Tumgik
#(i've probably had more than one but i can't remember and it was ages ago)
lcvecosts · 3 months
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“mine, all mine” Oliver Quick x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Alcohol!
You visit Felix again for this summer and he introduces you to a new friend. He seems shy at first, but it’s always the quiet ones. 
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This is the first part of my Oliver x Reader fan fiction “project”. I’m not so good at writing and english isn’t my first language, but I still hope it’s enjoyable.
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You enter the gates of saltburn with one hand on your suitcase in one and your bag in the other hand.
Standing in front of the gigantic mansion made you feel so small you haven't been here in ages it feels. You haven't seen Felix in so long you really missed him. You are somewhat excited, but also feel a bit scared. You didn't know why but there was an unusual feeling you can't really describe it but before you could look into it even more, the door opens.
"Miss Y/N. Welcome, I'll take this."
The butler says, he has to be someone new you didn't know him. Before you could even blink He takes the suitcase from you and takes you into the mansion. you look around and everything look just like you remembered. you would probably get lost if you tried to walk around the mansion alone, who wouldn't it was gigantic.
he takes you to the living room where everyone Was watching TV and just having a chat just as you walk in Elspeth storms over you with a gigantic smile on her face." Y/N it's so nice to see you. Oh good girl you still look as beautiful as I remembered you."
She turns around to look at the others sitting on a couch "she gorgeous isn't she?"
Everyone nods their head slightly with James, mumbling "yes, yes" in a wave that made you feel like he wasn't even listening.
Elspeth always loved you. She was always hoping for you and Felix to get married someday there was just something about you that you love so deeply, besides your beauty. she felt like you could be the perfect mother of her grandchildren, the perfect wife for her son someone caring.
When you moved states years ago, you didn't get to see or visit the Catton again. You are so busy with studying and helping your family out but finally after years of hard work, you found the time to come over to Saltburn for this summer.
You are more than excited to meet Felix again you've always had a crush on him. He was your first kiss and probably your first love, but as your was split, you had to concentrate on different things.
You have footsteps getting louder and louder before you turn around to see your face that you've missed for so long.
Without a word, Felix just rips his arms around you holding you for a moment. He then pulls away places a peck on your forehead and smiles "I've missed you so much. So glad you're here."
he looked at you from head to toe. Just taking a moment to fully take you in before taking you by your hand and pulling you out the door to your room so you could put your back down on the way to your room. He was talking about a few little changes that were made on the house, but they weren't even visible you wouldn't have noticed if he didn't tell you.
When he looked at you, you were still feeling the butterflies in your stomach he made you feel so warm so welcomed you always love that about him ."this you were going to have a really special guest besides you of course it's a new best friend of mine Oliver he's a really nice guy. He had a few hardships in his life better not to ask him about it we don't wanna make him uncomfortable don't we? But I promise you you'll get along really well."
You didn't mind getting to know friends of Felix he was such a cutie pie. How could his friends be unlike him? "he's gonna arrive soon, but now" he picks you up by your waist, his arms wrapped around you tight, squeezing you to the point where you almost had trouble breathing "I'm gonna celebrate our reunion. I planned on having a few drinks tonight."
You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him really tight "sure and never say no to a drink you know that. I missed you all so much really it's like a treat to be back here."
The reason you and Felix never dated was because you found out soon enough that he probably wouldn't be able to be in a working relationship. You you didn't wanna share your partner with anyone else and Felix found it hard to keep his dick in his pants, somehow love and sex didn't mean the same thing for him. It usually did for you.
You haven't had many sexual partners before and except for maybe one person they were all your ex boyfriends. you love Felix too much to lose him over a nonfunctional relationship.
The surprising part to even yourself was that you've never slept with him before probably because the both of you knew it was only get you into trouble and destroy what you already have with him. Not that he didn't try to at times you've kissed him before you've made out before he tried to take it even further, but you always blocked it off and he never asked any questions about it, it seemed like he just accepted it. but still you had really strong feelings for him if you knew it would work without any drama like that you wouldn't even hold back anymore, you really really wanted him, you really really loved him but anyone with a brain knew this would hurt both of you.
But maybe he changed you haven't seen him in a long time and you don't know what he's up to, so maybe things are gonna work out now.
you feel your feet touched the ground again, and his arms pull away from you. He still had that big beautiful smile on his face "I'm gonna leave you alone so you can change now. Dinner should be ready in about 30 minutes. I'll meet you downstairs then "
You know your head and watch him leave your room before you go to your shared bathroom. your touch up your make up a bit and go back to your room to pick an outfit for the dinner. You choose a light yellow summer dress with a delicate, pearl necklace and matching pearl bracelet for dinner. even though your family was really wealthy didn't dress up for dinner, but it was always something you were so excited about when you stayed at Saltburn. it felt like they were celebrating every day making everything special and even if it was over the top for some people it made you stay here really special.
you make your way downstairs to the dining room and sit down next to Venetia, giving her a big smile. you knew her parents titled her as out of control, but you've always got along with her even though you didn't really have a lot of similarities she was also really really close to you. You start chatting with her while waiting for everyone to join you at the table. there were only two empty seats now, and just asked, the Butler was pouring out the wine for everyone. The door opens with Felix, and an unknown guy dressed in suits entering the room. He walks over to the table and said down in front of you, his friend sat down in front of  Venetia.
"So this is Oliver, it's a second summer here in Saltburn and I bet the both of you are gonna get along really well."
Oliver looked really clever, and he would almost call him cute. He looks like the nicest guy not nice in the way Felix looked. It just wasn't the same. He looked so shy and sweet. You look at him and smile.  "I'm Y/N, pleasure to meet you"
"Oh, the pleasures on my side"
during the dinner, everyone was just catching up on what was happening. The focus mainly on you and Oliver.
" Oliver, darling tell me is your mom doing any better?" Elspeth ask him.
you immediately see, and Felix's face is annoyed by this question not that it was any of his business, but you could tell by now if he found annoying, or was annoyed by his family.
"Well, not really she's trying her best rehab right now.." Felix immediately cut him off.
"Mom stop asking such personal questions it's inappropriate."
Elspeth looked a bit shocked, but Felix sudden interruption. "but Felix I didn't mean it in such a way I was just genuinely curious, but well, then back to Y/N. How's your family doing? Is your mother alright? I miss her so much."
you could see Oliver and Felix whisper on the other side of the table. It looked like Oliver tried to calm Felix down a bit, but you weren't really sure what was going on.
"We are doing great, mom's better now and now that I have more time to spend with my family we're all really happy." You say.
after more catching up and small talk at the dinner table, you finish the three course menu, and Felix invites you and Oliver and Venetia out into the garden to get a few more drinks. They had a barkeeper for today, so that all of you could have a beautiful night together. you get an espresso martini for yourself and sit down watching the moon while talking with the others. The first one to go to bed was Venetia, she drank so fast she almost passed out. It sounded worrying, but everyone was used to it by now, so it was only you, Felix and Oliver left. Felix started sharing stories of your shared childhood with Oliver, and he seemed really sweet and invested in it.
" she's such a nice girl if I have to keep one person outside of my family in my life forever, I would definitely pick her that's why I immediately knew the both of you would get along. You're both amazing. I love you." Felix was such a lovely guy. The way he talked about you made your heart melt.
"Oliver tell me about you. How did you meet Felix?" You ask him while keeping eye contact.
"We go to the same university. He was really nice to me when my father died, he was practically the only one that cared for me.."
it almost seemed like he was nervous talking to you. He had a hard time keeping eye contact with you and was fidgeting around with the cuffs of a shirt while were looking at him.
you found him so adorable. You could tell well Felix liked him even if you didn't know much about him he had something so nice about him, something so real.
all of you keep going back-and-forth about school and details about your life when Felix gets up after finishing his third cocktail and goes to bed.
"If you need anything either ask Duncan or wake me up, okay? Y/N we share a bathroom, so don't be scared to knock if you need anything."
you know your head and watching walk off after that you turn your head to look at Oliver again.
he looked at your empty glass and back at you "I think I'll get another drink. Do you want something too?"
you felt kind of tipsy by now, but why not it was adorable how he paid attention to you, like that he seemed like such a gentleman.
"Sure why not... Just surprise me." He gets up with a smile and takes your empty glass with him. He comes back after a few minutes.
he hands you a glass of gin, tonic, and sits down next to you again.
“I see why Felix talks about you so much.”
he said looking at the moon while taking a sip from his cocktail.
You furrow your brow “What do you mean?”
“Well he talks a lot about you. You mean a lot to him but I can see why. “
“Oh, and why then ?”
he kept quiet for a moment before looking back at you .
“You’re gorgeous and smart. we barely know each other for two hours, and I already feel really comfortable talking to you.”
that felt like a really personal compliment. It even made you blush a little after saying that you didn’t feel like you was so shy anymore. He still seems super nice, super respectful and more like a introverted shy guy, but someone that was really shy wouldn’t say something like that , maybe you just have to be a bit more patient with him.
“That’s really nice of you to say thank you. you seem so nice too. I’m really excited about the summer. I think we are all gonna have a really good time together. Ugh I missed Saltburn so much.”
The both of you go back-and-forth a bit longer before finishing your cocktails and Oliver walks you to your room.everyone was asleep now, except the both of you in front of your door. You turn around to wish him a good night, but before you could even say anything, Oliver took a step closer the tips of your nose almost touching. The expression on his face was changed. It wasn’t so soft anymore. It was more intense “thanks for the beautiful night. I really appreciate it” his hand moves up to rest on your cheek, which was you more unexpected you barely knew him and he didn’t seem like a guy to do something like that before but now it felt like a completely different person was standing in front of you. You couldn’t even open your mouth and answer him. It wasn’t that you were bothered, but you were confused.
“Have a good night beautiful” he says before slightly come closer, your lips touch for a moment. It wasn’t even a kiss they were just slightly touching and you didn’t know what you do. You felt goosebumps all over your body. It was so surprising, but you didn’t know in which way if it was a good surprise or a w , it was just surprising. It made your stomach heat up you wanted to lean in and kiss him, but you didn’t know him and this was all really weird. He just walked off like nothing ever happened and you turn around and go to bed, like nothing ever happened.
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bloodsoakedtooth · 1 year
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Celebrating your Anniversary w/ Slashers
It's wild to think I made this blog a whole year ago. Not only that but I'm almost at 1k followers! I'm incredibly grateful for the support, so here's some celebratory hcs <33
Includes: Poly!Lost Boys (Dwayne, David, Marko, Paul), Jason Dean, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis
Warnings: possessiveness, implied manipulation, canon typical violence for tlb, kissing, mentions of making out, abandonment issues, gn!reader
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Poly!Lost Boys
Unless you make it clear that it's a big deal for you they probably won't plan much
They're a little more touchy but they aren't gonna be planning a picnic
Then again if you've been dating them for a year that's probably not what you want anyways
But if you haven't already turned it's a little different...
They're more aware of how long it's been, painfully so in David's case
What better day to become one than your anniversary?
Don't you want to prove your commitment? Finally be free from the inevitable death caused by aging? The faster you turn the better, really
David specifically will push you to turn
While David relies on a healthy dose of guilt tripping the other boys are buttering you up :))
It's been a year, love. He's been so patient
Dwayne will give you jewelery- a beaded bracelet of your favorite colors and even some small trinkets attached. Seaglass, tiny shells, feathers little things he's found that remind him of you
Paul makes a mixtape! Is it cheesy? A little, yea, but it's fitting. There's plenty of power ballads, of course
He doodled little hearts on it cause he's just cute like that <333
Marko, my love, is making you a jacket OR repairing something you can't wear anymore but still like
If you somehow haven't gotten a jacket by now you're getting one now
As the night goes on and everyone winds down, the boys all get a little extra sappy
It's still hard to believe they managed to keep such a babe in their lives for a while year
Especially for Paul, who hasn't had many long term relationships other than with the the current one
There are 2 ways you can end the night
Curled up with your boys, the mixtape Paul gave you earlier playing quietly
Marko laying on your stomach and yourself laying on Dwayne's chest and David and Paul on each side
Or..
You and the boys, covered in blood and grinning ear to ear, jumping around and yelling excitedly
Jason Dean
This is a big deal for him
He's never had a relationship that lasted so long
Unusually he has to move or the other person decides they don't love how controlling he can be
But you're different!! Even after everything you're still here
I've said it before, but jd isn't one for fancy or well planned dates
You'll wake up to a kiss on the cheek and a soft "happy anniversary, my love"
He's a big cuddler in general, but today especially he just wants to lay in bed with you and maybe makeout a little
He doesn't about getting a gift, but if it's something you do care about he'll toss you a little jewelery box about halfway through the day
Being the possessive little shit he is, it's a necklace with a J charm <33
If you put it on he's gonna be fidgeting with it all night
It's a constant reminder that you're not leaving, you're committed to him and him to you
Jd just feels so lucky to have you in life, hopefully he can keep you in it
Stu Macher
Stu notoriously //loves// anniversaries and celebrations in general
He's always coming up with some excuse to party and spoil you
So, reasonably, you probably have pretty high expectations
And as long as nothing gets in the way (aka nothing more exciting comes up) those expectations are met
Starts the day off right by smothering you in kisses and giving you flowers <33
Roses, of course
Because he's just so romantic ~~and he couldn't remember your favorite flower~~
He'll never tell you this but billy is the one who reminded him about your anniversary-
You don't need to know that :)) all you need to worry about is enjoy the day
He also makes one of those cheesy coupon books and gives it to you <333
~~90% if it is sexual. This is Stu, what else do you expect?~~
He's overly affectionate
It's not like he hasn't dated before, but it usually doesn't last this long
He's gotten close, but a whole year of someone putting up with him? That's special!!
Billy Loomis
Long term relationships aren't new
He was dating Sydney for at least 2 years, probably more
He's a lot more low-key about it than Stu
Billy is one of the few slashers I can see taking you to dinner or on a real date
Dinner and a movie babbeeeey
He'll even let you pick the movie
Isn't he just so sweet? <33
Probably some gentle, sappy making out
He's really a romantic at heart
To him, this is a sign that you're really meant for him
Even after every fight you're still here. He didn't think it would last this long
Everyone else leaves him, but not you. You're here to stay, and you should make sure to tell him
You've stuck with him for a year, and you'll stay for many more. Even if he has to make you stay
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alexaloraetheris · 8 months
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I juat remembered the day, about two months ago, when I went to renew my perscription and ended up derailed by some kind of divine influence that really, really wanted my help. 😂
So I have an appointment at 9. First thing I do is sleep in because my alarm simply did not ring. First time that happened. I cursed out the damn phone and ordered a taxi, which I had specifically hoping to avoid because of the traffic congestion.
My driver is a woman a bit older than me, and she's in a good mood so we chat. She told me she was thinking of moving to [city on the coast] because taxi drivers are paid better there, and I tell her I have family there, we comment on what it's like to drive in a city essentially built into three hills and a cliff. She mentiones she has scoliosis, and it sometimes impacts her ability to sit in a car for long periods of time. I had scoliosis as well, but I had managed to fix it with exercises almost completely so I recommended my physical therapist, and assured her it's not too late, because some of the people in my therapy group were even older than her. When she let me off she thanked me for the help.
Feeling good that, even if I had to pay out the nose for the ride, I got there in time and even managed to do a good deed. I rush in, tell the reception guy I'm here to see my doctor and settle in to wait.
Two hours later, I see people being called in but not my name. I ask why, and doctor looks at me blankly and says I'm not in the system. I have to tell the reception I've arrived so I show up on his schedule.
I'm mentally cursing out the entire hospital, but I wasn't raised by wolves. I thank the doctor, politely tell the different receptionist that the last guy probably didn't hear me when I told him my appointment, got added in and went back to wait.
Ten minutes later, a visibly nervous girl with freshly printed papers sits in the waiting room. I'm in a bit of a mood, but I'm also a firm believer in helping if I can. I paste on a smile and ask 'First time?' and she admits she just got sent here for a potential ADHD diagnosis and she had no idea what to do. Having been there and knowing exactly how hard it was to do it on your own, I gave her the number of the psychologist who made my diagnosis, assured her that the psychiatrist she was here to see is the same one I have and that he's a good guy, explained what ADHD actually was and how the meds work. She was neraly crying with relief by the time I was done, and I promised she could send me questions if she needs to.
I finally, finally go in for my appointment in a slightly better mood, only for my psychiatrist to tell me Concerta is no longer imported, I have to go on some other meds and for that I need my family doctor to sign off on a regular perscription instead of getting an Rx perscription from him.
This is the worst case scenario, because I do NOT want my mother, who thinks ADHD was invented by quack American psychologists to sell expensive meds to parents with unruly children, to know I have ADHD. So I mentally curse out the entire healthcare system, go to the family doctor and explain the situation, that my mother absolutely CANNOT know about my diagnosis. Even though the doctor was not aware of my diagnosis so far, she listens attentively, and we make sure that my mom can't check the insurance we're both under to see what meds I'm on or that if she checks my name in the pharmacy directory she can't see me either.
I thought I handled that situation rather well but I must have looked more worried than I thought, because the doctor admitted her high-school age granddaughter had been asking questions about psychologists and antidepressants and she had so far been dismissive. But if she really needs help, she might do the same thing I did and seek help on her own, and my doctor realized she ought to either change her attitude fast or be left in the dark while her granddaughter is struggling. So I told her which psychologist I went to when I was also a depressed high schooler and how it helped and what I would have wanted my family to keep in mind. She thanks me and hands me a new perscription and sends me on my way.
So by now I am starting to notice a pattern.
Now, I'm actually an atheist, and I have 'Culturally Catholic' as a flaw and a laundry list of Stuff(TM) I have had to unlearn, but sometimes I really wonder if Someone Up There looked at me that day and thought:
"Hmm, looks like I have three problems I can solve with one well-positioned dumbass. Time to ruin her day for the good of the world!"
I mean. Happy to help but I really hope ruining my day won't be necessary next time.
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10 Jikook Fanfictions Part 1
I said I'd make a list before the end of the year and I kept my promise. Now, it's difficult to choose, especially when I have more than 300 bookmarks and unfortunately I also started doing that some year and a half ago. Safe to say, there's probably plenty of good fics I read that are now lost. Anyway, enough with the boring chit chat, here's 10 random jikook fics in no particular order and most likely, several other parts will follow, probably next year 😉
1. Dead in the Water
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It's been a couple of years since I read this and honestly, I barely remember much, but what I do know it's that it had an impact on me. Usually fics that have death as a central theme end up resonating with me, but perhaps it's because I've always been attracted to more darker fiction. This one is gritty and there's a lot of pain and I must have cried a lot (those tend to stick in my head)
2. we're holding hands beneath the silver screen
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I think this story is taking place in the 90s (you'll see that a lot of the fics I recommend are taking place in the past). I think I ended up reading everything ChimneyCricket wrote, but this one remained a favorite. Coming of age during a summer in Jeju in the 90s. Apart from the theme, it's the writing that made me stick with it.
I'm not the biggest fan of young adult stories. Or better yet, it's not something that I'd go to as a preference. When I do, it's more of an indulgence and thankfully, I found some writers (like this one) who can do a really good job with the genre.
3. Stockwell
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Another writer that I've become a big fan of after reading one fic of theirs. And I think it might have been Stockwell that did it for me. I like that it's fanfiction with adult themes for an adult audience. And I also resonate with a lot of the cultural references and themes. I will also admit that this fic leaning into the enemies to lovers trope was a selling point because I'm a sucker for it. I can't help myself.
4. Burn for You
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This is a complete self indulgence for me and I embrace it. Just like watching Bridgerton is a guilty pleasure for which I don't actually feel guilty (and the inspo for this fic). This story has everything and I must say the combination of lust, fear of revealing feelings, rumors, proper behavior and hidden romance is a lethal combination!
5. Light of a century
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I might have recommended this story before, but it being inspired by Up on Poppy Hill is not just due to the plot, but the writing is able to evoke that studio Ghibli mood. This fic is to be read on a hot weekend afternoon.
6. Map of the Soul
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This might be one of the most complex fanfictions I read due to the amount of research needed, but also in the depiction of political contexts and identity politics. Most of all, I like it because as much as relationships are a vital part of the story, there is an entire world surrounding the main characters. Events and other people that have also room to develop and not just remain props that advance the story.
7. Proceed with Caution
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I don't know what snatchim did with this fic, but it's the only one I ever reread multiple times and I'll probably do it again in the future. I don't even reread books from my library, let alone fanfics. But Proceed with Caution did it for me. Perhaps it's because of the process of Jungkook inevitably falling for Jimin and even though it's a bad thing considering the context, it's so good. Maybe it's the image of Jimin with a bellybutton ring or maybe because the picture of hot Californian days in the 70s is so vivid, it feels like a nostalgic Paul Thomas Anderson movie.
8. Dishwater World They Said Was Lemonade
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The description does not do this story justice because it's so much more than that. It's a canon compliant thriller with really complicated and complex characters and once again, a story meant for adults who understand that it's fiction. Unfortunately, judging by the comment section, a lot of people cannot distinguish betweem real people and characters. For those of you who might be fans of Korean thrillers, this story might be the one for you. It's also one of my favorite jikook fics as well.
9. souvlaki
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Need I say more, considering the description? This is a self indulgence as well, but of a different kind. If I happily read tropey fics, I also like the ones that can sound like a uni course. Set during the 1997 FMI crisis in SK, any reader will get familiar with a socioeconomic and political perspective of that time through the eyes of the main characters. If you're only looking for romance, this one is not for you.
10. you wouldn't remember
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I think littleflumes might be currently my favorite writer of canon compliant jikook. I think the author really captured their dynamic in its essence and the room left for fiction perfectly fills in the holes left in the last 2 years and up until the present. But what did it for me, not only with this story, but the others in the series as well, is that it's concentrated almost entirely on the two main characters, almost living in a bubble of their own in which their relationship can be explored.
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Damian needs to get his brothers to go to college
Listen if I knew how to link posts, I'd've done so ages ago. But this is a follow up to a thing I did about how Alfred feels about his swarm of noncollege kids. Also buckle up. This is probably going to be a long one.
Dick
Dick: What's wrong kiddo? You look even more frowny than usual
Damian: Do you remember Kevin?
Dick: Yeah that racist brat who's ass I'm definitely not going to beat next time I see him.
Damian: I've been assigned to work with him for a group project
Dick: That's awful. So are you going to phone-in the project
Damian: *sighs* I normally would. But Pennyworth says that I can't put one toe out of line at school unless one of you goes to college
Dick: Ugghh fine! But I want to be at the next PTA meeting so I can throw something at Kevin's mom. And my degree is going to be in something stupid. Like accounting.
Jason
Damian: What is it going to take to get you to go to college
Jason: 1. A really good, safe for the public explanation for why I'm not dead anymore. 2. For it to not directly benefit you. Preferably if it inconvenienced Dickolas
Damian: Would you settle for an airtight false identity, enrollment in a better school than Grayson, and being on a fast track to graduate before him?
Jason: Let me think about it. I need to decide between a medical or a teaching degree
Tim
Tim: Brat, I understand where you're coming from but like I've already told Alfred, I don't think native gothamites should go to college. The stress breaks us down into villains
Damian: I've already lowered my expectations. I'm here to ask you to finish high school. Fail to comply, and I'll run you through
Tim: No
Damian: No?
Tim: No. Are you going to tell me that if you caught Alfred slipping and could leave that hellhole with only minor consequences, you wouldn't? And are you telling me that something as plebian as death threats would be enough to get you to return?
Damian: You make some very good points. But have you ever had to deal with being a person of color in a predominantly white school?
Tim: Do you want me to beat some of them up? Have you told Alfred? He'll curbstomp their whole family
Damian: Thank you, but no. And I haven't told Pennyworth. Grayson will be sad if someone beats him to it. I would just like to meet Alfred's ultimatum and then play hookie when they annoy me too much.
Tim: ....I'm just getting a GED. And this stays between Alfred and us
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hauntedwitch04 · 6 months
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Fools in love
Remus Lupin x reader
Words: 1,8k words
Warnings: none, just fluff and idiots totally in love with each other
Author’s note: Hi everybody! It fells so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. Hope you enjoy the first day of my Halloween Party
Requests are open I Ask
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🎃Halloween party 🎃
DAY 1: “Take my sweater, I love you and i don’t want you to transform into a popsicle”
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Rain beats hard against the windows of the Gryffindor common room. The fire near me crackles, and the pieces of wood seem to break like bone after a very hard punch, as my heart probably had a few hours ago.
I've spent a lot of time by the fire, but even so, I can't shake the cold that got into my bones, in the rush in the rain I made to get back to the castle, after waiting for more than two hours for a Ravenclaw boy who asked me out, outside the Mielandia.
I still remember the feeling of the cold wind against my cheeks wet with hot tears. My sweater was now dumped on the sofa, soaked with rain, and dripping rhythmically on the floor, mesmerizing me.
The fire dances before my eyes, and I can't help but feel like two people hugged tightly, dancing to music of their own created by their love.
A little bit I feel stupid in feeling so bad, for a guy who basically I don't even like since I've actually been in love with one of my best friends for what seems like ages now, but I think the thing that has hurt me most of all is not being able to be loved even by this mysterious guy whose name I honestly can't even remember.
For hours now I've been asking myself if I'm really worth loving? Why should people fall in love with me? Am I worthy of someone's love? If I can't even date a guy I don't like, how could I ever date the one I consider the love of my life? And why the hell does Remus John Lupin have to be so perfect?
I spend what seems like days sitting there staring into the fire. I hear people passing by, coming in and out of the dorms, some stop and look at me with compassion, trying to somehow share my pain, while others whisper hypotheses and theories about why I am in that situation. I, however, remain impassive, like a marble statue, the only emotion I allow to shine through are the tears I cannot stop.
It is still a long time before I can glance at the clock without seeing it fogged up by my crying.
Midnight.
I close my eyes and pray for any otherworldly entity to erase my memory of this rainy early October day, when my thoughts are interrupted by a warm hand resting on my shoulder. I turn slightly and my breath catches in my throat for a moment, for fear that the object of my thoughts will see itself reflected in my eyes and be able to read into me, into my soul.
"Lily told me you've been stationary here for more than four hours. I had to practically make a deal with the devil to get Poppy to let me leave early to come to you, luckily yesterday wasn't too bad." He says quietly as he sits down next to me, the famous Remus Lupin, every Hogwarts girl's dream, looking at me softly. Shit, I think to myself, there was a full moon yesterday that's why I didn't see him all day. I hadn't worried about it too much actually before I went to the appointment, too caught up in the anxiety of this meeting, but now I realize what a shitty friend I've been to him. I look at him and see his face battered by sleep and exhaustion, while only a few new scratches or scars adorn his face. My eyes land on his, and selling his worried look I can't help but feel guilty and go back to crying. After a few seconds, I realize that I am not only crying out of guilt, but also out of the realization that he, the boy I love more than my own life, will never see me in the same way that I see him but only as a friend to be taken care of.
His warm hands brush my shoulders and I immediately shiver at that contact. His gaze grows even more concerned and he immediately decides to take off his heavy sweater, one of his favorites that his mother made him last year after his had all grown small when he grew up all of a sudden during the summer. As he takes off the sweater, with his arms still above his head and this one still covered by the garment, his T-shirt, which he wore underneath, rises slightly so that his athletic body covered in scratches can be seen. I feel my cheeks turn red as I look at him, but I am quickly distracted by my friend handing me his sweater.
"Take my sweater, I love you and I don't want you to turn into a popsicle," he says, fixing his hair. His words strike me more pain than a bullet, but I hide my distress behind a bitter smile, and put on his sweater. Immediately I am hit by his scent: chocolate, cinnamon, ink mixed with book pages and cigarettes. I thank him in a thin voice, before returning to silence.
"I guess I understand that the date didn't go very well." He says after a few minutes, trying to figure out if I felt like talking about it, watching me carefully as I played with my sleeves.
"Actually, there wasn't even a date." I reply, chuckling bitterly.
"What do you mean?" He retorts confused, as he moves closer to me, to study me better.
"Well he never showed up. I stood like a moron in front of the place where he told me to meet for a couple of hours, even caught some rain, then when I realized that I was merely making a fool of myself I came running back here, and I haven't moved from here since." I explain quickly, not wanting to cry again.
I see the anger mounting in his eyes as he takes one of my hands between his and brings it to his mouth.
"If anyone has made a fool of himself it's him, honey. He's a fool if he missed an opportunity like this. You deserve so much better, the best person the world has to offer." He says in a whisper as he holds me in his arms, doing nothing but twisting the knife in the wound making me bleed more and more.
After a while he breaks away from that grip and takes something out of his pants pocket, which I discover is a piece of chocolate, and hands it to me.
"Eat, you'll feel better." He tells me, but I shake my head.
"I don't feel like eating, Remmy." I try calling him by his nickname, hoping to soften him, knowing that when he puts his mind to something, it's hard to change his mind.
"Honey, I won't take no for an answer. I care about you, like a sister, and I don't want to not only see you suffer for that moron but also starve to death." He continues, pulling my face up, resting one of his fingers under my face.
I don't know why I feel something breaking inside, as if a pitcher full of water has decided to pour in, and I no longer have control over my words.
"That's exactly my problem Remmy. I'm not crying, sitting here for over four hours for a guy whose name I can't even remember, I'm feeling like I'm dying inside because what happened made me realize that the only guy I've ever really loved in my life will never look at me, if he's not even interested in me even a person who's not even worth a hole in his sock. I've been sitting here for hours crying because I'm afraid that I'm not worthy of being loved, because I'm afraid that I'll have to live with these damn feelings, because I'm afraid that I'll see this boy grow up and fall in love with someone else while I'll still be here, and he'll continue to see me as just a sister, and he just happens to have reminded me of that fact himself just a little while ago." At my last words I see his eyes light up, having realized who I was talking about, after being dark and dull throughout my entire speech. "And now if you don't mind, after screwing up our friendship, I'm going to bed." And I try to get up, but I don't make it in time because a hand encircles my wrist and Remus draws me toward him forcefully, in contrast to his delicate lips brushing against mine. It takes me a few seconds to return the kiss, unsure of what this moment might change between us, before I let myself go completely to him. I bring my hands behind his head, and run my fingers through his hair, while his hands go around my hips to take me on his lap, as we continue to kiss, as if we were suffocating and that was our oxygen.
"I love you, I love you, I've loved you for what seems like forever, and I'm just a coward for not telling you sooner." He says pulling away slightly, so he can breathe before giving me another full kiss. Then he starts giggling, and I look at him shocked, before I start laughing too. We laugh until our stomachs hurt and tears furrow our faces. Remus stands up, picks me up and lays me down on the couch in front of the fire, then lies down next to me.
"We are two idiots." I say, chuckling some more. "We are so stupidly in love that we didn't realize each other's feelings."
"We're all idiots in love, honey." Remus replies, kissing my forehead. "Sirius will never get tired of holding it against me that he was right." He says giggling and hiding his face in the crook of my neck.
"Not even Lily." I chuckle in response as well, before I feel that being held tightly in her arms, sleep is slowly taking over my senses.
"By the way, you look very good in my sweater, honey." Those are the last words I hear before I fall completely asleep.
At that moment, however, neither of us knows yet that our friends will never let us forget the fact that they found us the next morning cuddled on the couch in the Common Room, in front of the fire, and I was wearing the sweater of what would become my husband and the father of my children, to whom Sirius would tell this story and how their parents fell in love and how he and Aunt Lily were right.
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cakesandfail · 10 months
Note
Do you have any headcanons about how Vetinari ended up taking power?
Actually yes I do!
I wrote a fic about his first day in power that vaguely referenced this and while I don't have like, a fully fleshed out story, there are a few bits and pieces that I sort of bodged together from things in the books and what I personally find entertaining about him as a character:
There's a bit in Soul Music which says that there was a rat plague in Ankh-Morpork shortly before Vetinari came to power, and that his solution was "tax the rat farms". It's unclear in context whether this means he suggested it at the end of Snapcase's time in power or if it was one of the first things he did after he became Patrician. I've just gone ahead and assumed that the rat plague was the last straw for Snapcase and that actually having a good suggestion was one of the reasons Vetinari was in people's minds as a replacement
That then leads us to ask, well, what on earth was he doing there? He's been in power a fair while even by Guards Guards but chronologically must still only be in his early 40s by then, to have been in his late teens in the 30-years-ago bits of Night Watch (and he can't be older than that, because it's made fairly clear that he's in the Guild equivalent of secondary school at that time, and Vimes knows that the two of them are approximately the same age). Given his canonically hilariously long list of postgrad qualifications, he probably went straight from Assassins Guild grad school to the Oblong Office, more or less. Conclusion: he was the fucking INTERN. (or possibly working as a clerk, but calling him the intern is at least 500% funnier)
Given the running joke about him being this weird posh dude who doesn't seem like a threat until you remember where he was educated, I would imagine that his whole "ah capital jolly good here I go getting slang wrong again" bullshit started here. We know that among the Ankh-Morpork elite, pretending to be stupider than you really are is something that can both keep you safe and help you get away with a lot, because we see Vetinari and Vimes and Sybil do it. So this is where he got his practice. Bertie Wooster the FUCK out of your working day, quietly get on with the things that need to be done while nobody's looking, and nobody will realise because they just think you're Madam's weird nephew with the shit beard and the puppy
So, bearing all that in mind, picture this:
Snapcase is dead. The important people (at least, the people who think themselves important) converge on the palace. In a small room off the Oblong Office is a young man steadily working through a large pile of paperwork. Oh, yes, that's Madam's nephew, you know... Havelock, isn't it? They ask if he knows what's happened, and he says no, he has no idea, he's just been working his way through all these regulations, and gosh, they really are very dull. And... well... nobody else is here. And nobody else seems to understand the filing system, or the rest of the staff, or anything really. But he does.
This guy's had a few good ideas when he's been doing the minutes at various meetings, that makes him a plausible candidate surely? And he's so young, so he's going to need a lot of guidance from helpful, experienced folks, right? How useful. He's just smart enough not to be an obvious puppet. Very handy indeed.
And the cream of Ankh-Morpork society being what they are (truly the cream- rich and thick) they don't realise until it's far too late that this lanky goth weirdo they'd thought would do their bidding knows everything about everyone and he's been quietly furious about the result of the Glorious 25th for over a decade. And, whoops, they'd somehow forgotten that he didn't spend all of that time on Guild postgraduate courses doing resits. Oh dear. And now he's their boss.
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sunflower-author · 1 month
Note
Haii :3
can I request a yandere platonic lady Tamayo who is very protective of reader
OMG, I AM SO SORRY, I KNOW IT HAS BEEN LIKE 60 DAYS SINCE YOU ASKED I AM EXTREMELY SORRY BUT IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!
IM A LITTLE BEHIND BUT WORKING ON ALL THE OTHER REQUEST!!
TRUST!!!
Anyway I hope you like this<3
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
     "Y/N I told you many times haven't I," Tamayo scolded you, in your room.
"I just wanted to go out to see the festival... It only happens once a year..." You complained.
"Still that doesn't justify sneaking out. You could have lost control, gotten lost, or Kibutsuki might have found you, or-"
"I had human blood yesterday, and you know I handle a least a week without it, and I know the village, I've been reading about it for a while, and we haven't heard about... 'him' being around here my entire lifetime..." you cut her off by saying.
"You've never been around so many people, since you've been turned into a demon, there was no telling if you could handle, all the new walking blood bags around you, and reading about things is different than actually seeing things in real life, as for Kibutsuki, even he we heard no word about him being here, there is still his underlings that lurk around here. remember the last time Yushiro told us about the encounter he had with one of them?" Tamayo asks you.
"... Four days ago..." you say looking down, feeling guilty, knowing that she is right.
"Exactly four days ago, they are probably still hiding in this town somewhere, it's dangerous to go out alone...  you know, if you truly asked me and Yushiro, we would have taken you..." Tamayo says sighing.
"Yeah right... you're just saying that right now... but we both know if I asked you before, you would have said no, lecture me more about being outside, humans, demons... 'him' exactly what you're doing right now," you say, knowing the type of manipulation tactics she has used on you ever since you met her.
"All I'm doing is trying to protect you... ever since I met you, don't you forget who was the one that saved you all those years ago... That demon was about to devour you, and I was the one who killed him, if I wasn't there, you would have been dead..." Tamayo said. 
Every time the two of you argued and she had enough, Tamayo would always bring up your past trauma, guilt-tripping you to go along with whatever she was saying.
You stay silent knowing that you can't say anything, after she pulls 'that' card on you.
"I care about you Y/N, I truly do," Tamayo says sitting down beside you on your bed.
"Listen, maybe when you're older... give it a few years, and I promise, you me and Yushiro will all go to that festival," Tamayo says, with her signature smile.
It makes her look innocent, but we both know it is always used to hide what she truly is feeling. Her obsessed, psycho, crazy side, or maybe annoyed, irritated side, probably both.
"Older? I'm old enough, I am in my teens no doubt late teen years, in a few years I might well be in my twenties," you snap back at her.
"Correction, you would be in your twenties if you were still human... Demons age differently since they can live well longer compared to humans, menially it takes... even I am not too sure." Tamayo says calmly. 
"Yes you have been here a few years, however menially you've probably only aged a few months, and let's not forget about your physical state, when you get turned into a demon, you stop growing physically," Tamayo says.
As she put her hand on your head, in hopes of comforting you a bit.
"I managed fine on my own before you found me," You counter back.
"You lasted what? A little over a year, before I found about to be devoured by a low-level demon-"
"I was younger, I was still getting used to being a demon, but now I know how to do things, thanks to you and Yushiro, I'll be able to handle myself, Tamayo," You cut her off, not wanting her to say anymore.
"And if you were to run into Kibutsuki? Then what? how will you defend yourself, if he found out you were associated with me? He would do unspeakable things to you Y/N," Tamayo says sternly.
"The chances of running into him are very small, just how much demons actually get to see his face?" you say again.
"Y/N L/N, drop this," Tamayo says, sternly, before sighing and calming herself down.
Finally having enough of this, you stay silent, you can never win against Tamayo. This is how all your arguing ends with her, once she says your full name everything ends.
"You acting childish, auguring with me, selfish for leaving me and Yushiro worried-" Realizing what she is saying stops, looking down at her lap, it is never her intention to make you feel bad.
"Y/n I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Yeah yeah, you didn't mean all those bad things you said and were about to say to me," giving her attitude. 
Rolling your eyes, you start to lie down on the bed, facing away from her.
"Well, since you're already mad at me, minus well tell you your punishment, no books for a month, and you will stay in your room for a week," Tamayo says turning to look at you.
You just stay silent looking the other way, waiting for her to go.
Getting the signal, Tamayo gets up from the bed walks to the door, turns off the light, grabs the door she looks at you for a moment.
"Goodnight Y/N," She says softly, only to be met with silence.
Sighing again, she closes the door, locking it.
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Text
"Cut!"
Hi! I was remembering how some of your fics have Roman practicing conversations with the other sides in the Imagination over and over. Now, I tend to be one of those people that is almost always in my head (been mildly dissociating near constantly for almost a year now which uh- probably should get that checked out actually) and a lot of the time when I do stuff I get deja vu even if I've never done something like that before. And it's kinda gotten to the point where I'm not entirely sure if something has actually happened or not sometimes. So I was thinking maybe Roman references a conversation what he'd had with the Imagination!Sides in passing on accident, and everyone is kinda like "Princey wtf are you talking about??" And Roman panics and hides, and the next time he sees the sides he thinks that they don't wanna see him and this is a scene in the Imagination. So he gets really confused when the words he's learned will get the fake sides angry at him just are met with more concern and worry from the real sides. And they're trying to comfort him and he doesn't know what's going on and yells "CUT!" but obviously it doesn't work and now everyone is really worried and Roman can't tell between what's real and what's fake anymore and just. Has a mental breakdown. and then they comfort :D because I cannot leave this poor guy with an unhappy ending. – anon
hiii !!!! idk if you’re taking requests, and if not please ignore me, but if you are, i’m legit in love with how you write rociet with roman angst, and i would love to see more of it !!!!!! thank you !!!!!!!! – anon
Read on Ao3
Warnings: unreality/roman having trouble remembering things and figuring out what's real, self-doubt
Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic you decide
Word Count: 4976
It begins so slowly that they don't think anything of it at first. Roman will say something that they don't remember, or he'll reference something that never happened, or he'll forget something that happened just a few days ago as though it happened several months back. Things...escalate, and soon they figure out the problem is far, far worse than they could have ever imagined.
Remus doesn't bother with asking or knocking, he just sinks into Roman's room right over his bed.
There's no yelp or screech, which means Roro's not in the bed, but he does get a surprised little squeak when he turns around from his desk.
"Ro-bro!"
"Re? I thought you were—you went—aren't you feeding Ollie right now?"
Remus frowns, sitting up. "No, that's not for another week. And you're supposed to come with me."
Roman furrows his brow, toying with his pen. "Really? I thought you said…"
He trails off, staring into nothing and Remus's frown deepens, sliding off the bed and walking over. Roman's pen stills, his grip a little too tight, and Remus nudges his shoulder. "Roro?"
It's like someone electrocuted him—Roman clicks and suddenly this wide grin that looks almost painful settles on his face and Remus blinks in surprise. "Sorry, don't know what came over me. Must've been lost in thought."
"Are you—hey!"
Roman leaps up and tackles Remus through the door into the Imagination, summoning his sword and swinging it before Remus has a chance to catch his breath. His morningstar clangs against the blade a moment later and he grins too—he's been waiting for Roman to start one of their fights for ages!
"Come on," Roman taunts, spreading his arms, "or are you just gonna lie there all day?"
"Oh, you asked for it, Roro."
Their sparring shakes the ground, yells and laughs ringing out as their weapons clash over and over and over. Remus throws back his head and howls and the Imagination responds, the sky growing dark and thick with clouds as thunder booms in the distance. Roman's sword grazes his arm and he shoves Remus hard in the chest, knocking him over.
"Do you yield?"
"Never!" He springs back up and they're off again, but Roman keeps dancing out of the way. "How're you so fast? Have you been practicing without me?"
Roman falters and Remus jams his elbow into the soft part of Roman's ribs, knocking him off-balance just enough to swat the sword from his hand. The first raindrops start to fall as Roman lands on his side, Remus's morningstar about to aim for his chest when a leg trips him and suddenly Roman's got his sword back—how did that happen?—and Remus's weapon is flying across the field.
"How the fuck—?"
"Do you yield?"
Remus snarls playfully and jumps up, tackling Roman and knocking his sword away again. Roman responds instantly, grappling across the slowly-muddying field until they end up on their backs, Roman's arm holding Remus in a chokehold as the rain pours down on them.
"Do you yield?"
"Yeah, yeah," Remus gasps, "I fucking yield. Leggo."
Roman chuckles and lets him roll off, landing face first in a mud puddle. His muscles ache but only in the good way and he flops onto his back, smiling breathlessly at the sky.
"That was fucking amazing, Roro," he gasps, "you have been practicing, haven't you?"
"Just trying to keep up with you," comes Roman's answer, just a little too quickly.
Remus doesn't think anything of it.
2.
"Roman?"
"Hm?" Roman looks up from his spot in the corner of the living room, curled around his notebook. "Oh, hey, Padre. Is everything okay?"
Patton tilts his head. "Yeah, kiddo, why wouldn't it be?"
"Sorry, it's just, you know, everyone's been a little tense recently, what with…" Roman makes a vague gesture. "Everything. I shouldn't have assumed, though, I'm sorry."
Before Patton can ask if Roman's okay, Roman's settling his notebook to the side and standing up.
"What can I do for you?"
"I was going to ask if you wanted to help me with dinner?"
An expression flickers across Roman's face, too quick to name, before he's smiling and bowing. "It would be my honor, lead the way."
At least he's alright enough for that. Patton goes over to the kitchen, Roman behind him, and reaches for the large pot at the back of the stove. "I was thinking we could try that new pasta dish that Virgil's been asking about? The one Thomas saw on that YouTube video?"
"The one with all the spices and garlic and stuff?"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"I don't remember if we have all the ingredients we need, but I'm definitely down to try." Roman opens a cabinet and starts taking bottles down from the shelf. "We can also definitely tweak the recipe to make sure that we can do the important parts, we just have to be careful that—"
"Uh, Roman?"
Roman pauses, turning to look over his shoulder, still holding a jar. "Yeah?"
"I, uh, I did this last week, I know what spices we have. I figured this out, you don't have to tell me how to do it."
Again, that expression flickers over his face and he quickly sets down the jar and takes a big step away from the counter. "Right, right, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted to—no, I'm not gonna make an excuse. I'm sorry, Patton, I'll listen."
"It's fine, kiddo, I know you didn't mean it." Patton holds out the pot. "Can you fill this with water?"
"Of course!"
They start prepping, Patton providing little instructions and Roman carrying them out. He chops the shallots, the green onions, and sets the sausage to the side to be cooked first. By the time they're ready to start the actual cooking, Patton's got the water boiling for the rice noodles when Roman looks over his shoulder.
"Um, what are you doing?"
"Cooking the noodles, that's it."
"But they're—sorry, aren't they supposed to be cooked later?"
"We need them ready to add to the rest of the stuff near the end, kiddo, so they have to be ready."
"But they only take a few minutes." When Patton frowns, just thinking Roman's words over, Roman hastily continues. "Sorry, I'm sure you know that already. Here, I'll, uh, would it be helpful if I got a bowl out to put them in once they're done?"
"Yeah, that'd be great."
He catches that expression on Roman's face again, and again it vanishes too quickly for him to ask about, but the rest of the cooking goes off without a hitch. They get a lot of compliments on how good everything tastes and Patton makes sure Roman gets as much of the praise as he does.
"I just listened to you," Roman demurs, "it's really all you."
"It seems not only have you cooked a spectacular dish," Logan observes, "but you've also taught Roman some humility."
Virgil snorts. "'Bout time."
Roman smiles as the rest of them laugh. Patton takes another bite. "This is even better than last time."
"Last time," Roman says quietly, "sorry, can you—when was last time?"
"Sheesh, Princey, how bad is your memory getting? It was just last week?"
"Last week, right."
Patton opens his mouth to ask why Roman still sounds unsure about it, but then Remus throws one of the prawn shells at Janus and he doesn't think about it anymore.
3.
"Easy, now," Roman murmurs, still stroking his hand up and down Virgil's spine, "that's it…you're doing really well, shadow-ling."
Virgil closes his eyes, resting against Roman's solid chest as the last of the panic attack bleeds from his veins. His breathing has yet to even out, but he can start to smell some of Princey's shampoo again, so he takes it as a win. He'll deny it later, but he turns his head to nuzzle into the crook of Roman's neck. Roman doesn't say a single thing, just shifting his grip to hold Virgil more securely in his lap.
"Hey," he says gently when Virgil headbutts his chin, "you here with me, bud?"
"Mmpf."
Roman's chuckle thrums warmly through his head. "I'll take that as a 'sort of.'"
Half of Virgil expects Roman to gently prod him into taking care of himself the rest of the way: getting him water, making him try and eat a little, getting him out of the gross and sweaty clothes into clean ones, even trying to talk him into taking a shower. And he'd do it, putting up his cursory protests, but that would mean that Roman's getting ready to leave and right now, in the last of the panic, he really wants Princey to stay.
He'd deny it if Roman ever asked him, of course, and he'd throttle Janus before he could chirp how much of a lie that was.
But Roman doesn't do that. Instead, he wraps his arms even more gently around Virgil and tucks him half over his shoulder, almost straddling his lap as one of his hands begins to card through his hair. Pressed chest to chest, he has to stifle another hitching gasp as Princey starts humming. It's a low and gentle tune, almost melancholy, and he swears it's some kind of magic as it reaches into the exhausted heap of emotions still swirling in his gut and starts coaxing it out of him.
Yeah, that means he goes back to crying into Princey's shoulder, but it's a softer cry that feels like he might actually feel better when it's over and he has no idea how Roman knows exactly what to do.
He's not gonna question it though.
There's no way the song Princey's humming is as long as he holds him for, so he must be doing it over and over, which just makes Virgil cry more because Roman is choosing to stay with him right now, he's choosing to let Virgil be a puddle of mess on his lap, and he's still running his fingers lightly over Virgil's back and yes, actually, Virgil would like to stay here forever.
When the tears eventually run out and Virgil's just floating there, in a really pleasant haze, he realizes that Roman isn't going to move until Virgil decides he wants to move. Not when he's just shifting so it's easier for Virgil to breathe, and he's still scratching gently along the space between his shoulder blades.
"…Princey?"
"Hm?"
"How'd…how'd you know what to do?"
Roman turns and noses Virgil's hair. "You told me, remember?"
Virgil's tired brain tries to figure out when he gave Roman the step-by-step on how to give him the best, most indulgent comfort ever and draws a blank. "No. I—when'd I do that?"
Roman's hand stutters for a moment, just a moment, but a moment nonetheless. "Maybe I just figured out why it took me so long to realize what you needed, then."
Talking is hard, and so Virgil doesn't do it, but he does think about it.
4.
"It's not that bizarre of an opinion, to be sure, but the way it's phrased speaks more of an incomplete understanding of the topic than they intended."
"No, I see your point. I mean, I know I'm definitely biased and reading sentences like that tends to make me defensive, but I know that, and I'm trying to work on it." Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. "I think it's just hard because when you make such sweeping generalizations that imply that you really don't know what it is you're talking about, it's hard for me to not be super defensive and stuff, does that make sense?"
"It's another area for you to work on—"
"Yeah, I know."
"—but I see your point. If someone doesn't come to the table in good faith, it's difficult to have good faith yourself." Logan sits back, still pondering the opinion piece in front of them. "Though it is clear they lack the same kind of expertise and knowledge that you do."
"I think that's also why it's hard for me—I can list, like, four different examples offhand that would disprove their point, and at least half a dozen more that show the contradictions they've made in the last paragraph alone—like, I'm not alone here, that part contradicts their point about pacing, doesn't it?"
"Not entirely, but yes, it lends an ambiguity to their earlier statement."
"Right." Roman rubs his forehead and flips through his notebook, brow furrowed. "I swear I remember when we talked about academic continuity, I just need to find that page."
Logan frowns. "When we what?"
Roman looks up, brow furrowed. "When we talked about…you know, the importance of making sure your argument—or your point, sorry—carries through your entire piece?"
"I don't recall that conversation."
"You, um—" Roman starts flipping through his notebook, his movements taking on an increasingly frenetic pace— "you brought one of my papers to me that we talked about and you started going through the um, the problems with the layout and we started talking about the importance of—I swear it's in here, I just need to find it."
Logan sits forward, his brow increasingly furrowing as Roman almost tears a page trying to turn it. "Roman, it's—"
"Here." Roman runs his finger down the page, still not meeting Logan's gaze, "we talked about how it's important to have a coherent theme that the reader can follow and how to acknowledge conflicting viewpoints without placing them in a hierarchy."
Logan blinks. That does sound like a conversation that he and Roman would have—one that he believes he'd rather enjoy—but he has no recollection of it. Roman's expression flickers when he says as much, something almost like panic rising in his gaze before it's quickly stifled.
"Well," he says, forcing a smile onto his face, "perhaps I was just reading it back over and imagined what you'd say."
"I quite like this imaginary version of me, then," Logan jokes, "he makes excellent points."
Roman's reaction is not quite a flinch, but his smile squeezes for a moment too long before he nods.
"Would you mind having it again," Logan asks, "for the sake of—?"
"Oh, I couldn't do it justice," Roman says a little too quickly, "but you, um, you can read it? If you want?"
Logan blinks again, surprise coloring his voice. "You'd let me read your notes?"
"…if…if you want to?"
Waiting for Roman to retract that invitation at any moment—he has never seen Roman fiercer than when something touches his notebooks—Logan reaches out and carefully starts to read. The conversation's transcript—or summary—is fascinating. He finds himself almost mourning the fact that this wasn't a conversation he'd actually had. Although some of the comments that he can tell are his are a touch more callous than he'd prefer, he finds himself engrossed in their dialogue until he gets to the latter half.
Roman's handwriting grows sloppy, as it is wont to do when he gets caught up, but there are occasional splotches of discoloration where it looks like something wet.
"Oh, I was drinking something," Roman says offhandedly when Logan asks, "must've spillled."
"I'm surprised you'd drink around your notebooks, you take such care of them."
"Well, you know me."
Before Logan can point out that he does, that's why he's confused, Roman's saying that he's sorry, but he's a little worn out, would Logan mind terribly if they cut this short a bit? Logan shakes his head and watches Roman pick up his notebook, walking out of his room. That moment of panic lingers in his mind and he frowns, wondering why Roman had panicked.
He thinks about that and the drops of liquid that had obscured a line in Roman's handwriting that just said cut.
5.
Janus hears Roman lie over and over again and he's about to break something.
Every time, he has to hold back his visible surprise that one, Roman is lying so readily, and two, that he's getting away with it. The little prince is a better actor than Janus gave him credit for—than any of them gave him credit for, as it's turning out—and the more times it happens, the more Janus thinks that something right under their noses is going terribly, horribly wrong.
The lies aren't big enough for them to be problems on their own, but they stack on top of each other like pebbles until it feels as though Janus blinks one day and there's a wall between Roman and the rest of them that seems insurmountable. And each time another adds to the mass, he thinks about calling it out, but they're never for something so serious as to warrant a full interrogation and the last thing he wants to do is let Roman know he's suspicious of him.
…it sounds much worse than it is.
It's just that if Roman is this good about keeping everyone off his tail right now, with almost no baseline suspicion or cause for concern, he has no desire to see what would happen if Roman was intent on keeping it a secret. And if he is going to succeed in uncovering why Roman feels so fundamentally scared, something Virgil only admitted after Janus had poked and prodded him for far too long, then he needs all of the rest of them on his side too.
His opportunity comes unexpectedly.
They're having a meeting—not a meeting meeting, they're just talking about what they want to do this weekend—and Roman brings up a conversation they'd had about making sure movie nights were comfortable for everyone. Talking about possible triggers beforehand, making sure everyone had equal access to whatever snacks they wanted, even down to making sure everyone behaved considerately while the movie was playing to ensure everyone was having a good time.
A perfectly reasonable thing to bring up, except that conversation never happened.
"What?" Roman looks around. "Are—it did, I swear. We were—we were getting ready to watch the second Venom movie and Remus brought up the body horror and gore that happens and we started talking about—"
He looks around at them all again.
"Do…do none of you remember this?"
"No, kiddo."
"Not really."
"It would be a good conversation to have, but I don't remember this instance of it."
Remus and Janus just shake their heads, Janus keeping his eyes on Roman as he fiddles with his hands.
Don't lie, Roman, please.
"Sorry," Roman says, flashing a bright smile, "must be getting lost in my Imagination again."
Janus narrows his eyes—not technically a lie, but Roman's leaving something out. For a moment, it seems like the conversation will keep flowing and he'll have to wait for a better time to ask Roman what's wrong, but then Patton's speaking up.
"Kiddo?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
Roman laughs. "Yeah, of course, Padre, why wouldn't I be?"
Lie. Janus hisses softly and Roman's head jerks around.
"What's the matter," Logan asks, and Roman jerks again at the gentle tone, "will you talk to us, Roman?"
"You've been acting a little strange for a while now," Patton agrees, taking a step closer, "is everything okay?"
"Yeah, like I said," Roman tries, a smile still sort of on his face, "everything's fine, why are you—"
Janus hisses again as Virgil sits up. "Princey, you don't have to be scared, you can—"
"I'm not scared!"
The stronger lie sears across Janus's tongue as Roman winces at the force of his own shout. He pinches the bridge of his nose. No one dares move for several long seconds. Just when Logan looks like he's about to say something, Roman takes a deep breath and lowers his head.
"I'm sorry," he says in a voice that sounds so mournful it makes Janus's chest ache, "I didn't mean to shout or snap at you. You didn't deserve it, I'm sorry. I think I—I've just been spending too much time in the Imagination again."
As soon as he finishes talking, he braces. Like he's expecting to get hit. He hears Remus make a worried noise next to him, starting to reach out.
"Little one," Logan says gently, "we're not angry with you, there's no need for all of that."
Roman's eyes snap open and at the look of pure confusion on his face, a few more of them let out little sounds. Virgil stands up and Roman turns too quickly to face him.
"Hey, Princey," Virgil soothes, his hands up, "I'm not moving, okay? I'm just worried. You're—I can feel you freaking out a little that's all."
"Sweetheart," Patton calls next and Janus winces at how much Roman's neck keeps snapping back and forth, "sweetheart, it's okay, you're safe, it's gonna be okay."
"Back off a bit, we're crowding him."
All of them—except for Remus—take a step back. Remus edges closer and closer to Roman until he can rest a hand on Roman's shoulder. Roman just trembles and Remus cups the side of his face.
"Hey, Roro. Look at me. Just at me, okay?"
"I don't—this wasn't—"
"Breathe," Remus bids softly, and Roman draws a few gasping breaths.
"This wasn't supposed to happen."
"What wasn't?"
"This—I—I don't—"
Remus opens his mouth to say something else when it morphs into a wordless sound of surprise as Roman sinks out abruptly, leaving him scrabbling at the empty air as the rest of them rush forward.
"What happened?"
"Where'd he go?"
"Did we do something to upset him?"
"What's going on?"
Janus doesn't say anything, still staring at the spot where Roman had been. He thinks about all of the lies he's heard, all of the things Roman hasn't said, and how out of all of the things Roman lied about, he'd never lied about being lost in the Imagination.
A conclusion starts to take shape.
+1.
"No wonder you've been so off, your head hasn't been attached to you since you lost it."
"It's a bad idea to spend so much time in the Imagination, Roman, you know that."
"That sounds really irresponsible, Roman. You should know better."
"Quit hogging the Imagination, I need to use it too."
"Oh, of course you were, Roman, did you honestly think we'd expected anything different?"
"You need to be better disciplined, if you can't get the work done you need to before deciding to go off and play."
"Sheesh, Princey, are you really that selfish?"
"If it's getting so bad that you're having delusions, then you need to stop, kiddo."
"Oh, no, Roman's having trouble understanding what's real again."
"The fuck is wrong with you?"
"You're being dramatic, pull yourself together."
"Your crocodile tears aren't convincing anyone, you know."
"Stop crying, you're not a baby."
"Do you think that if you throw a big or pathetic enough tantrum, it'll get us to spoil you? Grow up."
"Stupid."
"Ridiculous."
"Pathetic."
"Annoying."
"Worthless."
"You can't do anything right."
"You're being ridiculous."
"We should never have relied on you."
"I knew you couldn't handle it."
"We're better off without you."
Roman curls up around his pillow, wedging himself deeper into the corner. He jams his face between it and the wall. He tries to keep his hands out of sight. He counts in his head as he breathes, trying to keep it as even as possible. Eventually it will be over. He just has to last until then. Then he can go to his room and cuddle his plushie dragon and be upset there, out of the way, and hurt all by himself. It's safer that way.
He keeps his breathing nice and steady, letting the hurt course through him. The voices keep going, taunting, mocking, yelling, scolding, until they start to just say his name over and over. Roman, Roman, Roman, Roman—
"Roman!"
Something like a frenzied scream comes from behind him and he turns his face deeper into the wall.
"What the fuck are those things?"
"Shit, how long have those been here?"
"Are they—are they supposed to be us?"
"Yeah, fucked up and cruel versions of us, not on my fucking watch!"
Several wet splats come from behind him and then there are hands on his shoulder, running through his hair, and someone that feels like Remus is murmuring in his ear.
"Hey, Roro, it's over. I destroyed them, they're gone, it's the real us. We're here, we're really here, just—just come out of there, okay?"
Oh. It's this one.
He always finds this one the cruelest, where they lure him in with promises of comfort and safety only to turn on him when he reveals what he's actually upset about. No, thank you, he's hurting just fine on his own.
"Roro, please, come out of there, it's okay, it's all gonna be okay."
"Let me try," he hears Logan's voice say, and then the Remus is moving away and there's another hand on his shoulder, "dear, it's alright. You're going to give yourself neck pain if you stay like that, come here…"
Despite his chest howling at him not to, Roman lets Logan coax him out from the corner. Each word of gentle praise just makes it worse—it's going to hurt so much when they start being mean again.
"Princey—" and there's Virgil— "hey, stay with us, okay? Just focus on us, Pat, do you want to—"
"I got it."
Despite himself, a wounded noise leaves Roman's throat as a blanket gets draped over his shoulders. Careful touches smooth it down, more hands helping to secure it in place, and he just curls up so small under it so he doesn't get used to the warmth.
Just get it over with. Just get it over with. Just get it over with.
"Sweetie," he hears, and flinches at the touch of a smooth hand and a scaled hand on his face.
Wait, what?
Janus never takes his gloves off. Not here. Not like this. They can't—they can't be this cruel to him, not today, not when everything already hurts so much.
"Cut," he manages, "cut."
But the hands don't leave and he looks up to see Janus, actual real Janus looking at him and then he smiles softly and calls him sweetie again, and then Logan is appearing over his shoulder and Patton's adjusting the blanket and Virgil and Remus are keeping watch at the corners of the room and—and—and—
"Come here, sweetie," Janus murmurs and he's falling into his chest and there's a kiss being pressed to his temple and it's warm and soft and—
"Shh, Princey," Virgil says as a thread of panic starts to wind its way around his chest, "it's okay, you're okay," and—
"Come this way a little," Logan coaxes as something soft appears under him, "come lie down, you're alright," and—
"There you are," Patton's voice says as something starts to cuddle him, gently yet firmly and it's so surreal and—
"Oh, Roro," Remus mumbles as his brother's arms wrap firmly around him, "this is real, I promise, I promise we're here with you, everything's gonna be okay, okay? We're here, we're real, you're real, everything's gonna be okay now," and—
—and then Roman doesn't think anymore.
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Dear all,
I've been watching Netflix's BLUE EYE SAMURAI and I'm in love! And I know we are going to get a season two and that Mizu's origins will probably be explained much more but I wanted to give you some headcanon already. Here's how I think Mizu came to be. ________________________________________
Mizu's mother knew she was damned from the moment she laid eyes on the handsome foreigner.
Later, when it all went to hell, she'd often wondered why she fell for him so swiftly, so loudly. She cursed herself for not being able to control herself, but deep down, she knew why.
Those blue eyes.
All of her friends and suitors had dark eyes, nearly black. Her people, from lowly farmers to extravagant prostitutes, had eyes like the night. Eyes that could hide so much.
Once, left unattended, she had wandered the halls of her family urban estate, ventured beyond the walls of their dwelling at night. There was a large party going on in the town square, her parents were in attendance. She easily slipped the mind of her supervisor, an old woman that didn't dare tell her parents she was becoming too blind to take care of a six-year old.
From the shadows, a beggar had emerged, eager to take a hostage, already spending the money he'd get from her ransom.
His brown eyes had been filled with darkness.
She still remembered the panic, running away from him. He caught her all the same. What chance did a six year old have against a grown man?
She could fell his bad breath on her face as he squeezed her against his torso uncomfortably.
"I'm going to make a lot of money from you, little girl."
She screamed.
Then she felt blood splattering on her face as a samurai cut down her attacker.
"What were you doing out on your own?" he asked, kneeling down to meet her eyes. His blade was still wet with blood.
"I just wanted to... see the party..." she stammered,
"You can't!" The man sheated his sword. "Danger is everywhere for a girl like you. Do not forget that."
Her parents didn't let her go out much after that. The old lady was fired, the samurai promoted.
She'd never forgotten those dark dark eyes. But she hadn't stopped wandering, either.
Growing up a noble was quite boring. Other children could play; she had lessons in kaligraphy, weaving, economics. She was taught to read and write, how to ride horses. She snuck into the library often, reading the mightiest tales of adventure.
"A lady must know how to sew" a younger copy of the blind woman told her, when she pricked herself with a needle again. Her hair was raven black still, her hands steady.
"You are of an age to be wed now, miss. You need to be careful."
Angry, she'd stormed off to the library.
The samurai, who was now much older, gray showing in his beard, her father's most trusted advisor and most important bureaucrat, had found her there an hour later sitting on the floor reading a book.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Hiding."
"Why?"
"I don't want to marry."
"You will have to. Not long from now, too"
"Spare me the lecture on duty. I'm not in the mood. "
He crouched down, looked somber. "You will have to get better at getting in the mood, then. There are few choices for a lady like you, unfortunately."
She sneered. "So I just do whatever my dad wants. Marry whoever he chooses?"
The old man shook his head. "I'm sorry. Love is not in the cards for you, milady. That's the way it is."
The young girl turned her head, refusing to look him in the eye. "You're no better than the man you saved me from, all those years ago."
The old man sighed, then stood up.
"You know nothing of suffering, milady. You've lived your entire life with food in your stomach, servants to satisfy your every whim. I pray you will learn to appreciate what you have."
"I will appreciate marrying a powerful man for my dad's influence, sure."
"Just promise me one thing."
She looked at him.
"Do not forget danger."
"I promise, wise one."
He rolled his eyes, turned around. Then he walked away. It was the last time she saw him.
And despite his warning, despite her reassurance to heed danger, she'd forgotten to do just that.
During a long boring night of trying to find a suitor, half a week later, Mizu's mother slipped out of the estate, made her way to the town square.
Her supervisor, younger this time, didn't know the estate like she did, found her attention elsewhere and then couldn't find the girl once refocussed.
She went to the town square once again. This time, there was no samurai to save her. He'd been called away, there was conflict somewhere.
She took a cup of strong liquor out of someone's hands, danced. The village was watching in disgust. A lady shouldn't behave like that. The noblemen weren't even near the dancing crowd.
In Japan, modesty was virtue.
But the man she danced with that night wasn't Japanese.
He was loud and brazen and blue-eyed. He knew he wanted her the second he saw her.
"How are you tonight, lady?" he asked her, elegantly adjusting to her rhythm.
He was a foreigner, but she didn't care much about that. His Japanese was heavy, each word pronounced with a heavy drawl. His hands were strong.
"I'm doing well, lord."
"Could I have this dance?" he asked.
Bold. Foreign.
Exiting.
She looked into his eyes. In the dim light, they seemed to shine.
She gave him her hand.
"Yes."
They danced and danced and then she found herself underneath him. He made her see stars. She was never allowed to watch those, back home. He was a powerful man, that she knew from the clothes she tore off his body, but he was kind.
When they were lying on the bed afterwards, her slowly drawing circles on his chest, she asked him what he did for a living.
He smiled. "I trade."
Suddenly, all the alarm bells were ringing. White traders in Japan were normally not smooth-skinned talkers like this. They were criminals, trading drugs and weapons.
And flesh.
"I need to leave" she said, attempting to get out of the bed.
His hands pressed down on her slightly, but commanding. "I don't think you do."
His eyes, warm hours before, were cold now. Not sea, but sheets of ice.
She didn't escape his grasp again. No samurai, no mentor, no one to save her, nor the baby that was developing in her belly.
For 4 years, she was taken around Japan. She was beautiful, yes, and young. She found ways to make herself... "useful". Her parents had stopped looking for her. The old samurai died in his bed, wondering where she was.
She and her child were neglected, but not starved. She lived a life in a cage on the second floors of large castles while her white devil traded lives, drugs and guns. While he terrorized Japan. Her only contact was with a woman of old age.
A woman of her age, she corrected. She wasn't young anymore. Not like she used to be. A kind woman, doing her best to take care of the mother and daughter.
This was not the life she wished on her child. Mizu, she'd named her. Water. After the ocean in her eyes.
One faithful day, she saw her white captor come home with another girl. She knew it wouldn't be long before she'd fall for him too.
Before her and her little baby were no longer kept around for entertainment. She needed to act, and needed to act now.
Before he decided to turn her into one of the trophies she saw hanging on the wall.
She knew of a village, by the sea. Far away from Edo, out of reach for the white bastard. Best fish in the area. She'd been there, once.
She also knew that the front door was locked with a large key only the white devil had access to.
She knew he liked it ugly. She knew where he kept his stash of ryu.
One day, when the woman came to take care of her, she made her case.
"Please help us get out of here" she begged the lady. But she shook her head.
"I can't. He'll kill me, and there is nowhere we can go. "
"Please! Haven't you seen what he does to the other kids once they are old enough to talk?"
The woman nodded. His other bastard children lived in cages, three levels lower, or were sold into slavery once they were old enough. Mizu, a pretty and blue-eyed Japanese girl, would earn the white devil a fortune.
"I'll think about it."
For two weeks, the servant struggled. It was the right thing to do, right?. But it could get her killed. She twisted and turned in her bed. Those blue eyes...
After two weeks she'd made up her mind.
"I can't help you. I'm sorry."
"Please. You have to. He'll kill us."
"I can't take you both!" She screamed. Too scared, too cowardly. Too weak to carry the woman.
"Please, at least take her. Take her and go far from here." Her mother pleaded. "I'll pay you to take care of her. "He keeps his money.."
"I know where he keeps his money!" The lady screamed. "Don't you think I want to get out of here too?"
The mother's voice broke. "Please. I'll do anything. I don't want this life for Mizu."
She took off her necklace. Expensive. Gold.
"Here. Sell this. I'll distract him so you can get to the key. But please, take care of Mizu."
The caretaker looked at the jewelry. It was refined gold, a large gem in the middle. She'd be able to sell that for a lot of money. Live in the countryside with a child, the one thing life had denied her.
"What about you?"
The woman smiled. She lifted the hem of her shirt. A large black spot showed, just below her ribcage. Red streaks were already creeping up her arms.
"He hit me three days ago. Had all his rings on. Broke the skin, and he didn't clean his hands after trading opium."
The older woman looked, in shock. "What... what does.."
"I'll be dead soon. Too weak to make an escape myself. But I'll distract the white devil. Just promise me she will be safe."
The old woman nodded, pocketed the necklace. "I promise."
"His gold is in a locker. 5.000 ryu. You'll need to bribe the guard and get passage away from here."
She nodded, planning her escape. The two women looked at each other. About the same age, one weakened by sepsis, the other terrified of the life ahead of her.
"Thank you"
They nodded to each other.
Three hours later, she sat nearly naked at the dinner table, hands shaking. Mizu was with the other woman, ready to run.
When the white man came in, fresh from the port, he looked suprised. But then he grinned, slid his hands over her exposed shoulders. "What are you doing, darling?."
She shivered. It wasn't cold. "I want to please you, lord."
He lifted her out of her seat, her breast pressing against his chest as she messed with his belt. Her hands were shaking so bad she couldn't get it open.
"You Japanese woman are all the same. Whores for white cock."
The other woman snuck into the bedroom as the white man had his way with her on the table.
She lifted the key off the hinges, hid the baby in her robes, took the gold.
She disappeared like a thief in the night.
"WHERE IS MY GOLD!?" the white man thundered the day after. The sound boomed through the castle, reached the woman in her cell, woke her up.
He stormed in, smacked her in the face. "Where!?"
She smiled at him. She had a high fever, could feel death approaching. She would soon meet her old samurai again. "You'll never find it. "
The white man pulled a knife. His blue eyes were cold as ice. "Where is the kid, then? The blue eyed bastard?"
"She'll never be a slave. And you won't sell her."
She felt the tip of his blade open the skin of her throat. "Tell me!" he commanded.
"You'll never find her, and I won't tell you."
He let her go, roared.
When the blade came down, she was smiling.
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Pure facts on DWD:
link
Transcript because SHE SPOKE FACTS NO BULLSHIT:
Here's my opinion. Actually, we can start with facts:
I don't wanna see this movie. I'm tired of hearing about this movie. Everything I've learned about this movie has been against my will. It's been 2 years of pre-release fatigue. I'm tired of the PR stunts, I'm tired of the obvious photo ops, I'm tired of the press leaks, I'm tired of the on set leaks, I'm tired of the "anonymous sources", I'm tired of all of it. Any interest I might've had in this movie doesn't exist anymore.
This film went into production in 2020 during a time when every single studio was panicked and desperate to figure out how they were gonna survive the pandemic. With theaters being closed, everything shut down, them losing money to streaming services. And the PR campaign for this film, which started during casting, is a direct reflection of that [studios being panicked].
Again, the budget is small, it's a $20 million dollar budget, it's not a ton of money in movie-money, and they're obviously supplementing that small budget with a never-ending PR campaign to make up for it. (edit: it went over budget to 30-40M! All the more reason for the excessive PR).
On to my opinion:
1 - Harry and Olivia are obviously in a PR relationship.
2 - The movie is not gonna do well. It's gonna tank.
3 - Florence comes off looking great. I don't know her that well, I've seen her in a few movies, she's not my generation, but whenever I see her mentioned, whether she's being slighted or supported in the PR campaign, I think she comes off looking fine. Love that she's also pretty silent in terms of press. This film wrapped a year ago (edit: it was 2 years ago) and she's probably moved on to better things at this point, and will probably just do her minimal press, which is fine. She, despite being the lead actress of this film, does not have as much at stake as the stunt queens, Harry and Olivia do.
4 - General opinion on Olivia Wilde: I'm more the same age. I remember back when she was just a rich girl socialite in NY. I love that she's into acting and into directing. But, I know she directed this film....I dated a director one time, and when his film went into post-production I didn't see that man for months because he was locked in an editing bay and would not come out for air. This chick [Olivia] was on tour with Harry Styles 2 months after production wrapped, I don't know how that worked. (edit: it was 6 months but she still fucked off to England the day after production wrapped, and the film needed extensive edits and was delayed so yeah...she was not "directing" anything really). Also, as a director she is behind the camera role, but her PR team are dead set on over-saturating her in media as the face of this title. Even putting her out more so than the actual actors in the film. Which is weird. There's a word for it, I can't figure it out (edit: I can, it's narcissism. You're welcome.). She's all up in the video, all up in the studio, all up in the radio...it's like...just say this is your vanity project and move on.
5 - Harry Styles: there is no way in god's green earth that a role that Shia Labeouf was cast in could be back-filled by Harry Styles. Harry Styles is youth marketing - that is simply it.
6 - Shia Labeouf is right. I'm sure that when Shia quit this film the studio was desperate and panicked, and went into a tailspin and said 'figure out a way to save it or we're pulling the plug'. And just like Shia has a video of Olivia begging him to stay, I'm sure Harry has a video of Olivia begging him to join this film.
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One of these days I'm gonna snap and tell this one lead to go fuck herself and probably punch her in the face.
She is always so rude and condescending for no reason. I personally have worked here long enough to not need to ask a whole lot of questions, but I've seen how she treats the new hires when they ask questions and it's extremely disrespectful.
They'll ask a question that sure, is obvious to those who've been working here for many years, but they've only been here a week or so, so it is not obvious to them, no one is born knowing every single one of Store Procedures so managers should be nicer to new hires. Especially since THEY hired them.
For example, this rude ass bitch will listen to a new kid ask a question like "hey I'm out of receipt paper, where do I get more?" Which, in their defense, is in an unlabeled drawer that looks exactly like 3 other drawers right next to it, so...I can understand how a new person wouldn't be able to immediately figure that out. And this rude ass how will be like "UMM...you should've been shown WHERE the paper is on your first day, you've been here A WEEK, you should know this by now." Which. 1. Is unnecessarily rude and 2. I've seen how pisspoor the management and training is here, I would safely bet the new hire was never shown where the paper is kept. And 3. The hours are so fucking shitty that I guarantee that even though the new hire was hired a week ago, they've only had 1-4 shifts max and it would not be unsurprising if they were unable to remember after having so much time in between shifts, IF they were even shown in the first place. Plus even if they worked a week straight, it's only one week and they're human and humans forget things sometimes. Chill.
She'll also make passive-aggressive comments about something an employee has done that was wrong (that most likely was an honest mistake) and instead of taking that coworker aside and talking to them privately, she'll make a passive-aggressive announcement over the radio (something like "just so WE ALL ARE ON THE SAME PAGE, we're not supposed to do [XYZ specific thing that coworker accidentally did wrong, and all other employeescan easily deduct who she's talking about, since there's only 1 employee per department]") so all the employees on the floor can hear, instead of just speaking to that individual employee privately.
But her disrespectful attitude does not stop at new hires. No. I've been here much, much longer than her (multiple years longer) and she's so fucking rude to me and other established employees as well.
For example, today, I worked an extended shift, so I had to take a lunch and our store manager told me that she was going to go do something and then she'll be back in a minute to cover my lunch, since I can't just leave my department unattended. So after 10 minutes of her not returning, I ask over radio if she wanted me to clock out for lunch now or wait a few more minutes for her to come back. And instead of just fucking saying "yeah I'll cover you" or simply just not responding considering I WASN'T TALKING TO HER, the fucking lead no one likes comes over to my department and starts grilling me because I was "supposed to already be clocked out ages ago. Why are you still here?" Yeah next time I'm just gonna fucking walk away and go on lunch without confirming that I have coverage. Fuck you.
I've talked to a few coworkers and apparently she's always rude and condescending when speaking to any employee, so I'm surprised she's even managed to last as long as she has (one month) because she's already made an immediate enemy out of every employee that's had the misfortune of interacting with her.
Posted by admin Rodney.
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sideprince · 1 month
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I wrote a reply to this post but OP has deleted it and even though I should probably leave well enough alone, it got to me that I could have sworn I saw this post months ago and then realized it was actually from yesterday. This is a long reply so I'm putting it under a cut, but after I went to OP's blog and saw a post from them complaining how mean everyone was to them on this post, I replied to say I'm sorry if they got any anon hate I don't know about but otherwise none of the comments on this post were mean or hateful, they just disagreed with OP. I pointed out that this is partly because they cited non-canon events as canon, and OP immediately blocked me (this may be why I can't reblog the post even from another user, though that's not how tumblr usually works so who knows). I can't help but feel that OP's post was made in bad faith, as a result, and I've seen enough people on this hellsite who are more interested in protecting their egos than admit when they could have been approached something more thoughtfully, so I'm diving in. If you're going to say a character "is very interesting to study" while doing the exact opposite, then you'd better have the critical analysis skills and textual evidence to back it up.
I think OP has some misconceptions that are frustratingly common, and seem to stem from people not having read the books, or not read them for a long time, and conflating the movies with canon. While I mostly agree with the replies above, I want to take this opportunity to cite the text to refute some of OP's points. I often forget details from the text, but I choose to either look them up before asserting unconfirmed points as fact (Potter Search is a great tool, or you can just do a ctrl+F search if you have the books digitally), or else I usually state clearly that I'm not sure if I remember something correctly and don't have the spoons to look it up.
I saw OP say in the comments in response to someone arguing their points:
"that's your interpretation, I have mine, I think both can coexist within the material we are given."
It doesn't sit right with me that so many people think that referring to their subjective memory of what the text meant to them is the same as actually citing it and offering an explanation. OP's interpretation can't exist within the material given, because some of it doesn't exist in the material at all, and you can't interpret what isn't there. OP is essentially claiming to have done critical analysis, and although no one is required to always critique a text analytically on a tumblr post, I find it upsetting when people claim to do so while failing to cite a single source to support their argument. To me it sounds like someone trying to pass off a creative writing essay as an academic research paper, and in an age of rampant propaganda and knee-jerk reblogs that eschew critical thinking, I feel an almost compulsive need to go through OP's reply and argue it with the textual evidence they conveniently avoided, if for no other reason than to show why it's important to discern between loosely formed opinions and informed ones.
I also want to explain why I don't accept the films as canon, because while I do think that canon can exist across several mediums (such as with Good Omens, in which at least one of the writers of the text is directly involved in writing the TV series), I don't think that applies to Harry Potter because the original author was only marginally involved in the films, in only a consultant role, and had little input on the writing. The HP films are an interpretation as written from the perspective of Steve Kloves, except for OoTP, which was written by Michael Goldenberg. I've gone into it on other posts, but suffice to say these interpretations did not prioritize story and character development and were often influenced by pressure from the studio to prioritize marketing opportunities over storytelling. Important elements like foreshadowing and themes were not carried over from the text to the screen. These changes affected the storytelling significantly and left out crucial elements. This, combined with the films having been written with little to no involvement from the original author, is why I feel the films can't be taken as canon. This doesn't mean they can't be enjoyed by any means, just that they scenes that appear in the films but not in the text, or are presented differently on screen than in the text, are not a reasonable basis for character analysis.
And now, on to OP's ask:
"I think he is a very good representation of a man who felt insecure in his manhood; his male ego was permanently wounded by James' bullying and he decided to make it everyone else's problem by being the most insufferable teacher at Hogwarts."
The first thing we have to establish is that the books are told from Harry's perspective, so we have to take narrative bias into account. Calling Snape "the most insufferable teacher at Hogwarts" is a subjective statement and I can only assume it's based in Harry's biased perspective as narrator, given that he and Snape have a bad relationship from the outset. I have a brief analysis here about how Snape dislikes Harry because in their first class together he interprets Harry's ignorance of the course material as a lack of curiosity and appreciation for his gifts as a wizard, while also recognizing something of his own experiences with childhood poverty and abuse in Harry. Harry, being ignorant of these factors, just feels singled out for hate by a strict teacher, and their relationship deteriorates throughout the rest of the series, until the end of the final book.
To pull back from the narrative bias, let's look at some of the other teachers are Hogwarts:
McGonagall:
“Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”  Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets. “Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this,” said Professor McGonagall. “I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses.”
Philosopher's Stone, Ch. 10.
“I’m disgusted,” said Professor McGonagall. “Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions — yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it’s very dangerous — and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.” “Fifty?” Harry gasped — they would lose the lead, the lead he’d won in the last Quidditch match.  “Fifty points each,” said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.
Philosopher's Stone, Ch. 15
In just the first book we see McGonagall punish Hermione for successfully defending herself against a troll and take house points, then sends her back to her common room without getting medical attention, as if a ten year old can be responsible for assessing how badly they're hurt. A few chapters later McGonagall takes several hundred points from students in her own house (more than we see any other teacher do at one time throughout the series), and assigns the students detention on top of it. As we later see in the same chapter, the detentions aren't even served with her directly, but instead the children - again, ten years old - are sent into the Forbidden Forest at night with only Hagrid to protect them, to hunt down whatever creature is vicious and cunning enough to kill unicorns.
Although it's said that Snape favors the students in his own house, he doesn't seem to be the only one:
“Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor,” said Malfoy quickly.  “Yes, yes, that’s right,” said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. “Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?”  “A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy’s face. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it,” he added. 
Philosopher's Stone, Ch. 10
Not only did McGonagall make an exception to school practices and allow Harry on his house Quidditch team despite being a first year, she used either school funds or her own (unclear) to purchase a first-rate broom for him. We know the school has brooms, as first years are not allowed their own and they are provided for flying lessons, and because “Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms” (PS ch. 9). And yet, McGonagall ensures Harry has his own broom, and an expensive one, new enough to be the show model in a shop window in Diagon Alley a few months earlier:
“Several boys of about Harry’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. ‘Look,’ Harry heard one of them say, ‘the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -”
-Philosopher's Stone, Ch. 5
If we're discussing which teachers are Hogwarts are the most "insufferable" then we also have to talk about Hagrid, who might mean well and be affectionate, but is also irresponsible and dangerous.
In Philosopher's Stone, Hagrid:
Punishes Dudley, a child, for his parents' offenses, the final straw being his father insulting Dumbledore (Ch. 4). While Hagrid acknowledges that he shouldn't have lost his temper, he also admits that his intention had been to turn Dudley fully into a pig.
Hatches a dragon in his cabin (Ch. 14), tries to raise it illegally and against the animal's need of care, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione (again, ten year olds) have to fix the situation and get Ron's brother to find some friends to take the dragon away safely and prevent Hagrid losing his job (Ch. 14). In the process Hagrid endangers himself as well as the children, and it's because of this that McGonagall gives them detention and deducts hundreds of house points. Hagrid not only allows the children to endanger themselves for his sake, but to be punished and subsequently ostracized by their peers also for his sake.
The reason he even has a dragon is, as we find out in Ch. 16, because he was foolish enough to accept it from a faceless stranger in exchange for unwittingly divulging the secret to getting past the three headed dog guarding the Philosopher's Stone (and the stranger later turns out to be Quirrel/Voldemort).
In Prisoner of Azkaban, Hagrid:
Starts his first lesson with a volatile creature (Ch. 6) and, although Malfoy acted irresponsibly, Hagrid was nevertheless the teacher and responsible for providing course material consistent with the experience level and maturity of his students' age.
Gets drunk and has to be taken care of by Harry, Ron, and Hermione (again, children) (Ch. 6)
Skipping ahead to Order of the Phoenix ch. 30, we find out Hagrid
Compromised his return from the mission Dumbledore sent him on by bringing a giant back to England.
Brought said giant into the school grounds and left him in the Forbidden Forest.
Asks Harry and Hermione (still children) to look after him if Hagrid is sacked.
Although Hagrid means well, his actions are consistently thoughtless and irresponsible, requiring those around him - often Harry, Ron, and Hermione - to fix the damage he causes. Although I think it remains subjective which teacher at Hogwarts is the "most insufferable" I think Hagrid is a strong enough candidate to qualify OP's interpretation of Snape holding that title as extremely contestable. Of course, since the books are presented through the lens of Harry's narrative bias, and he's fond of Hagrid, respects McGonagall, and dislikes Snape, an uncritical reading could lead one to OP's conclusions. However, a more objective analysis of the text shows that many teachers at Hogwarts are strict, punitive, biased, and wreak havoc on students in ways that make the Snape's actions look fairly tame, or at least the norm. And this is excluding an analysis of various DADA professors like Lockhart and Crouch/Moody, who were insufferable in their own rights (Lockhart was smarmy and dishonest to the point it risked students' lives; Crouch/Moodly transfigured a child into a ferret and humiliated him with torture as a disciplinary measure and deliberately triggered Neville's trauma in class).
OP continues their reply to say:
Add to this that he is a halfblood and only his mother was around, iirc?
They don't recall correctly. Snape, whose father was a muggle and whose mother was a witch, was indeed a half-blood (as is evidenced by him being revealed to be the Half-Blood Prince - I assume I don't need to cite a source as this is a pretty well-known fact and the literal title of an entire HP book, but should you need a reference it's in Ch. 28 of HBP). Both his parents were around in his childhood:
Snape staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from Harry - and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his: a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner …
-Order of the Phoenix, Ch. 26
‘How are things at your house?’ Lily asked. A little crease appeared between his eyes. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘They’re not arguing any more?’ ‘Oh, yes, they’re arguing,’ said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. ‘But it won’t be that long and I’ll be gone.’ ‘Doesn’t your dad like magic?’ ‘He doesn’t like anything, much,’ said Snape.
-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 33
We know that Snape's father was around because he's mentioned both in Snape's memories in OoTP that Harry accidentally invades during an Occlumency lesson, and when we see in Snape's memories that he gives Harry as he dies. Lily asks about his home life by referring to both his parents, implying that his dad is a consistent presence at home. We also know from JK Rowling that Snape's father "didn't hold back when it came to the whip" but this is supplementary and not mentioned in canon, so I don't expect anyone to refer to it when analyzing the text, I'm just adding it as bonus material.
Continuing on with OP's reply:
Snape, Voldemort and Harry all act like foils of each other in that sense, but whereas Voldemort fixated on his blood status as the main reason for his insecurities, Snape fixated on Lily.
So much to unpack here. Firstly, all of this should be backed up by examples from the text, as they are subjective readings that have significant bearing on character analysis.
Snape, Harry, and Voldemort don't act like foils of each other. For one thing, a character doesn't act like a foil, a character either is or isn't one. That being said, I don't know OP's background and there could be a language barrier because English isn't everyone's first language, I'm just being pedantic. Even with that in mind, the statement remains incorrect. A foil is a literary device - a character who contrasts with another character, often with the protagonist. It is not a choice a character makes or an action they take.
In Philosopher's Stone Snape is set up as a foil to Harry in order to misdirect the reader from suspecting the real villain, Quirrel/Voldemort. Snape is presented as secretive, sneaky, and nefarious, contrasting Harry's role as a protagonist who is outspoken, honest, and brave. As the series progresses, Snape, along with Voldemort, are eventually shown to have more parallels than contrasts with Harry. Snape and Voldemort were born into muggle poverty, and although Harry was raised in a middle class home by the Dursleys, they thrust poverty and neglect onto him in a way that parallels his childhood of neglect and want with that of Snape and Voldemort. Snape's father was abusive, as was Harry's guardian, Vernon Dursley. Harry, Voldemort, and Snape all had traumatic experiences growing up in muggle environments. If anything, Snape and Voldemort might be foils to Harry in that they both harbored resentment for their muggle fathers in ways that signified the separation between the wizarding and muggle world, while Harry's experiences with the Dursleys didn't color his image of muggles in a comparable way.
The contrast between Harry, Snape, and Voldemort is in the way each of them deals with their trauma. As Dumbledore says:
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
-Chamber of Secrets, Ch. 18
This becomes one of the overarching themes of the HP series, Harry, Snape, and Voldemort are all examples of how their choices took them to such different places in life from their comparable childhoods.
At school Voldemort was a handsome boy with talent, intelligence, and the recommendations of his teachers, but he chose to pursue power instead of success:
“He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Special Award for Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes.”
Half-Blood Prince, Ch. 20
Snape chose to become a Death Eater for reasons we can only assume. We know he was in Slytherin during an era when Voldemort was in power and many of his allies had children in Slytherin house. At least two of Snape's dorm-mates, Mulciber and Avery, are canonically acknowledged to have become Death Eaters (both are present at the Ministry when Harry and his friends fight the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries in OoTP Ch. 35). It's unclear whether Snape chose to become a Death Eater out of admiration for them or out of peer pressure, or perhaps a lack of other options, while at school:
'… thought we were supposed to be friends?’ Snape was saying. ‘Best friends?’ ‘We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging around with! I’m sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev? He’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?’ Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face. ‘That was nothing,’ said Snape. ‘It was a laugh, that’s all -‘ ‘It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny -‘ ‘What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?’ demanded Snape. His colour rose again as he said it, unable, it seemed, to hold in his resentment.
-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 33
It's unclear what Snape thinks of Avery and Mulciber, as his reply to Lily is downplaying but doesn't defend their actions. We see Snape's indecisiveness later in the argument he has with Lily after he calls her a Mudblood:
'It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends - you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?’ He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. ‘I can’t pretend any more. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.’ ‘No - listen, I didn’t mean -‘ ‘- to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?'
-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 33
Although Snape does ultimately choose to become a Death Eater, we see in his reply to Lily about both Avery and Mulciber and later her assumption that they all want to become Death Eaters that Snape doesn't argue for or against her accusations, but instead is evasive and unsure of himself. He opens his mouth to speak when she accuses him of wanting to become a Death Eater, but then closes it again without saying anything - he can neither argue against her point, nor state clearly, let alone with any kind of conviction, that this is indeed his ambition. It can be argued that it's the passivity of his choice that lands him with a Dark Mark on his arm, and it's the active choice he makes to risk his life in order to defect from Voldemort's ranks and turn spy that defines his character and without which Harry could not have defeated Voldemort.
Harry, as the protagonist, is also significantly defined by the theme of choice:
'But, sir,’ said Harry, making valiant efforts not to sound argumentative, ‘it all comes to the same thing, doesn’t it? I’ve got to try and kill him, or -‘ ‘Got to?’ said Dumbledore. ‘Of course you’ve got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you’ve tried! We both know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel about Voldemort now? Think!’ Harry watched Dumbledore striding up and down in front of him, and thought. He thought of his mother, his father and Sirius. He thought of Cedric Diggory. He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Lord Voldemort had done. A flame seemed to leap inside his chest, searing his throat. ‘I’d want him finished,’ said Harry quietly. ‘And I’d want to do it.’ ‘Of course you would!’ cried Dumbledore. ‘You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal … in other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you … which makes it certain, really, that -' ‘That one of us is going to end up killing the other,’ said Harry. ‘Yes.'
-Half-Blood Prince, Ch. 33
There's a clear point made by the author through Dumbledore as her proxy here, that choice is what matters, not fate. It's Harry's choices that make him the person he is and lead him to eventually defeat Voldemort. While Snape, Voldemort, and Harry all can be contrasted through the lens of their choices, this does not make them foils, as it is the the theme of choice and how it is exemplified by each character that makes them unique, but their experiences and many of their character traits (boldness, bravery, a personal sense of conviction) that make them parallels of one another. Each of them occupies their own place on the spectrum between the light and dark that the series establishes, Voldemort at the dark end, Harry at the light, and Snape in the grey area between them.
OP goes on to say:
His character is all about male entitlement, he was obsessed with her at Hogwarts and then showed to have no boundaries as he went into her house to cradle her dead body in front of her traumatized kid.
There's a lot to unpack here, and it's particularly challenging because you can't provide textual evidence for something that didn't happen in the text. After the above scene from Ch. 33 of DH in which Lily ends her friendship with Snape, we never see them interact again:
'No - listen, I didn’t mean -‘ ‘- to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?’ He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole … The corridor dissolved, and the scene took a little longer to reform: Harry seemed to fly through shifting shapes and colours until his surroundings solidified again and he stood on a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness, the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees. The adult Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone …'
-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 33
The scene in the corridor in front of Gryffindor Tower between a fifth year Snape and Lily leads directly into the scene where Snape begs Dumbledore to protect the Potters (which I wrote an analysis of a few months ago but is too long a subject to derail this post for). We see no more interactions between Snape and Lily, and therefore there is no canonical support for the idea that Snape behaved obsessively or failed to respect her boundaries.
There's also no mention of Snape going to Godric's Hollow at all after her death. Snape holding Lily's dead body is only shown in the film version of Deathly Hallows, and as mentioned, the films are not canon. That moment doesn't exist in the text and can't be considered in an analysis of Snape's character. The scene on the hilltop leads directly into the scene of Snape crying in Dumbledore's office:
The hilltop faded, and Harry stood in Dumbledore’s office, and something was making a terrible sound, like a wounded animal. Snape was slumped forwards in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over him, looking grim. After a moment or two, Snape raised his face, and he looked like a man who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop. ‘I thought … you were going … to keep her … safe …’ ‘She and James put their faith in the wrong person,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Rather like you, Severus. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?’ Snape’s breathing was shallow.
-Deathly Hallows, Ch. 33
This is the only depiction of Snape immediately following the Potters' deaths. The scene of him cradling Lily's dead body was Steve Kloves' invention and has no basis in canon. If anything, Snape's actions in canon can be interpreted to show that he respected the boundaries Lily set, and that even when her life was at risk he chose to go to Dumbledore - who he thought might kill him on sight - rather than talk to her directly after she ended their friendship. In addition, in all the information the text gives about the night Voldemort fell in Godric's Hollow and Hagrid collected Harry to take him to Privet Drive, there's no mention of Snape whatsoever.
There isn't much in the text to support the interpretation that Snape exemplified male entitlement either. So far we've seen him being as strict, if not milder, than other teachers at the school, his favoritism is also comparable to that of other teachers - implying it's more of a norm than an example of entitlement - and there are no canonical examples to support the argument that he was obsessed with Lily or violated her boundaries. Snape struggles to argue with Lily when she accuses and berates him, and the usual markers of patriarchal entitlement - silencing women, gaslighting, dismissing women's opinions, talking over them - are all nowhere to be found in any of their interactions. The only time we see him lash out at Lily is when he calls her Mudblood (OoTP Ch. 28) which, while inexcusable, he does under traumatic duress, and is not indicative of his usual interactions with her, as exemplified by the fact that she ends their friendship over it. As cited before:
'No - listen, I didn’t mean -‘ ‘- to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?’
There's a clear implication that Snape has never called her this before. An argument can also be made that it speaks volumes of Lily's own biases, or perhaps her own affection for Snape (who, not long before this, was still her best friend), that she excused this behavior from him when it was directed at others, and only took issue with it when it was directed at herself. That, combined with Lily's own acknowledgment that they were "best friends" shows that Snape's relationship with her was a balanced, consensual one even when it became strained, up until their friendship ended.
Continuing with OP's points:
He only saw Lily as a trophy to be possessed, which you can see from the way he hated Harry, because Harry reminded him Lily wasn't his and that Lily had sex with another man.
There's no support for this in the text anywhere and is pure conjecture. I can appreciate it being OP's headcanon, but it's certainly not a result of studying the text and relying on it to form opinions, but rather seems to be OP projecting pre-conceived notions onto Snape as a character and trying to find justification for it. I've written a whole post extrapolating Snape's first class with Harry, but the tl;dr is that Snape, who grew up in muggle poverty and knew Aunt Petunia enough to guess that Harry didn't fare well in her care when he showed up at school bearing signs of neglect, likely expected Harry to have the same hunger for learning that he himself did at Harry's age. Instead, Harry couldn't answer a single one of his questions and showed no curiosity or enthusiasm towards being a wizard as far as Snape could tell.
Nevertheless, even though Snape did seem to dislike Harry, hate is an awful strong word given that it is revealed at the end of Deathly Hallows that Snape has risked his own life to protect him. This isn't particularly surprising when you consider that this goal was established as early as Philosopher's Stone, when Snape protected him, which Harry initially interpreted as Snape trying to kill him:
Harry couldn’t take it in. This couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. ‘But Snape tried to kill me!’ ‘No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have got you off that broom. I’d have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering a counter-curse, trying to save you.’ ‘Snape was trying to save me?’ ‘Of course,’ said Quirrell coolly. -Philosopher's Stone, Ch. 17
Again, the story is told through the lens of Harry's bias, but that doesn't mean his opinions of Snape reflect Snape's character. As another example, there's an implication in OoTP that Snape, having seen some of the Dursleys' abuse of Harry through his memories during Occlumency lessons, passed this information on in an effort to protect Harry, and that this is the reason why several Order members (Arthur Weasley and Moody in particular) show up at King's Cross at the end of the schoolyear and threaten the Dursleys to stop mistreating him. There seems to be no other explanation in the text for why these adults are suddenly aware of the abuse Harry experiences, except that Snape, who was abused as a child himself, and who is an Order member himself, is the only adult in the series who we see witness Harry's mistreatement firsthand. At no point in the narrative do we see Harry complain about the Dursleys to the adults he trusts or ask them for help, merely to spend his holidays away from them without explanation.
While Snape did indeed dislike Harry and often compared him to his father, his dislike for James had much more significant roots in bullying and trauma than in his concern for Lily's relationship with him. It's established in canon that James Potter and Sirius Black dislike Snape from the outset (as in the scene on the Hogwarts Express in DH Ch. 33). In their fifth year, Sirius - annoyed that Snape is so curious about where Lupin goes each month - tricks Snape into following the tunnel under the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack, as Lupin tells Harry:
'Professor Snape was at school with us. ... Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me -‘ Black made a derisive noise. ‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to … hoping he could get us expelled …' 'Severus was very interested in where I went every month,’ Lupin told Harry, Ron and Hermione. ‘We were in the same year, you know, and we - er - didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch pitch … anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me towards the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be - er - amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it - if he’d got as far as this house, he’d have met a fully grown werewolf - but your father, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life … Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anybody by Dumbledore, but from that time on he knew what I was …'
-Prisoner of Azkaban, Ch. 18
From this we can deduce that Sirius intended for Snape to die, or at least get severely injured, and that even as a grown adult Sirius doesn't regret trying to mete out this punishment to him as retaliation for curiosity. We can also deduce that Lupin was unaware of Sirius' intention and did not consent to be used as a weapon. For his part, Snape never did reveal that Lupin was a werewolf while at school, or even during that school year, until after Lupin ran amok on Hogwarts grounds, endangering others' lives, including Harry's.
There are other meta posts that go into Lupin's insecurities and vulnerabilities, but in short, he was grateful just to be allowed into the school as a student, let alone to have friends, and was in no position to challenge James and Sirius. Even as a prefect he didn't curb their behavior, as we see when he allows James to bully Snape later that year after their O.W.L.s:
'Leave him alone,’ Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. ‘What’s he done to you?’ ‘Well,’ said James, appearing to deliberate the point, ‘it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean …’ Many of the surrounding students laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn’t, and nor did Lily. ‘You think you’re funny,’ she said coldly. ‘But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.’ ‘I will if you go out with me, Evans,’ said James quickly. ‘Go on … go out with me and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.'
-Order of the Phoenix, Ch. 28
James acknowledges that he has no real reason to bully Snape and uses violence as a bargaining chip to coerce Lily into going out with him (James' behavior reflects much more entitlement than Snape's, in my opinion). He also chokes Snape with a bar of soap and then assaults him by dangling him upside down and removing his trousers (threatening to remove his underwear but we don't see it happen).
Lily herself refers to James as arrogant, and it's this trait, along with the trauma from James' bullying of him, that Snape perceives in Harry. He doesn't resent Harry for looking like his father because it reminds him that Lily had sex with another man, he resents him for it because of all the trauma James inflicted on him. The conflict-laden relationship between Snape and the Marauders is a significant driver of the story through several of the books and OP seems subjective to the point of being problematic in ignoring it completely and instead focusing Snape's dislike of Harry onto an invented idea of sexual jealousy that doesn't exist in the text.
It's never stated whether Snape had romantic feelings for Lily, or vice versa, only that they were friends. The closest we see to a hint of this is when “The intensity of his [Snape's] gaze made her [Lily] blush," or when “The moment she [Lily] had insulted James Potter, his [Snape's] whole body had relaxed, and as they walked away there was a new spring in Snape’s step …”
Lily's blush could be interpreted as implying she was attracted to him, or conversely that she didn't and felt awkward thinking he might be attracted to her. Similarly, Snape's relief at her insulting James can be interpreted as indicative of his attraction to her, or of him simply being worried about a friend hanging out with people he perceived as dangerous and was relieved to learn she wasn't putting herself in the way of danger by becoming friends with them. Although JK Rowling has said that her intention was for Snape's affections towards Lily to be romantic, and that she may have returned his affection had he not chosen the path he did, this is - like the note about Snape's father whipping him - extratextual and more of an interesting fact than a bit of canon to be extrapolated from the text.
Finally, OP says:
His interest in the Death Eaters was only secondary to his obsession with Lily and I think Lily rejecting him pushed him toward joining the Death Eaters, because, once again, his male ego was bruised and he needed to replace it with something else.
We've already seen that Snape's interest in joining the Death Eaters was a big part of Lily's reason for ending their friendship. Therefore, logically, Lily's decision didn't push him towards becoming a Death Eater, but rather isolated him from having any support system outside of the DEs. She didn't reject him, because rejection is the refusal or dismissal of another person's advances or proposal. They were friends, meaning they had a mutually consensual platonic relationship. Lily therefore didn't reject Snape, she ended their friendship and, as already stated, nothing in canon implies he didn't respect her boundaries.
As we have also seen in canon, Snape was bullied at school and had, at best, a neglectful and dysfunctional home environment in his childhood. In addition, he shared a dorm with students actively interested in becoming Death Eaters, and his one social lifeline away from them was cut off when he called Lily a Mudblood. What OP interprets as Snape's male ego being bruised is actually a much more complex set of social and emotional factors being described throughout the series to eventually reveal the profile of a character - young Snape - who was a vulnerable youth primed for radicalization by a violent faction of zealots. Although the enforcement and upholding of patriarchal norms is often a huge element of these kinds of social movements, that didn't seem to be the driving force for Snape based on everything we learn about his character. Instead, what we see is a boy who comes from abuse, lives in abuse at school, who loses all the support systems that might give him an alternative to the fascist cult he's being radicalized into which - if it's like most hate groups - would have been more than welcome to both take him in and help him cut his ties to anyone else in his life he might escape from them to.
It also goes against the argument that Snape was sexually obsessed with Lily that he continued to risk his life in order to protect her son an defeat her murderer for almost two decades after her death. He knew it would neither bring her back from the dead nor bring about forgiveness, and it goes without saying that sex was no longer an option. Framing Snape's motivation as obsession dismisses the realities of the complex and meaningful relationship we form as people, and the lasting, transformative influence we can have on each other, which is what Snape and Lily's story illustrates.
Finally, OP concludes with:
He remained mysterious up till the end and his back-and-forth with treason was very compelling to read about. So I hate him (as a "person") but he is such a good character narrative-wise and he is very interesting to study
OP openly admits to hating Snape, ie. having a bias against him, while stating he is "interesting to study" - except no part of their answer has shown that they've actually done so. Their arguments are unsupported in several ways, one being that they don't offer any evidence, and the other being that none can be found in the source text. What's ironic is that OP seems to resent Snape's subjective bias against Harry (and misinterpret his reasons for it in baseless ways) while also showing the exact same kind of bias against Snape themselves. You don't have to like a character by any means, but claiming that the kind of unfounded, superficial, and unsupported opinions that OP stated in their response have a basis in any kind of study of his character is ludicrous and an insult to the intelligence of anyone reading it.
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ashfae · 2 months
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A03 meme
A03 meme time, except I've been writing and posting fanfic to the internet since before A03. And before fanfiction.net. And before Geocities. And before the World Wide Web. There's fic of mine with ASCII doodle illustrations somewhere out there where the wild BBSes once roamed…I was tagged by @moveslikebucky; thanks Buckie, here goes. <3
how many works do you have on Ao3? 54. (and yes if we added in all the fanfic outside of A03 it'd be a larger number but I can't be bothered to consolidate it all)
what’s your total Ao3 word count? 341,744, which is better than I was expecting, yay.
what fandoms do you write for? At the moment it's just Good Omens, but there's been a lot of Dragon Age, some Lord of the Rings, and way back in the day there was Harry Potter and a lot of anime. I am toying with dipping my toe back in LotR, there's a thing I wrote ages ago that's entirely finished and just needs editing and I've been meaning to get it out there for ages. It's long though, so that'd be a commitment.
what are your top five fics by kudos? What Custom Strictly Divided (507) Like an Echo Far Away (415) (this one wasn't in the top five last week when I first started writing this post! So I think @mielpetite gets all the credit for boosting it with amazing fanart) What Comes From Your Hand (402) Give Me Your Illusions (346) Nightswimming (307)
do you respond to comments? Yep! Sometimes just with "Thanks!" or hearts but I try to. Though they get away from me sometimes and then I do a bunch all at once.
What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Definitely Warmaiden, which is my "What if Éowyn got the One Ring?" fic, from an idea that occurred to me one day and wouldn't leave. Clearly that doesn't end well for her, or anyone. From GO fandom it's probably Silent Night, which I still want to expand into a larger fic to be a set with Give Me Your Illusions. Someday, someday.
What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of them! But for the happiest I'd say Swan Lake Revised, cowritten with @mostlyjustgoose. And if we ever get part three up it'll be even more happy. And smutty. Very smutty.
Do you get hate on fics? Very rarely. I've been lucky there.
Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh here's the irony. I used to do a lot a lot a LOT of online roleplaying and mygod I wrote smut. So much. So. Much. I don't do as much rp these days but even so the threads I have going are still frequently pure filth. But in fic, much less so, even though I want to. Why it all gets channeled into rp and not as much into my fanfic I do not know. Honestly I want to write a lot more of it. Smut forever!!
Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Sometimes, when I have a good idea. But the craziest one I ever wrote, ages ago, was a pure crackfic for my 21st birthday, where I imagined a bizarre party for myself in which LOADS of fictional characters (mostly from anime) showed up so I could make them interact in wacky ways. It was utterly ridiculous but amused me. Making all the characters voiced by Megumi "She's Everywhere!!" Hayashabara meet up and wonder why they all sound alike, for example. Also I wish I'd written an Artemis Fowl breaks into Gringotts to rob it fic before I became so disillusioned with both Artemis Fowl and Harry Potter. Heigh ho.
Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yep. It was impressive how lazy the person was about it too, they stole all the html as well. Someone brought it to my attention pretty quickly.
Have you ever had a fic translated? Twice, yes. Into Portuguese, as I remember.
Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hi @mostlyjustgoose, I adore you, please co-write things with me forever. <3 Our baby is Unusual Strings, a reverse omens AU love story, and it's SO. CLOSE. to being done. So close. Aughhhh. I love our angel!Crowley and demon!Aziraphale so, so much.
What’s your all time favorite ship? Aziraphale and Crowley, Faramir and Éowyn, Hiccup and Astrid. Don't make me choose between those three, my head will explode.
What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Shut up shut up I will finish all of them ALL OF THEM I SAY…sigh. Beauty and the Battousai. Though I should probably mention A Demon in the Dreaming and The Queen Bee. (they're plotted and outlined and parts are written aaahhh come on ADHD meds help me out here)
What are your writing strengths? Dialogue, definitely. I'm good at putting humour into things. Got compared to Patricia Wrede once and honestly, life goal achieved there. I can do memorable phrases and descriptions and edit well.
What are your writing weaknesses? What is plot. Why does it hate me. Why are my original characters one-dimensional cardboard. What is worldbuilding and how do I do it without getting stalled into paralysis. Baaaah. This is why my original novel will never be finished and I keep running back to fanfic instead.
Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Hoo boy contentious subject! I love reading it so long as it's translated somewhere in the footnotes, I'd be happy to write it if I knew other languages, the question of whether it should be italicized or not has apparently Officially been settled by The Publishing Industry on the side of Not.
First fandom you wrote for? Oh gosh I think it was the Dragonlance books by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. The first that ever got shown to other people was Ranma 1/2 though.
Favorite fic you’ve written? It's still What Custom Strictly Divided. Though Unusual Strings comes very close.
Gaaah I'm always worried I'll tag people who don't want to be tagged so, erk, um...if they're willing, @racketghost, @indieninja92, and @holycatsandrabbits! And you, if you're reading and want to do this, please say I tagged you. I meant to really, honest. ;)
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afreakingdork · 3 months
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Weak Spot - Chapter 51
RotTMNT Donatello x Reader
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This is just a taste, read on to see this week’s chapter art by @garbagemilkshake
Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay
Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?
Is this another dedication? No, this is an celebration. @mothmans-left-nipple has been leaving gifts my inbox with talk of eating delights and attending to Donnie's every whim and I've had enough! Let's go all out! Let's fucking party!!
You know what that means everyone?
It's time.
🎉VIVA LA DOM DONNIE🎉
Def not forgotten, but huge shout out to @some-guy-named-dominyk for helping me design in mAY OF 2023 HOLY CRAP SO LONG AGO the special something something for ole Donnie boy! 🥳
Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut
Also available on Ao3
First 💜 Previous
LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!
Fem!Reader References/Warnings: mentions of heat, menstrual cycle, cunt, talk of watersports, ClItOrAl StImUlAtIoN, pegging, strap on, dildos, harness, lingerie (corset ((not boob kind)), garter, thigh highs, crotchless undies), double penetration mention, womb call, I can't remember if I left the word uterus in there but blanket maybe there too, and a boob tug and roll.
You were awake and thinking about Donnie’s slit.
It wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to start your day, but you weren’t mad about it.
It probably would have been beneficial to both parties if only for one thing.
Donnie was still very much asleep.
Turning your head on your pillow from where you’d been staring at your ceiling, you watched your exhausted partner take slow and steady breaths. With some kind of rush order due, he had been spending long hours in the lab. He’d come home an exhausted mess only to boil himself to some semblance of clean before burrowing into the sheets for a short bouts of sleep. Crunch time, as he bitterly spoke of it, would be short lived, but happened on special occasions. In fact, yesterday had been the last of the three day stint and you’d long decided that today was meant to pamper him.
If only your thoughts weren’t so damn wretched.
You weren’t sure if you had dreamed it, but his leaking orifice had been your very first conscious thought. A needy thing, you very much wanted to help him except you kept having to convince yourself it was your imagination. This was not the relaxing day you had planned and the sleep he was currently attending to should be his top priority.
That didn’t mean you couldn’t fantasize.
Rolling over with care, you settled onto your side to observe him comfortably. He was on his carapace with a few extra pillows propped up so the curvature of his shell wouldn’t impede his comfort. With one arm thrown across his torso, the other appeared to be dangling off the bed. If you were in a better mindset, you might have fixed that for him on the way to go about your day. You would, you decided, when you were done acting out your intrusive fantasy.
Speaking of, you trailed down where the sheets coated him and the prize you sought underneath. Not exactly sprawled in this position, Donnie did have his knees knocked out with his shins thrown awkwardly at two different angles that sleep dictated. An upward sweep said he was somewhere dreamless reserved for the overworked, but you attempted to recreate frustration.
Furrowing his brows and parting his lips, he dreamt of you and having you between his legs. Lapping at his slick and teasing his vent, you tried to decide if he’d cum like that or dropped. Above you he’d surely plead for the latter, but you flip flopped between both scenarios until you decided you wanted to drown in him. Those achy muscles of his unwound and you’d choke as his cock hit the back of your throat. Not gagging, but suffocating on him, drool flooded your tongue at just the thought.
You swallowed hard. 
It didn’t have to be a dream. 
A little touch wouldn’t hurt. 
He needed to sleep. 
Closing your eyes around guilt, you squirmed at how one daydream had already soaked you.
The imagined him ghosted your ears with tells of your neediness.
He took care of you like it was his predestined duty.
It was supposed to be both ways, but you always jumped the gun.
The imagery had you hopping onto his cock and making him cum before you simply because your walls felt so good.
Eyes shooting open, you nearly screamed.
You felt like you were in a heat of your own.
You needed to remember what you were doing this for. Resisting the urge to flee, you meant to commit the piously unconscious version of your partner as a cleansing memory. This was the real him. This him needed rest. This him had no duty to make you cum. This him could use a couple of useless cucumber slices over his eyes, a warmed towel wrap, a jacuzzi, and your face smeared with his cum.
You sat upright.
Cursing your brain, you especially berated it for making the scenario a confusing one.
Were you supposed to have been blowing him amongst the bubbles?
It was continuity errors set aside for horny and you gave a tepid sigh.
You were up and you needed to get away before you jumped your poor boyfriend.
Sleep.
He deserved it.
He’d earned it.
You’d let him have it.
In a duck, you were under the sheets.
Feeling mad and thinking with your cunt alone, you maneuvered downward like a kid trying to sneak screen time after bed. A pale purple curtain trailed overhead and messed your hair until you came upon his thick thighs. Plump with muscle and accentuated by his shapely plastron, he had an unfair hourglass. Throwing praise to his busy job for having made him crawl into bed without dressing, you trailed down the purple pixels on his sides in a slow creep.
Rational thought defeated, you were moving on raw instinct. Some sane part of your mind sent off warnings that were immediately drowned. It turned what was left into a foreboding sensation that pounded along with the ache in your belly. You had a molten core that demanded satisfaction whether that be yours or his. One of you was going to cum soon and that was a fact.
Maneuvering straight off the bottom of the bed to readjust your trajectory, you pulled the top sheet free from the rest of its corners. It was now a magician’s veil and the dove released from the top hat would be rated for mature audiences only. Something ran on late night skin channels of yesteryear, you crawled back onto your stage between his legs.
The only barrier being his folded footless shin, you pushed at the stump of it knowing guiltily that the nerve endings there were faulty. It meant you could touch the appendage mostly unnoticed and you listened with each agonizing centimeter to see if your partner would stir from the movement that connected the rest of his leg. Cursing that you’d left yourself covered by the sheet, you couldn’t watch his face. You had to rely on only his physical cues and that wasn’t something you were as accustomed to.
Trapped and unable to actually uncover as winter chill would wake him faster, you got his knees properly in place and waited to be pulled from your den. A gopher ruining a crop, there had to be a snare according to your sheeted nerves. Your shield, your undoing, the torturous weight of the inevitable never lifted even past the point where he would have signaled wakefulness. You were prompted to continue then, steal forward more time and more of him, when you realized how’d you positioned yourself.
Something you knew moments ago, the feeling of being caught had run your blood pressure up and kicked your memory with fight or flight. Now endorphins confusingly sputtering, you stared down the crux between his legs where they were flopped open. An inviting corridor, his tail was just barely visible and positioned like your daydream.
You could taste him.
You licked your lips.
Inching forward and drunk on the memory of his musk, you gazed eagerly at the soft skin between his legs. Covertly hiding that slit, it was unmarred jade that hid away a buried palace. Reaching for him and only just barely not bumping your shoulders to his thighs, you drank in the natural scent of his body. Not the one you were sure to build up soon, it was instead something patently him and a reassurance that he was there with you.
Consent.
Your consciousness was still buried, but it surfaced long enough to scream the word.
He’d taken you like this before.
You’d also been awake long enough then to give permission.
You wanted him like this.
You wanted him malleable. 
You wanted him without complaint. 
Without thought. 
Something for you. 
He couldn’t say yes.
He would.
Wasn’t that worse?
Lips parting for the swell of your tongue, a pulse between your legs sent a ping of abashed desire.
You wanted to pilfer him.
You wanted to sneak a taste.
He’d always given himself over so freely.
What was the point if it was easy?
With the smallest dart, you licked the tip of his tail.
Chaste in comparison to what your mind was doing to him, you imagined hearts in your eyes at the texture of his skin. That faint mark of scales dragged on your taste buds and you ventured forward allowing your tongue to skirt along the appendage. Around you the beast did slumber as you skirted forward with held breath. One puff would awaken the dragon and by the time you reached his apex, you turned your head to tap the guarded well.
Your hands were trapped between your chest and the bed so you clawed into the sheets to restrain yourself as you traced his slit carefully with your tongue. Not for heat, but for its epicenter, you imagined you could feel the moment he’d wake up. You wanted to know how he’d go about punishing you.
Would there be some intangible resolution?
Those thighs you adored could crush your head in an instant.
Would he fist your hair and pull your weight up by it?
You felt phantom tension in your neck as you rounded his entrance for the third or fourth time.
Would he kick right into his caretaker mode and fuck this dastardly heat straight out of your mind?
Where were you in your cycle?
In a small squirm, his slit moved in a motion akin to a wink as muscle groups rolled along one another on the body’s track.
You stilled, tongue sitting heavy on your lower lip as your wide eyes stood frozen pools staring at his sex.
This was bad.
You were bad.
Rotten.
Polluting his unsullied form.
Then it clicked.
He was still asleep.
Surging forward with too much zeal and drinking in the terror like your last before cut off, you shoved your tongue into him.
Licking and catching little as he hadn’t been worked up, his body rolled around you. You persevered if he tried to buck you off, not that you could tell where exactly his body’s move was headed. If he wanted to free himself, you sort of figured you’d be transported away by his thoughts alone. That was probably within his power, but he soon settled around the intrusion with your nose shoved into his pelvis. 
Scrubbing your face into his warmth like a freshly laundered towel, it warmed your cheeks as you ate him out. Pulling away with shaking breaths where you were neglecting yourself in favor of him, it felt as though all your muscles were tensed in his direction. Even your toes were curled, trying to find a foothold in the bed where your forward momentum was equally and oppositely exerting force. You needed more of your mouth on him as the first strings of acidity began to multiply. Through your own saliva, it meant his desire was building and you did your best to push your tongue as far into it as your irritatingly stunted human appendage would allow. You needed something long and not of conventional means to achieve what you really desired, but you settled for what you had.
His walls pulsed around you and, where a mixed leak of fluids was smeared, it coated your cheeks and flooded your nose with the smell you’d once been concocting. Trapped with it under the blanket, you sucked it in greedily each time your nostrils came away from his skin and you rocked your chin into his core for taste after taste.
The loose nature of sleep or maybe your own delusion meant you didn’t realize he was dropping until his glans hit your tongue. In a second, it was slapping your face and you were forced away. Blinking at his manhood on your cheek, you gave a restrained huff of laughter. Fondling and nuzzling the stickiness of his length, you pressed affectionate kisses to him until you felt his thighs quiver.
Sensing that trap you fantasized about, a rush of adrenaline said this was finally it and you screwed your eyes shut for the reveal.
A new and equally irritating form of edging, nothing happened and you cracked a lid.
The shiver had been a spreading as you had more space for your body then you did before. He’d splayed, much like he’d been forced to during his heat, to accommodate his member. Loving him all the more for it, you couldn’t stand the unknown any longer and mouthed his length affectionately as you drew back the veil.
In a slow roll, you pulled the sheet free of him and felt a confusing mix of emotion as fresh air flooded you. It meant the musk of his sex had been released, but you siphoned the new oxygen all the same. High off the supply, you gazed up the bottom ridge of his plastron to Donnie’s face. Laid to one side, there were little creases to his expression just as you imagined. Nowhere near as titillated in comparison, you palmed his knot and took his spaded cockhead into your mouth to see if you could draw them.
A delay from the tablet to the screen, the input time was relatively steady still and his face twitched with foreign ecstasy. That dreamless wasteland he’d been resting in was wavering under his form and you moved to stroke his member. A single pump brought his lips apart and his snout wiggled with a heady twitch. He was adorable to a fault and you swirled your tongue around his glans.
The bouncy bit that could spread undulated in your mouth and you imagined that expansion was coming very soon. Not something you had ever charted, his spread was an inevitability and you never thought it could be a telegraphed moment. Now faced with the chance to document it in real time, you were struck with an understanding of Donnie’s penchant for research.
Not only was your mate’s mind endlessly fascinating, but his body too.
Heart now aching along with your core, you gave a testing suck to see if you could coax his spread out. The stretchy nature of his skin said you could and hollowing out your cheeks you meant to.
“Y/N…”
You froze. 
It was small.
Impossibly so.
A pitiful size.
Easily missed.
You.
He wanted you.
From the void, he’d asked.
Who were you to deny him?
Hoisting yourself up, every fiber of you only knew his cock. Leaving it physically meant nothing as it was etched into your cellular design and the blanket that had since been seated on your shoulders fell away like some needless cowl. Tossing it aside for the true battle, you extracted yourself like a chieftain from a throne and moved to show why he’d chosen you to fight. You stood in a show of battle. 
Your right foot pressed into the mattress beside his hip and the weight tipped his body.
His brow said it was too much so you stepped with your left to the other side and steadied his ship.
The course corrected with the faintest whine, you towered as the impending dock before mooring him with a drop of your hips.
His cock slid right into your soaked core and the moan off your lips was obscene.
It also roused him.
Not caring, you dug your knees into the mattress to get height before dropping heavily back down his shaft.
His breath stuttered as he tried to cross the barrier of consciousness.
Fucking him with a new ferocity, you watched his eyes roll against his lids.
These were waking sensations he had clearly never felt before and you bounced so hard against him the entire bed creaked.
“F-fuck…!” The lines on his physical curtains were drawn too fast and the shades of his lids slammed open before his pupils could focus.
“I-I’ll s-say!” You added a roll to your ministrations.
“Y-you…” Fighting for his life, a hand brushed one of your legs as if touch was his first sense back.
In a few more paws and against your furious thrusts, he locked onto one hip for a crushing grip.
Catching his hand and digging your nails in as a warning if he dared to stop you, you moved for a deep grind and it sent him partially back to that dead space you’d roused him from.
Mouth gaping with unsaid words, he gave a series of grunts before clarity drew out the true noise you imagined his hindbrain wanted.
He gave a deep sultry churr.
It brought the whole of your torso down upon his while continuing to relentlessly bounce your ass. You couldn’t reach his face with yours at this angle so you settled for your hands and squeezed his cheeks. It finally placed his gaze and you saw a form of betrayal as that beautiful brain of his began to put two and two together.
A whiz at math, he caught your other hip with painful accuracy. Instead of hindering, he aided and lifted you higher than you could alone. Knowing it would sting, you tried to get yourself upright as he lifted you right up to the barrier of his spread before letting gravity skewer you. It wrangled a scream through the burn and happy tears streaked your cheeks at the branding.
Wanting to be impaled again, your hands flew to grab his wrists in some sort of indication. He read the ley lines printed on your palms and lifted you up for what you thought would be another delicious drop. A coaster with an unseen bend, he held you in the air with suspense before he slammed his hips up into you against physics grip. Screaming rapture, he plowed your floating form and the pinch and brunt of him filling you over and over felt like he was fucking your heart straight out of your chest.
Dropping suddenly, you felt your body force the ballooning of his knot inside only for the wrench to make the final turn on the hydrant. Dousing your fires, you gnawed on your own fingers as euphoria had them tangling up your form to keep your skin in place. Not even sure if your peak had been reached in a conventional sense, his had a telegraphed cool down and you slumped a happy slack above him in what felt like a propped pillow.
“Y/N.” His voice came stern with post-nut clarity.
“Yes, love?” You responded, dopey and half-lidded.
“What…” He dug one elbow into the bed with a shove. “…was…” The other came down on a rock that got him upright. “…that?” He breathed hot irritation into your face.
You pecked the very tip of his snout.
His nostrils flared.
You gave him another tiny kiss.
Tilting away from your lips, he took to scenting your neck with a latent grouch. “You smell good…” 
“Can I be in heat?”
The leading of his nose stopped and he craned an incredulous brow at you. “Not with a regular menstrual cycle.”
“Huh.”
“Your breath is atrocious.” He caught your chin and tipped you side to side. “What’s come over you?”
“Don’t know…” You cooed through a haze.
“Inhale something?” He sniffed again as if he could place it.
“Like what?”
“Sex pollen?”
Part of you very much wanted to know what that was, but the other that had been reigning all morning won out. “No.” You giggled as he nosed your throat. “Just want you.”
“I can tell.” He spoke. “Recap.”
“Woke up, wanted you, sort of-” The brunt of what you’d done doused you like an iced bucket. “Um…”
Where he still had your chin, he brought you to look at him.
“I’m sorry…” You whispered, hoping to curtail your morning breath. “I… I messed up…”
His exhale had a gruff edge. “Are you alright?”
“Me?”
He nodded.
“Besides the guilt…?” Your gaze dropped to where his ever-softening cock was still seated in you. “Donnie, I don’t…”
“I’m okay.” With a little bounce, he pulled your eyes back. “I’m alright. You have retroactive consent. Do you hear me?”
“Yes…?”
“I’m more interested in the mechanics.”
“Mechanics?”
“How’d you mount me?”
“I ate you out first.”
“You-” He stalled with bewilderment. “How long?”
“I don’t know… I was sort of stupid horny.”
“You performed oral and…?”
“You dropped and said my name.”
“I spoke?” A levity attached itself to his words.
“Yeah, a sleepy mumble.” Nerves were rapidly exchanged for butterflies at his raising disposition.
“That is…” He broke eye contact to search the air. Finding nothing, he returned with intrigue. “Then you?”
“Got on top.” You nodded.
“Which then…” Catching up with the present, he gave a new impressed chuff. “Fascinating.”
“What part…?” You felt his cock retreating and it brought your hands to his shoulders.
“You may not have realized…” He eased you a little as he exited. “But I am a very light sleeper. I was nearly ambushed many a times in my youth. Quick waking is paramount to survival.”
You made a noise as that made a sad sort of sense.
“I feel I should be more concerned.”
“But…?” It sounded like he was leading though he’d made a clear stop.
“But I’d like to brush my teeth.”
“Oh.”
“And take my turn.”
“Oh.”
“Mind?” He twitched one of his thighs as a signal for you to get off.
“Uh, yes. I mean, of course.” Throwing your weight to the side, you meant to fall, but he got hold of you and made your dismount more elegant.
Leaving you to give a satisfied squirm in the sheets, he took leaping steps toward the bathroom and the curve of your spine disrupted his spent. It trailed between your legs and a flighty noise caught in your throat.
“Wait, Don?”
The tap was already on and he gave a full mouthed grunt that said his toothbrush was already in his mouth.
“I should wash up. I’m kinda leaking… you, ya know?”
His head shot out of the bathroom door with foamy lips. “An’?”
“That’s…” You stumbled wondering if it was a problem; to most guys it was.
He seemed satisfied with your revelation and returned to his task.
Laying back, you wondered if it was strange. In theory it wasn’t, you both usually gulped down each other’s bodily fluids without second thought, so why was it so odd to taste your own? You’d tasted yourself on his lips more than once and, though it wasn’t something you chased, it wasn’t like it grossed you out. Instead, it was usually enhanced with the thought of where he’d just been and the act itself of kissing him was always a pleasurable one.
While your mental debate stalemated, your partner emerged.
Jarring as his existence interrupted the candidates at their podiums, you waffled to get into a better position. It amounted to little in the time allotted, but you watched him slow as you got an elbow behind you to prop you up. It angled your body down where you let your legs fall open to see the sight of what he had done to you.
He glanced at your core with a flick of his pupils before coming up with a near comedic air.
You pouted and slammed your knees together. “What?”
“You needn’t do anything.” As he neared, he parted the canopy to place his hands on the edge of the bed as if he might crawl up.
“I want you to want me…”
“I do.” Instead of walking forward, he extended his arms to their full height.
“No, like… I want to feel sexy doing it. Like I’m doing something.”
“You are.” He was just shy of laughter.
“I’m not making sense!” You groaned and let yourself collapse.
“Too much?”
“Not enough!” You felt like kicking and screaming. “More sex!”
He gave into a chuckle. “I meant…” He caught your ankle and, in a rough tug, he pulled you right up to the edge of the bed.
Your heart skyrocketed and you stared up at him with appreciation.
“My teasing.”
“Yes, I get it! I’m walking perfection in your eyes. I know!” You shook your head.
“I understood your intent.”
“Yeah, I just said it.”
He gave a playful growl before releasing you in favor of slamming his fists down on either side of your hips.
You squeaked as you bounced.
“You want to be a showstopper. You want to take my breath away. You want to make me drop at a glance.” He towered over you with burning intent.
You stared up at him. “Oh… You…”
“Understand.” He insisted.
“So when you said…” You ran back through the conversation though your sex flexed a protest. “…that you do… You’re saying I don’t need to now.”
“Yes, in this instance.” He dipped down and you thought he might kiss you. “There is no need, but that doesn’t mean your ability is stunted otherwise. Do you want to know the last?”
“I’d kind of like to be on your cock while you tell me.”
“Salacious.” He grumbled heat and came down to nip at your cheek.
You giggled and turned into him which he pointedly shirked away from. “Seriously!?”
“I have standards.” He rose out of your breath’s reach.
You puffed out your cheeks and nudged your body down to grind on him.
He caught you. “Story first.”
“A short one.”
“Yes.”
“Hurry…”
He gave a put-out sigh before smiling. “Two days ago.”
You diverted some thought to the occasion.
“You were running late to work. Your clothes wrinkled and you’d missed the top button on your shirt.”
You gave him a confused look. “I thought this was supposed to be a ‘drop on sight’ moment?”
“It was.”
“You-!” The protest stopped as his casual response sunk in.
“In a rush, an otherwise mess…” He openly reminisced and his eyes rolled with delight. “Mine.”
“You didn’t say anything…”
“You needed to leave.” He came down from cloud nine with sweet tidings.
You squirmed, needing him more.
“As I said. The power is yours and you command it well.” He reviewed you with growing pride. “Now you’ve been very good.”
You bit your lip to keep from asking for a reward.
He smirked in a way that said that was the right call and swept down your body for a set of measurements on how he was going to go about taking you.
Thinking you were a step ahead of him, you wiggled your ass in a show that it was at the edge of the bed so he could eat you out over the side.
His chin dropped, indicating that he might, but a concurrent thought brought his lids up. “Another ride?”
“Yes, clearly.” You shifted your hips at the ready. 
“Focus.” He flicked your forehead.
You held the spot with a grunt.
“Me. I’m asking if you’ll top again.”
“I can.” You blinked lackadaisically.
“The night I first churred…” He gave your thighs a squeeze before jumping up onto the bed.
This time you timed his bounce to right yourself.
He rounded you on all fours before throwing himself onto his carapace. “When you rode my face.”
“I got you.” You moved beside his head and readied to throw a leg over.
“A little different.” He brought a hand up to stop you.
You waited with a frown.
“Patience.” His lids came down with joking disappointment.
“You don’t need to explain it, just shove that tongue in me.”
He turned onto his side to pinch you. “You had complaints about consent moments ago!”
“Old me. Don’t care.” You tried to pretend like his fingers hadn’t stung. “Go, hurry.”
He gave a loud dramatic sigh and flopped back down. “Fine. I want you to sit on my face and time it. Suffocate me. I want to push the limits of my held breath and in exchange you’ll get as many orgasms as you’d like.”
The explanation alone was enough that you spun around to grab your phone.
He gave an amused chuff.
You got a stop watch up before a small thought bubbled an incessant worry. “Wait… What if I don’t know when to stop?”
“I’ll momentarily lose consciousness.” He shrugged and adjusted his head at the ready.
“Donnie!”
He flicked his gaze at you. “I’ve suffered worse. Come here.”
“Promise you’ll be okay.”
“I doubt we’ll reach that point. It was meant only as a possibility.”
“Donatello.”
“I swear.” He turned to you. “Now take your damn seat, you heathen.”
Cunt clenching, you moved back into position and this time he helped you along as you straddled his face. Adjusting for the angle, you wanted to descend just right while he clamped onto your thighs as his safety bar. Chewing your lips in preparation, you had just about gotten yourself where you wanted when his brow furrowed.
“Dearest.”
You hummed a question, looking down your body at him.
“Sit.” He breathed heat and yanked you down.
Straight onto his tongue, your head rolled back for sweet relief. Licking into you, you rolled your hips to chase him and felt the odd contrast in his freshly brushed teeth. It meant the lingering mint mixed in for an odd icy hot burn that you thought you might get addicted to.
Grounding down to cut off his nostrils as he requested, you faintly tapped your phone where it was loosely clutched in your hand. Immediately abandoning it as he tasted you, your belly throbbed with need. It still wasn’t enough so you caged his head tightly between your thighs and exerted as much force to squeeze a little more ecstasy out of him.
It came with increased ministrations and a loud rumbling moan that rolled into an eager churr. Having angled his snout near your clit, the vibrations shook there in a mock sensation of a magic wand and you cried out at the thought. Muscles in your ass already spasming, he brought you to a near immediate climax and tongue fucked you straight through it.
Instead of falling forward like gravity wanted, you protested with carnal desire alone and threw your hands back to grip his plastron. The hold was a strange one, but it meant you had new leverage on your hips. Using it all along with a manic grind, you found you could shove down with more than your body weight and earned another euphoric moan that had you clenching on that sharp tongue of his.
Curving it into you, it couldn’t quite reach where you hoped, but that didn’t make it any less. Riding his face as if you were trying to stay on a mechanical bull, you rocked the entirety of his body. He navigated you with a seasoned diver’s accuracy and dug his nails into your thighs to brand the moment with little crescents. You’d think of them fondly later as a second peak blanketed rationale.
Feeling everything keenly, he let go of your legs and you might have protested had his hands not dipped under your ass. He dug his thumbs into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and with a jagged drag he split you farther open. It sunk him those few little centimeters deeper and he held there.
Delirious tears forming as another orgasm neared, he prodded your backdoor with one digit and the subsequent unraveling came with a full body spasm that caused it to breach you. Wobbling through a soprano, the sweep of fluids leaking from you spattered what felt like everything below your legs. Whether it was mixed with his saliva or all coming from you, it was enough lube that his finger sank into the first knuckle joint and he pressed it towards where his tongue was buried.
Lightning shocking your body as you swear you felt the connection through your innermost walls, you screamed out his name with no indication of why. It was a call of what he did to you, had done, and would eventually do and he answered it by continuing to make good on his promise. Only wanting to make you cum again, he slowed only to ease you off your current orgasm before ramping right up to the next. Now timing it with a finger in your ass, the dual pump had you rolling back into both sources of pleasure and your next orgasm came without any true indication.
Now on an ever-present high, you drowned yourself until your jaw dropped and drool poured down your face just as slick soaked the bed. A stream with two outlets, it melded an ocean whose only desire was to drown its sole occupant. A man not bothering to swim, Donnie sank. Suffocating his mouth, filling his nose, and presumably taking his vision as the whole of his face was firmly wedged between your legs, you felt a weary pinch and burn that dropped like a stone in your mind.
Your bladder.
It ripped terror through you and though you’d settled firmly on not giving a shit about him eating his own cum, you weren’t about to suddenly piss down his throat. A flex warned how imminent such an act was and, in a flurried jump, you were off of him and into the bathroom before anything could happen.
“Why!?” You heard him rage from where you’d left him.
Shuddering from sweet release, you slumped against the cold toilet as he gave a single bang on the door.
“For that!?”
“Donnie, come on!” You cleaned yourself up and threw the door open only to have your phone thrust in your face.
“First.” He shook the device that read a tidy 23 minutes and change. “I could have gone at least 10 more minutes and second!” He removed the barrier so you could feel the brunt of his displeasure. “I desire the whole of you. I do not care!”
“I appreciate it!” You yelled and pushed past him. “I, however, wasn’t sure!”
His snout wrinkled with protest.
“Not of you!” You waved your arms to dispel him. “Me! I’m allowed to have reservations about new things!”
He gave an irritated sound at the truth of your statement even if he didn’t care for it.
Reaching the bed, your actions caught up with you and your knees wobbled. Steadying yourself against the mattress, you listened as Donnie washed his hands. The rush of water reminded you of what had just occurred and you glanced at where the two of you had been on the bed. Your imagination a reality, there was a clear soaked spot that was carved out by your knees. An imprint of your joining, you chuckled at it and felt a needy pulse of your southern muscles. “There’s no way…”
“What?” He was right beside you.
You jumped and he steadied you. “You-!”
The angered heat was exchanged for another you watched him take your scent in.
“I’m still turned on.”
He nodded, eyes lulling at the smell.
“Can you tell the difference between me and this?” You gestured around, imagining your last session clung to the air.
“Yes…” He surfaced with only a crack to his lids. “You smell better.”
“You keep saying that…” You licked your lip. “Do I smell different than usual?”
“It’s good.” He came into your space and butted his snout against your neck.
“You're repeating yourself.” You instinctively went to hold him. “May I got into something?”
“Did you?” He asked with licks to your skin.
That need you summoned him for grew. “Don…”
“I’ll take care of you.” He husked, nosing up to your cheek before his snout wrinkled. “Brush your teeth!”
“Piss drinker!” You shouted the double standard in his face before going to do just that. 
“One does not have to have a proclivity to be open to the concept! Just as I’ve had the passing desire to mark you as my territory, there doesn’t have to be action! It is devotion!”
You slammed on the metaphorical brakes and your hands came up for two very obvious stop signs even though you’d already executed. “No. No, no, no!” You spun wild eyes around at him. “We are not going to brush past the part where you just said you wanted to pee on me!!”
“Mark-ing.” His lip curled as he slowly enunciated as if that was something different than how you’d described it.
“Nope!” You turned heel and continued back toward the bathroom. “No. No. No. No. No. No.” You continued to pop the sound with a new and different inflection each time until you reached the sink. “You get teeth brushing or that. Not both!” You snatched your brush up, flicked the tap, wet it, and smashed the bristles while applying paste.
Donnie appeared a looming presence behind you. “Then you’ll be delighted in mine listing of the safe bacteria in healthy urine versus the utter filth that proliferates in one’s mouth!”
‘I’m not listening!’ You hummed the words through foam.
He began listing scientific names for what had to be bacterial strains while you loudly hummed to drown him out.
You both continued to increase your volume in time until you spat, rinsed, and turned on him with the most deafening scream you could muster.
He quieted for only a single moment of rage.
“You’re lucky I’m so irritatingly turned on right now because otherwise I would beat the shit out of you! It’s still on the table, but maybe I’ll just fuck you into submission!!!”
His entire body twitched.
It dropped your guard.
His eyes at their widest stared back at you and the faintest squeak interrupted the otherwise silence.
“Oh.” You tilted your head.
His cheeks exploded with color.
You reached out and pressed a pausing hand to his plastron to keep him from leaving.
His eyes squeezed shut as another pathetic peep caught in his throat.
“Donatello…” You cooed.
He cracked an eye open for you though it looked like he was boiling alive.
“Look at you…” You traced over his pectoral scutes. “You really have lost control, haven’t you?”
He parted his lips for what looked like a protest, but only a breathy exhale emerged.
It betrayed him further.
His expression grew miserable.
“All those emotions.” You dotted over his heart. “All this yelling. Unlike you.”
He had a faint shake to him.
“Why didn’t we think of it?” You parted your lips knowing the plump would hypnotize him.
His gaze locked onto it.
“That I could take care of you? Make you forget. Like you said. I have the power.”
That wobble became a little more furious.
“What do you say? I really want to. Especially when you’ve turned such a pretty color…” You stepped into him, your body nearly flush to his.
The back and forth was distinct in a way that you could tell was a counterbalance.
Tracing over him with growing understanding, you heard him give a wrung out noise as he looked away with repulsed shame.
You continued down his body to where his hips were furiously swaying with the wag of his tail.
“Come.” You held out your hands and he kissed you so hard into the sink you could already feel the bruise. Turning a whimper into a moan up into him, you moved against each other until he needily tugged at you. He drug uselessly at your body and you knew he wanted to lift you, but you refused to help. It amounted in him becoming more and more frustrated until he broke the lip lock to send that feeling down to you.
You were waiting with a cocky air.
“I’ve made something.”
“I have something for you.”
You stared at one another before trying again.
“You do?”
“I’m sorry-”
Lids dropped with irritation, you both made an annoyed noise at the overlap.
Lifting your hands up to show you would abstain, he urged you to go with a curling of his digits.
It amounted in a third stand off where you groaned out of it. “Same time!”
“That is what got us into this predicament in the first-”
“Let’s exchange at the same time!” You cut through, exasperated.
“Ah.” He liked the idea enough to take a step back. “What room will you need?”
“Pit stop in the bedroom and then here.”
“That works.”
“Okay.” With an agreement set, you both exited the bathroom. Donnie went to busy himself by his nightstand while you went to the dresser. Shoving straight into the familiar stack of winter clothes, you quickly located the ugly holiday sweater and the garment box wrapped within. Pulling it out and tucking it to your chest, you checked to find your partner with his back a calculated turn away. “I’m going!”
He heeded your call with a nod and you tucked yourself into the bathroom. Behind the closed door, you heard him move, but ignored him in favor of getting your lingerie set on. The corset being the easiest part to snap into; you marveled at how it was your exact measurements. It was a horrifying sort of incredible that only Coral could achieve. Not actually wanting to know how she’d done this, you wrangled the garter belt and got lost amongst the straps.
It took some time working out the logistics and having to unhook the thigh highs as you forgot the underwear, but you eventually donned the entire set and looked at yourself in the mirror. Without enough room to back up and see the entire ensemble, you jumped to view as much as you could. The glimpses shot powerful inoculations of confidence in you and by the time you were moving to look down the length of your body, you knew you would be successful in your surprise mission.
Knocking the wood of the door to signal your exit, you called your partner. “Don, you ready?”
“Y-yes!”
His stutter made you pause.
Maybe this wouldn’t be as alluring as you’d hoped.
He could very well be the one who gave Coral the measurements and it tinged your mood.
If this was another of his creations, a thing he desired to see you in, that was one thing.
Coral was something else entirely.
Running a digit along the plastron-like bottom of the corset, you wondered if this shape was something he actually preferred.
Something you couldn’t give him.
That feral side of him would never wholly be able to give itself over to a human.
That part of him was turtle.
Was it always a little dissatisfied with his choice?
A fuck was a fuck and it could be settling for second best.
All you knew was you weren’t sure.
You could also easily find out.
Shoving the negative feelings down and scrounging the powerful ones you once had, you opened the door.
Across the room, Donnie was facing your side of the bed. His scarred carapace in full view, he was hunched over something and sat a vision between the parted gauzy drapes of the bed.
“All suited up.”
He jolted, but didn’t turn.
“Don?”
“I…” He hesitated in a loud way and you heard him squeeze what sounded like wood. “I have a history with leather.”
“Good thing it's not.”
His head lifted. “You’ve put something on.”
“That’s what I said.” You took a few steps out and his interest helped bolster your momentary lapse. “How do you feel about silk and lace?”
His neck rotated the slightest amount and his tone held admiration. “That…”
“Wanna see?”
“I’m having second thoughts.”
“Oh…”
“Not about you!” He very nearly turned and to prevent it, he slacked back over whatever he had. “This. This here.” The bed creaked as he pushed down on the object. “I don’t know why I bothered…”
You were in motion and next to him where you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever it is, I bet it’s amazing because you made it.”
He glimpsed you with a quick flick to just catch your face. “I suppose we’ll see…”
You squeezed him reassuringly. “I had my own hang ups about mine. They happen. Let’s let each other decide, hm?”
He sighed, trying to blow away his concerns. “Yes.”
“Countdown?”
“From three.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
You stepped back to put yourself on display and Donnie turned with a wooden box in hand.
He very nearly dropped it and had to scramble down to the floor to save the object. Catching it in time and with a quick survey to make sure it survived the fall, he turned awe up at you.
You did a little anxious strut. “Ta-dah.”
“What…? Where…?” Setting the box safely aside, he was entranced as he rose and moved toward you.
Readying yourself for him, you watched as he traced the lace detailing up to the corset.
“The shape.” He had a smile on his face.
Not a lusty heat, though it was partially there, he was more amused by it and that made your heart soar. Leaping to accommodate the organ, you jumped him and pulled him into a kiss of desperate gratitude.
He garnered your hips to pull you back and nuzzled your cheek. “Were you honestly worried? You are a vision. Stunning. Dazzling. Ravishing. I have a thousand and more descriptions.”
“It… I sort of thought… maybe that you…”
He nudged you a last time with his snout before retreating enough to watch with an encouraging gaze meant solely for you.
You softened at it. “That you wished I had… a shell... or something.”
You were hit with a puff of air from him snorting.
Your hackles rose.
“I’m sorry.” He failed to cover his lips from a wrinkling smile. “I-”
“Donnie!”
A laugh escaped him, loud and bright.
“It’s a real concern. I don’t know!” You thumped your fists to his plastron.
“It’s not.” He covered your hands to hold them in place and dipped forward to kiss you.
The intensity nearly bowled you over and translated something deep.
“Only you. I only desire you in your true form. No tricks. No broaches.” He pressed his forehead to yours.
You nodded against him.
“Hm… I suppose if you were to mutate then that would be your true form…” He pulled away with the thought and it was the way his pupils flicked up to the top right that told you this was the first time he’d ever considered the option.
A small bout of fear ran its course as you worried if you’d mistakenly planted the idea.
With a single shake, he tossed the idea away before you manifest true worry. “No matter. My feelings the same though my body would require an adjustment period.”
“Oh?” You squeezed his hands.
“Sudden change can be difficult for me to process.”
You stole a quick kiss.
“Soothed?”
“Yes.”
“Carapace…” He chuckled to himself.
“Don’t tease me! I was worried!”
“Am I making light?” He stepped away to examine your outfit.
“Just… why would your turtle half… I don’t know… Want me?” You did a twirl within his hand.
Skimming a digit down the side of your corset, he had a fond smile. “Turtle half? I may refer to different states of myself as such, but never that.”
You squinted.
“My mutation is a unified front. I am unique. I want you.” He traced the lace at your hip.
That you understood. “You’re you.”
“Yes.” He grinned with what was at first appreciation before it dipped mischievous while his fingers followed a strap right into your soaked folds. “I do enjoy this ensemble immensely. Especially this.”
You shuddered, legs spreading to accommodate his touch.
He stroked and kissed down the side of your head. “Might I persuade you to make this your staple undergarments?”
“Defeats the purpose…” You replied breathily.
“Easy access.” He bumped his head to yours.
“Hey…” You touched his arm to stop him. “Distracting me, what about your thing?”
He froze.
“Donnie…” You craned your neck away to catch a glimpse of him.
“Impulse!” He spoke with a full retraction of his form and took a few steps away. “Nothing more. Nothing we should concern ourselves with!”
You hummed, unimpressed.
He robotically retrieved the box. “I’ll just store this. Or destroy it. Both. One. Or-”
“Tell me honestly: Do you actually want to table this or are you embarrassed?”
“I’m… fine.” His eyes flew from side to side before landing on you. “Fine, yes. That’s the one.”
It was your turn to laugh.
He inched away as if he thought you were distracted.
You quickly crossed over to him and put a hand to his arm. “You are a terrible liar and that wasn’t even what I asked!”
“It wasn’t…?” His expression cracked.
“No!” You giggled. “How have you gotten away with being fiendish all these years!?”
“There is a difference between an outright lie and twisting the truth.”
“Wanna take that question again then?” You tilted your head up at him cutely. “For me?”
His eyes held a certain betrayal before he gave up and lifted the box a little more toward you. “Do you recall when I lost our wager the day you commanded me?”
In a blink you did. “Yes.”
“I was… inspired…” He gestured for you to follow and he placed the box on the bed.
“Which part?” You came close, studying how the wooden square was constructed. It struck you as similar to his furniture so you imagined he had built it. With no obvious door, you imagined you needed to slide a panel to reach the contents.
He held out a hand for you to see for yourself.
You gave his arm a final comforting squeeze before going to open the box. Testing the corners, you found the top panel did slide and inside there was a huge purple lump. An odd thick cylinder, you lifted it up with both hands. Coming into the proper light, it almost looked like a non-tapered dildo with a pale purple shade that seemed demure compared to its size. Thick beyond comprehension, it was equally long and didn’t have a distinct head. Instead, the base was solid and the opposite end puckered into a hole. Testing a finger against it found a plush interior with ribbing that brought your eye over to Donnie. “This is...?”
“A combination sex toy built for my anatomy…” His voice wobbled.
You turned the hefty toy over. “So this goes in you and then you go in this…?” You demonstrated sticking a finger into the toy.
He nodded, his face ablaze.
“You’re so sweet…” You set the toy down before coaxing him to you.
He came with a faint nervous whine.
“Shhh… This is wonderful.” You peppered kisses along his cheeks. “You’re alright. You want me to use this on you?”
His gaze plummeted and he headbutted into your chest in a comical bend for his size.
You cradled him close regardless. “We can go nice and slow, but… I’d like… I want to make you feel good.”
“I was supposed to take care of you.” He mumbled into your torso.
“Sounds like you're trying to twist the truth out of this…”
His body flinched with guilt.
“Mhm.”
“I did… craft you a strap.”
“You did?!” You pulled away with what you quickly realized was too much excitement. “Sorry…”
“No… I’m glad you like the idea… I am… I-” He grit his teeth as if it pained him before turning around to reveal his wagging tail. “I despise this incessant thing.”
You couldn’t help but skirt the appendage. It slapped against your palm and you felt the telltale excitement leaking down it. “I think you'll grow to like it. This guy knows. Let me change your mind?”
All of him stayed still save for his tail.
You kissed his forearm. “We’ll go so slow. We’ll stop if you need. All the usual.”
He peeked over his shoulder at you.
You stared back with an open question.
He frowned and flicked his head away for another desperate whine before he stormed over to the dresser. There he extracted a tangle of black straps and shirked his size in approaching you.
“Why don’t you put that on me? For control and because I don’t think I can without mixing up everything else I’ve got going on.”
That earned you the faintest bubble of mirth and he knelt down in front of you.
Taking a wide stance so he could get between your legs, you watched him methodically go through the process to strap you in. With one long bit going over the top of your ass and two separate supports cupping under your cheeks around each leg, there was a large plate of sorts covering your mons. Feeling a sturdiness that you imagined came with rock climbing, Donnie left, murmuring something, before he returned with the toy.
“Problem?”
He shook his head and you loved the way his cheeks flushed.
“Wanna share?”
“If…” Adjusting buckles and a ring, he worked on getting the toy added to the strap. “If.. this…”
“Feels good?” You offered.
“Adjustments.” He got the word out and gave a sigh where he had to lean his head against your leg. “I'll make adjustments. For your pleasure. An added mechanism.” He grunted. “I haven’t explained the tech yet...”
“Take your time.” You pet his head. 
“At the time, I was only interested in the logistics. What did a design for me look like? A wholly new problem to solve. My only focus: could it be done?” You heard a button snap and watched as he slowed. “What came to fruition was without further thought. Not of… use or otherwise.”
You stroked down his cheek and his eyes closed momentarily.
“I should have considered you. You gave me the idea.”
“I did?”
He turned to look at you against your palm.
“I mean you said I inspired it, but now you make it sound like I told you.”
“You did. Something along the lines of…” He took a steady breath and his gaze flicked to the past. “’Can you cum like this without dropping?’”
“Which you weren’t sure of…” You remembered the way he shook his head then. 
He nodded.
“Wow…”
His gaze lowered to the toy where he made more adjustments.
“If there was further thought, what happened when you were done?”
“I made the box to lock it away.”
You stared until he released the toy and watched how it hung.
Not satisfied, he moved to further fix it.
“Donnie.”
“There should be a pleasant weight for you…”
“Don.”
“Frustrating…”
“Hey…” You tapped his head.
“Not even in the strap.” He turned up his self exasperation to share. “I could have easily added an insertion point for a smaller toy or something for clitoral stimulation!” He clicked his tongue. “No, I added a self-warming feature.”
“Warming?”
“Try.” He released the toy.
You felt a weight that comfortably pulled at your hips and reached down to brush it. The smooth surface had that same bounce, but now there was a distinct skin-like heat to it. “Woah…”
“Stimulated through use.” He griped and leaned back on his haunches.
“Donatello.”
“Yes?”
“Have you tested this at all?”
Instead of a full twitch, you saw one of his fingers involuntarily move.
You knelt down and felt an odd adjustment in having something dangling long out in front of you.
He looked you over in a wounded way. “I… may have left yet another truth out.”
“Where?” You tilted your head with a knowing weight.
“Beta testing clearly comes after prototype… However…”
You rested a hand on his leg.
He stared down at your digits. “It seemed pointless to use without you. It seemed equally improbable that I could bring it up.”
“Yet here I am.”
“Wearing the strap I created after having had the same impossible considerations.” He chuffed.
“Silly.”
“Quite.”
“Is it self-lubricating too?” You stood and held out a hand to him.
He hitched on the idea with a half raised appendage so you scooped him up the rest of the way. He allowed himself to be led over to the bed where he mumbled aloud ideas for the next version.
You tied back the canopy as he made mental schematics and then urged him to sit while you got your lube. “Don, what’s it made of?”
“Silicone.” He gave a quick response among many others.
Checking the level of your water-based solution, you brought it over and passed it to your boyfriend. Having since gone silent, he cupped the container between his hands as he continued to think. He was the perfect warmer, you thought, as you rounded the bed to gather up the pillows. Whacking yourself only a few times with the toy as you were still getting used to its extension, you created a big fluffy barrier right behind Donnie before rounding to stand in front of him.
“I should take notes.” He told you.
“Nope.” You stood with a lazy smile.
“I’ll forget?”
“That a question?” You cocked a brow.
He grimaced. “No…?”
You pushed a finger to his scutes. “Lean back.”
“But-”
You gestured.
He had to look to see you’d created a comfortable prop for him. He returned with an appreciative, but meek shrug and then anxiously leaned into the pile. Needing only a minor adjustment, he got into a comfortable lean and you bumped your knees against his.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Want to stop?” You caught his eye to translate your severity.
“No…” His gaze fell.
“Think you can look at me?”
He shook his head.
“You want to watch the toy?”
You got a nod.
“What if I’m not ready to use it?”
His eyes shot to yours.
“We need to work you up. You’re so tense.” Picking the toy up so it wouldn’t hit him, you held it away as you leaned in for a kiss.
He gave you one with wound nerves.
“You’re okay. You’re going to know everything that’s going to happen before it does.”
He nodded and the next press of lips was a little more lenient. Eating it up in a near literal sense, you chased him for cautious presses until you felt him languish against your mouth. It was then that you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip in question and he answered by pushing into yours with an ache you knew all too well.
Pressing to him for the intimacy meant the toy wedged between you. Against his lips, you found he didn’t seem to notice it on contact. Finding that a good sign, you only broke away when he had thoroughly liquified before you started pressing targeted kisses down his jaw. Lounging in your attention, his head fell back into his prop and you laved at his neck. Tasting his churr on your tongue, you eased toward his shoulder at the same time as you pressed into the flat plastron around his belly.
As if activating some unknown mechanism, his legs fell apart and you ate up the real estate. Shifting out of the side saddle, you were afforded more closeness and you made it clear your hand was going south while your teeth were heading to refresh your mating mark. He gave an anticipatory chirp that you translated as a go ahead.
Fingers skirting the bottom of his plastron, you made him well aware that you were heading for his slit as your lips dragged over your crescent claims. A few agonizing squeaks sounded beside your head and you teased his entrance at the same time you bit down into his shoulder. Your honed chirp emerged loud and between your jaw and hand, you soon had him a chirping and churring mess.
“Need… Yours… Again… New!” He got out through stunted chittering sounds.
“You will.” You extracted and swiped your tongue over the blood. “Soon. You can do it very soon depending on how good you are.”
He squeaked his interest as you scissored him open and he bucked.
“Look.” You nudged his chin with your nose as he always did to you before extracting your hand from him.
He gave a whimper that returned his human speech. “What…?”
You showed him his slick on your fingers by stringing it between your digits. “Look how ready you are.”
“Ready.” He mimicked, a little lost.
“Mhm.” Having to break contact with him to find the lube bottle. You located it, warm, from where it had been tucked under his thigh. “So good. You’re so good.”
“Y-yeah?”
He hadn’t responded so easily to praise before and you gave him a quick eager kiss for it. “Very.”
His eyes rolled back amongst a breathy vowel and he edged his hips at the ready.
Soaking the toy and stroking it to warm it back up, you casually bumped the tip against his slit in the meantime. He twitched at the ready with each brush, until you felt the heat of it come alive. Knowing everything was ready all around, you probed a little extra lube at his entrance before turning your attention up to him. “Ready?”
His body lit with a fresh wave of anxiety that swirled across his lusty features. He managed a nod against it all.
“I’ve got you. Any time, all the same stops that we use for me, okay?”
“Y-yeah.”
“That’s it.” Looking down to make sure everything was aligned, you pressed the tip of the toy inside him.
“Big…!” He tensed up.
“Yup. So it can take you. Relax…” Having to wipe a hand off and saying a silent apology to your thigh highs, you caught his appendage and threaded your fingers. “I’m right here. You took both our hands before. That has to be as thick as this.”
He gave a faint nod.
Giving him time, you rocked only an inch or so the tip in little barely breaching pushes.
Less for his body and more for his mind, it took a lengthy amount of teasing until his muscles smoothed back out once again.It was only then that you felt confident enough to enter him further. The next inch you gained came with headier churrs and you took it as a good sign to keep going. His fingers clenching yours in rhythmic flexes to remind himself of your existence and you held him tight as you rocked deeper into him.
New sensation for your hips, you mentally praised his ability. Not only his stamina, but the precision he was able to garner around what was essentially a semi-rigid rod. Sure nerve endings played a huge role in that, it still felt impressive as you were having to gauge his reactions as he did you. Feeling very much like you were on the other side, you felt a drive to satisfy your partner. That mixed with one of plowing him senseless, you understood why he loved to draw out the process.
Surpassing a quarter of the toy’s shaft, you stared intently at Donnie’s face as you imagined you’d be nearing his cock soon. A squirming, chirping mess, he hiccupped noises that you imagined signaled he was close to dropping. With no indication of flexed muscles for you to check with, you searched him to see if there was any sign of him holding back. Besides the squeeze of your hand, you didn’t see anything apparent until he let out a sudden scream and you lurched forward, sinking all the way into him in a quick snap.
“Too much!!!” He screeched, tears pricking his eyes with horror.
“What happened?! Are you hurt?!” You were in a backswing when it happened, but it felt as though he’d sucked you in.
Only squawking in response, he fought against you for an upward lift that immediately had him hissing.
“Woah! No! No!!” You wrenched your hand free of him and caught the top edge of his plastron. “You can’t pull out like that! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Too much!! Too much!!” He cried openly with his mouth twisted in horror.
“Donnie! Donnie!” You tugged, trying to get him back into place. “I can pull out, but you need to relax. I can’t move!”
He shook his head a vicious side to side.
“Please, Don. Listen! You need my help, but I can’t like this. I know it’s hard. Please!”
He let out a frustrated whine and you felt his heels dig into your legs.
A sharp force from both the house prospectic and that one hind toe, you felt terrible for all the times you’d done it to him. “Please!”
He caught your shoulder and immediately dug his nails in.
“Ah! Stop!”
“Y-you!”
“I can’t!!” You shuffled in place where you were firmly buried. “I’m stuck!! You have to listen!”
More shaking ruffled the sheets.
It took a few tries with him doing everything ro hold you at bay, but you eventually let him cleanly claw rivets through your shoulders just to get free and slap his cheeks.
He jolted with shock though his eyes refused to focus.
“Donatello!!!” You pulled hard, digging your nails around his jaw.
He surfaced with clenched teeth and a whine like a creaky stool about to break.
“You have to get back into position. Lay back or else I can’t pull out. Can you hear me?”
He dry heaved.
Heat pricked your gaze. “Please, Donnie. Please!”
“Oh-Oh.”
“Donnie?”
“O-!” He spasmed.
You held his hand as he tried to thrash, but the movement clearly pained him. It caused him to contort to a near violent degree and you whispered that you were there for lack of a better phrase.
“Oh!”
You hummed along with him, at an otherwise loss.
“O-ver!”
You blinked wide. “Over?”
“O-!” He choked and ground his teeth.
“That’s-! I didn’t realize you were trying to talk! Over what, Don? Over what?”
“St-!”
“Almost!”
“Over-stim!” He roared with a lurch and a bitter slack that he fought with each second.
“Over-stim…” You gasped. “-ulated. Shit. Uh.” You ran your gaze over his twisting form in a flurry. “You need to… You can…!” In a wrangle, you captured his hands and pulled them close. “Something distracting… Something…” Having held his quaking fingers to your chest, you parted the pair. “Donnie, do you remember? Silk? It’s smooth, right?” In a back bend of both your wrists, you placed his hands at your waist, around your corset. “Remember the feeling?”
Another weak whine, his fingers tried to clasp and spread over the fabric.
“It’s smooth. Silky. Feel?”
He hissed like a snake as he went for a firmer grip.
Stroking his forearms as encouragement, it took what felt like hours as he soothed himself running his digits up and down the purple fabric. By the time he quelled, his weight came down with a sudden heft that the entire bed tipped. Your nerves shot nearly as high as the mattress and you were left without a thought as you had no way to stop the action. It thankfully countered itself with gravity and clanged back onto its stand with Donnie only giving a minor grunt at the movement. “Don…?”
He gave another stunted sound.
“Are you alright?”
He had an exact timing of the up and down with his breath.
You figured it was still too soon to interrupt it. “I’m here.”
“Know.” He got out on an exhale and you squeezed his arm in time.
Stroking soon turned into a palming and when he clutched your waist, you animated knowing he’d reclaimed a part of himself. “Hey.”
“Hi…” His voice came quiet.
“What can I do?”
“I…” He sucked in a greedy breath and then let it out slowly through parted lips. “Didn’t… account for… too much.”
“What happened?”
“In me, on me.” You felt one of his fingers draw a circle on your back through the corset.
“In you… The toy… On you… Oh, how your dick inside?”
“Suction.” You felt him test the clapses on your top.
“That’s what pulled me.”
“Too much.”
“I bet. Don, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and you realized he was counting each metal hook in a rhythmic repeat.
“We can’t stay like this forever...”
He arched an irritated brow that said he knew all too well.
“By suction, do you mean it's like sealed?” You looked down, afraid to test with your hips.
“Feels like it.”
“If we angle it then the seal would break, but that would mean...”
He gave a vague nod.
“You okay?” You touched his plastron.
He exhaled roughly. “Coming down.”
You stroked a pressure against his scutes.
He relaxed a modicum under underhand.
“What does it feel like?”
“Too much.” The words came out of him fast before he made a little annoyed noise. “Unlike the last.”
You tapped your understanding.
He seemed thankful for it. “I’m overly filled. It’s foreign and uncomfortable. Like lead.”
You focused all your attention onto your hips to keep them in place as you leaned up to him.
He did his own minor adjustment as he folded to meet you for a kiss.
“This okay?” You asked after the first chaste brush.
“Distract.” He mumbled, capturing your lips for another.
Cradling his neck with one hand and with your other a further stabilizer on his thigh, the two of you kissed a comforting weight. Imagining it as a ballast for the buoy inside him, you deepend the maneuver to balance the scales. Concocting a heat from what this act usually led to, your bodies operated on muscle memory to drink one another in.
Your desire flaring, you tried to break from him in fear that you’d pantomime a familiar rocking of your hips. He chased you with heady chirps and churrs that stirred you all the more as you couldn’t resist him. Leaning more heavily into you where you were scared to move, he dipped his tongue in to taste you and you were further coaxed as he filled your mouth. Entendre layering, you created a suction to keep him in place and he chased the feeling.
The bend of his body caused something to shift and in your mind’s eye you watched a girder split clean in half.
Donnie broke from you with a rasp and drool as his cock dislodged from the toy.
Knowing what that meant, you scoured his torso for his hands.
Grabbing them, you squeezed one another to hold on as you began to pull out.
Ruined, your partner chirped a string of sounds that sounded like an alarm bell going off. 
“I’ve got you...” You soothed. 
He flexed his hand and almost crushed yours.
“Almost there…”
With the spit he’d cropped up, he gave a soaked squeak.
“Hold on...”
His thighs rippled around your hips.
“You’re doing so good, Don.” Hitting that familiar quarter mark, you imagined his cock was about to be freed.
His legs locked around your back and smashed your pelvis back together.
Not able to verbalize your surprise, you arched into him and he belted out that honed chirp.
A pause lapsed where you listened to his heaving breath before you swiftly pulled to that same point before slamming back in.
It renewed his flow of tears and commingled with the other fluids leaking around the obscene expression on his face.
“Good!!?” You chirped your delight. 
He gave a delirious nod that could have been the bobbing from your thrusts. 
It spurned you further, fucking into him and soon abandoning his hands for his large hips. Two dense walls of muscle, you scooped under them and, in a feat that must have been executed on pure adrenaline, you hoisted him up to thrust deeper. A devolving heap of rolling pitchy sounds, he shredded the sheets trying to hold onto something. His lower body arched into you and he threw his shoulders back hard, crushing the pile of pillows in a way that made you think they might burst into feathers.
Body screaming around the many labors you were unaccustomed to, you shoved them all down in favor of your partner. Your outfit drank your sweat, clinging close for a stickiness that was mirrored by your partner’s similarly spattered skin. It was a plea from your flesh to stay together while the act unfortunately dictated movement. A heavy squelching, different than yours, cropped up and you looked down only to be hypnotized by an elusive nectar.
Each stringing drop felt like thousands of wasted dollars as fluid dripped from Donnie. The roll of his pelvis stretched the soft sopping skin and you loved the way it clung, hungry, from each backstroke. He didn’t want to let you go and with each renewed entry his body thanked you by devouring you. A lower mouth suffering massive dehydration, it guzzled you down and spilled its soak as in its desperation. 
The push and pull as something of the sea, foam cropped up in the form of the mixture growing paler by the second. Each push shoved more of his slick out and replaced the pearling said pre-cum was drowning out his lubricants. That meant his orgasm was closing in and the thought launched your gaze up to where you’d been neglecting your partner's attention. 
Donnie sat in shambles above you. 
Arriving a ship into the eye of the storm, he seemed to sense your attention and brought his eye down to stare at you above his gaping maw. A flash photograph trapped you in the moment and your hips stalled at the sight of him committing you to memory. He only mewled, his tongue rolling drool in his mouth as indication that you should continue and you buried yourself in a lunge to kiss him. He gave it with strings of saliva, another bit of him refusing to let go. 
Your retreat stung, but it was necessary to square your hips.
Anticipation sent his head back and, in a roar of exertion, you felt your vision slip as you did your best to jackhammer into your much larger partner. He cried from some unseen place and through your daggered grip on his thighs, you felt his winding. Not letting up for a second, your feet slipped in your stockings which caused you to further scramble into the thrust. You were rewarded, maybe one stroke too many, as he went dead silent before his body coiled.
A python’s constriction, he lifted clean out of your hold and caught your arms up in the wrap of his legs. Caught and crushed, the spasms rocked the both where you imagined there was nowhere else for him to go. The encasement inside matched the one out and his voice appeared within a freefall. Realizing he’d been crying out at some level above your hearing range, he rasped down from his orgasm with your name until his twitches evened out in an appeal for him to go slack.
His sudden dead weight was entirely too much and his legs became two-ton stems that tried to force you out of him. Scrambling free yourself as that would be too much too soon, he squeaked out in pain as you bobbed inside of him. Pushing deep to make up the lapse, he choked against his thoroughly taxed cloaca. The lengthy sex hitting you in a similar way, your head fell forward onto his plastron where you panted in a cropping pool of your own sweat.
Catching your breath, you heard Donnie give a wrangled trill that asked a sort of question.
Either a worry for you or something about your next action, you palmed his pectoral scutes to hike yourself up. “How’s the suction?”
He nodded and nudged your hips. 
“Alright, it’s going to be a lot. Ready…?” You drew out the sound to silence as you caught the base of the toy to hold steady as you extracted it.
You felt the venom in his gasp as you freed yourself and stepped back enough to examine how the item had fared. Glistening from his many juices, you had had a tilting hold and were rewarded as you stood the toy up to find it filled like a cup with his semen. Quirking a smile at it, you found more dripping out of your partner in thick globules. Donnie’s tail flicked irritated as the cum used him as a landing strip to escape to the floor.
The first weighty plop gave you an affectionate chuckle before a few more plunks summoned a groan from your partner.
“How’re you, sweet guy?”
He bleated dramatically to translate how disgusted he was with himself.
“Aw, don’t be like that...” You cooed as you slipped out from between his legs and approached him from the side.
“Lay down?” He managed. 
“If I go down, I’m staying down. I can already tell.”
He made a sound that wondered what was wrong with that.
“There’s still me.” You used your free hand to skim his arm.
He tensed under the touch before his muscles gave back out.
“Water?” You wondered, pulling away to let him rest.
“I’ll die.” He whined and extended one of his to fall a heavy weight over his eyes.
“I’ll get you some when you come down more.” You offered.
He didn’t exactly respond and instead made a decompressing noise.
Gazing over your work fondly, you were definitely going to use his fucked out form as spank bank material and went to review your strap. Not wanting to waste his cum, you stroked the wet device to keep it warm and looked for buckles. Finding a way to loosen the contraption, you went through the lengthy process of stepping out of the harness all while keeping the toy at a pleasant temperature.
Legs jellied, you sidestepped and nearly fell into your nightstand when B.E.D.F.A.S.T. clipped your vision. The machine would certainly help you stay upright and you looked upon it with the fondness of an old friend. “Darling Protocol-” You paused and turned to Donnie. “I haven’t had to say ‘Bypass’ in awhile.”
He gave a pathetic nod that was more a scrub against his forearm. “Superfluous.”
You hummed a thanks before resuming your course. “Darling Protocol B.E.D.F.A.S.T. on my command.”
The machine sat its usual silent, though you knew it was ready.
“Mark, support bar, horizontal.”
An arm extended out of the panel and stretched out at the ready. You grabbed it and used it to hoist a knee up onto the bed before you found a fatal flaw.
With the machine hanging over the head of your bed and Donnie hanging off the far side, you couldn’t enjoy the show of him while wrapped up in B.E.D.F.A.S.T.’s tendrils. 
“Mark, can you move the bed?”
With a clicking chunk of work, six arms soon emerged all at the ready.
“Out...” You stepped back to get a better view perspective. “Mark, let’s try… say three feet from the wall and to the left, out of the way, if you can reach.”
Taking a moment for what you assumed was some unseen scan, the arms went to work latching onto the bed at various points. One even steadying the canopy, the bed was gently pushed and Donnie immediately made a noise of protest.
“You’re alright.” You told him. “I just need some room.”
“Why?” His question was so exhausted it almost didn’t sound like he wanted an answer.
“I told you.” You walked in the space appearing as the bed moved out of your way. “I’m gonna take care of me.”
He twitched in a new way that you read as recognition and B.E.D.F.A.S.T. stopped before its task was complete.
“Donnie.”
With several grumpy grunts, he forced his arms to his sides where he struggled to get the strength to prop himself up.
“Darling Protocol, lock out user Donatello from B.E.D.F.A.S.T. programming.”
For a moment the stillness made you wonder if the command had worked.
Then ire began to pour off Donnie and he used it to get himself up on obviously quaking stems.
You watched him with a lazy smirk. “Mark, resume earlier command about the bed.”
“Y/N.”
“You can watch.” You passed him a glance before examining where B.E.D.F.A.S.T. had moved the mattress. “Mark, rotate it until I say.”
“Y/N!”
You held out a hand to stop him as B.E.D.F.A.S.T. slowly spun the bed with some unknown knowledge that you wanted Donnie to be in better view. Stepping close to the panel so you had the right line of sight, you waited until you could see his leaky tail. “There. Stop.”
Giving a single loud chuff, Donnie put a lot of effort into some type of move that amounted to nothing.
“Mark, move with me to pick me up.” You held out a hand and B.E.D.F.A.S.T. took it like a dance partner. “Don, you’re too far gone. Enjoy the show.”
“I don’t want to watch.” He spat immaturely.
“You can barely sit up, dear.” Following the steps, you lifted one foot and B.E.D.F.A.S.T. came to caress the heel. Twirling up some unseen staircase, your pace was matched with forming platforms. 
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” You shook your head as you walked yourself into the air.
“With your right hand?” He bitterly clarified.
Though you knew, you looked down to where you were rhythmically squeezing his toy. “I was going to use this.”
“It’s too big.” He stated the fact with a sharp air.
“So? I don’t have to put it in for it to feel good?”
Irritation got him straighter. “It’s mine.”
“Oh...” You looked to where the bouncy feel held an odd realism in your palm. “You heavily implied it was both of ours. Wasn’t it useless to use without me?”
“I changed my mind.”
“You’re being a brat.”
“Come here.”
“No.” You laughed as B.E.D.F.A.S.T. wrapped around your ankles and waist. “I’m sort of in the middle of something, pretty literally.”
“You can easily leave that something.” His body shook with the action, but he brought a hand up to beckon you.
“Rest!” You played up rolling your eyes. “Mark, take this, keep it warm by stroking it, and don’t spill.” You held up the toy which B.E.D.F.A.S.T. quickly took and implemented as a pumping attachment.
“Don’t.” Donnie warned.
You glanced over him and with his wiry form. He was too weak to hold an ounce of menace and you had long lost the ability to fear him. “Yeah, sorry,” you shrugged dismissively and rolled your shoulders into place. 
B.E.D.F.A.S.T. was there to catch you as if laying you down with intent. 
You heard a heavy slap of Donnie getting his feet to the floor.
You lifted right off what should have been the final formation of the machine and it balanced your move by tightening around your waist. It gave you easy support to watch your mate wobble pathetically. “You’re going to fall and I’m not going to help you.”
He grunted a dismissal and dug a hand into the bed to keep his form. “Your doing.”
“Nope! I’m not feeling guilty! Not one bit!” You refused to watch him struggle and went to fall back into B.E.D.F.A.S.T.’s embrace.
Plodding steps picked up speed along with your heart rate. 
“Mark, block!”
You winced and heard Donnie puff with anger. Forcing your lids up, you found Donnie cuffed where he was inches from grabbing one of your feet. 
“Mark, don’t let him touch me!” You grinned wickedly.
Donnie tried to beat the machine, but B.E.D.F.A.S.T. grabbed his other hand only centimeters from your skin. “Release me!”
“No! You’ll stop me!”
Donnie yanked, but B.E.D.F.A.S.T. held. “Y/N…!”
“Oh... That’s good...” You murmured. “Mark, put me down...”
Your boyfriend’s eyes shot wide at your sultry tone. “What is this...?!”
You were a little shaky as your feet hit the floor, but you ducked easily out from the mechanical arms. “Mark, trap Donnie. Pick him up and hold him like you would me.”
“You-!” Donnie got out before the machine went to work. He fought to flee, but with his hands already bound, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. quickly caught his legs and dragged him in. Not really kicking or screaming in a literal sense, Donnie growled complaints as he turned to face away from the machine and to you. You cocked your weight into one hip to watch as he was soon lifted off the ground with restraints buckling around his wrists, biceps, waist, thighs, and available ankle. A weaving metal entangled into his prosthetic for the final limb and there he writhed in the little space he was afforded.
“Hey.” You approached his form as soon as you were sure he couldn’t get you.
He stopped to glower.
Realization clutched your throat. “Oh… Are you okay?” You looked over him with growing worry. “That might have been fun for a second, but you being restrained is probably trigg-”
“Put me down!” He bellowed.
You blinked slowly and wiped the spittle he’d sprayed on your face.
Flicking your hand free found him smirking.
“I felt bad for you...” You stewed, trying to keep the anger off your face.
“Best saved for someone else.”
“Noted and fuck you!” Your expression broke manic and you took the few steps over to the bed. “Or wait, better yet? Fuck me!”
He tensed with realization. “Don’t you dare...”
Skirting the spot he’d been in since it was soaked through, you fought against what was left of the sheets and pillows to form your own back rest.
“Y/N!”
Creating your throne, you turned to look down upon your subject and felt your ensemble pull. Wanting a full range of movement, you put on no show as you got the hooks undone on the corset. Tossing it aside without a care, your partner continued to leak more and louder protests as you unhooked your thigh highs. They’d surely slide down now, but being free from the garter meant your hips could easily spread before your mate. “You know the worst part?”  
“I can’t imagine one worse.” Rage wafted off of him.
“That I’m gonna be thinking of you...” Your hand trended down your sternum and up over the waist wrap of your garter.
He strained and metal creaked.
Reaching the top bit of your underwear you paused and searched B.E.D.F.A.S.T. to see if it would hold.
You got to watch in real time as it beefed up its restraints.
Donnie snarled for your attention.
“What?” You dipped into your sex out of spite.
Whatever complaint Donnie had died on his lips.
“Huh?” You tilted your head back to project your voice. “I can’t hear you!” In time, you tested your needy folds.
There was a minor rattling signaling Donnie’s thrashing. “Stop this instant!”
“How about you? You were so good before...” You mourned as only a few swipes summoned the desperate ache that had been plaguing you all morning.
“Y/N!!!”
“I’ll muzzle you.” You spoke with an obvious threat.
His teeth clicked as his mouth slammed shut.
“Mark, pass me the toy.”
Around Donnie, several spindly arms sprouted with a variety.
That got you upright. “What...?”
On one arm was the tongue toy you’d used before and on another was Donnie’s dildo, but extended on the last two were what looked to be some type of finger vibe and a third dildo you had never seen before. Holding out your hand towards it, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. offered you that one and you took it. Of a darker shade of purple than any of his other offerings, this one mimicked the shape of Donnie’s cock in a smoothed out and much smaller version.
The moment you looked up to Donnie, he turned his head away. “What’s this?”
He chuffed, eyes narrowing into the corner.
“Guess I’ll find out for myself...!” In a quick check, you located the abandoned bottle of lube.
“Double penetration!” He snapped.
You stared straight through his grouch to the worry that lay underneath. “Tell me and I won’t.”
He bounced ever so slightly before his lip curled. “If applicable. Depending on how we were going to employ B.E.D.F.A.S.T. next. I would have offered.”
“The vibrator?” You pointed to the smaller device still held by the machine.
“Hopefully sprung on you during our next marathon. Meant to prolong your orgasm and push you to the brink.”
“And these were... both going to be surprises?”
“With proper acknowledgement, yes.”
You held onto the knowledge for a moment before setting the dildo aside.
Donnie visibly relaxed.
You then reached right back up and made a grabbing gesture with your fingertips toward Donnie’s toy.
“You said-!”
You loudly shushed him as B.E.D.F.A.S.T. passed you the toy.
Holding it with one hand, you abandoned your sex to explore your body with the other.
Hyper aware, your partner quieted as he tried to parse out what you were up to.
Brushing the real estate where your long raised heart rate was starting to throb into a headache, you firmly massaged your body. Squeezing plains of your stomach into pinched chunks, you mapped across your torso in a provocative show that sent goosebumps down your arms. Titillated by the heated stare, you closed your eyes at the same time you arched your back.
Your hips groaning at the upward thrust, you fell back into the bed and caught one of your breasts. Kneading the flesh, you squeezed straight through to the nipple where you pinched the bud in a roll between your thumb and forefinger.
You keenly heard Donnie take an inhale between wet lips.
Imagining those same lips down south where the nectar poured freely, you cracked your lids open to examine the toy you were fondling with your other hand. Still warm, but not as much as it could be, you set the base on your belly and stroked it with both your appendages. Quickly heating it back up to an appropriate temperature, you wiggled your hips in preparation and heard a series of wary clicks.
You ignored him and set the toy to a steady upright between your legs.
Like someone struggling to light a match, the sound grew louder.
Pressing the full length of the shaft to your sex, you ground against the height of the toy. An encompassing sensation, you were aching for something more direct, but would have to make due.
“Enough.” Donnie announced with a little too much clarity.
You didn’t stop your hips as you flicked your gaze to stare at him dully.
Muscles going taunt, he found the tiniest amount of slack before snapping what had to have only been a few centimeters forward.
The entirety of B.E.D.F.A.S.T. creaked where it was bolted to the wall.
You stilled. “Donnie...”
“Stop or else.”
“Mark, tighten. Don’t give him any leeway!”
Donnie snarled as B.E.D.F.A.S.T. suctioned to his skin.
Pulled like green apple taffy, Donnie was spread as all the arms pulled away from one another.
His attempts at writhing became unproductive as his body was strung taut. 
Sure now that you were once again safe, you minded keeping the toy upright as you switched to rolling it over your sex. “I miss you,” came off your lips without thought.
“Then release me...” He rumbled with ire.
You shook your head along with a little moan as you forced the toy hard against you. “Under me. So good. Tail wagging ecstacy!”
You gave an excited chirp and Donnie responded with a wounded one.
“Need you...!” You chirped again, adding your other hand to keep the toy in place.
He squeaked his willing presence.
You imagined a lonely sound of a soft shell looking for his mate. “Beg... Maybe, I’ll-” A gasp cut you off as your leaking core dragged right against the width of the silicone.
“I-I-” Donnie startled as you accidentally hitched a gasp.
Lifting your hips up, you shoved the base of the toy against your entrance. Something wholly too large, it pressed wide and flat and you whimpered rocking it uselessly against you.
“That’ll never satisfy you...” Donnie found his voice and you cranked an eye open where you were still desperately rutting. “There’s no comparison. It will never be as hot. It will never throb. It will never be your perfect fit, made for you.”
“M-me?” You panted, feeling the toy moving faster due to your slick.
You watched a pink tongue dart out and swipe his lower lip. “Only I have what you crave.”
“That’s not begging!” You pushed down as hard as you could and your cunt ached under the pressure of the vast object.
“It’s yours! Just have me! Waiting for you! To use how you please! It’s been yours! Waiting your whole lifetime!”
“J-Just mine?” If only you were wetter, then maybe you could get some traction.
“Predestined! You had to find the pathetic wretch it was attached to.”
The lube bottle felt so far.
“He lies in stasis, waiting to be thawed by your touch.”
There had to be more.
“I’ll grovel. I’ll smash this infernal machine to pieces. Damned part of me. Damned that one as well!”
“This is... you?” You looked down at the bobbing purple between your legs.
“Of course it’s me! A pathetic substitute of my design.”
His tech was him.
This was him.
He was a match for you.
He went inside.
In a roll, the tip of the toy bobbed toward you and you caught a glimpse of the cum within.
It was him.
You turned it over onto your belly, just below the waist strap of your garter. Warm spent traveled down your mons and underwear. Wringing the toy out like trying to get the last of a condiment out of a bottle, you dropped the dildo for a momentary break as you rubbed the cum into you. Pushing it between your legs, your fingers easily entered you and you belted a long moan at having finally been breached.
“No!!!” Donnie gouged out. “Oh my sweet berry trifle! Let me. Please! Me! Let me do it! I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel incredible. It has to be me. It has to! My cock is yours. I’m yours. I adore you! I must! You have to! You have- You can’t!!”
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Dizzy, you were on your feet as chants from your partner echoed around you. Chasing the sound of his voice, his cum dripped down your legs and you approached. “Drop.”
On command his dick fell wet and heavy from his slit.
“Mark, put him in an Amazon position.”
Donnie chirped eagerly as he was lowered to the ground. Laid on his back, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. snapped his knees together and then pushed them up into his plastron. Mounting his cock, you held it just shy of entering you. “How are you gonna be?”
“Good.” He squeaked.
“Right answer.” You dropped onto him and savored that delicious splitting. “Finally...!”
“You had me this morning.” He peeped and you fucked words right out of him.
The ache seated deep and rushed to meet its maker. Cumming within the first five strokes, you ignored the shudder and squeeze of your guts and looked up, crazed, at B.E.D.F.A.S.T. “Mark, release! All commands! I’m done with you.” Turning toward Donnie, you felt yourself milking him. “Fuck me as good as you said.”
In a blur, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. let go in time as Donnie kicked one of his legs out. Given a primary directive, he ignored the last frizzling pops of your orgasm and swept you up. Plowing you straight through it, your face smashed against the wall and one of your legs rose to a worrying degree. Folding it against your side with your hips screaming, he fucked you flat right against B.E.D.F.A.S.T.’s panel.
Making a mockery of the machine, Donnie thrust into you for precision first, stretching out your first orgasm without clear end by shoving the needle on the charts against your g-spot. Just as that was becoming too much, he then switched, hitting deep toward your womb while babbling in your ear about how you’d made the right choice.
Thinking of nothing else, but him, the wind of your second orgasm again wasn’t exact as he ruined all navigation. Curving one arm under your raised leg to hold you with the rest of his body keeping you pinned, he carved out space to shove against your lower stomach from the outside. Crying at the force, he then weaseled his other hand in to assault your clit and sank his teeth deep into your shoulder.
Allowing no end, when he did finally cum, you know longer knew the meaning of the word. Your neurons were a messy set of firings in a dark void. Not unconscious, but something protozoiac, you swam in a petri dish of his own making. Prepared in a lab setting, everything was a sterile bland and the feeling of your body entering moist sheets felt like a jar.
Gasping to life, Donnie caught you from outright sprouting and held you close as reality crashed around you with a filthy gush of fluids that seemingly poured from a broken pipe between your legs. Sweaty and sticky, your cheek stuck like tape to his plastron and your breath shredded your throat with each inhale. Delirious, but alive, you made a noise that translated nothing as you stopped fighting.
Going slack, Donnie let you fall away where you landed, without distance, onto the bed. In front of him and hands groping his form to know it was there, you found his face with a brush of his cheek.
“Need more?” He churred into your palm. “Anything for you.”
You stared at him without comprehension.
What was his asking?
You had no needs. “M’good.” You slurred, registering only happiness.
NEXT
New year, same awesome betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83
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liannelara-dracula · 1 year
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Hey, sweetie!
How old you think are the sakamaki, mukami and tsukinami? i have seen lots of posts and all says different things from each othe, i'm really confused--
Hi Love,
This is a really good question. Its something I've always wondered and have been struggling to answer but I will do my best. A while ago I did some extreme math to calculate their age which I will say, I do not recommend such torture to anyone. Plus, I completely forgot the logic behind the formulas so whelp to that. And I think I am either correct or Rejet is inconsistent with their ideas. Either case, something is off and I'll do my best to explain what I think their age range is.
-Liannelara
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Prompt
Requests are open
Rules
Warning:
*certain words have been censored for Tumblr guidelines.
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Okay so as I'm sure most of us know, we are aware of their physical age but when it comes to their actual age its tough to say but there are some estimates that could pinpoint a rough estimate as to how old they are.
For example. in one of the drama CDs I believe Reiji was the one who explained to Yui that the mansion that we see in the anime was given to them back in the 18th century? or was it 1800s? I can't remember overall it was a long time ago. And whichever it was they were all grown up to live there on their own as a family. This means for over 200+ years they have looked like teenagers!
The Tsukinami's age also helps us determine the Sakamaki's age. In the Young Blood manga, you can notice that Carla looks just as old as he looks now, and this is when the Sakamaki's were only children. So he and Shin are fairly old. Plus it was stated that they were trapped for thousands of years, so they are old considering that they had some business with their father.
If we also look at Beatrix's attire that Rejet gave her, it is a style that leans more toward the 15-1600s and her children where very young at the time. Of course these years are somewhat misleading because if you think of it, that dress is probably from the demon world so their way of doing things hardly changes. So there is a chance that the attire doesn't greatly respect the time.
However! In another drama CD when the boys were asked about their age Shu said he couldn't remember how old he was exactly but that he was roughly in his early 1,000s. Reiji, Laito, and I believe it was also Kanto who admitted that they were several of 100s of years old. (This was all on the CD which of course I don't remember which one.)
So having said this I've dug far deep to give a good estimate on all this so here it is:
Sakamaki
Shu:
1,051.
Idk why but this exact number is what I always think of when I see him.
Although in terms of range it would be 1,030-1,080.
Reiji:
932-986
he's approaching 1,000 real soon.
Laito:
743-870
Kanato:
720-850
Ayato:
715-820
I know they are triplets and they were born on the same day, but it's hard to picture they're all the same age. So I gave each a different range for each one because I don't know what to pick, but for them I would say the range is roughly : 715-870
Subaru:
660-700
Kino:
I always feel like he was older but it turns out he's younger than Shu?
890-950
Mukami
Now considering that Shu met "young" Yuma or "edgar" in this case, centuries later, it shows how slowly purebloods age and just how fast a turned vampires age, so while the Mukamis look to be the same age as the Sakamakis they're actually younger.
I know the Mukamis are psychically a year apart from each other but you know vampire aging works a little differently. Plus, we don't know how much they really are I'm just going by what age range I see on them.
Ruki
He is old and was probably born in 1500-1700s, as much as I want to say 1800s but we know it's not accurate.
Now idk why but I feel like he was born in the year 1570. (It just sounds right lol)
So for age wise its 518-640
Yuma
He's younger than Kou and it's just so hard to believe.
He's probably 460-580
Kou
500-620
Azusa
440-550
I could see him being in his mid 400s
Tsukinami
Oh my, they are very old.
And I'm just going to say it, they do not look like teens. I always felt that they looked like they were in their 20s. Honestly all of them look like their in there 20s.
But anyways, lets keep in mind that Carla looks exactly the same as he does now when the Sakamaks were kids. (This was in the young blood manga btw).
(also please let me know if I'm wrong about my facts so just let me know.)
anyways I feel like they are quite old and over a thousand. they said he was trapped for thousands of years so they are really old.
Carla
5,018-5,480
Shin
3,080-4,660
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