#(a scoundrel like that will just make you fall in love with him and then break your heart)

[wyvernquill]

One more snippet of the Dreamling Anastasia AU

...in which we witness Hob and Murphy's very first conversation (spoiler: it doesn't go well). Please enjoy!

Link to the Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

---

For a moment, the scene unfolding before Hob makes him think he’s stepped into a fairytale - or perhaps a sweet and strange dream, haunting you ever so gently even after waking.

Once upon a time, thinks Hob, there was a Dream King draped in a cloak of midnight, and he held court over the ravens in a silver-winter forest under heavy, snow-laden boughs…

But then he blinks, and the silly, fanciful vision fades. The cloak is but a dark coat three sizes too large and marked by at least ten years’ worth of dirt and wear, the forest only a small and pitiful park fenced in by roads, and the snow a dirty grey, barely more than half-melted sludge where countless feet have trodden it down.

And the Dream King is only some beggar called Murphy, of course, uncanny resemblance be damned.

But there are ravens. Birds of all kinds, really, the sounds of their wings and their various songs nearly managing to drown out the noise of the city around them. Yet Hob is a practical man, and knows that they gather around their ‘king’ only because they’re clever little buggers waiting to be fed, and not thanks to any strange magics.

(Magic died when humanity rose up and brought the Endless low; and what little survived has fled, concealed itself, and would know better than to enchant a hundred or so birds in broad-if-cloud-dimmed daylight.

Magic died with Dream of the Endless, and all that is left are shadows and cheap facsimiles.

Magic died, and nothing will bring it back.)

And yet… there’s potential there, Hob thinks, as he watches Murphy draw his giant coat more tightly around himself, shivering but still holding his head high and proud, surveying the assorted fowl around him as if they were his subjects. There’s a sharp, delicate arrogance in his bearing that will serve their deception well.

And. Christ alive. He does look like him, doesn’t he. Like the Sandman himself, made flesh and bone and sweat and dirt. Made human. If Hob didn’t know, with absolute certainty… he could swear...

Ridiculous thought. Dream of the Endless would never sink so low as to get himself thrown out of a pub swearing and spitting, human or not.

Murphy’s eyes suddenly snap up, and Hob flinches instinctively, contemplates ducking behind the next tree or the column advertising the latest local plays - but the man’s gaze passes over him carelessly, long neck craning out from the ratty scarf wound around his throat as he scans the sky.

It’s the raven. The large, coal-feathered beast Murphy had with him at the pub, with the clever glint in its eye - and in its claws, it holds a whole loaf of bread, clearly pilfered from some bakery or street stall.

The raven drops the bread into Murphy’s lap, and then lands on his shoulder, cawing and nudging its beak against a sharp cheekbone in a strange avian gesture of affection.

Murphy rasps some sort of acknowledgement in his dark, hoarse voice that Hob is too far away to parse, stroking a finger along the bird’s side, before turning his attention to the bread.

His spindly, dirty fingers tear into it with the hungry desperation of a man who remembers with precise clarity when his last meal was, and also that it’s been far too long since then, and Hob’s stomach gives a sympathetic pang. He’s been there. Not so much recently - but he knows the slow gnaw of starvation, and will never forget it.

(He hasn’t gone hungry since meeting Gilbert, who’d rather skip on his own technically unnecessary meals if it meant his young human companion could eat his fill. Sometimes, Gil even hands Hob fruits he’s seemingly conjured up out of thin air, which are never as filling as the real thing, but taste heavenly enough to stave off hunger for a few more hours at least.

There must be some dream-magic there, something to do with Gil being, in all technicality, a meadow - but Hob doesn’t think about it too much. It’s sweet, the actions of a friend who truly cares, and that’s enough for him.)

Murphy raises the first morsel of bread up to his mouth…

…and feeds it to the raven.

Hob blinks.

Watches, as the man takes his own bite, chewing ravenously, and then tears another bit off the loaf, throwing it to the ground, birds immediately flocking around it, picking for their share.

The process repeats. Murphy goes through the entire loaf that way. One bite for the raven who stole the bread, one bite for Murphy himself, and one for the flocks of birds around him. Halfway through, the raven refuses its bites, presumably full, and from then on it’s one bite for Murphy, two for the birds. It’s already not the largest loaf, and a third of it is hardly enough to sate a grown man’s hunger - strangely selfless, this Murphy character. No wonder he’s thin as a rake.

(Then again, Hob supposes there’s strategy in it, teaching the birds that they’ll be well-rewarded for any bounty they bring him.

Altruism, or shrewdness? Hob wonders.)

Soon, there’s nothing left of the bread. Murphy still looks hungry, but it’s an exhausted, resigned hunger that’s there to stay. Hob doubts the man can remember a time he wasn’t hungry. This city is not kind to the starving, to the poor - Murphy might get a place in a workhouse, if he tried, but Hob doubts that quiet pride still shining through the veil of hunger would let him. And besides, they’re dying institutions, these days, workhouses - the modern world is turning up their noses at anything that might help the destitute, even as it churns out more and more of them. It’s a dark and miserable time they’re living in, and none of the glamorous parties the rich so love to throw these days will convince Hob otherwise.

But, well. If their scheme goes off without a hitch, then at the very least the new ‘Dream of the Endless’ will never go hungry again. Hob’s doing a public service here, if you look at it from the right angle - though he’ll be the first to admit that his main motivation is anything but selfless. Immortality is too rich a prize to pretend he doesn’t want it with every fibre of his being.

And he’ll not get it standing idly by and watching, that’s for sure.

Hob straightens his coat lapels, takes off his hat to comb his fingers through his overlong hair, places it back at a jaunty angle - and walks over to finally officially make this Murphy character’s acquaintance.

“Afternoon,” Hob says, still a few steps away, smile widening into a grin when Murphy’s gaze immediately fixes itself onto him, cold and filled with the sharp suspicion of a man most people go out of their way to ignore, and who does not trust direct address.

(The eyes give him away. Dream of the Endless had eyes like midnight stars, the depths of space and the glitter of distant galaxies eternally reflected in them. Strange eyes, inhuman eyes, endless eyes.

Murphy’s eyes are a pale, washed-out blue-grey, slightly sunken in their sockets, and perfectly ordinary.

No matter - they will already have to sell some cock-and-bull story about Dream having been forced into human form, the eyes will be the least of it.)

“What do you want?” Murphy growls, and that is perfect. The voice. Easily his best asset, besides the overall look. It’s right, scratchy and roughened by disuse, but just as deep and sonorous as Dream of the Endless's was. The harsh tone and tendency to curse like a sailor Hob witnessed at the inn will need to go, to be sure, this man speaks too much like a London gutter rat and not enough like the Lord of Stories - but, well, nothing a few lessons can't fix. Nobody else ever got the voice even remotely right, and this’ll already give them a lot more to work with.

“A moment of your time, m’lord. Nothing more.” Hob affects a cheeky bow, and does not waver under the cold disdain he receives in return. Mr. Murphy’s not a fan of teasing and gentle mockery, evidently - unfortunately, that is about 50% of Hob’s personality. They’ll get on just splendidly, won’t they. “Hob, at your service. Are you aware your lady sister is looking for you?”

A quick blink, even as Murphy’s entire scrawny body and haggard face goes very, very still.

“...I do not have a sister.” He says, only the slightest edge of uncertainty and confusion wavering in his voice. And then, “piss off, Robert Gadling” he adds, uncouth and vulgar, a scowl scrunching up his face. Oh, they’ll need to train that out of him, most certainly.

(Hob has not introduced himself as Robert, and certainly not as Gadling. That Murphy has named him thus nonetheless goes over both their heads.)

“No?” Hob smiles. “You’re not Dream of the Endless, then?”

Another blink - and then Murphy laughs, a horrible dissonant sound that seems like it ought to hurt his throat, the raven on his shoulder letting out a single caw alongside him.

“Are you drunk?” He snorts. “Dream of the Endless is dead. Every child knows it.”

“Every child believes it to be so. There’s a distinction.” Hob tries to take a step closer, but the sea of birds at their feet steadfastly refuses to part for him, so he thinks better of it. “You look exactly like him, you know. You might well be.”

“And you would know that, would you?” Murphy raises an arch eyebrow. “I think I’d remember having once been the personification of dreams.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Memory can be a funny thing.” Hob shoots back. “We don’t remember being born, do we? And some lose track of even more than that. How’s your recollection of your childhood, hm?”

Ah. Jackpot. The moment he speaks of remembering and childhoods, Murphy looks away, uncomfortable. Hit a sore spot there, has he? Memory issues. How interesting. How perfectly convenient.

“...you’ve had your fun now,” Murphy rasps, shifting uneasily, no longer so willing to defiantly meet Hob’s eyes. “I want no part in whatever game you’re intending to play with the London Poor, Gadling. Fuck off, before I make you.”

“Now, now, I really do think we’re on to something, here.” Giving up, Hob knows, is for fools who don’t really want to become immortal. “I’m quite certain-”

“Fuck. Off.” Murphy repeats, and turns his pale, unfortunately-human eyes on Hob again.

So do nearly a hundred birds, feathers ruffling and beaks clacking. The raven on Murphy’s shoulder caws, low and threatening.

Hob swallows, and takes stock of his options. Wonders if tactical retreats might not be just the thing for intelligent men who don’t want to die by bird before ever getting to take their stab at immortality.

“I’m only saying-” Hob tries instead, because he’s a reckless idiot.

Murphy’s eyes narrow, and he spits out a throaty sound like a command, the flock of birds rising as one, led by his personal raven jumping into flight with a sharp battle cry.

Shit.

Gilbert glances up when Hob returns covered in feathers and bird droppings, skin smarting where sharp beaks have pecked at him until he fled.

“I take it young Mr. Murphy was not particularly amenable to your proposal…?” He asks, delicately, lip twitching around a politely-repressed smile.

“Can’t say he was.” Hob shrugs easily, only wincing slightly at the way the movement pulls on his skin. “But I think I can convince him, Gil. Given enough time.”

“If you say so, young friend.” Gil, for his part, does not look particularly convinced either. He rarely is, when Hob first pitches his ideas, but he always comes around.

And so will Murphy.

Hob knows it’s only a matter of time… and, perhaps, some clever bribery.

#WyWrites #dreamling #the sandman #anastasia dreamling au #i had this already written so i figured i would just throw it out too #there's one more bit i've got parts of written but i can't make promises #we will see how it goes! #murphy has trained all his birds to steal and shares generously with them #honestly he may be a better boss to these birds than he was for the dreaming... #matthew in particular does deserve bread though. as a treat. #hope you enjoyed their meet-ugly! #(though honestly murphy is quite right not to trust hob) #(a scoundrel like that will just make you fall in love with him and then break your heart) #(but at least he'll help you reconnect with your identity and family so that's nice I guess)

[ribcageteeth]

10 characters 10 fandoms 10 characters

@aceofvase tagged me, hooray!

Ghostface (Billy Loomis/Stu Macher) (Scream)

Atem/Yami Yugi (Yugioh)

Eowyn (Lord of the Rings)

Guybrush Threepwood (Monkey Island)

Piccolo (Dragon Ball Z)

Ash Williams (The Evil Dead)

Sophie Hatter (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Simon the Ice King (Adventure Time)

Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III (Critical Role)

Griffith (Berserk)

I don’t know what that says about me, but I’m sure it’s a lot. I’ll tag @theonyxranger @krispykrememossnuts @primrosey and @spooksohana, but no pressure.

#june did some explanations so i’m gonna do that too! #1: ok so when I was a little kid i had a nightmare that there was a monster trying to break down the door to my room and it was terrifying #BUT when the door broke it was Ghostface on the other side and it immediately took me out of it. i was like ‘oh. that’s just Ghostface.’ #‘He isn’t scary he just falls down a lot and makes does silly voices on the phone. That’s not a monster that’s my friend Ghostface’ #and ever since then he’s been my friend Ghostface #2: Atem is my ultimate comfort character. something about being the other half of a pair and learning who you are through your friends #3: we love a bad bitch who breaks a prophecy by loophole. I love that she’s a regular person and she manages through sheer determination #4: speaking of being Just Some Guy. Guybrush is the smartest idiot i know and i love that #5: big green husband love of my life ( ꈍᴗꈍ) but also Scary Man Takes Care Of Kid is a trope I love #6: hes a genius he’s a war criminal he’s a scoundrel he’s a hero he has one braincell and a chainsaw hand what more do you want. he’s trans #7: book Sophie has one of my favorite magical powers: it works because you say it works #she also takes absolutely no shit and keeps the curse up herself because she likes the freedom of being old #8: look i have a lot of feelings about the Ice King and they’re way too complicated to leave in the tags of this post #9: finally a toxic revenge narrative that doesn’t condemn the revenge and it’s so early on that the rest of his arc is just healing #10: look. what do you want me to say. i can’t defend that one. horrible awful nasty garbage man. i love him so much. i hope he dies. #tag game

[pizzaapeteer]

A little sappy - Enzo Berkshire

Week 4 of @thatdammchickennugget hogmarch challenge! Used the prompt "May I have this dance?" and slipped in the fireworks too tehe. A wee little blurb of Enzo making your dreams come true. Pretty divider from here

Warnings: female reader, fluffy mostly, implied smut, few mentions of divorce.

“There you are. Hope you’re not hiding from me now, dove.” Enzo’s large frame pops round the bend of the door, his brown eyes taking in your pretty appearance. Hunched over the dresser, knees pulled up to your chest, bunching your elegant dress. Not exactly appropriate for the type of party you were at, which was why he loved it. 

You roll your eyes once spotting Enzo, placing the book down on the dresser, meeting his eyes. “Of course not, just needed a little space.” 

Enzo steps into the room, allowing you to see the full reveal of his dapper outfit, dressed in a full three-piece suit, looking quite the gentleman. Such an optimal disguise at hiding his usual scoundrel appearance, making everyone in sight gush over him.

You had disappeared upstairs to your old room, hoping the memories of your childhood would calm yourself from spiraling. An overwhelming sensation had filled your head the moment you stepped back into the house, the tension stirring below becoming palpable to all of your parents' recent divorce. 

His eyes glaze over your mopey dismay, before spotting the brightly covered novel enticing a groan. “What is that, a muggle romcom? Don’t tell me I'm just finding out now, you're into sappy shit.” His voice held a slight mocking disappointment as he reached, inspecting the cheesy title. Cocking a brow, he uttered, “You ditched me for this?”

Heat rises to your cheeks as you roll your eyes again, stifling a laugh. “I am. It’s not sappy, it's romantic.” Sighing, your eyes shift, moving to the mirror, you fix a strand of your hair falling from your unwanted perfect hairdo. “I’m giving you my full attention now, berk.” 

“Romantic huh.” the sounds of the music float through the open space, the clear sign your father has turned on the gramophone downstairs. His head quips towards it, chuckling, “looks like your family is starting the annual dance.” 

However, you make no effort to move, having no interest in showing face any longer. The idea of contorting your face into a flawless appearance of perfection for your family’s reputation revolts you. It bothered you that it had led to this as you enjoyed the free feeling of dancing. The thrill of intimacy with a person for that mere moment of dance, no words spoken, bodies pressed close. It was the closest thing to a romantic gesture you could get.  

“I’m not going back down.” You state your tone laced with melancholy. 

An amused snicker falls from his lips, sensing your unpleasantness at his suggestion. “Want me to ask you to dance and all that proper shit, cuz I'll do it”. He extended his hand, bowing slightly, his head raised, meeting your eyes. “May I have this dance?” His lips curving into a dampened smile, truly wanting to see you mirror his affection. 

A laugh escapes you, brows shooting up at Enzo’s sudden chivalrous manner, an unusual demeanor for him. But notherthanless, you appreciate his seemingly genuine offer and beam at him, standing to give him a playful curtsy matching his formalities. 

Fingers meet as he holds your hand, his other sliding down to grip your waist. Faces inches apart, your gaze acclamatory, appreciating his way of cheering you up. You rest your other hand on his tall shoulder, feeling his defined muscles tightening under his blazer. 

The two of you start to move, swaying in harmony, shuffles of feet on the wooden floorboards. A burst of warmth engulfs you as the two of you spin, circling in synchronisation, slow and embracing each other’s rhythm. It differed from how you usually felt when dancing, an extra sense of amour dipping into the action. 

Enzo twirls you, his arm extending as you duck underneath it, pulling you back against his chest abruptly. A small oof is exhaled from you, Enzo’s brown orbs twinkling with amusement before seizing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours.

The warmth within you only spreads, heat rising like a flame inhaling gasoline as your lips press back against his. It was everything you dreamed of. While it had Enzo’s flare added into it, the moment was completely romantic to you. Your stomach whirled, the butterflies flapping rapidly within the pit. A scene straight out of one of your muggle books.

As he pulls back noticing your awestruck expression, he sniggers lowly his hand still resting on the nape of your neck. "Don’t tell me you felt like a donkey kick or whatever it is.”  

You’re too happy to feel any offence by his reaction, a giggle rippling out of you. “You mean fireworks?” Hints of a red hue adorn your cheeks. “Will you still kiss me if I did?” 

He cocks a brow, an arrogant smirk spread on his lips as he crows, “makes sense when you’re kissing someone as handsome as me.” Tousling his hair unsettling the gel out of place, his smirk stretches into a tantalizing grin, “only if you let me set off fireworks elsewhere.”  His lips are back on yours once again, spurring another burst of passion exploding within you. As Enzo feels the growing burst of light within himself too, he can’t help but admit that maybe this sappy shit isn't too bad.

Masterlist

#Enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire fluff #enzo berkshire blurb #enzo berkshire x female reader #slytherin boys #hogmarch challenge

[perrywrites]

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 5;

NSFW

Includes; Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya (AKA 2 cheating playboys and then the christian lover 💀💀💀)

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 2 (Barou, Shidou, Karasu) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 4 (Rin, Sae, Kunigami) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Otoya: honestly, a part of him is still unsure of how this entire situation came to be. With you, right here, in his bed - about to let him steal your first time away. It all started off with him teasing you - you were too cute, after all - the way you were so enraptured by him, all starry eyes. And he could tell you were a virgin, he could smell it on you, and he decided then not to lay a hand on you - he wasn’t that rotten. Careful distance, he really tried his best not to get your hopes up. He knew you were serious, that sex meant something to you, and he wasn’t scum enough to trample all over that. And yet, here he is, fully succumbing to your charms. I mean, it’s your fault, for being so tempting, you know? For turning all dazed at his lighthearted teasing, so devoted to him and always running to him at the mere sound of his voice like a puppy, blushing and letting out soft sounds like this when he touches you - because you want him to touch you, want him to ruin you. Maybe, maybe he is that rotten then, because he can’t resist you, and he wants you more than he is able to keep up with his own rule. But at the same time, you know what kind of a guy he is, right? So why are you letting him have you like this? You can’t possibly be that naive, right? The answer to his unspoken question comes when you softly ask him to hold your hand, saying that it’s fine if he doesn’t give you another night, but just for tonight to make love to you like you’re the only one for him. Because you want to lose your virginity to someone you’re in love with. And at that moment, he knew he was done for. “... You’re so unfair,” he says, jokingly, but his tone is heavier than he wants it to be. His hand slides across the bedsheets to intertwine with yours, heart weirdly painful, and his lips descend upon yours like an unlikely promise. He can’t believe his heart is pounding like this, that he’s feeling this soft over you, that he finds your trembles and expressions this heart-achingly endearing. That he’s catching feelings for you. Maybe it’s time to quit his playboy streak and try for something real with you here, because the thought of bringing in another girl into his bed is making him feel sick, and he’s starting to realize he might be falling deeper into this than he thought. A part of him finds you to be so cruel, to be so devoted and doting towards him, and then declare you’re fine with a mere night. How could you be? He isn’t, he certainly isn’t. He doesn’t want to let you go yet, no way. He kisses you, still softly, before moving his lips over to the crook of your neck, sensually sucking a love bite onto you. You moan sweetly, and instinctively his hips jolt impatiently, cock leaking. Hickeys were never his thing, receiving them or giving them, but with you he wants to leave a mark you can’t hide. This, all of this, means something to him, and he’ll make you realize that. 

Oliver: he wonders if he’s scoundrel enough to ruin you like this as you look so sweet and pliant beneath him, adoringly submissive, child-bearing hips lewdly spread for his use. Your sultry gaze as you whine tearfully shoots heat down his cock. Shit, don’t be so good for him, good to him, he’s not the kind of man that can accept the invitation of your dripping cunt in exchange for his fidelity, you know? He doesn’t cut deals like that, only exchanges pleasure for pleasure - he can guarantee he’ll make you cum, but that’s about it. As much as he is the one who sweet-talked you into this, chasing after you for far longer than he’d like to admit, vague promises he can easily escape out of when he wants to, there is an inkling of something now making him hesitate; there is something - guilt? - that eats away at his heart, but it does nothing to sink or dim the ardent flame of his arousal as he gets even handsier with you, greedy hands grabbing at your thighs. You’re so good, too good, so sexy like this, and the guilt isn’t enough to keep him away from you after the longest chase of his life. He can just blame your naivety, right? Maybe even pat himself on the back for turning you into a woman, congratulate you and himself for making you cum twice already before he ruins you on his cock. But the idea just doesn’t sit right with him, for once, and the final blow is when you ask him to hold your hand oh so innocently. You don’t know he has plans of leaving you after a few fun fucks, do you? And now he feels like he’s tricking you, when you look up at him all expectantly and adoringly, and - ah shit - he realizes he’s not scoundrel enough after all. But he doesn’t pull away from you, doesn’t apologize, doesn’t spare you whatever dignity he can leave you with. Instead, he chuckles lowly, voice hoarse and raspy, no teasing dirty talk falls out of his mouth for once as he reaches for your hand. He holds your hand down, still hovering over you, still pinning you down, still ready to take you, because he just can’t resist you. Except this time, he thinks about abandoning his dirty little tricks, thinks about abandoning running away from you, thinks wrly, that maybe this time he’s going to end up with a ring on his finger. He realizes the feeling holding him back wasn’t guilt at all, but something else, something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. 

Yukimiya: he wants to defile the sacred between your legs. Defile the sacred between your legs by worshipping you so good, sinking into you with a shaky prayer. Every touch of his lingers on your skin like sweet sin, and you are reduced to a sound chamber of pleasure at the mercy of his lovingly teasing fingers. You are his every temptation, a taste he can’t forego, impassioned kisses, he can’t get enough of you. He finds in you a religion far superior to any abrahamic religion, and he turns into a heretic to the rest of the world as he melts into being your most exalted and only worshipper. Every sound of yours ignites an unrivalled passion as he feels for the heat of your soft skin, he thumbs your clit like praying with a rosary in hand, lovingly watches you turn holy and blissful at the worship of his hands. There is nothing more beautiful than watching your expressions twist in sweet sin, he thinks, as his mouth latches onto your skin for the millionth time that night, leaving a pilgrimage of love bites across the expanse of your clavicle and soft flesh. He’s proven wrong in the best way though, when you appeal so demurely to his love for you, asking him to hold your hand. The dazed desire swirls with the purity of your affection for him, eyes watery with an oasis of love for him, and it all tugs on his heart. Before he knows it, he’s smiling at you all adoringly and reverently, leaning in to whisper sweetly into your ear as he reaches out for your hand. He is pious in the way he conjoins your hands, grasp firm and unbreakable like a pledge, yet gentler than cotton. He is your worshipper, it is only right if he treats you so delicately, so reverently, the plight of his careful passion rendering you weak under his worship as the head of his cock kisses the entrance to your dripping sacred. He never knew the sweet sin of having you would make him feel so alive, flesh aflame - and oh god, if sinking into your plush walls meant hell he would gladly take the plunge, again and over again. But no worries, it’s only a sin so long as he has yet to put a ring on your finger, so wait just a little bit longer. After all, you are his divine, his goddess, he’ll go to hell for you anytime, but the only place he’ll drag you down with him is the depths of pleasure and love. 

… I might’ve gone a bit far with religious imagery in Yukimiya’s 😭😭😭 his interest towards religious stuff in the egoist bible tickles this strange corner of my brain in a way that makes me go ooga booga 😈😈😈 so I ran with it 

Also Oliver was fun, writing him made me strangely angry 💀💀💀 and I have a feeling if writing him made me angry, then I wrote him right LMFAO

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #otoya eita #otoya x reader #otoya smut #bllk otoya #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku x you #otoya eita x reader #yukimiya kenyu #yukimiya x reader #yukimiya smut #yukimiya kenyu x reader #oliver aiku smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Oh my, we be sad gurls and bois.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Pete rumbles with snores, you move to the couch, hoping for what little sleep you can summon. You can't lay there beside him knowing what you know. You can't steam in the spite of knowing that he can sleep just soundly while sneaking around.

Two wrongs can never make right. You're not absolved. Far from it. You're mad. At him. At yourself. At life.

As you drift in and out, the apathy comes. You can't care. If you let yourself feel, you'll fall apart. You don't have that choice. Someone has to hold it together for the kids.

You get up first, like most mornings. You're restlessly impatient to get the day started if only to get away from that house. From the husband who isn't much of one.

Simone and Malik sit at the table eating cereal as you check your phone. You're on track so far. As if fate is throwing you a soft ball, the morning is going smoother than ever.

You get the kids packed and in the car. Every step is taken on habit alone. You walk them to the school doors and wish them a good day. Then you go back to your car and idle in silence. You're empty, you have nothing left.

You make yourself pull out and join the snailish roll of traffic through the school zone. Your drive to work is over before you know it as you stay locked in a trance. Before you just went through the motions, now it's like you're a ghost, floating aimlessly from one place to the next.

You enter the office, the walls a blur in your vision as you find your way blindly to your desk. Your head is pounding. Amid your early morning scramble, your desperation for distraction, to think of anything but reality, you hadn't even had a coffee. Your entire being throbs from the caffeine withdrawal.

You cup your forehead as you boot your computer. Eventually you'll get up and grab a cup of the weak break room brew. You lean heavily on the armrest of the chair and wiggle your mouse. 

For once, you're thankful to be at work. No fighting kids, no laundry, no scoundrel husband. But you're there and it's just as hard to live with yourself. 

"Morning, sunshine," Mr. Hansen's booming tone has you careening back in your chair as he comes to lean on the corner of your desk, "aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Long night, huh? Husband finally loosen you up a bit."

You give him the daggers. That look that says 'enough'. Your motherly chagrin blazing at full force. He winks and laughs as he taps the end of your nose.

"You're real cute when you're pissed off, you know that?" He puts a hand on his hip, smoothing his index and thumb of his other across his mustache.

"Mr. Hansen," your voice is gravelly with dry fatigue, "is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, I can think of a certain wakemeup," he snickers, "but I'm thinking that you're not really into it. Still, you look like you could use it."

You huff and turn your chair to glare up at him. Can't he bother anyone else? He had his fun, he humiliated you, he made you hate yourself. So what else does he want?

"If you don't mind," you push your chair back and stand, "I'm going to get some coffee."

"Oh, sounds fun," he shoves away from the desk and trails after you, surprising you as he stretches and arm across your shoulders, "this company shit, it's garbage. How about I make you my own personal brew? I got a keurig in my office, just got some French Vanilla–"

"No thank you," you grumble and pull away from him.

You enter the kitchen first as he continues his incessant pursuit. He likes Malik when he wants to tell you about his legoworld. You go to the machine and find the carafe empty. You rinse it and fill the tank.

"You're mad about yesterday," he says as he leans on the counter, "if you're into snuggling, you coulda stuck around–"

"No," you growl as you measure out the coffee grounds.

"I let you go take care of the crotch goblin so I thought we'd be square–"

"Mr. Hansen, it's not you," you close the lid and flip the switch, "really."

"Ah, got it, it's the hubby. He's not taking care of his marital duties, huh?"

"Please, sir, it's not… it's not that," you falter as the lie sticks on your tongue. "Tired, need coffee."

"You look like you need sleep," he shifts closer as you stare at the slow trickle of coffee, "tell you what," he lowers his voice, "you come in my office, give me a good tug and I'll let you sleep in a meeting room. How's that? I'll make sure you get your eight hours."

You open the cupboard, taking out your mug from the bunch of mismatched porcelain, and set it on the counter. You can't even look at him. Not only because he repulses you but he reminds you of how pathetic you truly are.

"I'm good," you insist, "thank you, sir."

He scoffs, "I'm giving you something you're not getting elsewhere. Action and sleep," he runs his knuckles up your sleeve, "beggars can't be choosers, can they?"

You look at him. You're so fucking exhausted that your eyes are too dry to eke out a single tear. It's the only thing keeping you from tipping over the edge.

He smirks and looks at your blouse, reaching to pinch one of the front buttons, "look at that, all put together."

You glance down at the misaligned buttons. You don't even care. You're a mess. You're old and used up and unwanted. Even he only wants to get off, it doesn't matter who does it.  At the end of the day, he'll be just as happy to do it himself.

You're speechless. It's nothing like shock. It's exasperation. Are all men really like this? Is this what Pete does? Is she some girl at the company?

"Forget it," you take your empty mug and spin in your low orthotics.

You stride out and stumble to your desk. You can do this. You just have to get through the day. And then what?

Get the kids, go home, cook dinner, do homework, bath time, bed for them, clean the endless mess…

Tomorrow? The same thing, over and over, until what? Until when? When do you admit defeat?

Hansen struts out of the breakroom. You look up as you see him sipping from a mug; your mug. He meets your gaze as he drinks deeper and passes by.

You wonder the same thing about him; when will he give up? 

🗄️

You feel yourself slumping lower and lower. Your eyelids are scratchy and burning as you fight to keep them open. You cup your chin in your hand, elbow planted on your desk as the emails blur before you. You can do this… 

In a minute, you’ll get up and get a coffee, undisturbed, and really start working. You won’t fall asleep. How could you? Right here in your office chair. On the best nights, you can barely sleep in your own bed. Lately, it’s only been bad nights.

Once you find the energy, you’ll get up. You swear you will. It’s all you have to look forward to. That cup of coffee. You can smell it. You know it’s burnt by now, stale and bitter, but your stomach growls for it.

A few more minutes.

You hear snorts, strange noises that seem to rumble from within you. The clacking of keys and soft clicks continue, almost forming a rhythm as your screen ripples to bars of colours. You feel a weight over you and a sudden shift.

You hit the floor, bouncing on your ass as your seat hits your shoulder. You look up as you awake, only realising then that you dozed off. You blink at your coworkers before focusing on the figure glaring down at you. Mr. Hansen has a hand in his pocket and a foot on the bottom of your chair. Shit.

“Working hard,” he muses tritely.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, disoriented. You can’t believe you fell asleep. You hope this is just a dream, if so. “I… I didn’t–”

“Get up,” he demands.

You scramble to get to your feet. You reach for the chair and he kicks it further away. You’re overly aware of your audience. No one will look directly at you in fear that they might draw Hansen’s attention, but it’s obvious by the lack of typing that they are very aware of the scene.

“I’m very sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to. I was– I’ll stay awake. You don’t have to worry.”

“Go home,” he says curtly.

“Home? No, I can make it through the day. It was a mistake.”

“Go. Home.” He repeats pointedly, “this isn’t a hotel.”

“Please,” you murmur, “please, Mr. Hansen,” you clutch your hands together, trying not to speak too loud, embarrassed as your voice cracks, “I–”

“Don’t make me call security,” he warns as he steps back on one heel, his posture victorious. He arches a brow in challenge. You’re certain he’d love to see that, you dragged out like an intruder. “Come back Monday, well-rested, and HR will deal with your disciplinary report.”

“What?” You gulp. In all your time there, you’d never been written up. Not once.

“Keep digging that hole.”

“Okay, okay,” you go to your desk and open the drawer to pull your bag out. You hook it on your shoulder and turn around, nearing him as you reach for the coat hung on the back of your chair. He watches you with a smug smirk, “I’ll be back Monday.”

“We’ll see.”

His ominous words put you on edge. You recoil and stare at him. What does he mean by that? You’re not stupid enough to ask. You put your head down and march out, burning with embarrassment as you pass your rapt audience.

“Hey,” Hansen claps his hands, “back to work.”

🗄️

You barely make it home. You set an alarm as you get in the front door and collapse on the couch. You don’t care that it’s lumpy and uncomfortable, you don’t care about anything. You forget all your worries for the blackness that clogs your mind.

As quickly as you close your eyes, your ringer goes off. You wake with a groan and roll over, shoulders cramped and stiff as you reach for your phone. Two o’clock already. Your head pulses with the dregs of fatigue. You feel marginally better.

You fill a travel mug and head out to pick up the kids. Along the way, you can’t help but shrink behind the wheel as the morning pricks in your mind. You don’t expect things to go well on Monday.

You pass a Burger King and slow down. You don’t have the money for a Whopper. No, that’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not spending you’re planning on.

You pull in and get out. You enter and approach the counter, sheepish as a twentysomething greets you from the other side.  You smile as you come forward.

“How can I help you ma’am?” He asks, hands on the side of the till.

“Oh, uh, I was… I was looking for an application,” you eke out. “For a job.”

He nods, you see the surprise flick in his lashes, “oh, well, we don’t have physical applications anymore but…” he reaches over to a stack of small flyers beside the till, “if you scan this QR code it will take you right to careers page.”

“Um, right, yeah, makes sense,” you take the slip as he offers it, “thank you.”

“You lookin’ to order?” He prompts with a strained smile.

“No, sorry, I gotta go get my kids,” you fold the flier and turn away, “have a good one.”

You head back to your car. You drop into the driver seat and curse. Fuck, your hips are killing you. You don’t imagine doing weekends standing behind a till will do much for that but you don’t have much of a choice. Even with the second job, you doubt you’ll be able to pay for the babysitter to cover it. What a stupid idea.

You shove the flier into your purse and back out from between the lines. You check the time as you set out to the school. You arrive just as the bell rings and the kids are let out into the yard. 

You find Malik with the other grade ones as Simone seeks you out on her own, too cool to hang around with the other grade sixes. She can be a bit of a loner but not in a sad way. She can intimidate even you.

“Hey, how was school?” You ask as you take them to the car, “did you do anything fun?”

Malik tells you about the popsicle stick houses they made as you buckle him into his car seat and Simone does up her seat belt on her own. You nod and smile, humouring your son’s slightly lisping story.

“What about you, Simone?” You ask as you look over at her.

“I just read. I’m almost done number four,” she shows the cover of her latest fantasy series, “but they wouldn’t let me stay in the library during recess.”

“Good, you need the fresh air,” you tease, “speaking of, I was thinking we could go for a hike this weekend. How does that sound?”

“A hike?” She grimaces, “is dad coming?”

“Err, we’ll see,” you shrug, “I spend all day in the office, I’d like to get out before the winter gets here.”

“I’ll go if dad does,” Simone opens her book, “it won’t be any fun without him.”

“Daddy, daddy,” Malik claps his hands, “I love daddy!”

“I’ll ask him,” you nod and keep a frown from tugging at your lips. 

You stand straight and gently close the back door. You round to the driver’s door and get it, quiet as you turn the engine. You’re not even good enough for your own kids.

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark lloyd hansen #dark pete brenner #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #au #same as it ever was #the gray man #pain hustlers

[morallyinept]

Writing For Ezra - An Overall Analysis Of Our Favourite Scoundrel’s Articulation.

I often see writers mention in their blog/fics that they’re worried or concerned about writing for Ezra because of his loquacious nature. As a fanfic writer it can be daunting to translate an already loved character into your works, without trying to alter their main personality trait. In this case, it’s Ezra’s way of talking that is his standout mannerism and the reason why so many have a soft spot for him.

So, I got to thinking and put together this, somewhat, deep dive into him and his talkative ways. I hope it proves useful for anyone tackling him for the first time (myself included), or even for the experienced Ezra writers already here, who are already killin' it. 🖤

If this is beneficial to you in any way, please kindly re-blog, and also tag me in any Ezra works you write because of it. I’d love to read your work and feature it on my Ezra fic recs list for others to enjoy too.

⚠️This will contain spoilers for Prospect, so if you haven’t watched it yet, then you might want to save this for later. 

Ezra’s accent is Southern.

Ezra’s accent has been likened to a Texan accent with a side of ham. Ham meaning someone who enjoys performing or behaving in an exaggerated style. Not the pig meat. 🐷 And his accent and voice certainly does have that hamminess about it. Back in the day, approximately around 1882, the term ‘ham-fatter’ was used referring to a poor person who overacted. It was then shortened to just ham. 

It was Pedro Pascal himself who gave this specific accent to Ezra. Although it is not confirmed in the film where exactly Ezra hails from, he is confirmed human. In the Prospect-verse there is no mention of Earth as we know it, but that’s not to say it doesn't exist or isn’t referred to by another name. The closest being Camrea or Lau in terms of similarities of planets with land and water. So there is a good chance that his accent stems as a direct result of his heritage from either Earth itself, or a planet just like it in The Fringe. 

In the deleted scene with Ezra and Cee, Ezra reveals he has a brother. This is the only personal information we get from Ezra - and it was deleted. 

Ezra says in the scene where he encounters Damon for the first time, "me and my partner feel we both deserve... satisfaction." 

If you didn’t know already, the term ‘deserve satisfaction’ stems from the 17th century where duels were mostly single combats fought with swords. But then in the 18th century, the swords were commonly replaced with pistols. You’ve heard of the term ‘pistols at dawn’ right? Well to demand satisfaction means to restore one’s honour by demonstrating a will to risk one’s own life for it. Again, this originates from the Southern states of America, during such times where duels were prevalent.

Damon and Number Two actually have a duel-type shootout, which is how Damon dies (aside from Ezra putting him out of his misery).

So yes, Ezra is, in fact, a Texan space cowboy of sorts. 🤠

Edit: Whilst I can only find one source that states Ezra has a "Texan" accent (and it's a film review article, so not based in fact), many argue that he sounds Louisianan more than Texan. Either way, he's definitely Southern, so you can make your own mind up on where he hails from originally, as it's never actually confirmed. 👇🏻

Source of Article

Yes, Ezra is a rambler, but pay attention to the frequency of his actual rambling. 

It would be easy to overdo it on the flowery language when writing for Ezra.

The fact that Ezra throws in some words that are not commonly used in everyday conversation, doesn't mean that he does it ALL the time. Try not to fall into the habit of writing paragraphs of archaic and wordy language, when sometimes a simple sentence is sufficient for him to get his point across. 

Here are some examples where he speaks with simplicity in the film:

“How poetic.”

“The starter, if you don't mind.”

“Funny, I don’t see any mercs. Where are they?”

“This is so exciting.”

“You friendly with these fellas?”

“You got a field kit?”

“It seems I must.”

“Keep it creamy and it’ll be fine.”

See? Short and snappy sentences.

What’s in a name?

Names are important to Ezra; he uses names as a gentle threat. When he comes across Damon for the first time, he uses his name almost constantly: 

“Nice to meet you, Damon. I'm Ezra.”

“Where’re you from, Damon?” 

“Alright, Damon.” 

“Damon, it has truly been a pleasure, but pleasantries pass, it’s time to get candid…”

“So how did you get here, Damon?”

“The starter, if you don't mind. Where is it? Don't make me root for it, Damon.” 

“But Damon, if there is talk of the Queen’s lair, the excitement is momentary.”

“Damon, I have clearly underestimated you, I must stop doing that.”

“Damon… does this mean that the plan is off? You have me all hot and bothered up over the Queen’s lair, Damon.”

“It's a shame, Damon.” 

Ezra uses Damon’s name 11 times in just the first few minutes of meeting him and his untimely death. A name is important for Ezra to gain the upper hand and to subtly manipulate and appear menacing, more so than he probably is. It’s also done to grab the attention of Damon constantly; to ensure that Damon’s focus is directly on him by mentioning his name continuously.

Later, when Cee won’t give Ezra her name despite him asking for it repeatedly, you can see the frustration this causes within him. Because he has no way of gaining influence over her without it.

He refers to her instead as “little bird, birdie, girl & oi, number 3.”

When he does eventually learn her real name, he uses it only once. 

“Nice to meet you, Cee.”

He doesn’t use it again for the duration of the film as their relationship has evolved into an unspoken, mutual trust. Something he did not have with Damon and therefore used his name repeatedly as a way of asserting dominance over him. 

☝🏻So, if you’re writing Ezra, don’t forget to use names in abundance, like he does. Especially if he doesn’t trust or like them. 

Double Entendres.

Pay close attention to the possible hidden meanings inside Ezra’s words too. This might not be deliberate, but his face when he speaks and says certain things hints at a devilish playfulness about him.

A particular scene that stood out to me is when Ezra and Cee are at the Queen’s lair. 

 Ezra says, “somebody ought to give her a go… That's the price for a dry breach. My chem will calm the brine.” 

Now, if you’ve a dirty mind like me, (😜 ha!) A dry breach could be interpreted as ‘a dry pussy’ and his chem is ‘his semen’ that will calm it, or moisten it up as it were. 😏 I like that he can speak with a double meaning, if you're looking for it, but of course this is subjective.

So, dirty talk from Ezra doesn’t always have to be directly on the nose. 

Some more subtle examples are:

“Hello, sweetheart.” 

“Hold it like you love it.”

“Slippery son of a bitch.” 

His tone also changes when he wants to emphasise a point. When the Saters give him and Cee the juice in their tent, Ezra can sense Cee’s reluctance to drink it. 

He knows it tastes bad, yet urges Cee to drink it, without insulting his hosts who he knows could be dangerous. His face changes; his features become sharper and serious as he says "it's good for you, cleanses the dust."

Only moments before he was smiling and jovial. 👇🏻

Cussing.

Ezra never swears, in the conventional sense, for just the sake of it. I get the impression he would find that kind of language lazy. Cussing/swears are saved purely to express his frustration or fear in the situation.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit. Oh Shit. Oh Shit.” - (Yes, 6 times he says it!) When he loses his arm. - Fear

“Slippery son of a bitch… No, no, no. Ah shit.” - When he's mining the Aurelac husks. - Frustration 

When mining for the Aurelac where he can’t separate the gem from the blister due to his physical impairment of only having one arm, Ezra mumbles a long string of unintelligible words in frustration.

Despite listening to the audio over and over, I can’t fully decipher it, but some words I pulled out were: “cob spitters(?)... can fuck more nuggets(?)... in this sleep for snatch(?)…”

Who knows exactly what he is saying here, (if you know, lemme know) but he rambles quickly and incoherently when he swears; especially when frustrated. 

He likes to fill the silence. 

When walking with Damon, he keeps conversation flowing by questioning Damon about the corporate expeditions, and with Cee, he tells her about the channel rats. He seemingly can’t abide silence.

And this is prevalent when he first meets Damon, he says “I can't tell you how refreshing it is… hoo… to encounter another talker.”

It’s safe to say Ezra likes to talk. If you’ve not already grasped that yet. So make that ramblin' man chatter away.

Ezra's redemption shifts his language too.

Ezra fully admits he is not a good man to Cee. He does this first by blaming the way of life that they are thrust in. 

“Why should I trust you? You stole from us. We did nothing to you.”

“That's The Fringe, girl.”

Later he confirms coldly he is indeed a killer when Cee tells him so. 

“You’re a killer. 

“I am. But are you?”

As time goes on, Ezra realises he is at fault for the death of Cee’s father.

“Well you can't... you can't think like that. If you go down that path. It's not good. If you need someone to blame, you blame me.”

You can see the shift in his language from being blunt and to the point in the beginning, to more accepting and gentler later on. Full character transition.

He also refers to Cee as his partner, rather than his daughter, when he is impersonating Damon to the mercs later on. His choice of words here is interesting.

This indicates he thinks more highly of her than he lets on; that she is equal to him. He soon thinks less of the Aurelac - the sole reason why he is on the moon - and more so of getting off the moon intact with Cee beside him. A complete metamorphosis from when we first meet him, and he's stealing Aurelac from Damon. 

“You are not understanding me.”

 “I say the terms have changed.”

“You’ll find a way if you want that buried treasure.” 

“A ride for me and my partner on your handsome craft, or no deal.”

Actions speak louder than words.

Ezra’s movement is interesting, as too is the violence he engages in - it’s slick.

He slices the Achilles Heel first of the merc at the Queen's lair, thus rendering him unable to fight back or run for assistance from the others before ploughing him face first into the acidic hole.

Despite only having one arm, Ezra’s strength is still pretty impressive. He’s quick, experienced and brutal. And not opposed to fighting dirty to ensure his survival. 

Ezra also has excellent aim with the thrower; he kills another merc with only one shot, and in the dark too. That’s pretty kick-ass when you think about it. 

Describing not only his language, but also the way Ezra moves in your writing, will really make him leap off the page when you write him. Be that in an action sequence, or completely fucking you up between the sheets. 🫠

A man of few words in the end.

Ezra’s last words are for Cee:

“You grab the gun and you go. You can make it. Get outta here.” 

He’s fully aware of his impending fate at this point and has accepted it. He doesn’t say anything else, not even when she comes back for him, suggesting their bond now doesn’t need a spoken word to cement it. It’s transcended verbal communication. 

Even when in the safe confines of the pod ascending up to the sling back, Ezra doesn’t say anything, even though you can see he is awake. 

☝🏻In the end, words are not always needed. Sometimes it's the things he doesn't say that has the most impact.

So there we have it, Prospectors. I hope this was helpful and insightful to you about writing for Ezra and how he talks.

He is my favourite Pedro Boy, and despite feeling that I know him pretty well as a character, the thought of writing him still brings me out in a cold sweat to some degree… 😬 So I can understand if you feel daunted by it too. 

There are so many wonderful works already out there that are written fantastically and really captures the essence and the personality of Ezra. And if you’re thinking about writing for Ezra for the first time, please don’t be put off by it - he’s such a great character who can be thrust into so many different scenarios, and of course, you can also mould him to be your own creation. 

That’s the great thing with fanfic and head canon - there are no rules. We all interpret characters differently. And that’s what makes reading about them so fun. 

If you haven’t seen Prospect yet, I highly recommend it. Check out the Ezra deleted scene here too.

Also check out my Ezra specific fic rec list for further enjoyment of this dashing rogue from other writer’s points of view. 

Ezra Thesaurus:

Loquacious. Flowery. Tincture. Drawl. Husk. Gravel. Gabble. Wordy. Babbling. Long-winded. Effusive. Droning. Garrulous. Gibberish. Multiloquous. Yakking. Muttering. Mumbling. Voluble. Cadence. Trib. Rambling. Glib. Clucking. Gregarious. Windy. Verbose. Prolix. Articulate. Fluent. Mouthy. Vocal. Opinionated. Drole. Gassy. Eloquent. Stylised. Chatterer. Logorrhoea. Word Vomit. Incessant. Spit-balling. Bleating. Clacking. Blabbermouth. Windbag. Motormouth. Harping On. Overzealous. Enthused. Mirthed. Crude. All Around The Houses. Effulgent. Airy-Fairy. Prattling. Harpsichord. Waxing Lyrical. Recounting. Din. Tone. Note. Music.

🖤

GIFS used by @uuuhshiny @perotovar @nicolethered @iamasaddie @pedgito 🖤

#ezra prospect #prospect ezra #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ezra is my fav #writing ezra #hints & tips #ezra (prospect) #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #writing advice #writing tips #helpful advice for writing #character writing #writing

[thenyxsky]

When you blink awake, the first thing you notice is his light: on. Again.

It’s spilling from the cracks of his office door, and although it wouldn’t usually be so noticeable, it is now, especially because the golden warmth of his candlelight so contrasts the chill of silver moonlight that floods his room—your room. 

You’re already pulling the thin blanket off yourself as you wonder, How long has he been awake? Has he been drinking water? Has he eaten? How much work has he been given this time?

After a few moments of stumbling your way towards his door, you manage to clasp the brass handle. With a twist and push, there he is: your lover, nodding off over a stack of reports.

You’re squinting a little bit as you move towards him, a hand up in front of your eyes to ease the adjustment from near-total darkness to a well lit room. He hears you, you know, because the moment you’re within arm’s reach he twists in his chair to face the side.

You step forward one more time, now close enough to see the drooping eyelids of your barely-awake lover as he looks up at you, before you finally speak.

“Cyno,” you say softly, “come to bed. How long’ve you been working, lovely?”

“As soon as I finish this,” he mumbles, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. He ignores your last question—well, ignores or he just hasn’t heard it at all. Your lips pull into a frown again.

“Your paperwork isn’t going anywhere, you know.” You reach forward and cup his face, thumb rubbing back and forth on his cheek. Cyno turns and presses a kiss to your palm, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

“The paperwork won’t, but they—the people that—the—”

“The rule breakers? The plagiarizers?”

“Yes.” He sighs, leaning further into your hand. You shake your head and watch as he tries to keep awake. “Them. Those people. Those… those scoundrels.”

Despite your best efforts, you huff a laugh. “Scoundrels? You’re sounding a lot like that old lady back at the market now, Cyno.” He sighs again when you brush the hair from his face; you tuck it behind his ear with a feather-light touch. “Look, see? Maybe you’re a changeling, lovely. You really are turning into her. You’ve got the hair to match, too.”

“M’not old,” he grumbles. “You are.”

“Never called you old.”

“Shuddup.”

Your grin fades into a small smile when he sinks even further into you; you’ve moved to stand between his legs so he doesn’t fall flat on his office floor. Hands having left their places on his cheeks, now they card through his hair, pushing it from his face as he rests his head against your stomach.

“Cyno,” you say gently, “come to bed.”

You just barely manage to make out the words he says into your stomach: “Jus’ one… one more. One last.”

“You can barely keep awake, lovely.” 

Cyno shakes his head weakly. You narrow your eyes. His actions don’t seem to match up with his words: even as he says he doesn’t want to, he nuzzles into the warmth of your body, fingers tracing circles on your knees.

When your hands still in his hair, he whines. 

“In the morning, who do you think’s gonna have to deal with all the little mistakes on your reports just because you chose to keep pushing yourself?” He mumbles something against you that, this time, you can’t quite make out. Either way, you say, “That’s right, lovely. It’ll be you.” 

You start running your fingers through his hair again, and now Cyno melts, giving in. His entire upper body’s slumped against you and so, afraid of him falling asleep on you completely, you push him back gently and pull a hand from his hair to cradle his jaw, tilting his head upwards a little so he can look at you properly. 

“So, what about now?” you hum. Your lover blinks up at you, sleepy-eyed. “You feel like coming to bed?”

A moment before Cyno murmurs, “M’kay.”

You smile, thumbing his cheek again. “M’kay. D’you mind standing up for me then, lovely? Just ’til we get to the bed.”

He answers with a push of his body away from yours, hands braced on the edge of his work desk so he can stand properly like you’ve asked him to. Your arms hover over his sides, at which he sends you a look.

“M’not that sleepy,” are the words that accompany said look, which make you raise your eyebrows.

“Sure, lovely,” you say, guiding him towards the door, hands hovering over his sides. Like you only a few minutes ago, he stumbles his way into your bedroom. Two or three times you have to steady him by the shoulders because he keeps tripping over his own feet.

Finally, you reach the bed. Cyno crashes into it, letting out a satisfied hum as the comfort wraps ’round his aching body. You smile, climb in after him, and pull the blanket over you both.

It’s immediate, the way he reaches for you. Cyno’s weight drapes over your body, and at last, your lover settles against you, face tucked into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped fast around your waist. Your own hands have returned to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. You sigh when you feel him press his lips to your skin: once, twice, and a third time. I love you, these sleepy kisses mean. He does it again. I love you.

“Love you too, Cyno,” you mumble into his hair. “Sweet dreams, lovely.”

#i wrote the first draft at like 2am on a school night #needless to say i revised it many many times #ALSO what do u guys think of 'lovely' as a pet name #should i keep using it or no #that nickname is literally me baring my soul to the world #bc if i ever get into a relationship that is what i want to be called LMAO #nyxlea ✧ genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #cyno x reader #cyno fluff

[panlight]

not sure if you’ve touched on this before hint i’ve been curious lately: does edward actually like alice and bella or does he just appreciate their gifts? i’m not quite sure how to explain it but the more i think about it, the less alice seems like the kind of person edward would like. she seems to be more self-interested and cunning than the saint-like characters edward typically reveres. i’ve been wondering if their bond is less about a genuine like for each other and more about an understanding of each other's gifts.

i know edward's attraction to bella as a person vs her silent mind has been discussed before. do you think edward would've fallen for bella if she were more like characters like rosalie and jessica? for instance, assuming her mind were still closed off to him, would edward still have found bella fascinating if he perceived her to be vain and materialistic?

This is part of why I'm less interested in the gifts stuff that a lot of other people. I think it does muddy the waters with things like this. Like, are Edward and Alice actually compatible as siblings/friends or is it just like "you're the only one who understands because our author gave us these specific gifts?" And at the end of the day maybe it doesn't super matter; they DO have those gifts and it DOES help them understand one another so what it would be like without them only really matters if you're writing some All Human AU that removes the supernatural. In their world, compatibility with gifts is a thing, and probably just as valid as other kinds of compatibility and sympathy.

It is interesting that Edward thinks Rose is selfish and vain but loves Alice, when you know if it were Rosalie spending all this money on clothes they only wear once and throwing parties he would see it as another sign of her poor moral character. But part of it may be that Alice and Edward are different enough that they don't annoy each other in the same way Rose and Edward do. Both of them are more melancholy, more negative, more judgmental. Alice is more fun and happy and extroverted so Edward probably doesn't see his own flaws in her the same way he does in Rose (although they can be similar, too, in their sort of manipulative "I know best" dealings).

With Bella I think the gifts thing is even more of a factor. I mean if he could hear Bella's thoughts he'd be getting a lot of "Edward is SO hot" because that's what her narration is in the book, and I don't know that he's find that any different than how Jessica or whoever thinks about him. But because he can't read her mind, he's able to project on her, and also interpret her choices and actions in flattering ways rather than negative ways as he does with most people. And like I get it. I certainly think things I wouldn't say or do. I'm very patient and helpful at my job at the library, for example, but in my head when I see certain people coming and asking for help I'm like "ugggggh not THIS person" and "why can't you do this yourself?!?!" so if Edward were reading my mind he might be like "oh she's not as nice as she seems, she's two-faced, what a scoundrel!" when it's really just . . . being human?

If Bella's behavior was more like Rose and Jessica but Edward couldn't read her mind, that would be interesting. I guess if she also still smelled delicious he might fall for her, and then make up flattering explanations or excuses for the behaviors he doesn't like in others. "She just moved here/she's lonely/she misses her mother/she will grow out of it/whatever" when he's not willing/able to extend that same grace to Jessica because he can read her mind and judges her on her thoughts.

And this isn't me badmouthing Edward; I'm sure it WOULD be genuinely hard NOT to judge people when you're hearing what they are thinking all the time. That's going to flavor your perceptions of people in a major way. But I do think it's not really a fair or accurate view of a person, because what we DO and SAY matters more than what we think. We can have bad thoughts and re-direct them. We can think something mean and choose not to say it. We can internally grumble but do the Right Thing anyway.

I also think having the first two people he spent any time with being the uncommonly "good" Carlisle (super compassion!) and Esme (unconditional love) probably didn't help Edward get a realistic picture of what most people's thoughts are like. Judging a teenager's developing brain against a centuries-old compassion-motivated vampire doctor isn't gonna be a fair comparison. "Carlisle would never think like that" sure but he's also been actively choosing to fight baser instincts for hundreds of years, and Jessica's a 17-year-old navigating social cliques and history exams. They are not the same.

#asks

[kyokutsu-sama]

_____________________________

The captain's sword

A/n: I've been writing about this man on ao3, I've already posted two works there and I'll post this one there later. This captain makes me feel things🤭(Seriously bro, there's something about men with tough personalities that attracts me...)

Tw: NSFW content

_____________________________

You wondered how you had managed to get to the base without falling along the way due to exhaustion. Your mana was extinct as was your energy, all you wanted to do at that moment was pass out on your soft mattress and sleep for the whole week but it seems that you had other plans before going to sleep.

You saw Yami at the counter and wanted to kill him after he sent you on a mission that almost cost you your life.

"There you are, you scoundrel !" You said, approaching the counter. "You were drinking and smoking while I was there dying, weren't you?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and an unfriendly expression on his face, as if he wanted to intimidate you but you were too mad to be afraid

"With my stupid captain, Yami Sukehiro" You said, sitting next to him and he looked at you for a long moment in silence, the cigarette smoke leaving his lips after he took a long sigh. He undoubtedly liked your defiant air when you dared to speak like that, strong women were his type and he was definitely going to play that game.

"Your tongue is very sharp tonight, I see" He slightly curved his lips upwards

"I thought you liked tough girls with sharp tongues. What's the problem now? Can't you handle them?" You teased and he closed his eyes with another long sigh

"Here, drink" He said, extending the large mug of beer to you

"You didn’t answer my question"

"Drink" He insisted and since you knew he was stubborn, you decided to do what he said

There was no one else there, you thought it was strange since they would also like to be there drinking or breaking everything but maybe they were already asleep. It was late and you were supposed to be sleeping too but since your dear captain was there, you weren't just going to turn your back on him. He enjoyed your company even if you were mad at him and you also couldn't ignore him when he was offering you drinks and company too.

Anyone who didn't know him at that moment would think he was a calm person, with half-closed eyes, a lit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, some strands of his black hair falling over his face making him even more attractive and an expressionless face. However, he was not someone to mess with and everyone there knew it. You also knew and that's why you pushed his buttons until he lost his patience, which was little and led him to do crazy things. He also did the same to you, teasing you every day until you went crazy. Deep down you knew he has a tender heart when it comes to you, even if he teases you twenty-four hours, even if he gives you more difficult training because he believes in you and your abilities and that you can surpass your limits, even though he was a stubborn and short-tempered at times, you loved him with all his flaws. You knew that inside his little heart was you and he himself admitted that to you a lot of times.

You placed the empty mug on the table and looked at him, who still seemed focused on a random corner of the room.

"I finished drinking, are you going to answer me now?" You said, looking at him

"Drink another one"He replied, taking a drag on his cigarette, still without looking at you

"Yami, are you testing my patience ?" You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head slightly to the side

"You're the one testing my patience, princess. Did the mission go well or do I need to go in there and take out the other guy for you?”

"No, I already did what had to be done, I even broke the sword you gave me last week"

"You broke what?" He looked at you as you placed the remaining part of the sword on the table. "Honey, I hadn't even finished paying, in fact, I didn't even pay mine, let alone yours"

“Well, Yami, it looks like you're going to have to start saving more money instead of betting everything on gambling like you always do, even with your clothes” You looked away in the last words, remembering when he came back from long nights completely naked after having bet them on gambling

“So what? My nudity is nothing new to others... and not to you either" He gave a little smile and you felt a slight blush on your cheeks."Now, regarding the sword, leave it to me. I'll see if I can find some money to pay this shit for the next hundred years"

"And see if the next one is of quality"

"It's not about quality when you don't know how to wield it"

"What did you say, Yami?" You looked at him with a threatening look

"Nothing" He said, raising hands in a kind of surrender

"See? You don't even have the balls to repeat what you said to my face, it just proves that you can't handle a strong woman like me" You teased and got up from the bench but he grabbed your arm turning you towards him

"Princess, you're making me lose my mind with all that tough personality. Come here" He picked you up and put you on his shoulder so easily and quickly that you make you scream at his sudden movement

"Yami, what are you doin--" He slapped your butt as he carried you to his room."Are you punishing me now?”

“And it’s just the beginning, baby" He laughed and entered the bedroom

He threw you on the bed and closed the door, you looked at him as he put out his cigarette and looked you up and down, wondering where he would start.

"Why are you looking at me? I thought you were a man of action"

"Be quiet brat, I'm concentrating" He said as he took off his tattered black cape and shirt.

"Brat? What happened to ‘princess’?"

"They will evolve for worse if you keep talking" He said climbing onto the bed and holding your face in his hand

Yes, it would, you knew it would. The beautiful nicknames he gave in the beginning would be the future dirty talk. It was only making the heat in the room rise as well as the heat building up between your thighs. However, he also had to be punished for the mission he had given you and you would take care of it.

"What’s wrong? Why aren't you laughing now?" He asked with a low voice close to your face and you blushed

He would tease you until the end, until you couldn't handle it anymore, take you to the limits and even beyond that. That was his type.

He pushed you onto the mattress and got on top of you, removing your clothes and you helped him, his strong and hurried hands roaming your body. He leaned towards you and kissed your lips, taking your breath away with heat and strength, you hugged him close to you, taking your hands to run down his back. His hand slid between your thighs and stroked the wetness that increased the more he touched you, he pulled your lip between his teeth before settling on your neck and sucking the skin there. You could already feel your sweaty skin and slight goosebumps, you whimpered when he placed his fingers in you and you tight them inside you. The ability that man had to make you forget that you were mad at him moments ago was impressive. You arched your back and both bodies touched, there was no distance between the two and you were delirious with so much proximity. You put a hand to the back of his head, he was still marking your skin and tasting every bit of it.

The fingers moving in and out and scissoring, opening more space inside you as you writhed and moaned beneath his huge body covering yours. His thumb brushing against the sensitive bud and sending shivers throughout your body, making your legs tremble. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure just at the feeling of his lips kissing your neck. You were close but you held yourself back so you didn't have to come before you could take control of the situation and play with him a little too. You grabbed his forearm and removed his fingers from you and turned him around, sitting on top of him, resting your hands on his chest while he looked at you, intrigued that you had changed roles.

"You're feeling very confident today" He joked, placing his hands on your waist

"My turn to punish you for giving me such a troublesome mission today" You said taking the belt off his pants to tie his wrists above his head, to prevent him from touching you

"You don't think this will last long, do you?" He chuckled, looking at you and you smiled

"No, but I just need some time for what I'm going to do. Don't worry dear, I'll be gentle with you" You leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips

You knew that he would go along with it because deep down he liked having you on top showing your strength, that turned him on.

You held the waistband of his pants and removed them. You had the beautiful vision of him all naked and with his arms tied above his head and that only made things heat up more. You brought a hand to his dick, stroking it while you looked at him and saw his hands start to fight to free himself, he just wanted you to continue what you were doing because it felt too good.

You spat into the palm of your hand to make back and forth movements as you felt your insides tighten with emptiness and the desire to take him right there but you liked the idea of just watching him suffer a little. Not that he was suffering from your touch but rather the fact that he wanted to grab your hips and bury himself inside you.

"What's wrong, Yami? I can't see your smile right now" You teased, using his words and he bit his lip, seeing the way you were teasing him

"You're a teaser"He said with a hoarse voice and his eyes half-open

Your hand moved faster around him, his hands fought to free themselves again, you weren't sure if he was closer to coming or letting go from the belt and making you pay for it.

He was right when he said that it wouldn't last long, and besides, he wouldn't need to try very hard to get out of that knot.

And it was when you least expected it that one of his hands was already on your wrist, preventing you from doing anything else, you looked at him after being taken by surprise.

He turned you around and placed you under him on the mattress and pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, looking at your panting and flushed face.

It seems like you would have to leave your revenge for another day.

"You found a way to surpass your limits again, did you?" You smiled and he chuckled

"You make me surpass them"

"Good to kno---" You barely finished your sentence and he turned your back to him and lifted your hips up. All that desire of his was making him impatient and with little time for conversation.

"You talk too much" His hand rested on the red skin after slapping your butt. "Just watch me surpass my limits again"

He was quick to place himself inside you and fill your insides to the deepest point, your fingers grabbed the sheets in front of you and your moans were muffled against it.

“You're so tight right now, Y/n”He sighed heavily."Don't tell me you were thinking about me while you were there fighting?"

He placed one hand on the back of your head, keeping your head against the mattress and the other hand on the headboard as he sped up his thrusts. You could barely breathe at that moment, even if you wanted to lean your head back, his strong hand was pressing you and the only thing you could do was feel your legs tremble and whimper every time his body collided against yours. The others would probably hear all those dirty sounds coming from the room but you wouldn't believe that any of them would be stupid enough to complain about it out loud, unless they wanted to move up the date of their death. He removed one hand from the back of your neck and brought it to your clit to make circular movements that made you tighten more and more around him. You felt the butterflies in your stomach intensifying when you came, your legs weakened and your fingers were still holding the sheets with some strength as he filled you with his cum, until you felt it running down your thighs. He withdrew from you and pulled your body back so that you were leaning against his chest, he bent down and kissed your neck while his arms hugged your body from behind making you feel protected from everything.

He could have all that size and be a brute, but he always seemed so clingy and careful with you. It was as if you changed his personality for something different, not very different but at least it softened this man's little heart a little.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I won't let you go on a mission like that alone again" He said kissing the top of your head and tightening his arms around you

"And I think I should also apologize for breaking the sword”

"Don't worry about it, I'll find another one. Even if it means not seeing my paycheck for months or probably years" He said laughing

#black clover #black clover fandom #yami sukehiro #yami sukehiro x reader #smut writing #fics #fluff #He's the one #The way I could write about him for the rest of my life...😫

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

“Sweetheart, if you knew the things I could do with you, you’d have run away a long time ago,” said the young man standing below the arch of the city gate.  If you looked at him full-on he seemed normal enough, but catch him in your peripheries and he seemed Wrong somehow.  Like he had too many sides to him, or like his limbs were just out of proportion, or like he moved with a grace that wasn’t quite human.  He reached out to run a finger along a stray lock of hair escaped from the pigtails of the young woman he was talking to.     

She groaned loudly.  “Don’t. We’ve known each other far too long for this bullshit.” 

The man grinned.  It was an unexpected grin, usually men like this are expected to smirk, or leer, or smile slyly, or even quirk an eyebrow if it came to it.  But the grin was real, open and glad, briefly washing away the aura of inhumanity and leaving merely a boy who very much liked talking to this girl. 

“But it’s funny.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“But it’s really funny.”

Let’s back up a bit.  Everyone knows that history repeats itself and certain outcomes always arise.  Violence is condoned through complacency.  Tyranny lasts for a while then tends to burn itself out.  Empires always end up toppled in the end.  These are our stories, at least, which crop up again and again.  The principle is true in other lands as well, they just happen to view different things as histories. 

Fulfaran was particularly high in story density as cities went.  It seemed you couldn’t turn a corner without running into a run-away princess, or a charming scoundrel, or a crone (crones were particularly bad – it was a 50/50 chance as to whether they’d try to destroy your life or give you genuinely good advice).  The markets were teeming with exotic goods, the castle at the top of the hill flew its banners brightly in the breeze, and there were established parts of town you went to only if you wanted to a. meet an orphan, b. meet a thief or c. fall down a hole.  Rather a good place for Reynard and Connie, who tended to be plagued by stories. 

Constance was a baker’s daughter who had been taken as a teenager to live in a tower by a witch in exchange for her impoverished family receiving enough gold to live on.  She never fully understood that witch’s motivations but that’s just how it went.  She had immediately proceeded with a number of escape attempts, most of which failed until Reynard had ridden below her window and she had bargained with him until he snuck a rope inside with her food deliveries.  He had claimed to be a prince, but wasn’t.  Connie knew he wasn’t quite human either, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it and she didn’t want to pry. 

She had wanted to go home, but she knew the witch would try to exact vengeance.  So, she said her goodbyes for a second time and started out in the opposite direction, which happened to be where Rey was headed as well (or so he claimed, in truth he had no direction or purpose.  But he liked Connie, she was sensible and she made him laugh). 

Unfortunately, it seemed the two of them were not fated to have an easy path.  For one, events kept transpiring which forced Rey into situations where he was expected to betray Connie.  Said events seemed rather upset every time he simply told her everything and they worked out a solution together.  Connie, on the other hand, was continuously being offered chances to fight royalty and claim a kingdom.  It wasn’t that she wouldn’t like a kingdom, she commented once as the two of them wandered through the woods, but she didn’t think she had the training to run one.  She was, after all, a baker’s daughter.  She could make excellent bread but she didn’t care for administration. 

They also stubbornly refused to fall in love with each other, which seemed to make the stories very distressed indeed.  This was not helped by how within a few hours of meeting they had become firm friends – Connie rather thought they had been expected to be unlikely allies who hated each other at first.  But it wasn’t in either of their natures to hate very hard and she liked Rey – he was clever and cutting, but never cruel.

Eventually the events all became too much, which is why they had come to where they were, the main gate of Fulfaran.  The storied city.  Surely someone here must know how they could get out of this. 

Connie felt herself smiling back despite herself.  “Fine, it’s a little funny but I honestly don’t know how you can say stuff like that in public without wanting to curl up into a ball and die,” she said starting to walk again, under the gate into the crowds.  Rey fell into step beside her. 

“I have no shame,” he shrugged, “besides, I don’t know any of these people. No one’s paying attention and even if they were, they’d think it’s normal.  I’m pretty sure I saw at least three pairs of ‘people who definitely hate each other’ coming in after us."

Connie was going to reply, but she was cut off by a harsh voice that had snuck into their path. 

“Child! I see greatness in you—”

“Oh not today, thank you!” said Rey, doffing his cap to the aged woman in the dark cloak swaying before them.  Connie summoned up her best customer service smile, the one with just enough of a hint of rage in it that it tended to shut people up without them knowing why, and slipped past the figure. 

“Wait!” the crone cried, “there is a prophecy—”

“Probably not me,” said Connie cheerily over her shoulder.  “Try that girl with midnight-blue eyes over there, that’ll do the trick.”  She rolled her eyes at Rey who grimaced. 

“When we get to the inn we’re taking the most boring room imaginable,” he said emphatically.  “Nothing on the top floor, nothing with secret passages, just four walls and a bed.”  The two of them had long since given up on multiple rooms, or even multiple beds.  No matter how hard they searched every inn was always just a little too full. 

“We better do it quick, I want to sleep before dinner.  Who did you say this place was recommended by again?”

“Basically everyone I know who’s been here,” said Rey, scanning the buildings as they passed.  “They say it’s lovely, really quaint and unique. We should be there right around this corner—”

He halted.  Connie almost hit his shoulder but she hardly noticed, too focused on the inn they had found.  It was small and smoky, almost crumbling beneath the weight of the sky.  Hooded figures passed in and out, glimmers of gemstones sometimes flashing out from beneath their clothing.  The sign was covered in enough grime that it couldn’t be read and there was a large board on the front with dozens of papers stuck to it advertising quests, monster-hunts, missing people, missing dogs, various balls, festivals, and competitions, and the best shops to find weapons in the area.  Connie’s heart sank and Rey’s expression told her he was feeling the same thing. 

“I saw a TreacleTavern down the road,” he said under his breath.  TreacleTaverns were in every city and they were all huge and identical.  Connie nodded vigorously.

“Let’s go, let’s go.”  She all but shoved him back down the way they had come. 

As they left she shot one last look over her shoulder.  A young man was staring at them.  He had chestnut brown hair and an intense expression, as though he had seen them before.  He seemed oddly familiar to Connie, though she didn’t know how she might have met him. 

It was probably something very important that she would have lingered on had the circumstances been different.  Unfortunately for the stories, however, she was still extremely invested, come hell or high water, in getting her pre-supper nap.   

#my writing #we are SO back #this is not in fact the first connie and rey story but I never finished the other and I had them floating around #anyway I've read one too many fantasy novels lately where the leads don't actually like each other #also screaming scratching throwing up at the corny-ass lines these men pull out of their asses #once again I present you with a male/female best friend dynamic in which they wander the country and deal with Events #tomorrow I will probably give you the same I have one (1) look

[redgoldsparks]

January 2024 reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Electric Bones volume 1 by Hazel and Bell 

Lucian is the son of a minor nobleman and the CEO of the galaxy's biggest AI company, but he's not so rich that he can't get in trouble. After being fired as a programmer from Echo Station he joined a startup with a couple friends and is now fishing for funding at an elite tech expo on board an expensive and exclusive space vessel. There he sees someone he thinks he recognizes- Ezra, a grey robot, an fully sentient AI who worked on Echo Station as a researcher and partially cost Lucian his job. So why is Ezra now working on the space vessel as an escort? Unless it's not Ezra, but just a look-alike robot model? These questions drag Lucian into the beginnings of tangled web of intrigue which include kidnapping, AI-hacking, and murder. I've been reading this story online as a webcomic for years; you can still read all of volume one here: https://electricbonescomic.com/index.... But last year I also backed the kickstarter, and just sat down to re-read the whole story in print form, including a sexy little bonus comic. I love these characters, I love the rich colors, the lovely sense of flow and design of the pages. I can't wait for volume two!

The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha

Action packed and exciting, this family drama is full of unexpected twists and turns. I loved the focus on female characters: passionate Kai, whose love of martial arts and sense of justice cannot be contained by the normal rules of Joseon society; her mother, Meorhu, a fragile woman with a surprising past; Sura, a thief turned mercenary; and the Gumiho herself, the deadly but alluring fox spirit who impacts the lives of all the others with her magic and charisma. The art is rich with historical details, beautiful nature scenes, and fast paced fight scenes. Lovers of ghost stories, kdramas, and queer re-tellings of fairy tales will find much to enjoy here. I was lucky enough to read an advanced copy of this book! Pre-order it now, or look for it in bookstores in mid-February 2024.

A Nobleman’s Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles read by Martyn Swain

What a delightful return to Romney marsh! This book picks up 13 years after the dramatic conclusion of the previous installment. Luke Doomsday is now a secretary, looking for a new position in a large house were he can keep books and solve his master's problems. Rufus, the recently minted Earl of Oxney, formerly a major in the army and son of a draper, has problems. For one, he never expected to inherit and his uncle is doing everything he can to prove Rufus illegitimate in court. For another, the previous Earl of Oxney was a selfish old bastard who let the estates fall into terrible disrepair, while Rufus' timid cousin kept poor account of the estate's money in a chicken scratch handwriting. Rufus struggles to read at the best of times, and he can barely make sense of his newly inherited account books. When Luke shows up on his door, it feels like a godsend. The men are immediately attracted to each other, though both have reason to be wary. And Luke, in seems, may have come to Stone Manor looking for more than a job. This series is such a fun mix of spicy romance, action, mystery, and danger. I'm really enjoying the setting and time period, which is just after the end of the Napoleonic wars. I really hope there will be more books to come!

Translation State by Ann Leckie

No one is doing it like Ann Leckie! This sci-fi novel uses six different pronoun sets (actually kind of seven, except one is the same set just used culturally very differently by different groups of people). It’s fantastic. We’ve got they/them, e/em/eir, sie/hir, it/its, he/him, she/her, and she/her again except used as a universal pronoun regardless of gender (which works great inside the Radch Empire and badly outside of it). I'm on the fence about whether this book can be read as a stand alone, or if it would only really make sense after having read at the Imperial Radch trilogy and Providence. I suppose it depends on what level of baffling alien customs and politics you are willing to tolerate. This book opens with Enae attending hir grandmaman's funeral, only to learn that the seemingly wealthy old woman had sold her entire estate to a stranger before her death. For the first time in her life, Enae leaves home with a Foreign Affairs job: to see out a fugitive who left Presger space some 200 years prior. Enae isn't expecting to succeed, but sie gives it hir best shot- and in doing so completely upends the lives of a widening circle of bystanders including Reet, a man of unknown parentage, and Qven, a juvenile Presger. This book finally begins to explain this inhuman and terrifying species, and the reason why the Presger-Radachii Treaty defines the rules of so much of this universe. I deeply enjoyed this installment; it makes me want to go back and re-read the original trilogy.

Brooms by Jasmine Walls and Teo Duvall 

Set in an alternate 1930s, Mississippi, this story follows a group of friends and found family who have to hide their magic from the restrictive and racist government. They survive at the margins, but they don't let the fear of prosecution stop them from doing what they love: racing together as a team. Deep in the woods seers and witches host carnival like events where racers on brooms compete for prize money and glory. Each of them has reasons why they need to win; lives and futures depend on it. This book is deeply queer with a diverse and magical cast. If you're looking for historical fiction where the trans and lesbian brown witches win, this one's for you.

Boys Weekend by Mattie Lubchansky

Sammie is a recently out nonbinary transfemm but their college friend group has not picked up on that fact yet. When Sammie is invited to be the "best man" at their friend Adam's wedding and attend a bachelor weekend at a high-tech, no-laws resort built on top of the Pacific Garbage Patch they decide to go in stealth mode. The resort is a pyramid scheme mutated with a strip club, business conference, all you can drink brunch bar, pro-gamer, most-dangerous-game corporate nightmare. Also, the waters around it are infested with terrifying flesh-eating monsters and someone is trying to raise an eldritch god. It takes every bit of queer resistance Sammie possesses to survive this bleak, hilarious, and surprisingly moving tale. In both their fiction and nonfiction comics, Lubchansky continues to hold up the black mirror to our own dystopian times.

Belle of the Ball by Mari Costa 

A very queer high school rom-com comic with a satisfying message about growing into yourself and seeing others truly for who they are. It opens with a love triangle, but subverts that form into a more complicated shape by the end of the tale. Strong character designs and very effective limited color palette.

The Moth Keeper by K. O’Neill 

In a desert village, a group of folks choose to live a nocturnal life to keep the moon company, and to care for a small group of magical moths, the only creatures who can pollinate a magical tree which helps sustain the whole ecosystem. One youngster, Anya, volunteers for the important but lonely job of Moth Keeper. She yearns to be of service to others, and feels she must earn her place in the village. In reality, help and friendship are only an ask away, and in this space everyone is cared for. This is a very beautifully illustrated and brief tale of responsibility, community, and resilience.

Feeding Ghosts by Tessa Hulls

What an accomplishment! I savored every page of Feeding Ghosts, absolutely floored by the labor and courage that went into the writing of this book. The inking is gorgeous, the history is clear, digestible, and devastating. This book threads the line between honesty and compassion in a way that I appreciate so much in any memoir, but especially one dealing with family. Hulls lays out the story of three generations of women starting with her grandmother, Sun Yi, a Shanghai journalist who faced intense persecution during the rise of Communism in China, who penned a popular and scandalous memoir and then suffered a mental breakdown. This left her only daughter, Rose, a student at an elite boarding school with no parental figures and no other family to lean on. Eventually Rose earned a scholarship to an American university and in the end moved her mother into her California home. Sun Yi haunted that home during the author's own childhood. The unexamined trauma and codependency of Sun Yi and Rose drove the author to the extreme edges of the Earth, seeking freedom from their ghosts. But in the end, she stopped running from her family history and turned, instead, to face it. Shelve this book with Maus, Fun Home, Persepolis and The Best We Could Do.

I Keep My Exoskeletons To Myself by Marisa Crane read by Bailey Carr 

I really struggled with this book. I almost DNFed at 25%. Ultimately, I did finish it, and I am glad I did because I think the final act was my favorite part of the story. However, I think the title and cover set me up with expectations of what this book would be which were very different than what the book actually delivered. This is not science fiction- despite the fact it was nominated in the science fiction category in the Goodreads Choice Awards. It is only barely speculative. This is a book about grief, depression, and parenting a baby and then a young child as a single mom struggling with loss and borderline alcoholism. There were passages of the book which struck hard, individual observations and lines which rang like bells. There is also nearly no plot and I was frustrated by the lack of world building. I wanted to know more about the laws governing extra shadows- were Shadesters allowed to vote, hold passports, travel across state lines? Had anyone experimented with the removal of Shadows? When and how did cameras get installed in apparently every home in American, and how did the government hire and pay for a workforce of seemingly 1:1 surveillance agents to citizens? Also, how on earth did Kris manage to pay for a whole apartment on a single salary working a call center job, especially when as a Shadester she had to pay extra taxes? I understand that this is literary fiction, and these questions are obviously not the ones the book was interested in answering. But it felt strange to me that a book so focused on parenting would not include a single passage about struggling to pay for or arrange childcare. The "pop quizzes" that break up the text did not work well in audio, and did not add anything to my experience of this book. Ultimately, I would only recommend this novel to a vary narrow audience of readers who enjoy lit fic, and are willing to spend a lot of time in the POV of a character teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown through much of the story.

Atana and The Firebird by Vivian Zhou

Atana is a mermaid, but she was banished from her home to live alone on island for a reason she doesn't understand. One night a curious young firebird leaves her flock in space to come down and visit Earth, and she convinces Atana to go an adventure. They are soon pursed by magic hunters, but they also make friends, and end up as invited guests in the Witch Queen's palace. She makes them welcome in her massive library and gardens, but she also has ulterior motives. This is a fast paced story of magic, friendship, and young people slowly learning about the forces larger than themselves that shape their world and their lives. I really enjoyed the art, it has a very active, energetic line which serves the action scenes particularly well. I can tell the author came from an animation background! I am glad that the ending set up potential future installments in this world.

Portrait of a Body by Julie Delporte  

I really loved the colored pencil illustrations of this book, especially the botanical drawings, and the kind of abstract relation of the text and images. I thought the drawings paired extremely well with the hand lettering even if at times I struggled with some of the cursive capitals. This is a candid memoir of recovering from sexual assault and a dysfunctional relationship to ones body and sexuality, of stepping into queerness and self-acceptance. I couldn't really relate to the author's journey, but I appreciated the honestly and thoughtfulness with which the more challenging themes were handled.

Fool’s Fate by Robin Hobb read by Nick Taylor 

This book, and this series, has earned Robin Hobb a permanent place in my list of favorite authors. This story goes so hard, weaving together threads that are 9 volumes and 30 plus years of in-story history in the making. The final confrontations, reunions, and farewells at the end of this story were hard earned and so well written. This very much felt like it could have been a final volume of the Realm of Elderlings series, but I know that there are 7 more books to come and I can't wait to see what else this series has in store for me!

System Collapse by Martha Wells read by Kevin R Free 

This book picks up right after the end of the previous volume and I had, unfortunately, completely forgotten most of the previous plot. Once I got myself oriented I still had a great time with it. Wow, I just love watching Murderbot learn and grow and solve problems in unique and interesting ways! I kind of want to go back and re-listen to the whole series.

The Chromatic Fantasy by H.A. 

This comic blew me away. One of the most beautiful, strange, artistically ambitious and deeply trans books I've read in a while. Aesthetically, its as rich as a stained glass window or illuminated manuscript. Its narrative is psychedelic but emotionally it rings so tender and true. The story opens with Jules, a transman trapped in a nunnery who accepts a deal with a devil who promises to help him live as a man. Possessed and impervious to physical harm, Jules turns to a life of debauchery and crime. Then he meets another trans criminal, the poetic thief and thespian Casper, and they begin to fall for each other. They see each other as no one else ever has, they validate and treasure one another, but Jules' devil is a jealous master. The devil would rather see Jules burn than thrive. This is one of those books that made me want to draw, made me want to write, made me want to be bolder, weirder, freer, wilder in my story telling. An instant favorite, I expect I'll return to this over and over.

Mall Goth by Kate Leth

Liv's parents are on the verge of divorce; they've just moved to a new town and Liv will be starting at a new high school. At her last school, Liv was bullied for being openly queer and an unapologetic mall goth, and she is understandably hesitant to accept friendship overtures at the new school. However, a supportive male English teacher and a fellow goth gamer boy start to make Liv feel welcome. The goth introduces her to an MMORPG and the English teacher praises her essays and gives her Lolita. Both of them start regularly DMing Liv late into the night, more than is appropriate for the relationships they have. This book is in large part about a teen navigating confusing advances and how and when to disclose things that make her uncomfortable but feel hard to speak about or define. I thought that aspect of the story was handled very well. Some of the pacing in the friendship plot lines surrounding it felt a bit rushed, a few sections underdeveloped, but ultimately I think this book tackled an important issue not often seen in YA comics. It is also steeped in early 2000s Hot Topic/emo music/pop culture references- if you were there, you'll know.

What’s Wrong? Personal Histories of Chronic Pain and Bad Medicine by Erin Williams 

Williams illuminates, through memoir, interviews, and mixed media illustrations the extreme failures of the US healthcare system to address chronic pain. These failures are especially common for patients of color, patients who struggle with addictions, patients who are queer or survivors of assault and trauma. If you had any illusions that the systems of medical care are working in this country, shed them now. This book is half cathartic, half infuriating to read. I really appreciated the honesty and vulnerability of the interviewees and the trans and nonbinary inclusiveness of the language surrounding pain tied to the reproductive system.

#maia kobabe #reading #books #book reviews #comic book reviews

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @kertneyk for this absolutely fabulous commission!! @aka-indulgence's rattlesnake bounty hunter Sans is one of my favourite characters. He's a fiend- but he's also a delight to write~

---

Sweeping and cleaning the saloon took a lot less time than you expected. You supposed that the first winter frost had done you a favour, freezing the ground so well- there was less mud and dust coating the floor because less was being kicked up. Everyone had been much less rowdy tonight, far too tired from trying to stave off the cold; most folks just wanted a warm seat and a beer. 

Your pa gave you a pat on the shoulder, and took over for you for the night. In the winter, he liked to keep the saloon open all night; he said that when he was young, few things had been more comforting to him than the lights of an open tavern after a long hard winter workday. There was also the unspoken fact that both of you knew a few of the men curled up in their seats weren’t just passed out from drunkenness... many didn’t have enough money for a bed. They had the coin for cheap drinks, and little else. The saloon was the only place they could stay the night where they knew they wouldn’t be cold.

You wrapped your shawl around your shoulders, making sure to close the door quickly behind you. No need to worry about the locks tonight- also no need to worry about walking home. You quickly made your way back toward the house, the full moon showing you your way, cold but bright.

... But you didn’t go through your front door. You went around the back. Light trickled out from under the guest room door, it was no doubt lovely and warm in there.

... Were you happy Goldenfang was lodging with you, taking up your guest room? No, damn him, you weren’t. The scoundrel made your life hard enough, and now he was constantly within shouting distance of you. But he’d been in your little, middle-of-nowhere town for months now, refusing to leave, and him staying with you was the better alternative because you were sure the poor old innkeeper would’ve dropped dead from stress if Goldenfang spent another night in his establishment. Sans was all too keen to take up residence with you instead, when you offered. 

True to his name, he seemed to have a never ending hole of money that he’d been using to rent the space out. Hunting outlaws was nothing if not lucrative, and although he was a menace, he certainly had the coin to make it worthwhile. The money was helpful- stars know money was hard to come by, this close to nowhere. 

Unfortunately though, his proximity had made you grow to... TOLERATE his company. You’d never admit it to him, his already-sizeable ego would grow so big it’d make his head fall right off his broad shoulders.

You knocked, gently. “... Sans? It’s me.”

You knew he’d heard you, because there was a gentle rattling sound behind the door that quickly subsided again. You had to grit your teeth together to stop yourself from feeling a little swell of softness in your chest. Sans’ tail only rattled when he was angry, or excited, and sometimes when he saw you for the first time in a while he’d rattle like he couldn’t help himself. Your pa said it was like a dog’s tail wagging at the sight of its master.

... Again, were it anyone else, it would’ve been sweet. But because it was him you refused to acknowledge it.

“Y’know, bargirl, I saw Goldenfang in town a year back when he caught Sammy Sparrow and bought him in. I ain’t never seen him let someone talk to him the way you talk to him. Yer aware that if anyone else spoke to him like that, they’d be a stain on the floor, right?”

He was an incorrigible flirt and a big, shit-faced bully. You wouldn’t let yourself be swayed into feeling anything soft for a violent gunslinger.

... Sans opened the door. 

It always caught you off guard, how massive he was. Barrel chested and built like an ox. His frame filled most of the doorway, blocking out the light; the moon brightened his silhouette significantly, glancing off his golden tooth, but your gaze was always drawn up to his red hot eyelights. So small, yet so red, the colour piercing through any gloom no matter how thick.

... He looked tired, though. His sockets were sloped and shadowed, he was missing his signature hat and jacket, only wearing an old button up linen shirt. When he looked down and saw you, his face brightened a bit, huge crimson tail shifting out of sight in excitement.

“awwh.” He got some of his signature sharp grin back. But his voice was gruff, husky, like he’d just woken up, and he had pronounced eye bags. “ya came to check up on me? i’m flattered. you missin’ me, pretty thing?”

You wouldn’t admit he was right. You had been worried. Sans never missed a day when you were at the saloon, if he was kicked out (usually after several strikes from your broom) he’d just wait outside the bar entrance for you to finish, a cigarette between his teeth.

... You folded your arms, glaring up at him, totally unimpressed.

His sockets lidded. Another tiny rattle, that died out again. He was feeling pretty rattly tonight. “i love it when ya look at me like that, doll.”

“Like I wanna cut you tail to snout, and make somethin useful outta your skin, like a bedroll or a cute purse?”

“damn right i’d make a cute purse.” He drawled. You weren’t expecting that to come out of his mouth; you weren’t fast enough to disguise your smile. He noticed, the smug fuck. You quickly covered it up with a nose-wrinkled sneer.

“Whatever.” You moved forward, ready to walk into his room to talk.

... He leaned to the side, putting his arm up on the door frame. Body blocking you.

“u-uh... heheh...” He was trying to look casual. “you can’t...”

...

The glare you shot him must’ve been something else, because he visibly shrank back. Like hell you were gonna let him tell you what to do. 

“You got a woman in there with you?”

He blinked, then quickly got indignant, brows creasing; “what? no. what do you take me for, darlin’? you really think i’d skip out of spendin’ time with you to fool around with some other dame?”

You paid him no mind, easily ducking under his arm and coming out of the cold. To be fair, he was being honest, there was no one else in there... but the room looked a mess, the bed was just a big collection of blankets and-

- the door closed behind you. You felt something big push against your chest, and suddenly you were up against the wall, pinned like a butterfly in a frame. You let out a quick, shallow gasp; it was his hand. Sans was holding you against the wall with just his palm, sharp phalanges splayed to stop the clawed ends from tearing your clothes.

“H-hey!” Your tiny hands came up to fight at his massive skeletal one. No luck; the fact that he clearly wasn’t expending much effort to keep you down was salt in the wound.

“doll.” He crooned. “i’m serious. now ain’t a good time.”

You were slightly concerned that the only emotion that rose to prominence was hot embarrassment at being so easily and effortlessly restrained. You weren’t afraid at all, despite being pinned against a wall while alone in a room with a violent bounty hunter who’d made his interest in you abundantly clear.

You looked up at him. You’d been alone with him enough, by this point. Sans was a devil of a snake... but one thing you knew for absolute certain about him, was that he’d never hurt you.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “... Okay. Alright. I’ll admit it.”

He paused.

“Sans... I’m worried.” Your voice was uncharacteristically gentle considering the history of your conversations with him. “What’s wrong with you?”

For once, he seemed off guard. His smile slipped. “... huh?”

“You’re acting off.” You tilted your head a little, imploring, softening despite his hand still squashing you against the wall. “You’ve always got a temper on you, but recently, it’s gotten outta hand. I mean... I had to kick you out because you shot that man in the arm for literally just touchin’ me. And when I came outta the saloon, you weren’t waitin’ in your spot. Is somethin’ wrong? Are you feelin okay?”

You still remembered the look on his face, when the drunk idiot had touched you. 

Under the shadows created by the brim of his hat, one crimson eyelight was visible, glaring out, burning a hole into the man. The rage in Sans’ stare burnt hotter and redder than the barrel of any fired gun. A constant, grating sound filled the saloon- the sound of his rattle, shaking quickly and furiously.

... Sans had been in a foul mood. Fouler than usual. It had been that way for several days- though his gentleness and playfulness with you hadn’t changed, something in the way he interacted with outlaws had been shifting. Darkening. His temper had thinned, he didn’t seem quite so boisterous or gleeful. He’d stopped taunting, and started just going for the kill. 

...

His eyelights darted away. It was strange, seeing such a massive and feared man seem... well. Nervous. You had to remind yourself every now and then that this was Goldenfang, the legendary bounty hunter.

His voice was low, a cautious thrum. “... you can’t say nothin’ to nobody.”

“Course.”

...

“... have ya heard of ‘wintering’?”

Your brow creased. He took that as a no.

“it’s somethin’ us naga do when it gets cold.” He took his hand off your chest, but one phalange kept absentmindedly playing with the neck of your shawl. “leftover instincts, from back when we were wild. winter’s a dangerous time fer snakes so our heads go a bit loony.”

“Loony? What happens?” His tail brushed up against the back of your legs, you were used to him doing that, he had a thing for surrounding you with his body. 

“we get tired, mostly.” That explained why he looked so sleepy. “end up sleepin a bunch more, our bodies wanna hibernate. but we also get angrier, an’ scarier, since only the strong would survive the cold. we’re more defensive of what we think is ours.”

Your eyes narrowed. “... So you think I’m yours?”

He grinned, warmly, the expression making your heart flutter without your consent. Carmine dusted his cheekbones and he removed his hand. “well. i certainly like thinkin’ about it that way, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, but less out of genuine upset, and more just playfully. More of his tail wound around you.

“i thought i’d just... stay here and sleep, ‘stead of followin’ you to the saloon.” He said, gaze resting on your neck. “my mood’s been gettin’ worse.”

“Keepin’ out of trouble? Ain’t like you at all.”

Sans chuckled.

...

“... i don’t regret shootin’ that rat fer touchin’ you.” He said, simply. His eyelights hardened, for a moment, a glimpse of the monster everyone feared. But they softened again before they returned to your face. “... but i don’t like scarin’ you. i’m just gonna get more an’ more possessive an cranky. better i’m cranky in here, without a gun in my hand, huh?”

...

What was going on? He was so different. He was usually so much more... lecherous. So much more Goldenfang. Is this what wintering did? You’d already warmed up to this brute much more than you’d ever admit, and you’d warmed up to his worst side. Right now, there was something so oddly sweet about him. Maybe it was the tiredness, making him soft, or maybe you were just more attached to Sans than you were ready to admit.

“... How’re you feeling?”

“i wanna nap.” He made a face, tone suddenly grouchy. “an’ i got a headache like a cow hoofed me in the skull.”

That made you giggle a bit. He was delighted to get that reaction. He only usually got a laugh that open when he’d coaxed you into sharing some drinks with him.

“... Well.” You righted your shawl. “Thank you for telling me why you’re actin’ so weird. I should head to my room, if you wanna sleep.”

...

“hey, doll.” More of his tail started sliding around you. Your lower legs were now completely covered. “i... do you think you...”

...

“You ain’t subtle.” You teased. “You want me to stay?”

“my head’s all over the place right now. it’s real cold, i hate bein’ cold. i can feel it in my bones. it’d... be real nice, havin’ somebody warm nearby.”

...

... If you went to your room, you’d have to start up the fire. You’d be cold for quite a while until the wood caught, and you’d be even colder as you waited for the heat to actually fill the room. It was nice and warm in Sans’ room already, he’d clearly had the fire going for a while... and even though you were used to it, you didn’t like sleeping alone. 

... Also, you felt bad about leaving him on his own, when he was like this. It felt like caring for him when he was drunk- it was okay to be softer than usual, because he wasn’t in the right mind. He couldn’t help it if he was wintering.

...

“... Sure, alright. I can stay. But no funny st-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence, Sans’ tail suddenly squeezed you in excitement, lifting you clean off the floor; you had time to let out a surprised yelp, but not enough time to process Sans scooping you into his giant arms. The air was immediately filled with the sound of his tail rattling. He wasted no time in carrying you over to the mess of blankets and pillows he had turned his bed into- he all but crashed into the mattress, drawing you up and into his chest, his massive tail looping over you like a heavy scaly blanket.

He pressed his face into your hair, giving you one more squeeze before easing- he had a huge grin on his face, jagged teeth pulled into an almost goofy smile, and he was making a delighted hissing sound you’d never heard him make before.

“... Damn.” You said, looking up at him, slightly breathless from surprise. “You’re secretly a total softie, ain’tcha?”

His breath ruffled your hair, he looked faux-offended. “secretly? i got no secrets from you, doll.”

You were surprisingly comfy in his arms, despite how his size completely swamped yours. “I’m gonna tell everyone that Goldenfang is real cuddly when it gets cold.”

He let out a low, drawling laugh. You could feel it through his ribcage.

“c’mon darlin. i got a reputation to uphold.”

... You didn’t expect the sound of his rattling tail to be so soothing.

#commissions #a big ol' snek wants some big ol' cuddles

[jaycewrites-192000]

First Ride

Summery: Reader’s first time taking a ride with her brothers.

Pairing(s): Platonic!Nahoya Kawata x Platonic!Reader x Platonic!Souya Kawata

Warning(s): None

“Why not? It can’t be that dangerous.” You say after being rejected for the third time. Previously, you had asked your brothers if you could drive one of their bikes. And every time, they said no. “It can’t be that hard either. It’s just like a normal bike, but bigger and with an engine right?”

“Right. Except not.” Smiley tells you. You roll your eyes. “It’s different.” Said Angry. “Unlike a normal bike, if you crash, you won’t just get bruised up or a broken bone or two. You could die.” He explains. “It took us a few tries before we finally got the hang of it.”

“Fine. Can I at least ride with you?” You asked. “I don’t see why not.” Smiley shrugs before getting on his bike. “Hop on.” You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

“No? Weren’t you just whining about not getting to drive?” Smiley asks. You cross your arms. “I’m not riding with you. I can already tell what you’re planning.”

“Sis, do you think I’m sort of scoundrel?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.” You nod. “You’re not gonna go easy with me. I know as soon as I get on with you, you’re gonna speed off.”

You only accuse him of that because something similar happened when you were kids. When you rid with him on an actual child’s bike. You hopped on the back, and he sped off like lightning. You thought you were gonna fall off or, be sick or, die maybe.

“I’m riding with Souya.”

Smiley shrugs. “Whatever you say.” Angry got on his bike, and you joined behind him. Angry looks back at you. “You can hold onto that bar back there, or onto me. But since this is your first time, I suggest you hold onto me. It might be easier.” He tells you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” You say as you hold onto the bar behind you. “Ok. I’ll go slow at first.” Angry says before starting the engine and the bike started moving. As soon as you felt it and yourself move, your arms instinctively shot forwards and wrapped tightly around Angry. Maybe a little too tightly.

“Y/n!” Angry wheezes. “Can’t breathe!”

Smiley laughs at the display. “Y/n you scared?”

“Shut up!” You yell. “I was just surprised that’s all.”

“Whatever ya baby.”

“Nahoya!”

“Y/n…my ribs…” Angry groans. “Oh, sorry.” You let up on your hold. Angry exhales. “Do you want to keep going?” He asks. You nod your head. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Yeah, let’s see if she can handle going around the block.” Smiley says smugly.

“Nahoya, don’t make me come over there and beat your ass!”

“Love to see you try wimp.”

Angry sighs. “You guys…”

The three of you made it back home, and you felt like you did better than your thought you have. There were a few turns and spots where you got nervous, but other than that, it was pretty fun. “So how was it?” Angry asks you, as he turns off the engine. “I liked it.” You said with a smile.

“How are your ribs Angry?” Smiley asks his brother. You shot Smiley a glare. “Honestly…” You turned to face Angry again as he started. “Souya? Did I actually hurt you?” You asked worryingly.

“No it’s just…That whole time it felt like a two mile heimlich.”

“Huh!?”

“I’ll definitely have bruises.”

“Souya!?”

“Good job sis. You managed to injure Angry without even hitting him.” Smiley chuckles. You decided to ignore that as you frantically apologized to Angry.

Eventually you got use to riding with them, you even let Smiley drive you around a few times. But he did end up proving you right by trying to spook you as he drove. Speeding up, taking sharp turns, and all that. But even after that, you got use to it all.

#tokyo revengers #nahoya kawata x reader #souya kawata x reader #nahoya kawata #souya kawata #smiley x reader #angry x reader

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do you have any queer historical romance recs? Are there any upcoming 2024 queer historical romances that you’re excited for?

Absolutely, I have recs! As for 2024 books, I'm currently most looking forward to You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian, which is an m/m romance set, I believe in the 50s, set around the world of baseball.

I also just read A Sweet Sting of Salt by Rose Sutherland (out 4/9) which I SUPER recommend if you want a f/f romance set in the 1800s, with a touch of fantasy. It's about a prickly midwife who finds this mysterious woman in the middle of the night, literally about to give birth. She helps her, and her husband turns out to be a local fisherman. But... something isn't right... both with the husband, and with his wife's origins. And when the husband realizes the women are falling in love, he only becomes more possessive. I promise it's romantic and has an HEA and doesn't feature overwhelming sadness (there is domestic and sexual violence alluded to, but it's brief and off the page).

As for historicals otherwise...

M/M

We Could be So Good by Cat Sebastian--set in the same general era and space as the 2024 release, I think, about a pair of reporters slowly and sweetly falling in love, especially after they become roommates (and they were ROOMMATES).

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by KJ Charles--about a guy who moves to the marshland after he becomes a baronet, and has to take care of his estranged father's family left behind. He finds out there is a crime family of smugglers controlling the area, and he rats on them after seeing something sus... But when he goes to testify, who's there to stop him but the guy who he used to anonymously hook up with! JOSS DOOMSDAY. Joss Doomsday is amazing I love him. Super sexy, funny, and definitely focused on a side of England you like, never see in historicals.

The Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ--the standalone followup to the last book. In this case, another title is inherited, and this time the lord's this gruff former soldier. His cousins or something contest his inheritance, and he hires this young, charismatic secretary (especially important because our lord has a hard time reading, which I felt was done in a really touching way). Anyway, the sexual tension boils over and they start hooking up on the low, but there's a SECRET. (Also, the lord is very like "I'M ABUSING MY BOSSLY POWER" while the secretary is like "I mean... abuse it some more.....")

Band Sinister by KJ Charles--kind of a queer sendup of gothics, this is about a young guy whose sister is like, always spying on their scandalous neighbors who hold orgies and shit for the sake of writing her novels. Then she breaks her leg and ends up laid up in the orgy house, and he rushes over like NO ORGIES FOR HER, but he realizes the group of friends is actually super cool, especially the verrrry siiiiiilky smoooooth one who's just soooooo suave. So good, and especially interesting in that, while I would definitely not call this a poly romance, it does explore the complexities of open relationships and polyamory.

The Queer Principles of Kit Webb by Cat Sebastian--Kit is a retired highwayman running a cafe, and suddenly this vERRRY pretty nobleman comes in flashing his very nice ankles and asking Kit to steal this mysterious book from his dad. Kit refuses, but agrees to teach Percy how to steal. Both are great, but omg PERCY is AMAZING. He's kind introduced as somewhat like... conventionally more on the femme side, but he's like a secret swordmaster, and also takes the lead with Kit sexually a lot. One of my favorite moments in this book is when he's blowing Kit and Kit thinks he's gone too deep and is like "SORRY" and Percy rolls his eyes and makes Kit grab his hair and start facefucking him lmao. Also has nice demi rep in Kit.

Something Fabulous by Alexis Hall--A frosty duke proposes to a woman he was always supposed to marry, and she subsequently goes on the run. He then has to pair up with her dramatic, fanciful twin brother. It's a really funny romcom, with a ridiculous duel that had me wheezing. Plus a semi-cultlike group of lesbians? Also, enthusiastic ass eating.

F/F

An Island Princess Starts a Scandal by Adriana Herrera--A cold vamp widow wants this business deal with a fun and flirty heiress, and the heiress agrees to make the deal... If the vamp agrees to show her LESBIAN PARIS. Hot, and both of the leads are Latina.

Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall--Adding this even though it definitely has a good dose of fantasy, because it's like... Jane Austen meets a Midsummer Night's Dream, with an emphasis on the fairies. This young deb ends up hexed so her dress is unraveling at a ball, and as she hurries into the pushes, she meets the mysterious Lady Duke, who's rumored to have murdered her brother and father. They begin this push and pull of seduction. It's both funny and kind of dramatic.

Trans/Nonbinary

Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall--the standalone followup to Something Fabulous. The runaway fiancee's ex, the genderfluid Peggy, is roped by said ex into attending an opera. The ex wants to seduce Orfeo, this gorgeous castrato soprano, and when they open their mouth to sing Peggy, who's very gruff and in control typically, faints. Orfeo is naturally like "WHO'S THAT" and begins pursuing Peggy rather than the ex. One of my favorite books, so funny (at one point they accidentally incite a gay orgy) with a hint of melancholy and great sex. Also, it has one of the most unique sex scenes I've ever read.

Unmasked by the Marquess by Cat Sebastian--a bisexual marquess makes a new friend in this young dandy in town. They kiss, and he thinks his friend is going to blackmail him... But the friend, Robin, turns out to be chamber maid in disguise! Except they're actually not a man or a woman, and don't want to live as a woman. It becomes as an FWB thing, but naturally our romantic hero falls in love and things become Fraught. Has one of my favorite "resentfully horny" moments, when Alistair is watching Robin from across the ballroom, and they pull a glove off with their teeth, and he's like "THAT IS IMPROPER" and wants to fuck them so bad.

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall--Viola faked her death at Waterloo in order to live as her true self. Years later, she's pulled into helping her old best friend, the Duke of Gracewood, who's suffering from a chronic injury and severe depression following the battle. At first he doesn't recognize her... at first. Has an absolutely INCREDIBLE moment of recognition, and I really like that it's this romping old school type romance with a trans heroine.

Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa--this one is actually a YA Pride and Prejudice retelling, highly recommend if you're open to it. In this case, the Lizzie character is actually Oliver, a trans boy, and he and Darcy fall in love--molly houses are included in this, which I really like. It's not super about historical accuracy, which I personally dgaf about, and it's very sweet and funny and warm. Also, the author is a trans man.

Queer Polyamory

Scandalous Passions by Nicola Davidson--FFM. A king's former mistress is sent away because the queen hates her, and is also asked to care for the king's ward. She and the ward begin to give in to their attraction, and at the same time their escort is this much-feared knight (who's really quite subby) who's been in love with the older heroine for years. And then he begins falling for the ward as well.... Super sexy medieval, with Dom/sub overtones.

Their Marchioness by Jess Michaels--A playwright is asked to a marquess and marchioness's home... Turns out he and the marchioness were in love before she was forced to marry the marquess. Fortunately, she and her husband are now very much in love, and he's basically gifting her a tryst with her old love for her birthday. Then he joins in... and it begins being more than sex. Has some bi awakening stuff.

M/F with Bi leads

The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian--a standalone followup to Kit Webb. Percy's stepmother Marian is having a correspondence with a blackmailer, who unbeknownst to her is her odious husband's secret son. He ends up falling in love with her as they go back and forth with letters, so when she ends up in trouble and on the run, he comes to "save" her, only to find that Marian ain't that girl. Both leads are bi, and the sex is really cool and interesting because Marian doesn't like penetration due to trauma surrounding her pregnancy and labor. So she penetrates him (among other things) instead.

Hugo and The Maiden by S.M. LaViolette--a successful sex worker ends up being transported and washing ashore after a shipwreck. He's very snarky, but finds himself up against the vicar's uptight and uncompromising daughter--but he still has enemies lurking. Hugo is openly (for the day) bi and services both men and women. I really liked that even as he fell in love, his bisexuality wasn't like this background thing--he sees a guy he likes at one point and is basically like "if I wasn't taken......."

Any Duke in a Storm by Amalie Howard--a spy (who's also kind of a lady pirate) ends up being attracted to her super rakish and slutty first mate. She's bisexual, and one of the women on her ship is her former hookup (still her friend), which I like.

Melissa and The Vicar by S.M. LaViolette--a madame goes to a small village to recuperate and de-stress, and ends up falling in love with a virginal vicar she's so sure she can't have. Melissa is bisexual, and I thiiink a woman she used to be involved with is on the page? Her hero, Magnus, kind of has a "oh shit am I bi?" moment when Melissa tries to fake him out by pretending she's hooking up with Hugo. To be fair, everyone wants to fuck Hugo.

In Which Margo Halifax Earns Her Shocking Reputation--a scandalous woman begins chasing her sister (who ran off with a Bad Man) along with her brother's best friend, who's secretly in love with her. Margo is bi, and her relationships with women are one reason why she's considered scandalous~.

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs #i wish there were more f/f recs :/ #that's not by design but f/f romance is verrrrry much underrepresented and a lot of the f/f historicals i've read are just... #light on plot #and i'm someone who needs conflict

[kapposuch]

It's Raining Outside 🌧️

just some drabble about how certain star wars boys would react to being out in the rain with you

I'm so sorry it's been ages but I've been settling into my new job. I should really start writing these again I do love them

Anakin!

absolutely loves it. better than sand. he hates sand. it's coarse and rough and-

this boy is the type to scoop you up and drag you outside into the rain with absolutely zero hesitation.

if you attempt to escape, nice try, you're out there and he's going to waltz you around like there's no one watching

his soggy hair will stick to his face and it will 100% annoy him, to the point he slicks it back, and that's the type of knees weak shi you feed off

if he makes you laugh, he will be weak, this man absolutely adores your laughter. the way your nose crinkles and your laugh lines just squish your cheeks makes him swoon

sounds like honey tea 🍯

if you're the type to get cold or sick from being out in the rain, he will promise to take care of you until you're in good health

constantly waiting on you when he can, peppering kisses around your cheeks and nose, dotting some along your forehead whenever he pulls your blankets up if you're sleeping

he won't apologise, he'll just coo at how the pair of you needed to just let loose and have fun, and with a grin like that, well

you can't say no to him, really

Obi Wan!

"what in god's name are you doing out here?"

you absolutely started it, because there's no way Obi would actively walk into the rain when his lovely warm room and a hot cup of tea is waiting for him

he was probably watching your antics of frolicking in the rain for a little while before interjecting, but that's standard Kenobi activity right there

he will 100% protest to going out there with you, since he is stood at the door like a stubborn youngling being told to go to their lessons

but he won't stop you from pulling him from the door and into the rain while giggling and calling him a baby

it's slippy

you fell

no you didn't, because Kenobi will just scoop you right up. strong hands firm around your waist, bodies flush with little to no space between you, his dry robes beginning to speckle with raindrops that eventually soaked the fabric through and through

he doesn't mind, of course. sweeping you off your feet is his favourite thing to do, just to be a tease. even if it does cause conflict in his soul. but at the end of the day, he's a Jedi through and through, and he didn't want you falling.

he just adds spice because it's, well, Kenobi :)

you're eventually back inside from the ordeal, with red cheeks. you flustered scoundrel, dragging a Jedi out to get wet. tsk tsk I'm joking honestly it sounds fun

he would absolutely love to do it with you again, he just won't admit to it. you can see it in the smile he had when you were out there, and the fleeting longing in his eyes of taking you back into the rain for more

but he doesn't want you getting sick, of course

Rex!

o captain my captain

he's been outside for a while, stood in the absolutely pouring rain to get a break from the rest of the 501st getting on his last and final nerve

he loves his brothers but kriff they're annoying sometimes

nothing compared to how you could be though

he doesn't exactly hear you sneaking up on him for the tunks of raindrops landing on his helmet, until it's no longer on his head

his first instinct to letting his guard down and having his helmet ripped away would tell him to pull his blaster, which, honestly, correct

but your cheeky laugh hits his ears before he's even turned around. and by god it's absolute music to him.

he listens to his brothers grating complaints, terrible jokes, and incessant ramblings all day, especially when they're bored and annoying him for the sake of it, which, let's face it...

yeah, it's every other day really

not to mention Anakin-

he doesn't particularly bother asking for his helmet back, it's not like he needs it. he's supposed to be off duty anyway. then again here's your PSA that Anakin exists and he is Rex's problem at least 95% of the time

he gives you a somewhat concerned glance as if to tell you off about coming out in the rain, but he's not going to tell you to leave. he could use the company.

and your company is absolutely divine. this tired man is so warmed by your presence, the way your voice is so gentle and distinct, and it just eases his mind from the duties he'll have to pick back up in the morning.

you're his brief moment of bliss and he never fails to let you know that, because he wears such a peaceful smile on his face that you'd be such a fool to miss how smitten he is

sorry if it's a lil short, I thought it'd be nice to get some jedi/jedi-alligned drabble out while I'm in a pretty wholesome mood. might do some sith another day, if y'all have any requests of characters, feel free to submit 'em! love ya!

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #captain rex #fluff #captain rex x reader #anakin x reader #obi wan x reader #i should've been in bed smh

[stormberry-12]

he's a tramp ~ jj maybank x reader

pairing: jj maybank x kook!fem!reader

warnings: slight language ig, mega fluff, not very edited like always ✌

notes: inspired by my fav Disney movie EVER, the first part to my Disney inspired series

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He's a tramp, but I love him Breaks a new heart every day He's a tramp, they adore him And I only hope he'll stay that way

He's a tramp, he's a scoundrel He's a rounder, he's a cad He's a tramp, but I love him Yes, even I have got it pretty bad

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"Let go of him, you can't just boot him!" you protested from across the room, JJ looked deep into your eyes and swallowed whatever he had just snagged off somebody's plate, security's arms still on him.

"I invited him here! I'm a member of this club..."

"Y/n..." your mother hissed.

JJ blinked and turned around pushing the guard off of him, "Sorry bout that-" Chaos erupted and he turned back to you, " Y/n, come on! Workers of the world unite! Throw off your chains!"

Your father rolled his eyes and grabbed your arm, "You can't hang around these kids."

"I'm sorry-" you tugged away from him running off.

"No, Y/n!" both your parents cried at the same time. You ran at JJ and he caught you in his arms spinning your around. Your midsummer's dress blowing in the wind.

"WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR GOIN'?" you heard Pope's dad yell at him as he, Kie, and John B ran out the other exit.

You turned to follow them.

"No, Y/n/n-" JJ grabbed your hand, "wait a sec, lets go this way..."

"But the pogues..."

"They're fine. Come on!" he ran in the opposite direction of the rest of the group and you reluctantly followed him.

You and JJ had a weird past, you used to think he hated you, the ways he would talk about how bad kooks were right in front of you. Or how he would complain when Kiara invited you that it was a pogue thing, but after a while, you grew somewhat fond of each other. Late-night drinks just the two of you were a common occurrence and the friendly bond got pretty deep. JJ talked to you about his dad and you talked to him about the planned-out future that was forced upon you. All and all, You and JJ had turned into a decent team.

You had walked into town, stopping at a restaurant.

"Tony's!" JJ grinned over his shoulder at you, making jazz hands at the sign. You waltzed towards the front door to get a look inside, it looked cozy. "Nah, this way Cupcake, I got my own private entrance..."

JJ walked around the fence to the back of the restaurant, there was a big dumpster, an alleyway looming in the distance and in front of you was a worn out picnic bench.

"Wait here," he whispered walking to the door, knocking lightly.

"Just one minute, Imma comin', Imma comin-" a voice called from inside. "Eh! JJ!"

"Hiya, Tony-" the big man scooped JJ up into a big hug and you giggled at his attempt to hug him back while getting the life squeesed out of him.

"Jay, where have you been! Hey Joe, look who's here!"

"Well, whatcha know? It's blondie!" Joe cheered. "And all dressed up, how nice, where did you come from Midsummers?"

Joe and Tony cackled until they cried, trying to picture JJ Maybank at Midsummers.

"Hey, Joe go fetch Jay some meatballs, yea?" Tony said, and Joe scurried inside.

"I was at Midsummers actually, it's a long story..." JJ rolled his eyes playfully, "Anyway, I brought-" JJ searched the shadows for you unable to see where you had gone in the dim streetlight.

"Oh look, he brought his imaginary girlfriend too," Tony quipped, once again falling into a fit of laughter with Joe from inside.

"Y/n!" JJ hissed.

You walked over to JJ and gave a meek wave to Tony, who’s eyes widened, "Nice to meet you, Jay, I should really get going-"

"OH JOE! LOOK, LITTLE JJ'S GOT A NEW GIRLFRIEND!" Tony cried in excitement.

"Uh..." you fumbled, not wanting to correct the kind man that you two weren't actually dating.

"Well, son of a gun! He's got a kook girl!" Joe laughed, poking his head out the back door.

"Get a double batch for the two, okay Joe!"

Joe sprinted back inside and you looked over at JJ with a questioning look, he smirked and shrugged his shoulders. Tony was a very large, plump man and he seemed a little older than his skinny little sidekick Joe. You watched Tony's playful interaction with JJ and grinned to yourself, you loved him. He was a pogue but shit, you loved him.

"Well, we's so grateful for ya Y/n," Tony smiled wrapping an arm around JJ's shoulder, "We know JJ don't got much goin' for him on the outside, but on the inside, he's got a biiiggg heart!"

You let out a genuine laugh and JJ looked genuinely insulted.

"I'm just kidding little Jay," Tony chuckled giving JJ a good slap on the back, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

"MEATBALLS!!!" Joe called and Tony rushed you to sit on the picnic bench, you sat next to JJ on the side with no bird poop and watched as candles and flowers were placed on the table along with the largest bowl of spaghetti and meatballs you had ever seen.

"There ya go!" Tony placed some forks on your table, "The best spaghetti in town!"

You thanked him and picked up your fork, JJ had already started to dig in and was slurping his noodles, getting sauce all over his face. You laughed and stuck your fork into the bowl, spinning the noodles around the prongs.

"What?" JJ complained in mock offense, mouth still full.

You started to copy his actions, slurping the noodle swiftly into your mouth, the end of it catching your nose and spreading sauce all over it.

JJ started laughing too, "You got a little something-"

"Where?" you said, looking down at your nose and making your eyes go crossed.

"Right here," he swiped his finger across the tip of your nose, "Oh, shit, it's spreading-"

You laughed as he spread the sauce all down your cheek, tongue sticking out in concentration. You swatted his hand away and wiped your face with a napkin, still grinning from ear to ear. Sweet music started streaming from inside the Italian dinner, you lifted more noodles to your lips and craned your head to peek inside.

Your face suddenly got pulled to the side by the long noodle that JJ also had tangled up around his fork and your lips brushed softly against his. Sparks flashed through your body and you pulled away blushing, looking back down at the bowl. You both cleared your throats awkwardly.

JJ glanced over at you through his lashes and pushed the last meatball in your direction.

"You ate all of them," you mumbled, the kiss still lingering on your lips, not remembering having one single meatball and now they were all gone.

"I saved the best one for last," he countered. "just for you.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you replied sarcastically making him chuckle quietly.

“Y/n…” JJ started, “I uh- this. This wasn’t a joke to me…” he whispered the last part like it was a secret not wanting to be shared.

“What wasn’t?”

“This dinner, this night, the time I spend with you on a daily basis…” he continued rambling about different moments you thought you had shared but had never been addressed until now.

You felt yourself blush and a small smile played at your lips.

“I’m glad,” you said. He returned your grin, lips meeting yours once more. This time the kiss was intentional, soft but determined. He pulled away just as fast and went back to the remaining noodles in the bowl, smirking to himself.

The pogues were ecstatic after you and JJ started dating a few days later. Honestly, it was quite a shock to those who didn’t know you, but ever since that night the two of you were inseparable. Y/n and JJ, kook and pogue, lady and tramp.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Tag List: @sarahskywalker-amadala @sunasro @idli-dosa @aslanvez @somerandos-world @vivian-555 @loverofdrewstarkey @totallynotkaibiased @jjmaybankisbae @fishingirl12 @antagonize-me-motherfucker @princessbl0ss0m @pank0w @callsigndiamond @brynley-a-xoxo

#jj maybank #lady and the tramp #obx #outerbanks #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank blurb #jj tag list #disney movies