discuss with you before the day is out.”

They glanced at one another, one gaze amused, one perplexed, then made a synchronised U-turn in the middle of the corridor and began to sweep their way in the opposite direction.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” Minerva said, glancing up at him from behind her steely spectacles. “From what I have observed, there’s nothing we, as teachers, can do.”

Snape graced her with a cool glance.

“You have kept me waiting for two weeks after dragging me to suffer at Rosmerta’s just to tell me that there’s nothing we can do?”

She blinked at him with raised eyebrows, then sighed. 

“I’m sorry you were so excited about it, Severus. It’s just that I don’t think we ought to stoop so low as to jinx or hex her in the corridors. That’s something that first-years do to one another. We are adults.”

Severus remembered his precarious hiding place behind the suit of armour and his murderous thoughts and intentions and said nothing.

“In short, there’s nothing we can do without blowing everything over.”

They passed through the main entrance, out onto the school grounds. It was a clear day, as warm as though it was still remembering summer, and mostly silent leave rustling and the far-away barking of the Game Keeper’s dog. Severus drew his cloak about him out of habit, scowling at the sky as Minerva walked along with him, her eyes darting here and there to detect anything unusual, also out of habit.

“Perhaps it is for the better,” she said, after they had made their way out onto the Quidditch pitches. “We are, after all, adults. Well, at least one of us is.”

Severus harrumphed in response. Minerva’s lip twitched.

“So you also think it is better to call this off?”

“No,” came the short answer, surprising her. “Conspiracy has become the highlight of my life and I refuse to give it up so easily.”

McGonagall’s eyebrows were raised again as she directed a look at him.

“Conspiracy? Nonsense.” She scoffed. “Conspiracy indeed. It is vengeance you want.”

“And I am not alone in wanting it,” he snapped. “You’ve been just as petty as I have in the roseau regard. Perhaps more.”

“Be that as it may, vengeance is something to frown upon.”

“Ha,” he scoffed. “That depends on the circumstances-”

“Wait, hush.”

They stopped. Minerva frowned; Severus turned.

“It looks like somebody is out,” he muttered after a pause, his eyes turned upwards. “I just wonder where…”

They both noticed ‘where’ at the same moment. Both had the wits about them to keep silent, though both also were stunned into looking sillier than both of them would have wanted.

Fred Weasley was leaning out of the top battlement, his wand out, looking very gleeful as he hovered down a niffler down to a particular window, about three stories below him. A few metres to his left, George Weasley was hovering down another; both creatures were strangely calm as they spun on different axis, as though they knew full well what was about to happen and were fully anticipating it.

McGonagall regained her voice, though it came out rather unsteady. “Merlin’s beard.”

Severus had shut his mouth by now and was observing the two devils with interest, his hands folded behind his back.

“It appears that that window,” he murmured after a moment, “is our most esteemed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher’s.”

His voice made him sound almost impressed and was quite serene, though his counterpart was neither of those things one bit.

“But they’re on the battlements,” she said in a slightly strangled voice. “Merlin’s beard, they’re inches from slipping-!”

She started forward after inhaling a swift breath, probably to speak her mind very thoroughly about what she thought about them being so insipidly dim-witted, but Severus stuck out an arm to stop her. She looked at him as though he was mad. He certainly had a strange glint in his eyes. Even the corners of his mouth were turned up. 

“There’s no way we can do this without blowing it, you say, professor?” 

Minerva’s severely judgemental look grew about ten times denser.

“Heavens above, you are mad.”

“I am not,” he said gently, then pointed above him neatly. “But they most certainly are.”

Minerva looked up just in time to see the two fat nifflers roll through the open window, the Weasley twins shoot one another looks of pure pleasure, rub their hands, and their flaming heads disappear after ducking down. It was followed very closely by a sound as though somebody had smashed a glass jewellery box and a couple of dinner plates onto a stone floor, followed by an indignant meow.

There was a pause in which Snape and McGonagall looked at one another. Then, without a word, they both turned neatly on their heels and made their way back to the castle, with varying degrees of satisfaction and resolution upon their faces.

[praisetheplatonicism]

So, this is my Efteling shrine:

Yes, I turned the cork board in my student accommodation room in Scotland into a shrine for a Dutch theme park, despite not being Dutch. No, I don’t know why I get weird looks either.

Those realm labels were drawn via Sharpies and grit. It took a lot longer than it should have. Here's a closer view of them:

I am far from an artist, but I did my best. Sharpies are unwieldy ok. I also put little references to each realm in them. If anyone out there is interested:

Fantasierijk: Het Huis van de Vijf Zintuigen as the ‘A’, twinkle torch from Symbolica and Pardoes lore in general.

Reizenrijk: red nose from Carnaval Festival, little bird for Vogel Rok, and the Pagode from… Pagode.

Anderrijk: squirrel for Fabula, bat for the new spooky area with Danse Macabre (as well as a little tribute to Spookslot (RIP)), and a Dios Gárgola statue for Piraña.

Marerijk: fairy for Droomvlucht, mushroom and vine for the Sprookjesbos.

Ruigrijk: little snake for Python, pirate ship for De Vliegende Hollander.

(There's also the little 'RIP' one for the closed attractions (that I have an attachment to, I'm aware there's loads more). It has a little tombstone on it. I never took a close picture of it, so...)

All with the corresponding realm colour, of course.

The lights around the outside are turtles. I say it’s a tribute to Pandadroom, but… honestly I just like turtles. It’s titled with ‘Koester je fantasie, de bron van alle magie’, or ‘Cherish your imagination, the source of all magic’ (...I think. My Dutch is very basic, I did my best), taken from Pardoes' line in Symbolica. Cause it’s basically my favourite quote of all time.

The photos are a mixture of ones I pulled from the internet and ones I took myself, hence the awkward face censors on a few. Don't particularly want to put myself and my family's faces on Tumblr, heh.

I figure hey, if I can’t share my little shrine to my favourite place on earth no one around me has heard of on my own Tumblr, where can I, eh? This isn’t even the first iteration; I had one last year, too.

This one actually had to come down a few weeks ago - I’m graduating. The real tragedy of leaving university is no longer having a cork board to build a shrine on. But hey, I'm meant to be moving to Leiden for my Masters next year, so then I'll get to live Efteling more than once a year. I'll take actual Efteling over a shrine any day.

[romanarose]

Darkness on the Edge of Town: Chapter 3

Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 Masterlist Join my taglis

Fic Summary: Right before a mandatory FEDRA lockdown, Joel saved a woman in an ally from FEDRA guards and is forced to house her for the entire lockdown. I.e theres only one bed

Chapter Summary: You and Joel pretend life is normal

Warning: SUBBIEST OF SUB JOEL, dirty talk, PIV sex, fingering, Joel being a bit worried he crossed a consent line given the circumstances but he didn't, uhhhhh thanks it? if i miss anything LMK

A/N did I return 4 months later? yes. Will it take another 4 months for the last chapter? I hope not. bc I actually have inspo lol. I had given up but then i got an anon asking for more which always perks me up, so, remember, if you like a fic thats been dead a while, politely tell the writer you are looking forward to more! (politely, do not demand)

**************

When you woke up, Joel’s arm was around you.

You suspected he was lonely, lonelier than he’d like to admit, and his subconscious sensed the warm body next to him and gravitated towards it. Briefly, you wondered if he had been married, if maybe his wife had died during or after the outbreak. Is that why he had pads in the bathroom? Had it been recent, or had he just not been willing to trade for them because he was secretly sentimental. You’d seen people get sentimental over a lot weirder things than pads. 

You decided to just lay there, enjoying the warmth of his company, silent as ever but no less safe and strong and assuring. He was masculine and you were drawn to that, but a healthy masculinity, the kind where he was the strong silent type but he could not walk away from what was happening to you, no matter how much he wanted to. The kind that didn’t kick you out no matter how much you annoyed him. And yes, you were fully aware you annoyed him, because god, he was so fun to annoy. His grumpy little face, grumpy little frown, the grumpy little lines between his eyebrows you just wanted to kiss…

Images of last night flashed through your head, sucking on the fat tip of his cock, grinding yourself on his leg, the whimpers and shaky moans he made…

“Fuck!” Joel sat up, jolting awake and realizing her was entangled with you. “Sorry, fuck- shit fuck!” He ran both sets of fingers through his messy morning curls, his tan skin even showing a hint of flush at the embarrassment. He’s never seen him so uncertain.

“Joel, It’s okay” You reach for him and he flinches, making you pause… but when you reach for him again, slowly this time, he allows it.

He’s frozen, eyes wide and sad and soft all at once, a new look. Guilt. “I shouldn’t have done that and I should not have let last night happen and-”

“Joel…” You chuckle softly, not mocking him, not belittling his concerns, but merely from the warmth in your heart that such a hardened man could be so soft hearted. “Last night happened because you and I both wanted it.”

“But I shouldn’t have done that to you”

“You didn’t do anything to me. I offered, I wanted to, and if I remember correctly, I did most of the work” You give him a quick wink and he relaxes just a bit. “Joel, I had already made it to adulthood when this outbreak happened. I am not a child, or a mentally stunted youth. I’ve survived this long because I am strong. I know you had to save me, and that’s why you probably view me as someone vulnerable and in need of protection but that’s just not the truth. I appreciate you being considerate, but I really don’t need to be coddled.” You watch as the words settle on his, the gears turning in his head. “Do you regret last night?”

Joel considered this… He felt like he should… but he didn’t. “No”

You give him a smile. “I don’t either. It was fun, you’re hot, I’m hot, we fulfilled a natural urge. And… We’re still stuck together…” Letting go of his hand, you plant both of your palms on bed, positioning yourself on all fours. “So who’s to say it won’t happen again?” With a quip of your mouth, you tease him slowly crawling forward as his eyes darken with desire. In a few moments, you are face to face, your own eyes boring into his milk chocolate ones as you see his need for you, the way he’s fighting with himself. You wondered if he had been religious, if that was the reason he felt this guilt. Did he have a daughter? Did he know someone that had been taken advantage of? These were thing you wanted to know about the sweet, gruff man in front of you… but right now, the main thing you wanted to know was if he could stretch your vagina the way he stretched your mouth last night. 

The impulse must’ve won over, because Joel leaned forward, kissing you, attempting to gain some sort of control over the situation.

But you knew Joel a decent amount by this point, been able to glean a vague map of his personality from the glimpses you got into his psyche and you knew what he needed. Joel mother fucking Miller did not need control. He needed to let go.

So you help him with that.

Hands firm on his slightly softened chest, still hardened with physical labor but a little squish from age, you push him down gently, never breaking the kiss and you claim his mouth for your own and guide him to lay down. Laying there for a while, you don’t push anything, allowing the moment to do its work. You had to be gentle with a man like Joel. Firm and clear, to be sure, but careful. He’d be spooked away easily, and the last thing you wanted was to add to his nerves. Joel just submitted… so easily. 

Emboldened by the make out and the way you ground your body against him, Joel slips his hands down your pants- his pants- and begins to massage your mound. Joel may enjoy letting go, but he is no stranger to pleasing a woman, and he quickly had you moaning into his mouth.

“Can I ride you, Joel? Please?” You beg for his permission, ready to put the built muscles of hard work to use on him. 

“Oh god, yes” Joel is eager for you, ready to feel the warmth of a woman for the first time in god knows how long. He feels you begin to move to climb on top, but he instead pushes you down, angling his body above yours for a flash of dominance. You look up at him all bright-eyed and ready, but he had your comfort in mind. Sliding his hands down your pants once more, Joel plays with your pussy lips before asking permission. “Let me open you up first.” He didn’t want to sound braggadocious, but he was aware of his size. 

When you agreed, Joel wasted no time and slid 2 long, thick fingers right inside you, curling up each time he pumped inwards. You hum in appreciation as he continued kissing your neck.

“Can I mark you, beautiful?” Joel asked, taking a light nibble on the soft flesh off your neck so it was clear what he wanted to mark.

“Yesyesyesyesyesyes pleeeeaasssee” In rapid succession, you not only grant him permission but beg him to make you his, if only for now, if only for this week, you were his and he was yours. You buck your hips up subtly to meet his hand, feeling the warmth bubbling inside you.

Joel began to suck on your neck, nibbling a bit on your shoulder to test the grounds and when you moan, he bites harder… and harder… and harder until you scream out his name and he attempts to pull away, afraid he hurt you, but your death grip on his hair keeps him latched onto you, pressing his teeth further into your skin. You cum around his fingers with a death grip, Joel’s body rutting against yours.

As you came down from your high, Joel disengaged from the attachment but never from your skin for more than a second, licking and sucking and kissing over that bleeding spot. With the slow of your heavy breaths, you could hear his desperate whines from his throat.

“Joel, Joel, baby” You force him to look at you, his eyes wet and mouth bloody, worried he did something wrong. “Goddamn…” You surge forward, just desperate to kiss him again, unable to be away from him for more than a moment to breathe, sometimes you didn’t even want that, perfectly happy to suffocate together and die like this. As you kiss, you guide him to lay down, taking off your pants as well as his, you climb on top and straddle his slutty little waist. 

His obscenely large hands tug at your shirt. “Off, please? Please, please I need- fuck, I need to see you.”

Happy to oblige the handsome man under you, you place your hands over his and tighten them to a grip on your shirt. Guiding him, you allow him to pull the shirt over your body and you smile at the awe in his face. Joel paws at your breasts and you slide your slick core over his hard cock that rested against his belly.

“In my mouth” Joel begs, and you need to ask what he wants to suck on, his eyes are trained on your tits. “Need them in my mouth, please.”

You lean over, and Joel quickly takes your right nipple in his mouth, making the sounds of your pleasure fill the room. “Eager boy” You coo at him, tugging gently on his hair just to hear those needy whimpers again. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

While he remains otherwise occupied, you line his fat tip up at your entrance and slowly, slowly work your way down his length.

Joel’s lips let go of his ministrations on your tits, his head hanging back as he groans your name loudly. His palms find your ass, the sheer size of them spread out nearly covering the whole expanse, and with a bruising grip he begins to rock you on his cock.

“So goddamn tight, fuck”

You would be, you hadn’t had sex in god knows how long. Not the best pickings right now in the men department.

“You close, Joel?” You tease him. “Been so long inside a pussy, you’re gonna just cum right after sliding in?” Working those leg muscles, you begin to bounce on him, rewarding you with a moan and a tight scrunch of his face. He was trying his hardest not to embarrass himself by cumming in seconds, but you found it unbelievably hot. Making it your mission to make him cum, you lean backwards and brace yourself against his strong, meaty thigh and reach until you find what you're looking for; his hairy, sweaty balls. You play with them, rolling them around in your hand and finding the right rhythm until he’s bucking up his hips.

“Ho-o-o-o-o-oly shit! FUUUUUCK! You’re gonna- FUCK! You gotta stop that, you’re gonna make me- ohhhh, fuuuuck!” He’s practically thrashing beneath you. It was salacious, seeing his broad, strong body so submissive for you, beyond erotic seeing him an absolute mess for you, such a far cry from the man who rescued you that first day. That Joel was strong, dominant, in charge and clear headed. The Joel you had now? This Joel was submissive, fucked out and writhing, completely at you mercy.

The power of a good blowjob.

This Joel needed you to take care of him, and take care of him you would.

You continued bouncing off him, Joel’s hands having moved to the sheets for fear of hurting you with his grip, and he was trying to best to hold on to his own orgasm… but when he opened his eyes to see your cheeky, grinning face smiling down at him… he knew your were playing with him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

“Fucking brat!” But he was smiling, thrusting up into you and pawing at your breasts, bound and determined to make you cum before him.

Both of your attempts to make the other cum first backfired, both of you cumming at the same time. You scream his name while Joel shouts obscenities, not doubt irritating the neighbors trapped in the same apartment complex with you both all week. Exhausted, your sweaty body slumps over his, and you are delighted to feel his arms wrap protectively over you. It was good to know he wouldn’t turn straight back into the Joel you had known before right after shooting his cum inside you.

“Probably should’ve pulled out, huh?”

“You seemed a little preoccupied.” Always gotta be a pain in his ass.

“Go to sleep, you’re less annoying that way.” His voice was gruff but quite and his grip on you remained steadfast.

“Wait until I start sleep talking. You’ll never be rid of this mouth.”

“Oh Jesus.”

In his arms, you fall back asleep, his cock still inside you, but you don't care. None of it mattered. Not the circumstances of why you were here, not all the times he ignored you, not the dingy apartment room or the drool and cum and sweat on the sheets, swirling around the room and permeating your nose. In times like these you learn to take love where you can get it. Not that you thought you were in love, no. You weren’t stupid. But there was a version of love here, in this act, and affection that didn’t exist in the late night hook ups, meet ups where you were pressed against an alleyway by someone whose name you didn’t even know because intimacy more than penetration hurt. This was something different. Something fleeting and short and ill-timed but gentle and caused your heart to swell in just the right way. For this week, you could live in a bubble with Joel, just to have a taste of normalcy for a few godforsaken days. Both of you deserved it.

You dreamt during your nap. You dreamed most nights of a life you could never have again. A life of drinks and fun and holidays, family, rest, 40 hour work weeks… simple things. Tonight you were at a bar, at an open mic night, the sound of guitar playing and muffled singing ringing in your ears as you begin to stir awake, the sounds of the dream bleeding into real life.

‘Oh yeah, life goes on long after the thrill of live’n is gone‘

A blanket is tucked tightly over your, protecting your modesty despite Joel seeing you naked before. A gentleman, that one, no matter how much he tries to act like that part of him died. When you finally drag your eyes open, curious if you’re just plain hallucinating the singing of the John Melloncamp song, you are surprised to see the back of Joel’s chair with his salt and pepper hair popping over the top and the head of his guitar coming out of the side.

Joel was playing guitar for you.

Turning to the right to find your previously discarded clothes, instead find a fresh pair of sweats and a flannel laid out for you. Joel’s music pauses as he hears the rustling of the bed, but he continues, blending the song into an acoustic version of Simply the Best, the strum of his guitar much more pleasant a wake up than you’ve gotten since childhood. Instead of the sweats, you opt to steal a pair of boxers.

As he sings, you walk up behind him to wrap your arms around his chest, and he accu

“Now darl’n, did you purposely only button two buttons on this flannel just to- god dammit, ain’t even wearing pants.” He sounds like he’s grumbling, but you know him better by now. Although you adore the music, you take the guitar out of his hands and carefully lay it on the floor before straddling his lap.

“Can we just pretend?”

He didn’t need to ask what you meant. “Yeah we can pretend.”

Just for this week, you were a normal couple in the year 2003, having a stay-cation. Maybe American would come on, maybe you’d make him rewatch Sex and the City. All that was up in the air. Right now, you were just waking up and wearing his clothes like everything was normal and the outside didn’t exist.

You spent the whole day and the next talking. Joel wasn’t surprised by that; it was all you had done this whole week, even when you two fucked your mouth was running. Unless, of course, he had you occupied with his dick. Most of the time was spent talking about things from before, but only in a vague sense. He never mentioned Tommy or Sarah, and he didn’t know what family you have or had. He told you he did construction, you told him you liked Star Wars.

“At least we got to see Episode III before the outbreak. I wouldn’t be able to stand the suspense. I think I’d hunt down George Lucas and ask him what happened.”

Shirtless from your last fuck, Joel strummed his guitar while you talked, light and airy as to not seem like he was playing over you, but giving the room a relaxed, fun ambiance. “You think Goerge Lucas is alive?”

“I dunno, I think a lot of those rich guys are.”

“Maybe the ones with money and political connections. Like Swartzanagger. Or a Kennedy.”

“I met Natalie Maines”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. It’s so weird. Last I heard of her country stations were boycotting her music because she said something against George Bush. No wonder she was shoveling shit in Philly.”

Joel hummed in agreement, stating that Sarah Michelle Geller lives in the Boston QZ. Before the conversion could continue, you both hear a shout from the window.

“MILLER!”

“God fucking dammit.” Joel set his guitar aside, digging for his discarded shirt to go to the window, but saw you headed right for it. He shouted your name, but you didn’t listen. You never fucking do. He scrambled to pulling the gray shirt over himself, before shoving you aside just as you pull up the window.

Fucking Ross was below. 

“What the fuck do you want, Ross” He calls below, continuously trying to push you away from the window while you pushed right back, bickering with him. He didn’t want you anywhere in shooting distance.

Ross and several other guards were standing there, arms. 

“3 days left, Miller. What’s the plan?” When Joel didn’t answer, Ross continued. “You can’t keep her up there forever.”

Annoyed, Joel raised an arm to the window pane and cocks and eyebrow at the young man. “You still on about this? Can’t get pussy anywhere else?”

You peak out from under Joel’s arm, grinning even through Joel’s knee was trying to shove you away.

Ross wasn’t having it, raising his Joel.

Immediately, Joel’s body tackled you down and out of the way.

“SOON AS SHE’S OUT OF THAT APARTMENT, SHE’D RIGHT BACK WHERE SHE STARTED, MILLER!”

Joel waited, body covering over yours with a protective heaviness unless the footsteps and chatter retreated… but then he stayed, he stayed over you, as if as soon as you stood up you’ll be taken from him and the first sense of normal since Sarah’s death will be ripped apart.

He tucked his head into your neck, not ready to give up defeat… but unsure what to do. You weren’t safe. He didn’t save you.

“Joel…” You ask him, still pressed into the hardwood floor but not complaining. “What am I gonna do…”

*************

Thank you to the person who sent the anon saying they'd love more. that gave me so much motivation,

@trinkets01 @ninebluehearts@luciannadraven33 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @buriednurbckyrd @hiroikegawa @whatthefishh @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @koshkaj-blog

[cactiandtumbleweeds]

Demanding (Mahito x Reader)

I was challenged to write the softest Mahito I could. I might try it against at some other point but for now, enjoy this:

CW: None

~

You felt his weight against your back while waiting in line; arms slithered their way around your front and long hair cascaded over your shoulders, tickled your cheek as it fell. You laughed a little at the unexpectedness and tilted your face to the side.

“I told you it wouldn’t be long until we saw each other again.”

“You’re going to make me look insane,” you whispered, all too aware of the crowd around you – none of them could see the man leaning so heavily against you, nor hear his words.

“Why do you care? It’s not like any of these people matter to you.” Mahito brought his lips close to your ear, fully aware of the gooseflesh he caused. “And would they really be so wrong?”

You shrugged a little with your free arm. “Maybe not. I am taking to myself, after all.”

Sometimes you wondered if it could be all in your imagination – wrapped up in the arms of man nobody but yourself could see. Then again, you’d seen him interact with the world around you and you’d had to remove his hair from the shower drain frequently enough to believe he was, at the very least, real in some way.

A man jostled his way past you, making you wince. Mahito’s grip tightened, pulling you closer into him. “You don’t want to be here. You should just leave – look at how uncomfortable it makes you.”

“I can’t. A friend has work and I owe him one. He loves this idol so much; I have to get him one of those signed poster things. I won’t be long.”

“Well, rather than wait here for ages, you can steal one off somebody leaving.”

You shook your head though the warmth of his voice when he lowered it always managed to pull a smile from your lips. “You’re an awful influence, do you know that?”

He chuckled. “I’m not. Who decides if something is bad or not anyway?”

“Stealing is wrong?”

“Accourding to who?”

“Me.”

He sighed dramatically as though you could actually stop him from doing something. How does one explain the concept of right and wrong to a creature whose entire life spoke of the latter. Something abnormal formed from the hatred pulsing between people.

Yet still a being you allowed to drape himself over your shoulders and whisper awful into your ears with no complaint. Maybe he really had a point about your sanity.

You leaned back against him, trying to make sure you didn’t appear strange as you did so. He played with the hem of your shirt, chilled fingers slipping beneath to the skin there.

“I was busy thinking while you were away,” he hummed. “And I’ve decided what I want to transfigure you into. You would do so well.”

“Really?”

The teasing brush of his fingers turned to a full palm, pressed flush to your hip bone. “Yes. I want to carry you around with me all the time so I’m going shrink you all the way down. Then I’d never have to worry about where you are.”

Your pulse quickened a little at the treat but instead of moving away, you shifted your weight and pushed against his hand. If he’d been human, you would have worried about his circulation. No matter what you did, he never warmed up.

“I think if you wanted to, you would have transfigured me already.”

“What if I only decided that I wanted to do it today? Imagine how all these people would scream when they noticed.”

“Then do it. If you really want to.”

He chuckled and thought about it for a few seconds. Several very drawn-out seconds where you wondered whether or not you trusted the curse enough.

And then he laughed, soft and low in your ear. He released the press against your side and went back to tracing circles over your waist. “Maybe not yet. I want to find a way to keep your pretty face intact first. I like looking at you too much.”

“Well, the best way to do that is leave me in my human form.”

He pressed a small kiss against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “But you’d be so cute, you know. And you’d be even better than any other I’ve ever made.”

“It’s so sad you’ll never get to see me that way then.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

It may be arrogant of you but the confidence you’d gained around the curse grew with each passing day. Maybe it would lead to your death eventually but maybe… just maybe it would be worth it in some way.

After all, you couldn’t say Mahito’s company or attentions were unwelcome.

The line continued to move forward and you a step, practically dragging the curse behind you.

“Why are you hanging off me?”

“I want you to carry me.”

“I can’t. Not now at least.”

The man standing in front of you turned slightly, frowning over his shoulder. You made a vague gesture, pretending to tap a non-existent earphone as an explanation. One day, you should buy an actual one to excuse how often you speak to yourself.

It got embarrassing to be stared at.

Mahito sighed dramatically. “How boring.”

“I know. The waiting in line thing is awful which is why I didn’t invite you in the first place. I knew you’d be done after a few seconds.”

“Then let’s just go home and do something more fun. Look, I’ve already got what you needed.”

You turned, confused to see a third appendage wrap around your waist, holding a signed poster before you. Mahito’s pride smile only grew.

“Who did you steal that from?”

“Somebody who’s already long gone. Come on, we can just go back to the house and do something fun.” His eyes danced with excitement and you sighed, unable to deny him anything when he looked up at you from beneath lowered lashes.

“Fine, but it’s still not right.”

“Mm, if you say so.”

[tiramisuucakeee]

2. SECOND WISH

( genie in a bottle, jay )

a pair of months had gone by, and jay had grown to be a just king. as he was once before a simple tomb raider and thief, he could understand the struggles of the people and empathize with them.

and you had spent some time out in his kingdom as a humanoid form. of course as a genie you couldn’t just roam around, frightening civilians. so you disguised yourself to look like an average woman.

though the time since jay’s first wish for him seemed like an eternity, for your immortal understanding, it was barely a bat of your eyes.

and soon enough, he revealed his second wish.

jay had grown the nature to invite you over every night to eat, and you complied, you couldn’t really say no to him, and you didn’t want to either, he seemed different than all the other masters.

most of them ignored you until they needed something from you, which you didn’t judge them for, but it still made you feel like a slave to no promise.

and eventually, that thought was so deeply engraved in your free-of-beating heart, consuming your mind. being under jay’s ownership forced you to confront unsettling truths about yourself, and you dreaded that awareness. ignorance felt safer, but the reality of who you were haunted you.

“what are you thinking about?” jay interrupted your train of thought. you sat across him on the long table, dressed in the same exact clothes you’ve always had.

for a moment, you studied him. the jay you had met in that cave still lingered beneath those regal garments. he hadn’t changed at all, in a way that both intrigued and unsettled you.

“i don’t believe my thoughts are the best entertainment you could have,” you scoffed playfully, “you know i also included royal musicians when i created this place right?”

“yes, i know, and i thank you for it,” jay smiled tightly, somehow noticing something was bothering the genie. “please do tell me what you are thinking about.”

“is that your second wish?” you squint your eyes at him, crossing you arms.

“no it’s not, it’s a plea,” he said, an edge of desperation in his voice. you weren’t sure why your thoughts seemed to bother him, but you decided to relent.

“i was thinking about my wishes, i may be a genie but there is still a certain something that i want.” you smile, looking down at the golden cutlery.

“what is it that you wish for?” jay furrows his brows.

“hearing it from you, i really wouldn’t word it like that, it’s more of, a thought, rather than a wish. i’ve thought about myself for so long, so so long. after centuries i still don’t know who i am supposed to be, or if all that i am is just someone to be owned, shaped to the likes of her master.”

“as a genie you most likely only are for that.” jay continued your doubt. “but i’d like to think that we - humans - are all creations of everyone around us, so maybe you’re exactly like me.”

“you’re saying i’m human? me? the genie? immortal being who cannot die? that’s amusing,” you snort.

“you don’t need to be in the form of a human to be one, same as some humans lose their humanity, and become monsters, i image you’ve met some already?” he raises a brow.

“i have,” you look away. “it’s pretty heart breaking.”

“can i ask you a question,” jay inquires, to which you reply. “you need not of my permission, master.”

“would you please stop calling me that?” jay groans.

“what? master?” you ask. “it’s what you are”

“call me something more… more humane, what about… friend?”

“friend? but i’m-”

“i don’t care if you’re a genie or a rat, i want you to be my friend, and that is not a wish, that’s something only you can reciprocate, we can’t be friends if you don’t want to.” his words hung heavily between you, like a line drawn in the sand. you could feel the tension crackle, an unspoken battle between the walls you’d built and the vulnerability he laid bare. his earnestness was disarming, yet it ignited a fear within you, the fear of connection, of being seen as someone.

“i…” you observed his face, like a canvas of gentle strength, where soft angles meet a quiet resolve, while the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression invites admiration.

“are you asking me that because you feel uncomfortable with what i call you?” you inquired, still not answering. your mind couldn’t fathom the thought of companionship.

yes, you granted any wish someone wanted, but apart from that, there wasn’t anything you could offer, so you just concluded he wanted you to call him something else

“i don’t want you to call me a friend without being one, so i figured you would want to be my friend.” said jay, taking the golden cup in his hand and drinking wine from it.

was that truly the only reason? you have observed him for a while, how he kept to himself, not interacting much with other kings or queens, neither his own people. was he lonely?

you know loneliness can drive the human being mad, and make them irrational, and the last thing you wanted was for him to not be on the right mind and wish for destruction.

“i will be your friend if that’s what you want,” you said, all concecuences taken to count.

“and is that what you want, y/n?” jay stood up, and slowly made his way over to you, each step making your mind race. he knelt beside your chair, his gaze locked on yours, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow across his face. “after being locked up for a century alone, waiting for someone to free you, don’t you need company?” he reached out to you.

he felt real, you feel him, in every single part of yourself. it was as if his touch had consumed you entirely. “what are you doing to me?” you breathed out, feeling intoxicated. where the gods finally punishing you for messing with their perfect creations?

“what do you mean?” jay retreated his hand, afraid he had done something wrong, maybe it was prohibited to touch a magic being.

“yes i want to be your friend okay?” you gulped, and stood up quickly. “i’m retreating to my lamp for tonight, call me only if you want to make a wish.”

jay stared at the empty space where you had been, his heart pounding. the weight of the unfinished conversation hung heavily, the unfulfilled tension lingering like a whispered promise. he could still feel the heat of your gaze and the intoxicating pull of your presence.

as the silence enveloped him, he wondered what it meant to befriend a being of such power - and if he could dare to wish for more.

in the middle of the night, jay tossed restlessly in bed, the silence weighing heavily. something felt off, not having you there, not knowing how to reach you. the idea of being without your presence gnawed at him. he was a king now, yet without you, he would be nothing. all his power and titles meant little if he couldn’t fix whatever had gone wrong between you both.

he just wanted to be a king, and now that he was, he had nothing else he wished for more than that.

but his actions betrayed him, as he shoved his feathered cover off of him, and walked over to the lamp, hesitating for a second, before softly running his hand along it.

he didn’t care about anything else in this moment, jay had to fix this. whatever he did to make you uncomfortable, he would apologize.

“y/n…?” his voice was low, barely above a whisper, as he crouched closer to the lamp, as if it might help him bridge the gap between the two of you. “can we speak?”

“are you ready to tell me your second wish?” you asked loudly, laying in your chambers at the castle, looking out the window at the infinite miles of sand.

jay closed his eyes, frustration washing over him. his heart raced, and he tugged a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head. “no… not yet.” his voice cracked slightly, betraying the rawness of his frustration. he let out a shaky breath before speaking again, his words edged with urgency. “i beg of you, let me speak to you. there’s something i need to say.”

you almost wanted to apologize to him, his voice so desperate, so raw, it almost made you cave in. selfishly, you wanted to be the one to ease his pain, knowing you were the only one who could be able to. but you shouldn’t. jay had nobody for him, just like you. and you wouldn’t become the one who stayed. a genie was always temporary.

your stomach tightened, each word cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “if this isn’t about a wish, i won’t hear it. goodnight, jay.”

jay, on the other hand, his heart almost dropped. he thought that you two had grown closer in the time spent together, he didn’t want to make your job as a genie something draining and boring. but maybe, after all, he was just one man of billions you had met, one of countless others you’d granted wishes for, and soon forgotten.

“does that also mean you don’t want to hear it?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with hurt. he’d somehow figured you out, understood you in ways you couldn’t even explain. after all, he had been human more time than you could ever be.

you stayed silent, fighting the tightness in your chest, forcing your eyes to stay fixed on the endless stretch of sand outside the window. the pull to answer him was there, but you couldn’t give in, not this time.

“i see. then i want to make my second wish,” he spoke, determined to get an answer out of you. “i wish to go inside the lamp with you for tonight.” the words hung in the air, a challenge, a plea, and something deeper you couldn’t quite place. your breath caught, your heart thudding in your chest.

“jay, what?” you almost jumped in your seat, looking up at the sky. “you can’t do that! you shouldn’t! don’t waste your wish.”

“i’m afraid the words already came out my mouth, there’s nothing you can do about it apart from granting it, can you?” jay smirked.

sighing, you prepared yourself for what was about to happen, which you had no clue what it would be. and clasped your hands together tightly.

smoke started coming out of the lamp, enveloping jay’s figure, as he felt himself slowly being dragged into it.

inside the lamp, the air felt heavier, the walls thick with the tension between you. long-forgotten hallways twisted around you, a maze you had grown familiar with over the centuries. but now, you stood in front of the man who had just appeared, anger boiling beneath your skin.

“you are just so, so-" you groaned, “i don’t even have the words. why did you wish for this?!”

jay got closer, grabbing your arms, “it’s okay, call me stupid, anything you want, but don’t push me away. after all these months, i really missed your company, that’s why i wished to come here, y/n.”

you shook your head, shrugging him off. “jay, you have one single wish left, after that you’ll never see me again, you shouldn’t say things like that.” the words felt like a wall between you, but deep down, you couldn’t help the quiet ache that followed them. because part of you wanted to believe him.

jay’s eyes darkened, the intensity in his voice almost painful as he took another step forward, his hands reaching for you again, this time more urgent. “i do not care,” he said, his words cutting through the silence. “the day you leave me, i will hurt as much as i want, i will miss you until the day of my death, i will be haunted by your absence. but please… just let me have this night. and the rest of our days.”

there was a rawness to his plea, an edge of desperation that shook you, rattled something deep inside. his words were heavy with sincerity but the fear of what it would mean, what it could cost you both, made it hard to breathe.

you gulped, noticing the small gap between you, which almost played your mind.

“okay,” you nodded, not being able to look up and meet his eyes anymore. telling yourself this would all be over as soon as he made his third wish, you accepted, “you can stay.”

"this is... just amazing, i never imagined a place like this existed," jay murmured, his voice full of awe as he laid his head back, sinking deeper into the warm water.

after showing him around the sprawling, labyrinthine castle - watching him nearly get lost in the hundreds of rooms - deciding to take him to the nearby oasis had felt like a fleeting act of weakness. but maybe, just maybe, you wanted to give in to the idea of being here, in this moment. just for tonight.

you both were in swimming clothes now, the water around you glimmering under the moonlight, the golden sand stretching out beyond the oasis. palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze, casting long shadows on the surface.

"you get used to it when you're here every day," you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you pulled your hair up into a messy knot, trying to keep it out of the water. it was a small, mundane act, but in the quiet of the oasis, it felt more intimate than anything else.

jay watched you, his gaze intense and focused, like he was trying to decipher something you weren't saying. his eyes traced your movements with a precision that made you feel exposed, as if he was trying to understand the pieces of you that you kept hidden. the way he observed you—it was almost unnerving, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.

“what do you really want?” he then asked, coming in closer to stand next to you.

you furrowed your brows at his question, not understanding the nature of it. as a divine being, even if you have interacted with humans your whole life, they were still different in many ways and very difficult to understand.

"in the moment? ah, no clue, maybe something to drink" you shot back, trying to deflect, but the warmth of his soft laugh caught you off guard.

"no," he said, still chuckling, "i mean, in general, what would your dream life be like?"

you blinked at him, momentarily lost in thought, then replied with a tone of nonchalance, "my dream life would be being a genie." there was a cluelessness to your words, but also a bitterness that had become familiar over time. "i’m sure anybody would want to live in a castle, with free food, free water, and magic of their own."

jay paused, confusion flickering across his face as he took in your answer. "okay..." he said, as though trying to make sense of it all. "but say there was a normal woman in a village, living with her family - no magic, no wishes, no genie divinity - what would the dream life she could have be like? and, being a genie is not an option."

the absurdity of his question made you pout, a playful frown tugging at your lips. "i guess... everything about that already sounds like a dream," you muttered, almost more to yourself than him. "she's free. she gets to do and say anything she wants. of course, i can too, but only to an extent. i’m always thrown back in here after the third wish."

you shrugged, the words leaving you in a soft huff, the exhaustion of centuries weighing on you in that single, vulnerable moment. “she is more free that i will ever be.”

“if i, never wish again, say, would it be possible for you to stay in the castle?” jay asked.

you shook your head, that familiar, aching truth slipping out. "no, that's not possible. if you deliberately chose not to make any more wishes, i have to go back to the lamp as well." your words felt heavy, almost like a finality you weren't ready to admit. "but it's okay. i'm sure your life will still be great after i leave."

“i do not think so,”

“why not?”

jay stepped closer, his voice more serious now, as though the weight of the moment was sinking in. "because you're the one who gave me all this," he said, his eyes not leaving yours. "you're the one who made my life so great. i don’t know what i would do with myself if you leave."

you stared at him, disbelief rising. "i didn't make your life great, jay. you did that. i’m just... a genie. i give wishes. i don't control your life, i just make it possible for you to get what you want, but you’re the king of a whole land, you can’t just forget about it."

"no," jay said, shaking his head, his voice low and edged with frustration. "it's not that simple. you made me see what i actually want, not what i wish for. you made me feel like i could-" he cut himself off, swallowing hard, eyes blazing.

you crossed your arms, taking a step back, the anger bubbling up now. "you don't get it. i'm not here for your convenience. i'm not some tool to make your life easier. i'm not someone you can just-" you stopped short, feeling the words hanging in the air. and yet, there was something more behind your words. a crack in your voice that betrayed everything you felt.

jay's expression hardened. "so what? you want me to just accept that you're leaving? after everything we've been through?"

"yes! because it's the way it is!" your voice raised a notch, frustration boiling over, as the water seemed to get turbulent with your emotions. "i'm not supposed to stay. i'm not supposed to want to stay. but you... you're not going to change that, jay!"

he moved closer, his eyes burning into yours. the air between you was electric now, thick with the tension of unspoken emotions. "you don't get it, do you?" he breathed, his voice low and dangerous. "i don't want this to end. not like this."

your breath hitched, your pulse pounding in your ears. "well, maybe you don't understand, but-"

before you could finish, he cut you off. in an instant, the air between you crackled with energy, your anger and frustration colliding in a rush of heat. jay grabbed your arm, pulling you toward him, and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours, desperate and urgent.

your body froze for a moment, not out of resistance, but out of shock. you didn't know how to react, how to process the way he kissed you-rough, almost frantic, as though he was trying to make you feel every ounce of the frustration and longing that had been building between you. his hands moved to your back, pulling you flush against him as if he could anchor you there, make you stay.

his lips were demanding, and your heart raced, fear and something else swirling in your chest. fear of how easily you were losing control, how easily you were letting him pull you in.

but your body betrayed you, responding to him in ways you didn't want to admit. your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, the kiss deepening as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you. you felt the heat of him, the urgency of his touch, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

for a moment, all the tension, all the anger, and all the confusion melted away, leaving only the rawness of the connection between you.

when he finally pulled back, both of you breathless, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes searching yours, wild and desperate. "i don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

you looked up at him, heart hammering, but you couldn't find the words. everything inside you screamed to say something, to admit the truth, but the fear of it - the fear of what this meant, of what this could do - kept you silent. but deep inside, being with him, right now, you have never felt more free.

jay's grip on you tightened, his voice barely a whisper. "you don't have to pretend around me tonight, y/n. i know you feel something in that heart of yours, just let yourself free."

you swallowed hard, your mind spinning. you wanted to scream at him, to push him away, to say that this wasn't what you wanted, but it would be the greatest lie you could ever say. because you wanted this, more than you were willing to admit.

“i don’t want to lose what i have, i can’t just abandon everything i am, just because i want to run around the human world,” fear held you back. fear of losing the only thing you had left, the only thing you really had, was this, the lamp, yourself, the genie.

jay’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the line of your jaw, his touch soft but insistent. "you don't have to be afraid," he murmured, his lips so close you could felt the warmth of his breath against your lips. "i’m not going anywhere you’re not, even if you leave, i’ll find you, i can’t let you go like this, not when you don’t want it."

your heart thudded harder, your chest tightening in the face of a truth you weren’t sure you could fully accept, let alone voice. but in that moment, as his eyes softened and his expression was nothing but open, you realized that you didn’t need to say anything at all.

you leaned in slightly, the smallest of movements, as if testing his words, if they were truthful or not. his lips brushed against yours, soft, certain. you didn’t pull away anymore. instead, you let your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the kiss, letting it be a quiet thing, a confirmation of your feelings.

it was gentle at first, just the briefest brush of lips, a whisper of a touch that held so much promise. and the kiss deepened again, just enough for you to feel the intensity of his emotions and loyalty to you, the warmth and tenderness he was trying so hard to convey.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours once again, you were both breathless, hearts pounding. his voice was a soft murmur, "i’m not going anywhere, y/n, you have my word."

and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe it, to believe a man’s words.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Note: I wasn’t sure how this chapter would go but hoo boy.

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You bring out the platter of cheese, crackers and grapes and place it on the round table by the sofa. As you do, you hear the front door and your heart lurches. Oh gosh, you’re not prepared. For any of this. As you haven’t been for Steve.

You stand and face the archway over the stairs as a steady ascent creaks on each step. You brush your trembling hands over your dress and swallow through your dry throat. A woman appears, her finely waved blond hair so pale that the silver is indiscernible. Her face is long and elegant though she is not very tall herself, scrawny even in the cinched coral dress. Mrs. Rogers.

Her blue eyes, the same hue as her son, wander around the room. Her lips hold the shadow of a smile and she finds you standing nervously by the sofa. Her cheeks bulb and her lips curve delightfully.

“Ahh, honey, there you are!” She struts over to you as Steve appears behind her, “I’ve waited so long to meet you.”

You’re overcome as she advances on you. With nowhere to go, you can only let her kiss both your cheeks with her precisely lined lips. She grasps your shoulders and looks you up and down at arm’s length.

“Wow, you are so beautiful, darling,” she preens, “this dress is wonderful,” she pulls back one hand as the other follows a fold in the fabric, “if not a bit evening, but oh,” she parts completely and spins, “this is such a quaint little home you’ve got.”

“Sweetheart, this is my–”

“Of course she knows who I am, Stevie,” his mother spins around, so lithe that she seems to float. Her age does not slow her, “you said so yourself, but let’s not forget ourselves. You may call me Sarah, honey.”

“It’s…” you glance past her to Steve as he watches intently, “it’s nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“Ah, excuse me, I am just elated. I am so happy that my boy’s finally found such a nice girl.” She goes to the window and hums as she taps one of the bent nails. Peculiar but not enough to bother her. “And to think he’s hidden you for so long,” she pivots back to point at her son, “and when he told me I had this dreadful fear that he would go so far as to say you eloped!”

You blink, speechless, looking between her and Steve. He’s not very concerned as he watches her flutter around. In fact, he seems rather pleased with himself.

“But he knows how much I’ve looked forward to his wedding and I have so many ideas,” she proclaims, “what were we thinking for the dress? Lace? You would look fine in satin.”

You sniff and try to gather your wits, “I… I haven’t decided.”

“Well, ma,” Steve steps forward, “I haven’t exactly had a chance to uh… pop the question. Um, your ring?”

“Ah, yes, yes,” she touches her cheeks, “I hope I haven’t spoiled anything.”

“All good, ma,” Steve comes up and turns to stand beside you, stretching his arm across your shoulders, “she knows she’s the one.”

You pinch your cheeks between your teeth. You want to scream. You want to run. And as his fingers tickle the sleeve of your dress, you sorely want to slap him.

“Aww, you two are so cute together,” she squeals as she strides up to him. She straightens his collar and fixes his tie, “you look so much better when I can’t see all those scribbles.”

“Ma,” Steve warns.

“And how do you feel about it? All that mess on his skin?” She looks over at you.

You hesitate and shake your head, “um, I…”

You move your foot back in an effort to hide your own tattoo. She senses the movement and her eyes flick down. She leans a bit to get a glimpse and her eyes narrow.

“Honey, please tell me you’re not covered in the same.”

“No, ma,” Steve interjects, “that one’s for me. That’s it.” He squeezes you against him tighter, “she’s a good girl, like I told you.”

“Yes, yes, you do talk a lot, why don’t you let the girl speak for herself?”

“Well, I–” Steve begins, “of course she can, I was only–”

“You were only being rude,” Sarah reaches and takes your hand, “come, honey, I want to see more. Show me around and we can talk.”

“Uh, sure,” you pull away from Steve slowly. You feel his gaze on you and try to ignore it, “it’s pretty small.”

“Modest, it’s sensible,” she clings to you, “oh, and there’s your piano. He says you’re very gifted. He’s always been an avid player but he never did much with it. He was more into his drawings.”

“Oh, yeah, I… my grandfather taught me to play,” you utter, just to have something to offer. 

“Ah, and your parents? Mother, father? They’ll be at the wedding?”

“Um…” You don’t know what to say. You fidget with your free hand, tugging at the fabric of your skirt, “no. They… passed.”

“Honey,” she says as she stops at the mouth of the hall, “I am so sorry. I had no idea.” She turns you and pulls you into a hug, her skinny arms tight around you, “that’s absolutely horrid but we’ll make do.” She draws back and cradles your face, “hm, your lips would do well in a sweet shade of rose, I think.”

You’re put off by the suggestion. So sudden and sharp. Amidst the talk of death and grief, she can’t help but bring up cosmetics? Well, she is a bit strange and what can you expect given her son has proven to be entirely unpredictable.

“Um, I’ll show you the master, then, the guest, and um, the office is just closed up right now.”

“Oh, office? Why’s that?”

“Just… needs some fixing up,” you lie, “I’m working on it.”

“That’s too bad. Well, it would do to clear it out and make a nursery. I’d love to help–”

“A nursery?” You stop her at the end of the hall, just before your bedroom door. Why are you doing this? Why are you playing along? “What–”

“You’re going to have babies. You’re still young enough, he is too. I know he’s a bit older but men are virile for a lot longer. You on the other hand, you should start thinking–”

“I’m not having babies,” you spit out, “are you as crazy as he is?”

Her lashes flick down then up. She lets go of your hand and faces you as he arched brows rise, wrinkles lining her forehead, “crazy?”

“Yes,” you hiss, “crazy. I don’t know your son. He’s got me trapped here. He’s… He’s…” You shake your head and scoff, “your son is a psychopath and he doesn’t live here. None of this is real. Do you understand?”

She shakes her head as her eyes flutter madly. She touches her throat as her lip quivers, “I don’t understand what you mean,” her voice cracks.

You huff and roll your eyes. “I’m not doing this.”

You turn on your heel and stomp down the hallway. You don’t look up, you don’t look anywhere but ahead of you. You barrel down the stairs, surpassing your shoes as you twist the knob. The door shifts but does not open.

You hear the top stair groan and a shadow falls over you from above. You fumble with the latch but find another lock you can’t undo. Shiny brass, newly installed. A hole you have no key for. What the hell? This can’t be.

“Sweetheart,” Steve comes down the stairs as you turn the handle back and forth desperately, clawing at the wood, “where are you–”

“Help! Help! Let me out!” You scream at the door, “someone! Anyone–”

Steve’s hand smothers your mouth and his arm hooks around your middle. He yanks you away from the door as he grunts. You flail as he drags you backwards, up one step at a time. You thrash and grab at the banister, your fingers slipping with his strength, a fingernail breaking as it catches on the wood.

You murmur into his palm as he drags you onto even ground. You kick out as he struggles to subdue you. Your eyes water as you see Sarah standing in the hallway. She comes closer and looks you over as you try to dislodge Steve’s hand. You plead with your eyes. Can’t she see how afraid you are?

“You said she was a good girl, Stevie, but I think she could do with some discipline,” Sarah declares, “don’t you?”

“Yes, mother,” he answers, his voice rumbling through you, “I’m sorry. Please ma, she is good. Please, I want to keep this one.”

Sarah clucks and nears. A tear beads over the brim of your eye and falls. She traces its path with her thumb, “then you know what to do, Stevie. If she is to be a good wife, a wife good enough for my son, you must punish her.”

Your garble and round your eyes. Your heart throbs and your ears ring. No, no, no.

“You must do it, Stevie,” Sarah’s voice hardens to stone, “look at her. She needs it.”

[astrum-aetherium]

love this account so much 🩶 just me and my fellow anons and you sharing the most unhinged and horny thoughts ever <3

so this is more or less me searching for comfort but how is henry handling your period cramps/sickness? is he running baths, is he giving massages, what’s he up to! i feel like with all that he knows he’s probably got some life-altering remedies up his sleeve

thank you lots for your kindness and your sweet request! there is comfort to be found even in the depths of the most morally flawed characters, trust me. henry is no exception to that! we can mold him any way we prefer for our benefit ;)

he wouldn't need to be told when you're on your period, he'd simply know. the slight changes in your disposition and the emphasized tardiness would tell him all he'd need to know. sure, you could give him a confirmation, but he would always generally have a pretty good idea, especially from a temporal point of view — i am struck by the feeling that he would have an intricately good sense of time.

as for his support, it would definitely be expressed very matter-of-factly (yet sweetly in its own way). he would drop something randomly nerdy on you along the lines of, "the ancient greek believed a heated castor oil compress was marvelous at easing any kind of pain, specifically inflammations, although it does increase blood flow if i do recall correctly." out of nowhere, his overly factual proposition would humor you greatly. "and you have something as specific as castor oil at your disposal right now?" you'd retort, meaning it more as a joke than anything else. he, however, would remain unperturbed as he'd respond, "why, yes. i could arrange for a compress right now if you wanted me to, in fact." and yes, you'd be willing to try — only for it to be a little strange texture-wise, but his small words of reassurance and the fact it was something he proposed and did for you would be worth it.

when it comes to baths, he would be very nonchalant about doing all of that for you as well. the minute you would get home, he'd obviously greet you and ask about your well-being, but then mysteriously disappear into the bathroom for some time while you'd undress and start recovering from a day out and about while on your period. a few minutes later, seated in an armchair immersed in a book or something, he'd fleetingly mention, "by the way, i've drawn you a hot bath." and you'd just go, wow; that's sudden. of course you'd indulge, however. he might even consider joining you upon a request ;)

the best remedy for period pain, however, is... you know. an orgasm. or multiple. he would be aware of that, too — both from experience and his profound knowledge. because he would like to help, i think he would propose that, too — it wouldn't manifest in the form of actual penetrative intercourse, however. i think he would simply lay you down on the bed upon a towel and start out by caressing your lower stomach, then proceeding to gently tease your clit until you've come for him a few times and feel a little better. he would be turned to you closely and treat you very gently, maybe even trying to get your mind off the pain by lowly talking to you, "class was all right today, i assume? you weren't too bothered by the pain?" answering him in complete sentences would certainly pose a challenge, as he would be circling the most sensitive part of your body at the same time, but he'd accept any broken or breathy answers nevertheless. afterward, he'd wash his hands, wrap you up in a blanket, and light a cigarette — just to sit down at the desk in the bedroom in order to revisit his studies whilst telling you to get some sleep.

henry certainly wouldn't excel at being the most caring partner, but he would try, and it would be enough.