#you submitted two asks and one was on anon so i kept your identity a secret just in case

[cheekinpermission]

"Riddle dressed like Heather Chandler with signature croquet mallet from the cover picture." - idk which of my identities thought about it

Like this?

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Selina’s Kitten (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Characters: Jason Todd X Fem!Reader

Universe: DC, Batman

Warnings: Mention of death of parents.

Request: idk if you're down for something like this, but maybe a thing where the reader is Selina's niece (parents are dead ofc this is DC) and something happens to Selina so bruce takes the reader in and she falls in love with one of the robins? preferably knighting or red hood? Thanks!!this is the anon who submitted the request for Selinas niece, but I was wondering if Selina could have trained the reader to be a vigilante too? named like… kitten or someting? thanks!!

“Kitten, what are you doing here? Where’s Selina?” Bruce asked when he saw you approach him in the alleyway he’d been beckoned to due to the sound of gunfire going off. He hadn’t found any blood, or anyone injured, and as he was investigating, you showed yourself. 

“I fired those shots.” You informed him immediately. “I needed to get you here as soon as possible.” You explained to him. Bruce tilted his head lightly, sensing something was wrong immediately. One, you holding yourself unsure, and two, you were alone. 

“What do you need?” He asked. 

“Selina went out last night and she didn’t come back. She said she’d be gone for 3 hours max. I know that usually means 7 hours but… she’s not answering her phone either, and… I’ve asked some goons around and they’ve not seen her either.” You explained to him. Bruce sighed. That wasn’t good. 

“Okay. Come on.” Bruce told you, and you followed behind him to the car, and he took you back to the cave. He wanted to go out and look for her immediately, having no doubt that she was in danger, but he knew he had to look out for you first, knowing full well if Selina found out he put her needs in front of yours, she’d never forgive him.

You were more than a sort of side kick to the Catwoman. You were her niece, and Selina had took you in after your parents had been killed. It was Gotham, unfortunately this was more common that anyone liked. Sure Selina wasn’t the best role model, having taught you had to pick locks, steal and to lie, but she was a damn good guardian. She made sure you attended school, and now university, had a plan for the future, and she for the most part kept you out of her ‘side job’, though you had helped her enough to have met the Batfamily, and of course know their real identities. You had gone to school with Jason and Dick. Talking of Jason...

“Is Jason gonna be there?” You asked him as he drove, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Ah, he knew about the… relationship between you and his second oldest. It had started the exact minute you two met for the first time. Jason was still Robin and Selina had took you out for some experience, and had been caught. When he was done telling off Selina and they finished their conversation, he finally noticed Jason and you had gone to a corner to talk, and when Selina called you back to her side, you’d stuck your tongue out at each other, before saying you’d see him later. Whenever you ran into Bruce since then, you always asked about Jason and if he was present, you and Jason went and did your own thing, usually causing mischief. When Jason died, you sort of fell of the radar, focussing on your studies and finishing school before continuing to higher education, and becoming very distant from Selina’s work. Bruce was proud of you for it, Selina even more. When Jason came back, despite you now being a hard working student with a bright future, and Jason being a vigilante who distanced himself from his family to work alone and to therefor kill, you two inevitable ended up back by each other’s side, this time with romantic feelings in the mix. Anything actually concrete had yet to be announced, but both Bruce and Selina, as well as all of Jason’s siblings knew it was inevitable.

“ I have no doubt that when we let him know he’ll be right over to make sure you’re alright.” Bruce lightly teased with you, hearing a soft giggle from you, making him smile, before you fell silent for a moment. “I will find her, Y/N. I promise.” 

“What if you can’t? What if…” 

“Then you have us.”

He got you to the batcave, and as soon as the others saw you, Tim was on the comms to tell Jason you were there, while Dick came up to ask what was wrong. Bruce gave a rundown, and Alfred got you something warm to drink, and it wasn’t long after that Jason arrived, stumbling off his bike to get to you quicker. “Hey, you okay?” He asked you, putting a hand on your shoulder and the other being used to examine your face. 

“Yeah… Selina’s missing though.” You told him. 

“I’m going out to find her. Jason I want you to stay with Y/N to make sure she doesn’t go off my herself.” Bruce told his son. Usually telling him to stay behind started an argument, but this time he only nodded and started walking you upstairs. 

“You sure it’s okay to leave those two lovebugs here alone?” Dick asked, getting a smirk from Damian. 

“Maybe they’ll finally admit they love each other.” Bruce simply answered, getting the equipment he needed and starting to head out again, the rest of his kids following after him to start the search for your aunt. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lena-stan-xavier​ @lady-of-lies​ @sebstanismylife​ @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​

[beautifully-tuan]

1 - sorry not sorry

Jinyoung x musical criticRreader idolverse, smut, angst, eventual fluff Warning: reader is  a kpop hater and a got7 anti at the beginning lol

requested by anon :)

Masterlist

a/n: hello and welcome to a brand new story with Jinyoung! i really really hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed my story with Mark that you can find here if you haven’t read it yet. also this chapter is kind short cause it’s a little bit of an introduction and like placing the context. i hope you’re looking forward to reading the rest :) enjoy!

 Music and writing were what you loved the most, and your job was a perfect combination of the two. You were paid to go to different places across South Korea, discover new music and write about it afterwards. You honestly couldn’t have dreamed of a better job, or so you thought.

 You had always made it clear that you only liked working in the underground and independent music field, but your boss had other plans for you. When he announced that you would have to write a series of articles about GOT7, JYP Entertainment’s top boy group, you wanted to refuse. Of all things, you avoided the K-Pop industry, with its almighty companies and untouchable idols. You didn’t want to work with your hands tied behind your back. Unfortunately, you weren’t really in a good place to refuse and not do your job. You sucked it up, repeating yourself that this would, at least, pay rent and afford food. Hopefully it would only happen once then never again.

 You were integrated into GOT7’s lifestyle after signing a bunch of privacy contracts. When you started “hanging out” with them, you were nothing more than the girl with the notebook in the corner of the room, trying to make yourself as small as possible so that the boys would forget even your very presence. Things went smoothly for the first few days, a little bit too smoothly for your liking, actually. They were in mid-preparation of their comeback, so all you had to do was go with them to the studio and watch them record and work on the tracks with their producers. You were impressed at how good they were, but you weren’t too surprised about it. GOT7’s success must’ve come from somewhere, anyways. So, you spent most of your time finding out things you already knew, not having much to work with.

 That was until, one day, the boys had a meeting with JYP himself to discuss the promotional part of the comeback. The overly commercial side of the K-Pop industry was what annoyed you the most, but you were ready to put your biased opinion aside and be professional about it. The meeting started out normally: the boys and their head producer listened to each track from the album, to which JYP made a few remarks and suggestions. When the last track titled ‘PAGE’ started playing, you saw the boys’ faces light up with pride at Jaebeom, their leader’s good work. Even you had to admit that the song was very well-written, had a good message, and the melody was catchy. The song itself had a fresh vibe to it that you particularly liked. After the song ended, BamBam whistled in admiration and said:

 - “Wow, that’s gonna make an amazing title track.”

 You had indeed heard the boys talk about ‘PAGE’ being their title track, mentioning that JYP had already let them promote songs they had produced themselves in the past. They were so confident about it that you only found it normal for BamBam to talk about ‘PAGE’ as if it was already the title track of the album.

 - “Umm... I don’t agree with that.”

 Silence fell upon the room as the head producer continued speaking.

 - “It’s a really nice song, right? Really nice. JB, you did really well.” He scrunched his nose before continuing: “But I don’t think it fits as the title track. It doesn’t have that thing, that specific GOT7 color that people enjoy. It’s not what people are used to hearing from you guys. I think we should leave ‘PAGE’ as a b-side track and promote ‘Eclipse’ instead, what do you think?”

 From the tone of his voice, you felt he was implicitly giving them a command rather than asking for their opinion. But apparently, you were the only one who seemed to notice, because everyone agreed quite enthusiastically. In the span of three minutes, while you were still processing what had just happened, ‘Eclipse’, the song that JYP himself had written and produced with JB’s participation, was definitively chosen as the title track of the album.

 You were extremely disappointed. Music was supposed to be done for the music, not for the people. Why should there be some sort of market research around it? That was the exact thing you couldn’t stand about K-Pop. It was only ever exploited to make profit. The public’s opinion matters so much to the sales that idols renounce their own identity, only to fit the image that everyone is expecting them to give out. Their creativity was limited, their freedom was almost nonexistent, everything they did was managed by their company. And the worst part of it was that the boys did not even try and protest, simply accepting their fate being thrown into other people’s hands, as if that was the most normal thing on earth.

 The only person who seemed a little upset about this situation was probably Jinyoung. After JYP spoke, he kept rubbing the back of his head every other minute. Maybe he was frustrated, maybe he was just tired, you didn’t know, and you didn’t need to know. He didn’t say anything against the company’s decision either. He was just as much of a puppet as the other members.

 That night, you submitted your first article to your editor to put it on standby for publication. What you wrote was harsh, you conceded. But you only said the truth, the unbiased, too often silenced truth. Before submitting the article, youyour thoughts drifted to Jinyoung and you wondered, one last time, if he was really okay with his situation. Were any of the boys, actually? But Jinyoung in particular, since he was visibly having trouble hiding his discomfort during the meeting. Could it be that he found this industry just as unfair as you did? What would he think of your article if he read it?

 You quickly brushed those thoughts off. You were internally convinced that Jinyoung and the boys didn’t even care about what you had to write about them. They were probably used to seeing people like you coming and going all the time and always saying different things. Little did you know that, soon enough, Jinyoung would become a way bigger part of your life... But most importantly, that article you wrote would come and resurface to turn everything upside down.

Part Two

[marvel-lous-things]

First off:

Thank you all so much??

When I started using this blog like,,, 8 months ago,,, I thought I'd peak at 2k. But then y'all just had to go and prove me wrong huh?? ok.

I guess I'll just have to repay you in shitposts. Smh.

Anyway,

In all honesty, though, I've had so much fun with this blog and it's all cus of y'all?

I've met and made friends with some amazing (however slightly messed up sksjsks) and utterly lovable people, gotten over my self doubt to an extent that I posted fics without immediately deleting them, received so many nice anons, found a community of absolutely brilliant folks who share my skewed sense of humour,,,

Damn. This list could go on and on.

Welp. "Thank you" doesn't even begin to cover it but:

THANK YOU ALL!! SO MUCH!!! ILY!!! AAAA!!!

Second:

I'm doing two things for my follower milestone!!

1) I'm introducing a tag!!

From now on, I'll be tracking #marvellousthings (because I'm an uncreative binch) so if you tag any of your posts as the aforementioned, you can bet your socks that I'll see it, like it, maybe reblog it :D etc etc.

So,,, Go wild, frens.

2) a creative challenge!

Ok let's face it, the "trans Peter" tag deserves a lot more love than it's getting right now.

After Tumblr user transpeter was bullied off this website by terfs, the tag's been depressingly empty, ya know?

I miss the warm feeling I got from interacting with the happy community, and reading posts by people about how the headcanon made them feel validated!!

Unfortunately, now, it's only shitposts and the occasional ask (which is great, but I want so much more??)

And that's where it stands. Trans!peter is a cute lil headcanon that needs your creativity and imagination to be kept alive.

So, that's exactly what I'm aiming at.

I want you (yes, you!!) to:

➡��Write a fic

➡️Draw fanart

➡️Write headcanons

➡️Make photo/gif edits

➡️ make Moodboards

Etc

(basically, I just want to bring the tag back to life ya know)

Rules (for writing challenge):

Peter has to be trans (o dam didn't see that one coming)

But the fic doesn't have to revolve entirely around his identity

A paragraph or so acknowledging it would be mighty cool!!

Bonus points if he's written as Bi-derman and aggressively Gen Z

Actually no bonus points but I will love you forever ??

Reader insert fics are an underutilized source of creative expression and are therefore highly encouraged

Use appropriate tags and trigger warnings

Discussion of transphobia (internalised or otherwise) is a-okay, hell, even appreciated, but please be respectful ❤️

Use a "read more" link after the first 200-300 words, please!

(Similar rules apply to headcanons, minus the word limit and the read more rule)

Rules (for fanart/edits/mood boards)

Include the trans flag in your art!

Whether it's as a colour scheme, background, t-shirt, cap, badge, or anything else is entirely up to you

Don't post stolen art, please!!

Finally (and this applies to all of the above):

Don't write/draw/edit anything nsfw

Don't even try to submit anything that has anything to do with st*rker

Actually don't submit anything involving a relationship between Peter and an adult

Make sure you tag your posts as #marvellousthings so that I can see them

Oh yeah and you need to be following moi, of course

Deadline is Christmas! I hope that gives you guys enough time!

Make Extra sure you tag me in your posts too! (As in: @me)

It would be heckin nice of you to reblog this post 💗

That's all.

Have fun, don't set anything on fire, and raise this adorable headcanon from the dead, my dudes ✨

(I'm tagging a few mutuals, feel free to ignore though 💗)

@the-not-so-ketogenic-kid @marvel-or-not-to-marvel @asaelia @cosmic-disasters @avengvr @accurate-incorrect-marvel-quotes @windexnoises @are-you-shuris @its-ya-boi-demon @anxieteaandbiscuits @my-babies-are-ash @gumgamug @spiderboiii @demi-god-witch @nonbinari-goat @just-a-marvel-fan @mysteryavengers @lesbiansassemble @ironmanstan @underoosstark @gabrielthepisces @loki-the-pan-icon @loki-against-onision @rosiebrie @hopenichole @time-to-spleen @pietropeterimagines

PS: all challenge-related posts and asks will be tagged #transunderoos so feel free to blacklist!

[queenofcats17]

Submitted by Anon

You don’t have to do theese! Especially if you are overwhelmed! Just food for thought :D -Henry fell to the ground crying. What had he done? How could he have killed his only friend? Now Boris lay in the ink with thoose god awful voices. Thomas picked him up and help him to his chest. While Allison looked on.

-“Absolutely not, die” Sammy said, voice monotone. “You overreact you know that?” Joey replied with a smile.

- “THEESE ARE MY KIDS AND MY RESPONSBILTY AND DONT YOU FORGET IT DREW”

- A lullaby from Hell.

This has been sitting in my drafts for a long time. I’d almost forgotten about them. But, I think it’s about time I got to them.

Henry stood over the corpse of the creature he’d once shared a safehouse with. It would have been easier if Henry hadn’t been able to recognize him. But that thing had still been recognizable as Boris. It still looked like his friend. He almost didn’t notice as Alice charged him, furious at the fact that he’d defeated her creature. She didn’t get far before a sword was stabbed through her chest, but Henry wasn’t paying attention. He felt numb. Boris had been his friend. His only friend in this hellhole. 

“Are you alright?” The woman who’d stabbed Alice asked, stepping forward. She looked like Alice, a more perfect Alice. 

Allison and Tom hadn’t expected to find an untouched human in the studio. They’d heard that someone new had entered, and Alice and the Ink Demon had been particularly active, but they hadn’t thought they’d find something like Henry. Despite being thoroughly covered in ink, Henry still looked perfectly normal. He was still human. 

“Are you alright?” Allison repeated, stepping toward him again. 

“I killed him,” Henry said, almost choking on his words. “He was my best friend and I killed him.” Allison and Tom both looked at the corpse of Brute Boris, both wincing a bit at the sight. It was clear what Alice had done to the poor wolf. 

“I’m sure he didn’t give you much choice.” Tom rumbled.

“Alice obviously did something to him.” Allison agreed. “He wasn’t your friend anymore.”

“He must have been in so much pain.” It was as though he hadn’t even heard them. Henry fell to the ground crying. What had he done? How could he have killed his only friend? Now Boris lay in the ink with those god awful voices. Allison and Tom exchanged a glance. Given Henry’s obvious mourning over Boris, it was clear which one of them should be the one to comfort him. Sighing to himself, Tom picked him up and held him to his chest. Allison looked on, sheathing her sword. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” Tom patted Henry’s back. “You’re gonna be alright.” His attempt was rather awkward, but Henry seemed comforted, sobbing into Tom’s chest. 

“What do we do now?” Tom whispered. 

“Take him to the safehouse, I suppose.” Allison bit her lip. 

“Alright.” Tom looked down at Henry. “Come on then, big guy. Let’s get you back.” Henry continued to sniffle and hiccup as they descended. Allison was honestly rather worried about the man. Neither she nor Tom knew who this man was but he was obviously not okay. Although, none of them were okay. Not really. 

“Who are you?” Allison asked when they reached the safe house. Henry had been placed on one of their cots, still clinging desperately to Tom.

“M-My name’s Henry. Henry Stein.” Henry replied. 

“Henry Stein?” Immediately, Tom tensed. “As in, Joey’s old partner?” Henry nodded, sniffling loudly and wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

“Why did you come back?” Allison asked. He’d been long gone by the time she’d arrived at the studio, and no one had been allowed to talk about him. 

“Joey sent me a letter.” Henry pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. “He said he had something to show me.”

“He sent us a letter like that too.” Tom’s ears flattened against his head. Suddenly, a rumbling echoed through the studio. Allison instinctively reached for his hand. She remembered precious little about who she’d been before waking up here. But Tom made her feel safe. 

Henry tensed a bit at the rumbling. The Ink Demon was probably looking for him. He didn’t want to think of that thing as Bendy. Bendy was his child, the character he’d put his heart and soul into. The creature with Bendy’s form, the one that had killed Norman, that was not his child. He just wanted to go home. He missed Linda. 

“I never asked your names,” Henry said once the rumbling had stopped and they’d all calmed down. “I’m sorry.”

“This is Tom.” Allison gestured to Tom. “And, well, Tom says my name is Allison.”

“You don’t remember?” Henry asked. 

“Unfortunately.” Allison smiled sadly. “There are some people who can hold on to their identity despite the ink, but I’m not one of them.”

“I’m sorry.” Just going by the names, Henry had some idea now of who his rescuers were.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Allison reassured him. “You didn’t do this.”

“Alright.” Henry pursed his lips, pulling away from Tom. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to set this right. I promise.”

“That’s a big promise,” Tom said. “You sure you can keep it?” 

“I will.” Henry nodded definitively. 

“Well,” Tom couldn’t help but smile a little. “I guess that means we’re a team now.”

“I look forward to working with you, Henry.” Allison smiled as well. Henry just nodded. He was going to fix this. For Boris. 

.

.

Sammy was a perfectly pleasant man to be around for everyone except for Joey. Sammy did not like his boss and was absolutely not afraid to express this distaste. He thought Joey pushed them too hard and had rather unreasonable demands. He was always completely polite and courteous, of course, but Sammy’s dislike of him was more than a little upsetting to Joey. Joey had a compulsive need to be liked by everyone. It bothered him that Sammy so blatantly disliked him. And so, lately, he’d been trying to covertly butter Sammy up. Everyone noticed his attempts and weren’t shy about teasing him. 

“What’s it today, boss man?” Wally snickered as Joey headed toward Sammy’s office. 

“Don’t you have work to be doing, Franks?” Joey asked with a forced smile. 

“I’m working,” Wally replied, putting his hands up. “See? I’m moppin’.” Joey watched him for a moment before sighing. 

“Very well. If you must know, I’m going to invite Sammy to the ballet.” Joey pulled out some tickets from his coat pocket. “They’re performing Swan Lake and I thought Sammy might appreciate it. Tchaikovsky is a spectacular composer, after all.”

“Yeah, Sammy’d probably like that.” Wally nodded thoughtfully, leaning on his mop. “Still don’t think he’ll wanna go with you, though.”

“Nonsense!” Joey said brightly. “This will definitely win him over!” He’d gotten them front row tickets, right in front of the orchestra. 

“Well, good luck.” Wally turned away to keep mopping, snickering to himself. Joey huffed and made his way to Sammy’s office. This time, this time it would work! He knew for a fact that Sammy had been trying to get tickets to this performance. He’d overheard him talking to Norman and Jack about it, lamenting his struggle. Sammy would definitely thank him for this!

When he arrived at Sammy’s office, he found him talking with Susie. They were going over the songs for that day, talking about specific bars that Susie was having trouble with. 

“So this note is an F sharp?” Susie was saying, pointing to a note on the page. 

“It is. Should I mark it?”

“No, it’s fine. I think I’ll remember in the future. I kept wondering why it didn’t sound right. I was singing an F flat.”

“Good afternoon.” Joey knocked politely on the door. “Might I have a word with you, Sammy?” 

“Of course, give me a moment.” Sammy nodded to him, then looked to Susie. “Is there anything else you’re having trouble with?”

“No, that’s it. Thank you.” Susie kissed his head. “You two have a fun meeting now~” She winked at Joey before disappearing out the door. Satisfied, Sammy turned back to Joey.

“If this is about today’s songs, you’ll have to give me a little more time.” He said, folding his arms. “Susie needed some clarification about the song she’s recording today, so I took some time out to help her.”

“No no, it’s not about that.” Joey shook his head. 

“Alright.” Sammy frowned slightly. “What is it?”

“I heard you’d been trying to get tickets to the production of Swan Lake at the theater, so I got us two.” Joey held up the tickets. Sammy blinked. Joey waited for some kind of response, his smile wide and hopeful. 

“I’m assuming you want me to go with you,” Sammy said after a moment. 

“Yes.”

“And I’m assuming this is you trying to make me like you.”

“…No.” Joey’s smile dropped a little. “….Maybe?” He could have sworn Sammy smiled. Just a little. 

“Not everyone needs to like you, Joey.” He said. Joey could feel the color rising in his cheeks. He turned away, trying to hide his red face. 

“I know that.” He cleared his throat. 

Sammy chuckled quietly. “Alright. Fine. I’ll go to see Swan Lake with you. If it’ll get you to stop trying to desperately win my favor.”

“I am not desperately trying to win your favor!” Joey sputtered. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” The corners of Sammy’s mouth twitched up in a smirk. “Anyway, when will it be?”

“Next week on Sunday,” Joey said. “It starts at 1 pm.” 

“Alright.” Sammy withdrew an appointment book from his desk, penciling in the event. “Should I meet you there?”

“I’ll pick you up!” Joey suddenly brightened. “It’ll be like a date!”

“Absolutely not. Die,” Sammy said, voice monotone. 

“You overreact, you know that?” Joey replied with a smile. Sammy let out a small huff, turning back to his desk. 

“I have work to do.” He announced, a clear sign for Joey to leave. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later~” Joey practically skipped out of the room. He’d done it! He’d gotten Sammy to like him. Sammy rolled his eyes as Joey exited. Maybe he’d been a bit harsh on Joey. The studio head did seem like he was getting better. 

“He’s so weird.” He muttered. At least he was getting to see Swan Lake. 

.

.

Henry had done it. He’d finally managed to find his way to the heart of the studio where he knew his old friend was waiting. He’d left the toons with Allison and Tom, along with the battered Sammy, vulnerable Susie, and rattled Norman. He entered the ink machine, following the cramped hallways until he came to where Joey was waiting. His friend was sitting on what appeared to be a throne in the middle of a small room. Around him, projectors were playing scenes from the Bendy cartoons. 

“Hello, Henry.” Joey smiled and it was the same smile that Henry had always loved. The smile that had convinced him to go through with so many bad ideas. He looked the same as Henry remembered, although there were streaks of grey in his hair. 

“Hello, Joey.” Henry stood in the doorway, ax at his side. 

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Joey stood up from his throne, smiling softly down at him. “It’s so good to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Henry kept his expression closed and guarded.

“I’ve missed you, Henry.” Joey descended the throne to stand in front of Henry. He tried to reach out and hold Henry in his arms, but Henry slapped his hands away.

“I want answers, Joey.” He said. For a moment, Joey looked shocked and hurt. Then the expression faded, replaced by his showman’s smile. 

“Well, alright.” He chuckled. “What do you want to know?”

“This.” Henry gestured around. “What is this? What the fuck were you thinking?” As Joey opened his mouth to answer, Henry stopped him again. “And you can stop with the voice.”

“What voice?” Joey asked, his smile growing forced. 

“You know what I’m talking about, Joey.” Henry’s eyes narrowed. Joey’s smile dropped. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, the showman act gone. 

“I brought our characters to life, Henry. I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“Happy? That you sacrificed our friends and employees to make your little plan work?” Henry asked, feeling his temper beginning to rise. “That you traumatized my children?”

“Our children.” Joey corrected him with a small smirk. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”

“I meant what I said,” Henry replied coolly. “I created them, I put the work into them. You just stepped in and took credit for them when all the hard work was over. Just like you always do.”

“That’s pretty rude, Henry. I thought we were friends.” Joey was smiling again, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They remained cold and detached, staring into Henry’s soul.

“I did too. Until you stole credit for all my ideas.”

“We needed to get exposure,” Joey said. “No one was going to listen to a pitch from you. You never liked speaking in front of crowds anyway.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, what matters is that I got them into the public eye! I made them household names!”

“I made them.” Henry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “They’re my children. You don’t even care about them. You just want to use them.”

“They’re just characters, Henry.” Joey sighed and clicked his tongue as though he was talking to a particularly slow child. 

“They’re not just characters!” Henry snapped. “Not to me, not to Susie, not to anyone who actually cares about them! They’re so much more than that!”

“Henry-” Joey tried to back up to remedy his mistake, but it was too late now.

“THESE ARE MY KIDS AND MY RESPONSIBILITY AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT DREW!” Henry took a step forward, jabbing his finger into Joey’s chest. It was clear that whatever Joey had been hoping to achieve, it wasn’t going to happen. He’d crossed a line, and there was no going back now. 

.

.

Something was wrong. Sammy wasn’t sure where he was. He was laying down, his head in someone’s lap. Something…Something had happened. Someone had hurt him. He’d been betrayed and abandoned. Anger rose in his chest and he tried to get up. But someone gently guided him back down.  

“My dear, sweet prophet, where do you think you’re going?” A woman’s voice graced his ears. Her voice was like silk, sliding softly across his mind. 

“An angel…” He mumbled, his words slurred and muffled. The woman giggled. 

“Why yes, I am an angel.” She said. “I’m Alice Angel~” Alice Angel…Yes, he knew that name. But this didn’t seem right. This voice…it wasn’t Alice Angel…He knew this voice. 

“Susie…?” The name came unbidden to his lips. 

“No!” He instinctively covered his ears at her shriek. 

“No.” She repeated, softer this time, her voice shaking. “No, I’m Alice Angel. I’m Alice Angel.” She took a deep, shaking breath.

“Why don’t you let your angel sing to you, my dear?” She started to stroke his hair. His hair? For a moment, he was confused. Wait, why had he thought he didn’t have hair?

“Yes, please.” He curled up, allowing her to continue to stroke his hair. 

“Come little children, I’ll take thee away, into a land of enchantment.” She began to sing, her voice soothing Sammy. “Come little children, the time’s come to play. Here in my garden of shadows. Follow sweet children, I’ll show thee the way. Through all the pain and the sorrow. Weep not poor children, for life is this way. Murdering beauty and passions.” 

As she continued, Sammy found himself drifting deeper and deeper into sleep. Nothing mattered but her voice. He was safe with her. He would always be safe with her. His Lord was no longer worthy of his praise. The Angel was his savior now. 

Alice smiled to herself. It appeared Sammy would be useful to her after all. Kissing Sammy’s head, she continued to sing. She was going to like having a prophet, especially now that he resembled his human self a bit more. Yes, she was going to like this. 

[ask-art-student-prussia]

The R.R. Phenomena; A Summary and Addition - By Leon Rekjavik

Hello again, ladies, gents. 

Epic-essay writer Leon Rekjavik is here again! Today, I just felt like posting more analysis on R.R.’s posts, because, they’ve quite clearly changed since the last time I wrote an analysis on R.R. 

For those who have literally no idea who I am, a couple weeks ago, I wrote a long essay where I talked about R.R. in general, as a person, everything, and submitted it to the awesome ask-art-student-prussia blog here, because R.R. is only present here, seemingly. This was back when everyone kept doing those jokes on R.R.

Why do I even write this stuff about some random person who anonymously posts asks on this blog? I don’t know actually, I just feel like I NEED TO, for some reason. To serve some justice to this sweet, person…?

Anywho, now onto the analysis!

———————————————————————————————————

Initially when R.R. came to this blog, they were merely someone who posted these asks to this blog talking about how much they admired the work Mun uploaded onto this blog, but at the same time, talked about themselves in a self-deprecating manner. 

Now, when I say “merely”, I don’t actually mean “merely”. When R.R. writes, it’s not just a random ask, they standout with the the things they submit. A lot of time and effort is put into each ask they put through, and they clearly care a lot for Mun as a person, as an artist, etc. There’s a poetic drive of admiration when they send something, yet they always seem to constantly try to remind everyone, that no, don’t see me- see Mun! See how beautiful their art is.

No one knows who R.R. is, which is a shame, but, I think it’s understandable. At this point in time, where a single R.R. post receives 35 notes on Tumblr, anyone who’d claim they are R.R. (even the real one) would immediately be shot down as a fake. Such a case were very prominent some weeks back, when a trashy meme started circling around the blog.

Other than R.R.’s writing prowess, there’s also the mystery of their identity, and that’s what the real interest is with R.R. Who are they? As mentioned in the previous analysis, R.R. loves this blog, clearly a lot, but wants to remain hidden due to their insecurities, however, at the same time, they want some way to be recognised. This is where the signature end to each R.R. post comes, “-R.R.”. This is their trademark, their way of showing the world, yes, I am R.R. and this is the post I send to you, Mun showing my love! In a purely platonic way, of course, or at least assume.

Unfortunately, being the Internet, the trashy-meme became very popular, with people claiming they were R.R., when they clearly weren’t. This wasn’t just a one-off incident. This lasted for several days, and even resulted with R.R. actually writing a post, where they said that they felt that their presence had caused Mun trouble. Now, remember, R.R. loves Mun, this blog, and everything with it. All this attention that had enshrouded R.R. wasn’t why R.R. even began putting posts out with their insignia. They didn’t want attention.They wanted to show their love to Mun and her art. Though, this had an entirely backfiring effect. Now Mun's blog was all about them. 

So, R.R. decided to take LEAVE from the blog.

And tragically, this transpired literally right after the submitted an analysis that was made for people to understand R.R. better as a person and to back them up (nobody understands the crippling deprussian I went through, because of that. However, all this information is dumb and irrelevant, because no one cares about me lololol). 

R.R. decided to take leave from this blog, because they felt that their love DAMAGED this blog and what it was made and known for to begin with. With this, the silence period began. No posts from R.R., not a sound. People began apologising profusely, some people even coming out from anonymity and saying they were sorry. The blog went back to how it originally was- an art-student Prussia blog. However, a lonely ache remained with those who knew about R.R. 

This is a direct copy and past of what R.R. wrote in terms of leaving the blog, in two separate posts:

“I’m very sorry Gil, but this is the last ask I’ll submit. I’m afraid my presence has caused disruption to your blog. Those previous asks from yesterday were not mine. I won’t submit anymore asks after this one with my initials to avoid anymore trouble for you. For those saying I’m doing this for attention, I will probably never reveal my true identity out of fear. So you’ll never know who I am. Farewell, Gil. It was lovely sending asks those few times. I hope you’re successful with your blog.”

“-R.R. (I ran out of characters)”

You see, everyone who posts stuff on this blog either does an M/A! ask, or a question to Prussia or even Mun directly, or just saying stuff, and I quote, “I love this blog. Please have my babies.” No one, and I mean, no one, wrote the way R.R. did. They were special, people loved their pureness, and they missed it. 

And then, it happened. R.R. RETURNED, and they returned in a manner worth bragging about, for centuries to come (I am not exaggerating). 

“Perhaps one day, when time is nothing but the movement of leaves, and the sun’s died, there will be a moment of solace where everything is just everything, and nothing is just something. The next moment in ‘time’, they will not exist, but with lives so fleeting, even a moment is extensive enough. Their last words will be "thank you”, before they’re suffocated by heat and dust. Humanity’s falling grace would have echoes permeating light years away. -The one who left this blog, R.R.“

They came back, with POETRY. And it wasn’t just any poetry- it was MAJESTIC poetry, as you can see above. This piece got 31 notes- it is rare for an anonymous post with no picture underneath, no nothing from Mun, purely the anon, to get that many notes. 

As if that’s not enough, R.R. returned, YET AGAIN!: 

"Fatherland, o’ dear noble creature of war. From the moment of your creation, you struck the soil with the sword of your soul, sending tremors leagues away, notifying every breathing being of your presence. Your tenacious nature and valiant efforts bleed through history’s timeline, embedding itself over the course of countless lives. We shan’t forget your existence, for none would be here now without your cause for our effect. You will return to us again, one day, in solidarity. -R.R.”

Can I say I fanboyed/fangirled when I was this, as unprofessional as it is? 

(and this is where leon rekjavik gives up on professionalism completely)

LOOK AT THIS FINE ART, MY FRIENDS. THAT IS LIFE IN IT’S PUREST AND R.R. IS GODLY POET. CAN WE JUST LOVE THIS HUMAN BEING, LIKE A LOT. YES, THIS IS THE ONE THAT 35 NOTES HOLY ****!

I honestly don’t care what gender, sexuality, species, ANYTHING you are {(unless you are secretly evil like that anon said; 

“…-Anyways, from the very few asks they’ve posted, they seem cute, whether they’re boy or girl. And cute people don’t fake stuff unless they’re secretly evil (omg R.R. please be a pureroll).”}

I LOVE YOUR WORK!

(and this is where leon rekjavik gains their sanity again)

Excuse me for that.

Of course, the R.R. hype sort of came back, with people all but screaming in the ask-boxes about R.R.’s comeback, poetry prowess, just everything R.R. There were some sceptics, but that’s just the general Internet. Everything was back in the flow. Then, some people began to ask… questions. Like, what’s R.R.’s sexuality, what do you think R.R. looks like? I think R.R. is a boy/girl! No, they’re not a boy/girl, come fight me.

And then, R.R. replied, in the most sweetest, most serene way humanly possible:

“To those who wish to know my face, look away from hither, for you shall not find the answers you seek for. Whether I find myself interested in boys or girls is nothing special. For now, why not enjoy the sweet summer that rains down from the sky, for it only lasts a few months before it’s a memory again. Leave your homes and walk bare-foot on the grass, feel the wind on your face, hear the nature around you. We don’t know if we’ll have a future where such luxuries exist. -R.R.”

They have talent, and I don’t care what anyone says. Fight me. 

This new era of R.R. is obviously a way of R.R. showing their love to this blog, by submitting a form of art, poetry! And Lord, does it compliment the blog so well with the was they weave the words…

——————————————————————————————————

I wanted to write more, but I can’t…

Anyways, that’s a summary/analysis/explanation thing for R.R., for now, from Leon Rekjavik!

I was thinking of actually making a master-post for the R.R. asks, if Mun would be okay with that. I’m just another visitor to this blog, who likes your work a lot, but I couldn’t help but notice the amount of times someone posted an ask asking who is R.R. It may help clear some things up, and just help the people catch up with the entire R.R. phenomena.

I don’t know why I do these, even now… mysteries are just so fun to look through I guess?

I’m sorry if this wasn’t written as nicely as the other one I did. This is a link to the previous one if anyone is interested, it explains everything R.R. to the point, like it’s a must read:

https://ask-art-student-prussia.tumblr.com/post/162708791482/the-case-of-rr-an-analysis-by-leon-rekjavik

I’m not doing this in any form of promotion or attention. If you look at my Tumblr, I literally have nothing in my posts. It’s because I just like looking for cool blogs like Mun's here, and don’t feel like posting anything I do personally. 

I just want R.R. to be understood a bit better, that’s it. Also, I have a little too much spare time on my hands… (at the moment. Just wait for college to start).

I hoped you liked it.

Bye.

-Leon Rekjavik (it’s still not my real name, try finding me, stalker!)

P.S

Mun, please accept my humble submission! Don’t throw it in the reject pile!

how the fuck did you write all this what the hell oh m y hofdod?

[angelaiswriting]

Back Again | Charles Vane x Reader (part 2 of 2)

[GIF not mine] - READ PART ONE HERE

Requested by Anon: “First off I want to say how amazing your blog is!!!! I’ve been looking for stuff like this since the end of Black Sails! I was wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader brings Vane back from the dead (Kinda like Calypso & Barbosa In POTC) and Vane ends up falling for the reader. Thanks !!”  +  “Vane is Made Pirate King of Nassau and makes reader his Queen” + smut as ‘requested’ by @selldraug

A/N: I just want to thank you, Anon(s), because I really enjoyed developing your request! Also, this is my first attempt at smut since ages, and anyway nobody’s ever read my smuts. Your opinions about how it turned out would be sooooo appreciated!

Fandom: Black Sails. Pairing: Charles Vane x Reader

Warnings: what if in which Vane is still alive. SMUT

Requests are OPEN

Word-count: 2964

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

It took Charles Vane days to convince Y/N to help him with the conquest of the port of Nassau, but he eventually succeeded. He hoped Y/N would keep her promise because once back into civilization he’d really need her help.

He had spent a lot of time training her with the two swords she somehow had in a trunk under her bed. And damn, she was now very good at it! She had whined all the time because she wasn’t sure she really wanted to do this, but he hadn’t listened to her and he was so proud of the result.

And then something happened.

They had been fighting all day and he had taught her some moves. It had been an exhausting day and they had somehow ended up kissing each other. It hadn’t been a sweet kiss or a passionate one: it had been hungry, almost as though their lips and tongues had been continuing that day’s training.

Then, as swift as it had come, the kiss broke.

They hadn’t talked about what had happened ever since.

Even now Charles was sure he had felt the sea on her lips and that wish came up again: to be with her because he loved the sea and she was the sea. And how could he let that slip from his fingers?

He could lose Nassau, he could lose the gold, he could even lose his crew. But the sea, that never-ending and yet finite expanse of water and thrill… Even with nothing left he would never let go of it. That same salt water flowed in his veins and determined who he was.

A pirate.

A Captain.

And even though he could have a safe and peaceful life with Y/N, he didn’t want all those men to let go their real identity. It was love, what they felt, and it was life. And what was a man without love and life? What was a pirate without the sea and all it had to offer?

In front of him, there was Nassau teeming with life and not even night was able to put the town to sleep.

Hidden behind a group of palm trees, Charles Vane and Y/N observed its life, the coming and going of pirates and harlots. Two Englishmen stood at the entrance of the building where – according to Vane – Eleanor lived.

Woodes Rogers probably lives there too, he had whispered in her ear while pointing at the building with his sword.

Y/N had been quiet ever since they had left her cottage that afternoon.

She was scared, Charles Vane could almost feel it on his skin like when the sea gets ready for a storm. He could see the flames of the bonfires in the distance reflected into her eyes while she looked at them.

“I didn’t remember this place to be so beautiful,” she whispered, crawling a few feet back to hide behind the remaining of old launches.

He followed her and laid against the wood. “Why did you leave?”

“I thought we had an agreement.”

“Jack Rackham hasn’t come out yet. We have some time to talk.” He wanted to know. He needed to know something about her. She knew almost everything about him and to him she still was a mystery.

“It’s stupid,” she said, hoping that those words would cut the conversation to an end. But he urged her to speak and she didn’t know how to say ’no’ to him anymore. “I was kind of a slave, something like seven years ago. You know, a fanatic captain found me in the Caribbean and thought I was Calypso. He was so convinced of it that he kidnapped me.”

“Calypso?” Charles chuckled. “As in the goddess of the sea?”

Y/N nodded. “He wasn’t a very lucky pirate and his crew grew angrier by the second. He thought that maybe with me by his side he’d tame the sea, he’d turn it to his side. Which was the most stupid thing I’ve heard ever since I can remember – I am no goddess and sure as hell I can’t tame the sea,” and she laughed a little. “You just can’t tame it. However, I ended up here and when he understood that I couldn’t be of help… well, he did things to me – bad things. No one helped. They all stood by and stared, all those people, but never reached out to help me. In the end, I left.” She turned to looked at him and found him staring intently at her. “I hope this is your only question because – as I’ve already said – the past stays in the past.”

He tilted his head and eventually nodded. He wanted to know that captain’s name but knew well enough that she wouldn’t answer that question.

Charles could understand why that guy thought she was Calypso. She looked beautiful, free yet caged, but there was something inside her, something deep and as old as the sea, that couldn’t be tamed. There was a spark in her eyes, something that death and torture couldn’t switch off.

And yet she had brought him back. He had died and yet still breathed. What human being could do something like that? And what was the price of such a miracle? He knew nature wasn’t keen on giving without receiving something in return.

What had been the price of his resurrection?

He was about to ask her, to force her to answer him, when a well-known voice caught his attention. When he turned, Jack Rackham, his former quartermaster, was taking a piss.

Charles grabbed Y/N’s arm and pointed at Jack. “Go take him. I don’t care what you do, but bring him here.”

She snorted but stood up anyway.

“Hi there,” she smiled when she reached him.

Jack started in surprise and hurried to put his prick where it belonged. He turned around and furrowed his eyebrows. “Who are you?”

“A friend,” she simply answered before she sweet-talked him into following her.

Keeping Jack’s surprise quiet had been quite a challenge, but Y/N had eventually shut his mouth by putting her handkerchief into it.

Convincing him to help the two of them… well, that was something Y/N would never willingly do ever again.

But in the end, Jack Rackham had gathered them an army – or, better, a bunch of drunk nostalgic pirates. Y/N had looked at Charles and stopped herself just in time from saying: “You must be kidding me.”

Even when that Jack guy told them that the Brits had sent back home their ships and only kept two in the bay, the girl remained pissed.

“This is going to be a suicide,” she muttered to Charles a few nights later, after one of their gatherings with the men.

“Probably,” he answered, looking up at her before downing his rum. Fuck, he hadn’t drunk that shit in ages and he had missed it. “But I’m not giving up on what’s mine.”

“And what exactly is yours?” Y/N bit back. “You died. Nothing’s yours anymore.”

“The sea still is. And it’s theirs too. Some of them know nothing else – and others want nothing else. That guy thought you were Calypso and held you captive because of that. Knowing what that feels like, would you want other women or girls to go through that?”

She shook her head no.

He stood up and grabbed her by her waist, surprising the both of them. “I won’t let those men lose what’s theirs.”

It took them time to be ready to attack and to find enough men to win. Charles would’ve been happy to have Flint’s help and that of his crew, but he wasn’t that lucky that time.

Vane and Y/N had split up. He and his men were aiming at Eleanor and the Englishmen on the island, while Jack, Y/N, and their men were swimming silently towards the two British ships left in the harbor.

Y/N still believed this was a suicidal idea. They were all gonna end up dead, whether they’d be shot, hung or pierced by a sword.

“Such a bad idea,” she muttered under her breath while climbing the ladder to get into the ship.

And those fuckers had sent her up first.

Jesus Christ, she’d never understand pirates.

Luckily no one was in sight and she was soon joined by Jack.

She looked at him and shook her head. “You sure we can trust the others with that other ship?”

He simply nodded. “They’ll free the port, and Vane will free the land. We all get what we want and he can rule as he has always wanted.”

She let the men go first. The idea of killing… well, she didn’t like it that much. She’d rather help Charles without murdering anyone, but…

“Hey, you!” someone angrily yelled.

She turned in the direction of the voice. One of Rogers’ men was walking towards her.

“I thought we said no whores on board,” he yelled again. When he reached her, he grabbed her wrist, hurting her.

“Excuse you?” Y/N was fuming. Her? A fucking whore? She stood there, her wrist in his grasp, dripping on the deck of that stupid ship. And she was being called a ’whore’. Before she knew it she had taken her gun and had shot him in the forehead. “Your mother might be a whore, you jackass,” she hissed. She kicked his corpse and took his gun.

She was so done being nice with everyone. She had been called a whore enough when he still believed her to be Calypso. She wasn’t going to stand someone else calling her like that anymore.

  “What’s all that blood?” Charles asked when Y/N got back to the shore with Jack and his men.

“You know, the Brits bleed too,” Jack huffed, grabbing the rum bottle from which Anne Bonny was drinking. “Eleanor?” he asked.

“Inside your whorehouse,” was Vane’s answer. “Tied up, with Rogers.”

“How did you even come back to life?” someone asked, his voice standing above all the other voices.

He shrugged the question off his shoulders, grabbed Y/N’s hand covered in blood and headed to what had once been Eleanor Guthrie’s chambers.

The bedroom in which he led her was cool, a blessing compared to the mugginess outside. The shutters were closed and three oil lamps light the room up.

“You okay?” he asked her, turning her face left and right to check for wounds.

She moved his hands off her face. “I’m fine,” she answered, pissed off. “Are you?”

He laughed. “You need more than this to hurt Charles Vane.”

“Should I remember you that the last time Charles Vane got killed?”

She shook her head and turned towards the window.

Dawn was crawling its way through the splits in the shutters.

“What’s wrong?” he walked up behind her, the smell of sea and blood hitting his nostrils.

If she wasn’t Calypso, he didn’t know who else could be.

“I’m so pissed,” she sighed, massaging her temples.

He kissed the exposed skin of her right shoulder. And there it was, the taste of the sea, the taste of life. He shouldn’t be drawn to her, he knew it, but fuck.

“Why are you pissed?” he whispered against her skin. He started to wipe the blood off her cleavage.

“This was a fucking suicide,” she hissed. Her hands were trembling furiously. “I killed four people.”

“Hey.” He turned her around and moved locks of hair behind her ears. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re all okay.”

“Not them,” she whispered back, wiping some blood off her forehead. “Does this make me a bad person?”

Charles moved to grab a shirt from a chair, dipped it into the washbowl on the desk and used it to clean her face. “You brought me back, without even knowing me, without wanting anything in return. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.” He didn’t even know he could be this sweet, he noticed. He just couldn’t help himself around her.

They stared at each other for a while. From outside came the sound of men cheering and singing. Some of the girls from Jack’s brothel were laughing and probably someone was dancing.

Then, suddenly, Y/N reached up, grabbed his cheeks in her bloodied hands and kissed him hard.

It was like a continuation of their first kiss: rough, needy, greedy.

He kissed her back and grabbed her butt, lifting her off the ground. When she circled his waist with her legs, he grunted.

She tugged at his hair, her body pressed up against his, her wet clothes soaking his.

When he broke the kiss she was about to whine, but he attached his lips to her previously bloodied neck and she let out a moan. That kiss had her hips grinding involuntarily against his waist.

Holding her tight, he walked her to Eleanor’s bed and laid her down, laughing a little when she didn’t make a move to remove her legs from his waist. She laughed too and she looked flustered, with her hair dripping on the pillow and her crumpled blood stained clothes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he grinned, taking his shirt off.

She freed herself from her shirt too and got up to kiss his lips again. He tasted like home, like safety, and for a minute of two, she bathed in the hope that she’d somehow be safe with him by her side.

Without breaking the kiss she fumbled with his belt, trying to unbuckle it.

A few minutes later they had somehow managed to undress each other and Charles was now kissing her neck, her hands tugging his hair almost painfully.

His lips burned her skin like fire in their descent down her cleavage and on her breast. Y/N was panting desperately, grinding against his erection.

Charles groaned again and lightly bit the side of her left breast.

“Charles,” Y/N panted.

He looked up at her, smirking, rubbing his thumbs against her already hardened nipples. Some of the blood he had had on his face was now smeared on her skin and this mere fact turned him on even more. “What?”

“I’m begging you.” She was almost whining, wiggling under his gaze.

Her hair was a mess on the pillow and she’d most likely end up knotting it, but she looked like she didn’t care.

Vane went back to kiss her breast and then down to her stomach, lightly touching her bellybutton with his nose. His right hand slipped down to grab her thigh while he positioned himself at her entrance.

He raised his gaze again. She was staring at him, heavily breathing, her chest furiously rising and falling. That was a sight that even the sea couldn’t beat.

He pushed inside her slowly and watched as Y/N’s eyes rolled back in her head, her back arching. He pushed deeper until his hips touched hers and he bent down to kiss her breasts. He let her hands crawl up his arms until her fingers tangled in his hair.

He teased her a little more, kissing her neck and staying still. Then, suddenly, he pushed out and then back in fast. She gasped against his neck and urged him to keep moving, her breath ragged against his skin, her breast brushing against his chest, driving him crazy.

He pushed in again and kissed her behind her ear, inhaling the smell of salt water in her hair and setting up a pace.

Soon enough Y/N was panting even harder under him, kissing and biting the skin of his neck. She was moaning his name again and again and he thought he had never liked it like that before.

“Oh gosh,” she sighed suddenly, scratching his back with her nails, sending shivers down his spine.

He pushed out. “On all four,” he groaned and grabbed her waist when she did as he ordered her.

He opened her legs a bit more and positioned himself between them, bending forward to grab the headboard as he penetrated her again. He straightened his back and started pounding into her fast, hard, mercilessly, grabbing her hips so hard with his hands that bruises were going to form.

She was pushing against him, trying to meet his thrusts.

“Jesus, Charles,” she moaned so loud that he thought everybody on the beach would now know what they were doing.

She stood up, standing on her knees, and rested her head on his left shoulder, grabbing his neck with her right arm. One of his hands snaked up to grab her left breast while he kept thrusting hard into her, moaning her name, biting the skin of her neck, sucking all the salt off it.

A second later he felt her body clench around him and she was a panting mess in his arms, eyes rolled back in her head, body covered in sweat.

He came a few thrusts later, biting her neck and leaving a mark.

When he pushed out of her again, she laid down and dragged him down with her.

“I’m finally king of this fucking place,” he panted, letting her snuggle against his chest.

She laughed. “I’ve never been in the presence of a king.”

He chuckled too. “You helped me with this and with coming back from the dead. I think you can be in my presence whenever you want,” he said. “Wherever you want,” he added and she chuckled.

With Calypso in his arms he’d stand the idea of not going to sea whenever he wanted, he thought. And shit was it worth it!

Tag: @georgiagrl1990 

[elsewhereuniversity]

ASKS - Names

Asks sent to my main, answered here. Themes - what’s a true name, exactly?

Anon said: So what happens with people who have officially changed their names? I'm thinking especially for trans students who change names to match their gender, but anybody who's gone through the process of legally changing names. Would their deadname still be their "true name" as far as the Gentry are concerned?

Anon said: how would the name thing work with deadnames? would the deadname be the "real name" or the name from birth?

Anon said: What if you legally changed your name? Would that still hold power or something or just your birth name?

Anon said: More for the name things: What about trans students? My name is Lucian but my birth name is completely different. Which one would count as my true name?

Anon said: In terms of trans folks at EU, would their birth name be the one that could control them? Or would it be their preferred name?

Anon said: About the name thing, how does that work for trans people? Do the fae go by birth certificate or what you believe as your name?

Anon said: What about preferred names? Like I don't feel any attachment to my birth/legal name and no one calls me by it. What would be considered dangerous to use?

orendork said: EU question: Would a trans person's real name be their birth name or their chosen name?? Like would it be safe to go by a chosen name?

lupus-lunarem submitted: At elsewhere University if you have a legal name change which name is then used against you? Your birth name or changed name?

Anon said: In response to the question of "true names", I wonder if the Fae could be tricked by the giving of a deadname. Perhaps a trans person/someone who changed their name for personal reasons might be able to give a member of the Folk their deadname as a part of a bargain & the faery would accept it as a part of the bargain, since more antiquated traditions might designate that as the "true name". However, since the person's deadname doesn't really have power over them, the bargain could be safe while remaining valid

zeromylesperhour said: I rly liked your idea of the trans kids playing games for simple things like voice changes. I've also always thought about how true names would work in that situation! Like a faerie might think it has power over a trans kid because it knows their "name" but it's their birth name and not their real name.

Especially in a place where belief holds such power as it does at Elsewhere University, your true name would be your preferred name - the one that means you, heart and soul. While on campus, you should keep it secret from all but those you trust with your life. Your deadname would have no power over you. The legal status of your true name doesn’t matter; it draws its power from the weight and identity you give it.

As far as the Gentry are concerned, in folklore one’s true name was often synonymous with one’s birth name, and I imagine that because of this, for a time after Elsewhere began to seep back into the world, they would ask a birth name as a price for a boon, and occasionally be very, very surprised when it was given without a fight and held no power at all. They have learned to be more careful for what they ask for since then, but not after several rather embarrassing deals, and every once in a while one of the more antiquated Fair Folk will make this mistake over again.

Anon said: So I have another question about names! For reasons, I've always been called by my middle name over my first name by people close to me. Would it count as not giving my name to the fae if I use my first name, which I don't feel as connected to?

Anon said: Didn't the tradition of giving middle names to children came from superstition about the power of true names. This got me thinking, are you ok in Elsewhere U if you have a middle name and you use your first- and last name freely, and do the school official papers keep record of the middle names of the students

theperidotshade said: On the subject of names at Elsewhere University, I'm curious about how it would work out for people like me who go by our middle names/double names. They're essentially nicknames, because we actively choose which of our names to go by, but they were still given to us, so...?

ambicolor said: Sorry if this has been asked before, but what about middle names? My cousin goes by his, but would that count as a true name?

automatomicatomaton said: On the bit about true names - how much power do middle names have?

For some people their identity is very much tied up in their full name and the sense of connection to family it provides, among other reasons; for these people it would be an extremely bad idea to give away any part of it, although full control would possibly be dependent on knowing the full name.

For others, who only feel a strong connection to a piece of their full name, the parts that don’t mean anything to you wouldn’t have any power. However, giving out any part your name that might be on record would be inadvisable. Even if your first or last name alone doesn’t carry any significance, it would make it easier for something to potentially dig up your full name and work out the piece that does mean something. The University takes great care with the official paperwork, and it’s generally considered secure between the custom iron file folders and the encrypted online systems, but, you know. Murphy’s Law.

Anon said: Okay, so on the topic of true names I have something that I've been wondering about. I have two names (English and Hebrew) both given to me by my parents. Which do you think would count as my true name, or is it just a situation of having more to hide from Them?

Anon said: ooo for true names - what about those of us who were born with two different names in two different languages, gifted at the same time? We're one in one country and a different name in another - which name would be our true name? The one used more often? The one which was technically written down first?

It depends what they mean to you – if one is significantly more fundamental to your sense of self than the other, that would be your true name; if they’re equally important they should both be hidden (although I think potentially with two True Names, one would need to know both in order to have full power over you. If you were given a command by someone who Named you with only one of your two names, the compulsion would be strong but you’d stand a chance of resisting).

Anon said: would there be a loophole around being controlled by your given name if They mispronounced it? Like, if you were to give Them your own name written down, and when They speak it They mispronounce it... ? Would that negate the control, while still being a fair trade on your part?

theperidotshade said: Also, what if someone pronounces their name differently than it's phonetically spelled, or typically pronounced? Could they use the typical pronunciation and be safe, or is it about more than just how the name is spoken?

A mispronounced name – a name spoken differently than the version you know to be yours -couldn’t control you. A spoken or signed (as in sign language, not signature) name holds power, and so it must be spoken correctly. A written name does not, in the sense that if someone who knew your true name slipped you a note with your name and a command, you would not be compelled to obey it. But honestly banking on mispronunciation would barely buy you time at all – they’d figure out how to say it sooner rather than later, if only by repeating it a hundred times with increasingly outlandish inflections.

Anon said: So let's say someone was trans and they hadn't come out yet but they had already picked a name out would that be the name they shouldn't give to the gentry?

Yeah, it would – it doesn’t matter how many other people know it (and the fewer the better among people on campus). What makes it a true name is that it’s who you consider yourself to be.

Anon said: Okay, what about a hypothetical scenario in which all of the logistical issues are handwaved away and a person has no "true name"? Like, hippie parents living off the grid (no birth certificates) who just wait, making no assumptions because they believe in self-determination, until their little tyke is old enough to choose a name?

If you’re in the unusual position of never having found a name that you feel a strong connection to, you would be invulnerable in this particular aspect of campus life.

curiousmindsinlurve said: About the names thing theoretically speaking if someone got married and took on their spouses' last name would their maiden name hold more power? Or is it vice versa?

Whichever holds the most significance – I imagine that it varies pretty wildly between people who are radiantly happy to share their loved one’s last name and people who have changed their name because it’s customary but still feel a strong connection to their maiden name and the family history that comes with it.

mithrils-hanger said: Elsewhere U musings, and i suspect that my RPG writer experience has given me a skewed perspective of what is important, but. can you imagine how intense the University's efforts at protecting their records must be? forget mundane identity theft issues, the Payroll, Registrar, and Records departments house untold numbers of true names in their files. every employee. every student. present and all those past. even something as simple as an attendance roster could spell the doom of a student.

nickystar said: A question about EU, if it hasn't been answered already: I assume that to enroll at the school, you'd legally have to apply using your real name, and those in charge of the school would keep these names on lists somewhere. But how do they keep the Fair Folk from finding them and using them for their gain, and who all would have access to the names?

Everything legally and unavoidably essential is kept locked in custom iron filing folders and behind several layers of encryption in the heavily guarded computer systems, in the heavily guarded offices that deal with these things. Students and professors are referred to from the first week on by their chosen names, and they’re kept track of with student ID numbers and photos. It’s not usual for the exhaustively screened staff in charge of all this to have nightmares about making a mistake.

oddloop said: I feel true names would still have power. Whether or not its chosen or given, it is your power and closer to your heart, so by giving that knowledge to someone else you share your power, give them the power over you that you have yourself

True names absolutely have power – it’s hooked into the fundamentals of who you know yourself to be. It can obviously be used for harm, to compel you against your will. But it can be used to save you - this is the flipside. If you’ve eaten the food underhill, if you are too enchanted or dazzled or lost to find your own way back to your own mind, someone who knows your true name can break the spell and call you home.

pretzel-log1c said: In certain tales, Nicknames can be just as powerful as True Names. Especially if they are given. Are their any students that get trapped into the mold of their nickname? Like say, if a student went by Mouse?

It’s happened before. With any luck you don’t choose a safename that has any huge significance to you, and you’re aware enough of your own emotions to tell if you’re getting too attached to it. But these are not guarantees.

Your nickname probably won’t change you. But the rules are bendy here.

tookmelongenough-right said: In regards to Elsewhere U and names, I remember a series where you could bargain to give away one name per boon, so someone could, if they were desperate enough, make up to three deals with the fae. Four, if you had two last names.

If your true name is your full name all together, if you name yourself with the entirety of it – then yes, you could sell it piece by piece. Each fragment would have some power, enough to buy something valuable, if they thought you’d be coming back to make another deal or three.

kikinickle said: Another question about True Names: If you've had a nickname as long as you've had your real name, given to you at birth (or even before birth) and used as often as your legal name (though by fewer people) throughout your life, does it count as much as your legally given name?

It depends on its relevance to who you consider yourself to be.

[artificialqueens]

Love Lingered On His Lips (Biadore) - Lemonade

AN: I’m sorry it’s been…close to a month since I last submitted something. My mental health and creative muse took a road trip to rock bottom and they didn’t come home until a few days ago lmao. Anyway I hope y’all enjoy this!! Italics = thoughts. (also i’m sorry my author notes are a mess this is the #realme) (also x2 to the anon who asked about my abc fic like two weeks ago i am planning on continuing it!!! i have some of it written (along w/ four other unfinished fics bc i am trash)  i don’t know when exactly i’ll get it out but i 100% want to finish it)

It had been months since the pair last saw each other in person. Danny moved to Seattle and Roy always kept busy with work. They FaceTimed on occasion and spoke in their long standing group chat. It worked, but it wasn’t enough. They both found themselves missing the days they were traveling the world together. Touring took a huge tole on Danny’s all around health; Roy was his silver lining. He looked after Danny when he was too drunk and out of control, he wiped away his tears when he was physically exhausted and emotionally drained, he made him laugh, he played with his hair and kissed his fingertips: Roy made Danny fall in love with him.

Danny so desperately wanted to kick his lyft drivers seat and tell him to burn fucking rubber, he had someone important waiting for him. Instead he huffed in frustration, asking how long until they would arrive at his apartment. Twenty minutes was the answer.

Danny: Sorry, my driver’s a slow ass bitch. I don’t know if I’ll get there before you.

Roy was getting antsy. He was more than sure a kid pulling him in a little red wagon would get him to Danny’s apartment faster than this uber driver. He rolled his eyes in frustration, asking how long until they would arrive at their destination. Twenty minutes was the answer.

Roy: I don’t think they could be any slower than this idiot driving me. I’m pretty sure we’re still in L.A.!

Danny quietly chuckled at Roy’s text.

—-

Roy ended up beating Danny to his apartment, only by a few seconds apparently. As Roy unloaded his suitcases he heard a familiar voice– his favorite voice call his name. The man barely had time to turn around before Danny’s entire body was wrapped around his in a koala hug. Roy nearly fell over at the sudden impact of Danny crashing into him, but regained his balance, not wanting to drop the precious human in his arms.

Danny nuzzled his face into the crook of Roy’s neck. Roy finally had enough composure to squeeze Danny back tightly. “I’ve missed you.” Danny’s words were mumbled against Roy’s neck. Roy heard them perfectly. “I’ve missed you too.” He pressed a kiss to Danny’s head. “Now get off,” Roy could only be sappy for so long. “I’m too old for you to be jumping on me like that. Next time you might break my hip.” Danny cackled, but obeyed. “Shut the fuck up, you’re not even that old.” He pecked Roy’s cheek before taking a few of his bags.

—

“I thought you were only staying for a week, what’s with all the luggage?” Danny asked as he threw the suitcases haphazardly onto his living room floor. Roy chose to sit the bags he was carrying against the wall instead. “I also have a gig. It takes a lot to make this old bitch look good.” He was planning on staying at a hotel, but the minute Danny heard he would be in Seattle he insisted Roy not only stay with him, but come a week early so they could catch up. There was no resistance on Roy’s part.

“Sorry about the mess.” Danny kicked an empty beer can across the room. “I’ve been writing so much lately, living in filth helps me get inspired.” Danny plopped down on his couch and Roy followed.

“What about?” You, is what Danny wanted to say. “A bunch of shit.” He shrugged his shoulders. Roy brushed a piece of hair away from Danny’s face as he spoke and pushed it behind his ear. He’d been growing his hair out, Roy thought he looked like a goddess. Danny acted as if the slight touch didn’t faze him, the tinge of pink coloring his cheeks betrayed that semblance. “Well don’t hold out on me.” Roy could listen to Danny talk about his music, or anything he was particularly excited about for hours, so he did. Danny went on about his writing process, showed Roy songs and poems he had written (conveniently leaving the ones about Roy in his folder), and explained the meaning behind each and every one of them. He told Roy about his YouTube channel, all the ideas he had for its revival. He shared stories from the set of his recent photoshoot and explained to Roy how he had finally discovered, and came to terms with his gender identity. Roy loved it. Danny seemed happier than he had ever personally seen him. His eyes lit up, his hands flew around in the air the more his excitement grew, his smile–fuck his smile was so wide, and bright, and genuine. Roy wanted to grab his face and smash their lips together about a hundred different times as they spoke.

No one ever listened to Danny ramble the way Roy did. Sure, people heard him, or let him speak into the void in their presence, but Roy truly listened to him. He seemed genuinely interested in everything Danny said, got excited about something when Danny got excited. He felt like he could tell him anything and Roy would never dismiss him, or judge him, or make him feel stupid like others had.

Time had completely slipped from their grasp. It was late, far too late to do anything other than go to a bar. Danny was a regular at this point. He liked to write in bars, observe people, karaoke had become one of his favorite activities, but not tonight. He wanted Roy to himself tonight (and every other night of his life too).

—-

Danny slowly inhaled smoke into his lungs before passing the shared blunt to Roy. He was the only person who could get Roy to smoke with them. He smiled to himself at the memory of Jinkx and himself betting on it; Of course Danny won. When Jinkx asked how he managed it, Danny left out the fact that he bribed Roy with a blowjob. “What are you smiling at?” Roy’s words were strangled as he tried not to cough like he had a severe case of bronchitis. Danny absentmindedly rubbed his back to sooth him.

“Remember the first time we smoked together?”

“You mean when you sucked my dick? Yeah.” They both laughed.

“Well that’s what I was thinking about.”

“If you want to suck my dick again all you have to do is ask. No need to cum in your pants over a memory.” Danny slapped his arm, taking the blunt back from him. Roy’s eyes followed the blunt to Danny’s lips. His soft, full lips that Roy couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss, bite, or have them wrapped around his cock. His breath hitched at the possibility of any of those scenarios becoming a reality, quickly pushing the intrusive thoughts away. “That’s not what I meant.” Danny finally spoke after blowing smoke from his pull. “Jinkx and I had a bet: who could get you high first. They don’t know I won because of a blowjob.”

“I would have smoked with you regardless of whether you sucked me off or not.” I would do anything you asked me to without a second thought.

“I know.” I wanted to. I want to right now.

The blunt burned down to a roach, discarded on the balcony floor as Danny moved from his own seat to Roy’s lap. No protest was put up on Roy’s end. He snaked an arm around Danny’s waist and rested his head on his shoulder. They sat silently for a while, enjoying the stars, the cool night breeze, and most importantly each other. The moment felt so cozy Danny nearly blurted out an ‘I love you’. Love lingered on his lips so often around Roy it was a miracle he hadn’t confessed his undying devotion to this man a thousand times over.

Danny’s hair was tied up in a little bun, the lose pieces in front of his face blowing wildly with the direction of the wind made him look like some beautiful bad boy straight out of a shitty rom-com movie. Roy couldn’t stop staring. His heart felt so heavy with love for the person in his lap. Love, not lust. Roy had accepted the fact that he was in love with Danny ages ago. He did try to blame lust at first; Danny was sex personified, why wouldn’t he want to fuck him? It quickly became more than that. He wanted to take care of him, hold him, make him laugh every chance he had–love. If Roy could pour every ounce of affection he had into Danny he would.

Roy’s musing was interrupted by Danny’s lips softly, sweetly, and all too shortly pressing against his. It wasn’t abnormal for them to kiss each other’s lips swollen, but this, this was different. This felt delicate, and vulnerable, and innocent. Roy leaned up to meet Danny’s lips again in a kiss just as tender. He could feel Danny smile against him, which made him smile in return.

A look of complete serenity washed over Danny’s face as he pulled away from Roy’s lips. He tasted like weed and vanilla flavored Chapstick. Roy’s features softened at the sight of him. He reached his hand up to cup Danny’s face, the pad of his thumb caressing his cheek. “What was that for?” I love you. Danny just grinned down at him and shrugged, placing another kiss to his forehead.

He could blame it on the weed, or the exhaustion from traveling, or on Danny since he had initiated the first kiss…

Roy’s hand glided from Danny’s cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer before catching Danny’s lips with his own. The chaste nature of their previous shared kisses was far gone. Roy wasted no time plunging his tongue into Danny’s mouth. From the outside, they looked like they were trying to swallow each other whole. On the inside, this was the only way to express their overwhelming feelings for one another. Every unsaid word, every unexpressed emotion, every ‘what if’ was poured into that kiss.

Roy’s hand moved again, from holding Danny in place by his neck to his hair. Carefully, he let Danny’s hair lose from its bun, tangling his fingers in the loose tresses. Roy knew from experience how much Danny adored having his hair played with.

While Roy massaged his scalp, Danny moved between the two of them, his hand finding Roy’s cock as he palmed him through his jeans. Roy moaned into the kiss, his hand tugging on Danny’s hair in response. “Hold on to me.” Roy instructed, muttering the words into Danny’s mouth. He did as he was told, wrapping his arms around Roy’s neck, then his legs around his waist when Roy stood with him in his arms. The walk back to the bedroom was bumpy. Roy stumbled over the step connecting the apartment to the balcony, knocked into furniture, and accidentally took them inside of the bathroom at first. All because he couldn’t tear his lips away from Danny’s for five seconds.

When they finally made it, Roy sat at the edge of the bed with Danny in his lap. Both hands rested on Danny’s ass, squeezing occasionally as they made out. He could spend the next week just kissing Danny, really. His plump lips working against his, their tongues gliding against each other, Danny’s quiet moans whenever Roy bit down on his bottom lip, and his fingers grazing against his jaw felt like a taste of heaven Roy would never be ready to let go of.

Danny reveled in their fervent kissing. It wasn’t the first time, definitely wouldn’t be the last time, but something about it felt special. He drank in the last few moments before reluctantly breaking his lips away from Roy’s. He caught a look of disappointment etched on Roy’s face before reconnecting his lips with Roy’s skin. Danny kissed Roy’s neck, letting his tongue roll over the sensitive flesh as he did so. Roy’s eyes fluttered shut, his head lulling back as he became lost in the sensation. Danny introduced teeth, roughly sucking the skin after biting into it, ending with a soothing pass of his tongue and small kiss. The sinful sounds coming from Roy were all the encouragement he needed to continue his ministrations.

Danny smirked as he felt Roy grow hard against his own erection. He gave him one last throbbing love bite before trailing his lips up his neck, pressing a kiss right behind his ear. “Lay down.” Danny whispered to him, his voice husky and drunk with lust. Danny dismounted him so Roy could position himself properly on the bed. The anticipation was killing him. He wanted nothing more than to take Danny right away, but he knew that everything leading up to it would be well worth the wait. Danny crawled over him, forcing Roy to spread his legs to make room for him. The blown out pupils of his eyes nearly made Roy’s mouth go dry. God, he was delectable. Danny rekindled their searing kiss from earlier, Roy’s hand found it’s way back into Danny’s hair. He began to grind down against Roy, their clothed cocks lined up perfectly. Roy hadn’t expected the moved, his hips involuntarily bucked up to meet Danny’s. He giggled against his lover lips. “Someone’s eager.” Danny teased. “Shut up.” Roy warned through gritted teeth, which earned him a harsh bite to his bottom lip.

Danny sat up purposefully, pulling Roy’s shirt slowly over his head. He took a few minutes to admire Roy’s body, letting his hands run over the smooth skin of his torso, making a mental note of every place he touched that made Roy’s muscles twitch under his fingertips. Every place that did so was where his lips connected to next. Roy’s breath hitched in his throat at the contact. Danny trailed down his body until he reached the waist band of Roy’s jeans. He rested his hand on the leather belt. “Can I?” Roy looked down at him and nodded earnestly. “I told you all you have to do is ask.” Danny chuckled at the reference to their conversation earlier.

Now, with consent, Danny hurriedly undid Roy’s belt, buttons, and zipper. He pulled Roy’s pants and boxers off all at once. He was already leaking a great deal. Wasting no time, Danny immediately began pumping him, using his wrist for added motion. Roy let out a shaky moan as his head fell against the pillows. His back arched slightly off of the bed as Danny quickened his pace. Having this control over Roy, knowing how much pleasure he could provide him, made Danny feel something he couldn’t describe. Whatever it was, it was good, and made his heart feel oddly full. Danny kissed up Roy’s inner thigh, stopping to suck at the skin as Roy whimpered. “I love you’ lingered on Danny’s lips, he had enough restraint to hold it in.

Danny stopped all at once without warning, not giving Roy too long to complain before taking all of him into his mouth. Roy gasped at the sudden warmth and wetness surrounding him. His had flew to Danny’s hair, the other grabbed at the sheets as Danny hollowed out his cheeks and began bobbing his head. He cupped Roy’s balls, gently toying with them as he continued to suck him off. Roy squirmed beneath him, Danny inching him closer to the edge. When Roy looked down, he was met with Danny’s eyes staring right back at him. Fuck, didn’t he know what that did to him? Didn’t he know that those big doe eyes were the most adorable, yet sexist thing he had ever seen?

Roy tugged on his hair. “Come here.” He demanded. Danny let him go with a pop, crawling back up his body until his face was hovering over his. “Yes, daddy?” Danny smirked. Roy gulped. He knew exactly what he was doing. Roy crashed his lips against Danny’s. Holding him close to his body as his tongue made a new home out of his mouth. As they kissed Roy became more aware of the unfortunate fact that Danny still had clothes on. He flipped them over so he was on top, pressing Danny into the mattress. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head. “You’re fucking beautiful.” He huffed out, his hands running over Danny’s chest and sides. Danny had a crooked rib, which Roy thought was precious and unique to him. He had never heard of, let alone seen anyone with a wonky rib before. It caused a dent in his side, and poked out oddly depending on how he moved his body. Danny always hated it. Roy could remember Danny telling him if there was one thing about his body he would change, that would be it. Roy took his time, letting his fingers trace over the bone before leaning down to kiss across it. “I mean that.” He reassured him. If Danny’s cheeks weren’t already flushed pink, they were now.

Once he acquired permission, Roy was quick to discard of Danny’s pants and little black thong (now wet with precum). He kissed across his waist band, and up his stomach, to his chest and collar bone where he left small love bites. He showered his face with sweet kisses that made Danny giggle. Roy’s heart swelled at the sound. “You’ve got condoms and lube, right?” He asked as he peppered kisses to Danny’s cheek and jaw. “Mhm.” Danny hummed, enjoying the affection he was being given too much to answer properly. “Where are they?” Roy’s lips were now on Danny’s neck, his only answer being a sultry moan. Roy couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. He sucked at the delicate flesh, marking Danny’s neck with a purple bruise the size of his mouth.

Roy removed his lips from Danny’s skin so he could answer properly. “Seriously, babe. Where are they?” Danny pointed to the nightstand. “Second drawer.” Roy was quick to retrieve what he needed, noticing that neither box had been opened prior to that moment. “Dry spell?” Roy inquired as he climbed back on the bed. Danny shook his head. “Vow of celibacy.” Danny snickered. “Which is clearly out the fucking window now. I just– I don’t know, wasn’t comfortable with people touching me, I guess.” He admitted. “You know we don’t have to do this, right?” Roy was quick to reassure him of that. He never wanted Danny to feel like he was obligated to have sex with him just because they’ve hooked up before.

“I want to. It’s different with you.”

“How so?”

“You appreciate me. You aren’t just looking at me as some sort of human blowup doll for your own pleasure. I’m not letting guys treat my body like that anymore.”

Roy beamed down at him with all the pride in the world. I’m proud of you. Danny spoke as if he finally realized all of the worth in himself that everyone else had been seeing for years. He leaned down to peck his cheek, letting the subject go with that. Danny smiled sweetly as he did so. Thank you.

“Turn around.” Roy instructed. He grabbed the pillows from the head of Danny’s bed as he moved off of them, placing them under his stomach. “That should be more comfortable.” Roy’s hands started at Danny’s shoulders, massaging them. They drifted downwards, massaging his lower back next. Danny couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t enjoying all of this attention. He felt worshiped, and taken care of; He always did with Roy.

Roy’s hands were now on Danny’s ass, squeezing and massaging his cheeks. His right hand came up, instantly crashing against his skin, pulling a guttural moan from Danny. “Fuck!” He called out. “Do that again, Please.” So Roy did. Once, twice, three times. By the fourth spank the hand print on Danny’s skin had became so red and raw Roy refused to do it again, no matter how much he begged for it. He blew a stream of cool air against the burning flesh to sooth it. Roy rubbed the area for extra comfort before moving on to part Danny’s cheeks. Teasingly, he traced Danny’s hole with the tip of his tongue. Danny hissed at the contact, needing more than what he was getting, but loving it anyway. Roy switched between lapping at his entrance, adding slight suction to his ministrations, and dipping his tongue inside of him. He brought his arm up to hold Danny down by his lower back as he squirmed beneath him. No matter how times they had sex, Roy never failed to surprise Danny with just how good he was at it. He didn’t know why, but he never expected it from him. The sounds emitting from Danny made it almost painful for Roy to remove his mouth from him.

Danny adjusted his position while Roy reached for the lube he had tossed on the bed beforehand. Roy squeezed a small amount onto his hand, warming it up between his fingers. The bottle was thrown back behind him for when they would need it again. Roy pressed a single digit against Danny’s entrance. “Ready?” Danny nodded. “Yes.” He slid inside of him, muffled whimpers leaving Danny’s lips as Roy prepared him. He added a second finger, scissoring inside of him. Then a third at Danny’s request. Roy had been kissing Danny’s freckled shoulder when Danny thought he had enough. “Roy, I’m ready.” Danny whined breathlessly. He carefully pulled his fingers from him, the loss disappointed Danny, but excited him for Roy.

Roy ripped the condom open with his teeth, quickly rolling it onto himself. He wondered if Danny knew he was just as desperate to be inside of him as Danny was to receive him. He spread the excess lube on his fingers over Danny’s hole, squirting more on to his hand to warm it up then lathering it on his cock. Roy lined himself up with Danny, teasing him with the tip, but not fully pushing inside of him yet. Danny threw his head back. “Roy, please.” Danny fidgeted impatiently underneath him. “Alright, alright.” Was the only warning Danny got before Roy was completely inside of him. They moaned in unison as Roy entered him. Roy did his best to hold off from fucking Danny’s brains out so he’d have time to adjust, Danny was having none of that. He slammed his ass against Roy and Roy took the hint. Grabbing his hips, he began to thrust inside of Danny. The string of moans and curses spilling from Danny’s lips served as encouragement for Roy to pick up his pace and hit deeper inside of him. When his grunts heightened in pitch, Roy knew he hit his prostate.

The way he threw his head back, his wild moaning as if these walls weren’t paper thin, his straining muscles, and the beads of sweat rolling down his back were a feast for Roy’s eyes. Danny had to be, without a doubt, the most stunning person Roy ever had the pleasure of sleeping with; Even from behind. It was a rule of his: do not face anyone during sex, unless they’re your boyfriend. He tried to keep that rule while with Danny as well, but he was too fucking beautiful, and as Danny said earlier, it was different between them. Danny wasn’t just some random trade that he’d regret fucking the minute he came. Roy leaned down against him, pounding into him slower, but deeper. Roy moaned right into his ear, which sent a shiver up Danny’s spine.

He bit down on the same ear he moaned into before whispering to him. “Turn around. I need to see you.” Roy pulled out so Danny could lay on his back, kicking the pillows that were supporting him out of the way. Roy kneeled between his legs, propping both up on his shoulder for the best access to him. He pushed back inside of Danny, the room filled with a mixture of their moans and the sound of Roy’s hips beating against him. Danny had the fleeting thought that his neighbors were going to be pissed the next time he saw them. “Look at me.” Roy grabbed Danny’s face, turning his gaze in his own direction. He pressed their foreheads together, their eyes locked as Roy put every ounce of feeling he had for Danny into their love making–this couldn’t be called fucking anymore. A dizzying feeling came over the both of them as they breathed in each other’s air, their mouths agape as they could barely contain the sounds escaping them. Danny’s eyes rolled back and Roy nearly came at the sight. “I love you!” Danny cried out.

Wait. Wait. That wasn’t in his head. That was out loud. He heard it. Roy heard it, he had stop thrusting. Danny was almost too scared to open his eyes again, so he didn’t. Roy looked at him astonished, though he wouldn’t know that since his eyes were still squeezed shut. Did he mean that? Was it just heat of the moment? Roy knew things could slip, especially the word love, at such an intimate time. “Danny…Do you mean that?” Danny opened one eye, still too embarrassed to open both and face the situation his was in. “Yes.” His tone was defeated, as if he had already made up his mind that there was no chance Roy would feel the same. “I love you too.” That got him to open his eyes. He swallowed down the metaphorical block in his throat.

“You do?”

“I do.”

Roy connected their lips again, tongues swirling around each other. He continued his thrusts with more intensity than before. Danny had already been close when he blurted out his three year long pent up ‘I love you’. They had slept together more than enough times for Roy to know what Danny writhing beneath him the way he was meant. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” He rasped out against Danny’s lips. “You first.” Danny stammered, his hands moving down to squeeze Roy’s ass. Roy chuckled. “Cute, but I doubt it.” Roy bit his bottom lip, knowing how absolutely crazy that drove him. He reached down between them to stroke Danny’s neglected, profusely leaking cock. “Not fair–” Danny’s back arched off of the bed. “I’m gonna cum!” He spilled over on Roy’s hand and his own stomach. Roy only needed the sight of Danny orgasming to reach his own climax.

Roy rode the both of them through their orgasm, pulling out and trashing the condom when they both gained more composure. “So you love me?” Roy cheekily teased. “Shut up!” Danny blushed. “You love me too.” He spat back almost shyly. “I do.” Roy kissed his forehead, pulling him into his arms. “Hey, in my book, screaming 'I love you’ during sex is a lot better than screaming 'not today satan.” Danny cracked up, his neighbors were sure to complain about not only about the moaning, but the cackling too.

“I still don’t believe that story, bitch.”

“Trust me, I wish I were making it up.” Roy intertwined his fingers with Danny’s. “I think this is a better one.”

[aqconfessions]

Not quite a triyad.

A/N: For Wednesday. Girl, be careful for what you request, sometimes authors see your ideas and do what ever they want with it. ;) Didn’t think this was appropriate for AQ, so, let’s try here. Your choice to submit or not.  Not quite a triyad  Chad-Anon sat lonely in the space of AQ  and eyed the crowd. It was little overwhelming for her. She was not a native English speaker and everyone were full of loud, self-important opinions. Some of them conceited, some of them less so. But they were all equally loud.

  She glanced at the ‘TRIXYA 4EVER’-crowd (she named the group after the pink banner they were carrying) and wondered why they all looked so young. Maybe it was an illusion of makeup, but they all seemed barely 16. Most of them wore high heels and adorable tulle skirts. She spotted some cigarette necklaces and a couple Soviet Union flags.

  Next to the pink cloud of ‘TRIXYA 4EVER’ was a more mature looking crowd, a lot smaller one. Then again they all seemed to be drunk and a sweet scent of … something… cling to them, so their maturity was questionable. They all supported heavy makeup, stood like they were posing for a photoshoot and one of them was gathering a survey whether certain outfits were to be ‘tooted’ or ‘booted’. Chad-Anon did not know what that was all about, but the group seemed intimidating nonetheless. “Hi there, you look little lost,” came a sudden sweet greeting next to her. “Mind if I sit here?” Chad-Anon glanced up to the beautiful Asian girl and flustered. “Yes, I mean no! Not at all!” she squeaked and cursed that her voice got so high-pitched when nervous. “I’m Wednesday-Angeline, but you can call me Wednesday,” the girl said, took a seat and Chad-Anon wondered why the girl was not hanging out with the rest of the ‘TRIXYA 4EVER’ - she looked like she belonged. But then again, maybe she was too quick to judge? “I’m, I’m Chad-Anon,” Chad-Anon struggled to say. Wednesday smiled kindly and then suddenly got excited. “Oh! You must know Chad-Admin!” Chad-Anon blinked. She’d never even heard that kind of a name! “I’m sorry, but I…” she didn’t know what to say. “No? Oh, sorry for assuming,” Wednesday laughed. “I just thought because of the name.” Chad-Anon nodded. Yes, the name was similar, but she really had never met any Chads before.   “She’s right over there,” Wednesday pointed towards the corner, where Chad-Anon had been avoiding to look at.

  The corner was the most packed area of the room. There were people EVERYWHERE. They were side by side, on top of each other, some were lying on the floor to make more space and some clinged to other people with their bare fingertips to be part of the space. A dark cloud hang over the group and Chad-Anon thought it looked scary. “What’s um, what’s that there, next to Chad-Admin?” she asked quietly from Wednesday. “Oh! That’s the Shalaska trap. Try not to be too intimidated, they look like a sad punch because there is a LOT of angst going on there, but they’re alright.” “A… A trap?” Chad-Anon asked. A trap sounded dangerous. “Well yes, I’ve only heard rumors, but they say that once you’re in and invested, it is impossible to get out. You’re trapped.” Chad-Anon cherished that piece of information. She definitely did not want to be trapped. Especially not within a crowd that big. “That’s Chad-Admin,” Wednesday pointed at another beautiful girl, who looked extremely self-assured, but somehow also kind. “Who’s that fluff of pink clinging to her?” Chad-Anon asked. It was funny to see the smaller girl clinging to Chad-Admin, as if she wanted all of Chad-Admins attention. “Oh, that’s Shoot, she’s the Positivity of this place,” Wednesday explained and Chad-Anon nodded again. It seemed like a good idea to have Shoot next to the Shalaska-trap. It seemed like they needed some positivity in their lives… “To be completely honest, I think this entire Chad-Admin-thing is just a phase she’s going through,” Wednesday sighed and confused Chad-Anon. “What do you mean?” Chad-Anon asked. How could anyone’s identity be a phase? “Well, you see, Chad-Admin was Voot originally,” Wednesday explained. “But then the Chad-gate happened and now she’s Chad-Admin. I really hope she goes back to Voot once the storm passes.” Chad-Anon nodded. She knew she had started the Chad-gate, but she really did not want to admit that to Wednesday. She had finally made a friend, at least it felt like it, and she just wanted to keep her flaws a secret. She glanced at Chad-Admin/Voot and noticed her giving a kiss to Shoot. Wait a minute? They were dating? “Wednesday…” “Yes?” “Are Voot and Shoot a couple?” Wednesday was surprised by the question and glanced at Chad-Admin. Then she laughed, brightly. “They are! It’s an odd couple really,” Wednesday said, biting her lip. ‘Shoot is always so positive and has very high moral standards, she’s not tolerating any shit from anyone and immediately shuts them up. Voot on the other hand, she’s kind but promotes free speech. She thinks everyone is allowed their opinion and she’s not going to censor any of it.’ Chad-Anon nodded and bit her lip. She hadn’t quite realised what AQ would be like before joining the party. She spotted the Rajila shippers under one of the tables, they were drinking coconut cocktails with pineapple juice and next to them there was a slightly bigger group talking loudly about Aspen and Grammys - not that Chad-Anon knew what that had to do with anything. “So, how are you finding it? Enjoying your time at AQ?” Wednesday asked suddenly. Chad-Anon nodded. She might’ve caused a scandal, but as long as she kept it as a secret, no one would attack her personally. She had also really enjoyed Troll’s Jealousy and really wanted to meet the author. “Do you,” she started and felt extremely nervous. “Do you happen to know who Troll is?” Wednesday looked at Chad-Anon, baffled. Was this girl really so oblivious? “Girl, you need to start paying attention,” Wednesday laughed. “You will not survive AQ if you don’t know who your friends are – and who are your enemies. These bitches will eat you alive!” Chad-Anon nodded, scared. She didn’t want to be eaten alive. “But if you really want to meet Troll, just look at the authors right now, that’s them.” Chad-Anon looked up to the two authors, writing her and Wednesday, mercilessly abusing and misrepresenting their characters however they wanted, describing AQ as they saw fit and painting a picture that not only scared Chad-Anon, but also made her feel like she had no control over any of it! Which in fact, she did not… The trolls winked at Chad-Anon and Wednesday. “Girls, sometimes it’s your lucky day. Keep them prompts coming.”