#and i know for myself that i would want to share these things with my friends

[strugglingbigtimw]

”Close my eyes, embrace my matter”

Summary: Nanami has a bad day at work, so you decide to help him. Word count: Almost 1K

Cw: sub! Nanami, choking, reader has him in a chokehold, handjob, cum eating, grinding, cursing, marking, dom! reader

A/N: I’ve been missing him, so i decided to treat him and myself.

Nanami Kento is a man burdened with responsibility. 

Even now in his late 20s, as he tries desperately to catch a break, the borderline Sisyphean task of leaving work at work suffocates him. That’s where you come in. You often nag him when he returns to the house with blue-black eyebags and a clear chip on his shoulders. 

“It’s nothing Darling. I just had a rough day at work.” Your ass. 

So you take it upon yourself to care for him in small ways. Making him coffee in the morning. Fixing his tie, or wiping stray hairs or eyelashes out of his face. Ironing and steaming his button-downs to perfection.

Tonight is no different. You wait for Nanami to get out of the shower with some lavender massage oil on your shared nightstand. He’s always told you he thought lavender making you sleepy was an exaggerated pseudo-fact by large wellness corporations, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

You hear the drumming of his footsteps and you assume he’ll fall into his usual routine. He’ll put on his boxers, maybe a loose T-shirt if he gets cold. He’ll sit on the edge of the bed while you carefully dry his hair after some gentle convincing. You’ll try and give him a massage, but he’ll stop you once you reach his shoulders. Nanami has never been comfortable being pampered. Then he’ll lay on the bed with his bagged eyes closed until he eventually falls asleep. 

However, he smashes those expectations quickly when he swiftly throws on some boxers and practically throws himself on the bed, still drenched. 

Well. At least now you have your chance. 

You swiftly straddle his chiseled back. The stray water droplets soak into your garment while you lay yourself on top of him. God, he’s beautiful. You can see the curve of his long lashes and the slight pink that remains on his skin from the heat of the shower. 

“Kento.” 

“Mhm?” He muffledly asks from his place on the pillow, not even opening his eyes.

“Want a massage, baby?” 

He pauses. Usually, he would say no, but tonight is full of surprises. 

He gives you an exasperated, “Yes, please.” 

So begins the massage. Your skillful, oil-covered fingers lull him into a pleasant limbo. Then, a third expected thing happens, you grab his neck. 

In moments like these, he would be able to keep his cool, but the exhaustion and the vulnerability flowing through him and the blood rushing towards his dick makes it difficult for him to hold back. You hear his groggy gasp and see the back of his ears shine a reddish hue. 

“Kento…Baby?” 

He has no response other than to just bury his head into the pillow in shame. 

Still, you know better than to give up. 

You lean down pressing your chest into his back, slipping one hand near his jaw and the other close to his happy trail. 

“Kento…Did you like that? It’s ok if you did because I liked it too.” You whisper into his ear. 

He doesn’t respond but the wiggling of his hips tells you everything. 

“Kento, baby, lemme take care of you.” You whisper into his still-burning ear. This night wasn’t supposed to go this way, but fuck, if you both didn’t love it. 

You slowly move your oil-covered hand from his jaw and place it near his neck. 

“Just lift your head for me a bit baby, ok?”

He complies. You slither your arm under his neck until you can feel his adam’s apple bop into your forearm. You squeeze his throat between your arm and he lets out a groan. 

“Good job baby. Tap my arm three times whenever you feel like it's too much ok?” 

He grabs your wrist as confirmation. You kiss below his ear while whispering a “Good boy” as you slide your other hand finally down into his boxers. 

You already feel him throbbing in your hands. The oil on your hand gets mixed with the surprising amount of precum he’s let out. 

“You must really like this. Huh, baby?” You sigh into his nape. He thrusts into your hand. 

You thumb his slit and slowly, but surely stroke him. The whole time you whisper to him in between the kisses you leave on his shaking shoulders: 

“You’re doing such a great job baby. Thank you for letting me take care of you.” 

“You’re so handsome like this. We should do this more often.”

“You’re so turned on right now. Don’t worry, I am too.”

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you like this. Do you want me to choke you harder?” 

The combination of the restricted airflow, your hands touching his sensitive dick, and feeling you grinding onto his lower back in an attempt to ease the friction between your legs leaves him gasping. However, what drives him over the edge when you suck a Hickie onto the junction of his neck and shoulders. The feeling and knowing that you wanted him so much in this moment you had to physically claim him? Fucking break him. 

He curls his hands into the sheets, almost ripping them underneath his nails as he climaxes. The ropes of his seed shoot into your hand as he convulses under you. He pants and groans as you remove your arm from his neck. You notice you left a red mark around his neck. You suck on your cum covered fingers in an attempt to ease yourself. Tonight truly was something special. 

#anime x reader #anime x y/n #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #jjk kento #kento x reader #kento smut #kento x y/n #nanamin #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk smut #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk anime #smut #x reader #anime x black!reader #anime

[creativewritersposts]

bad person - Matt Rempe

summary; Matt Rempe x reader

Matt didn't react perfectly to a fan and thinks he's a bad person. Which he's not.

warning(s); maybe grammar errors, fluff!!, insecurity

author's note; I'm definitely too bored I'm sorry for spamming with so many fics 💀 I'm hyped to share this one with you. It's my favorite so far! 🥹

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

"you look beautiful", Matt grins at you, you only can rise your eyebrow. "What did you do?", is your reply. You're doing laundry and definitely not looking beautiful. "Can I tell you a secret?", he plays with his fingers. You look at him, "sure, honey". He's a soft soul so you know it's important for him. "Do you think I'm a good guy?", he's intimidated. "Of course!", you put down the socks and giving him your full attention.

"I don't feel like that", he whispers, head hanging down. "oh baby", you rub his back and put your chin on his shoulder. "You're a golden retriever, why would you think that way?", comforting him.

He quietly huffs, you can see he's pensive. "I ignored a fan", he is sad. "i bet it wasn't on purpose, honey", you kiss his neck. "doesn't mean you're a bad person, Matt", you smile. Your chest feels heavy because it hurts to see how Matt thinks about himself, which is not true.

"She told the whole tumblr fandom I'm rude", he drops his back to the front. "you're on Tumblr?", you re-ask him. "I know you have a hockey blog but I really don't care. I'm disgusted about myself right now",he looks frustrated. He is frustrated. "Matt look at me", you force him lovely to look into your face. "You're the best thing that ever happened in my life and you're definitely not a bad person. You were like a dad for your sister, you love your family, you're very nice to your fans and you're a good hockey player!", you tell him. "If i wouldn't be rude this girl would be happy", he argues with a whiny voice crack. "You're the nicest person ever. One fan yelled at you and you hugged him", remembering him from his past actions.

"Do you want me to talk with her?", you pet his cheek. Every time you look at him you're speechless how someone can look so perfect. "No", Matt shakes his head and stands up. "I'll make dinner", he gives you a fake smile.

"Don't feel bad because you're a living human", you get worried. It's something he learned in his childhood; 'I have to be strong'. It's not like his mom preached him, he's just very protective. It's his instinct.

"I should change myself to be a better person", he speaks out his mind, "why should you change?", you're confused. He's a living teddy bear and you would know if he's a bad person.

"to be a better person", he takes the pan and his smile doesn't reach his eyes, it's a sad smile.

"You're already enough", you hug him tight. He replies your hug and his head falls down in your neck. "I feel overwhelmed, you know", he bites his teeth together, angry about himself. "some players ask fans to show them their boobs, you're definitely not a bad person!", you answer your directly mind. "I need to be a role model", he whines. "Your sister is a very nice person and you're also this lovely like her. She adores you. Kids adore you fighting like a tiger", you giggle about these GIF's of bloody Matt on ice. "why are you giggling?", he asks confused. "Nothing ", you giggle again. "You think about these fight GIF's about me you posted on Tumblr", he gets ironic.

"Noo", your voice is playful. "Your caption was 'delicious'", a smirk escapes his mouth. "We won't talk about this one right now", you wink. "You can tell me when I'm the hottest player!", he pretends to be a diva. "I'll not, that's weird".

"babe after reading your things on your blog nothing is weird anymore", he kisses your forehead.

#matt rempe blurb #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #hockey fluff #hockey x reader

[nutluvs]

not sure if your requests are still open but I'd devour your take on how rdr characters would react to you giving them a hot lunch while they are hunting. Like they are sitting at the top of the hill with a hunting bow in their hands and you sneak up to them, handing them a hot meal prepared for them.

preferred characters are javier, sean and kieran but you can add your favourites as well, I will gladly read your take on that about any character! :)

also don't feel pressured if you don't feel like writing it! much love anyways, have a nice day :))

- 🦎

hot n' ready 🍰 various rdr2 characters x gn! reader

!! divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more ♡ !! hi sweetheart ! i hope you're doing amazing today ! ♡ this is my favorite request i've gotten in ages ! it's so cute. thank you so much for sending it in. ♡ i'm so so sorry it took me so long to write, i've had like.. 0 motivation to write lately, and this is just to get back into it. i'm also very sorry if this sucks and if i didn't portray any of your favorites right, i'm only really used to writing a few characters. synopsis:bringing your dearest some good lunch you made just for him while he's out hunting. pairings (in order): ♡ charles smith ♡ arthur morgan ♡ javier escuella ♡ eagle flies ♡ sean macguire ♡ kieran duffy ♡ john marston ♡ the boy warnings: none, this is just fluff !! mentions: @pursuedbyamemoryy @deaddoedonoteat

charles smith:

he didn't expect it. at all.

although, that doesn't mean he didn't appreciate it.

when you crept up to him, his focus was entirely on the doe, whose head was tipped down to nibble at the grass beneath her hooves.

as soon as you prodded at him with the tip of your finger, he jolted and made a discontented, uncomfortable sound.

he was quick to whip around to see who it was, gripping his bow a little tighter, but when he realized it was you he visibly relaxed almost instantly.

he greets you and asks you what you have in your hands, disregarding the doe immediately. you were more important.

"a warm lunch, just for you. i know pearson's meals aren't so satisfying to eat, especially since they lack seasoning and any variation, so i made something of my own. i also made myself something, that way, we could have some lunch together.

when you say that, he feels his face go warm.

he has to clear his throat before attempting to tell you that you didn't have to do this for him and that he didn't want to be a waste of time, but you were quicker, promising him that he deserved a break from low quality food and that he deserved something nice.

so, now understanding you were absolutely sure, he takes his warm lunch from your hands with a smile, and you eat together underneath the shade of a tree, sharing conversation and warm, loving smiles.

arthur morgan:

he was a bit frustrated.

he had tried to get his hands on this damn buck for so long, but every time he'd try and shoot, the thing would get spooked off by quickly passersby.

so now, here he was, sat atop a hill, grumbling to himself about how irritating the prey was, fidgeting with an arrow and trying to calm himself down.

he had heard hoofbeats on the grass and quickly turned to see who it was, and as soon as he saw your face, all of his anger was gone. he put the arrow he held down onto the grass with his bow, and watched you approach. he noticed you had something in your hands.

"hey, darlin'. what's that you got in your hands?" he asks, watching you sit down beside him with a bit of a smile present on your features.

"some lunch for you. made it myself." you say, smiling bigger. "i figured you'd like something that isn't as bad as pearson's cooking... so i made that something."

arthur was a bit shocked, taking it from your hands when you held it out to him. he looked from the box up to you, unsure. "i don't deserve this, darlin', it's.. you didn't have to."

"i wanted to."

this makes his face go red, because he wouldn't really figure someone would want to do something like this for him. but it made him happy, and he really enjoyed your cooking. who knew you were so good?

javier escuella:

he's more of a fishing guy, so that might make it a little harder for you to reach him, but that doesn't deter you.

he went down to the dakota river to do some fishing, and he asked you to tag along, but you initially said no. he was a little sad about that.

however, when he was in the middle of wrapping a smallmouth bass so he could return it to camp, you prodded at his shoulder, causing him to yelp and drop the fish.

you apologized quickly, but he was quick to put the apology down. he wasn't mad at you, he could never be. plus, he insisted he should've been more aware of his surroundings.

after that, you handed him the lunch you made.

"querida, what's this?" he asks, inspecting it closely, as if unsure. it wasn't like you'd give him something that'd kill him, so he stopped his looking.

"a lunch i made for you, since pearson's cooking tastes like shit."

"it has a few of the meals you told me your mother used to make you, and i wanted to sorta give you some sense of home. i hope my cooking is as good as hers, and that i captured the flavors right."

his heart warms, and he feels a bit of a hitch in his breath. you took the time out of your day to make him one of the dishes from home? oh, you were just the sweetest.

he holds the lunch carefully as he brings you into a hug and kisses your cheek, thanking you before quickly sitting down to enjoy what you picked to make him.

eagle flies:

today's hunt had been very successful, and he was proud of that.

he had managed to shoot down some rabbits, and he wanted to finish off a deer as well. he found it most refreshing when he did this.

when you came over the hill, he was poised to shoot, rough fingertips pulling back on the string of his bow.

you decided to stay quiet, watching him release the string and puncture the unaware doe's neck. you smiled when he released a pleased sigh, standing to go collect the arrow and the fresh kill.

"that was a good one," you say, spotting him turn and smile right back at you. "thank you." he replies. he'd known you were there, but he had already gotten the opportunity for a perfect shot, so he didn't greet you despite how bad he'd wanted to.

you watched him pluck the arrow from the carcass and hoist it over his shoulder, bringing it back to his horse before helping you down from yours.

"so, why'd you come?"

"made you something." you say, handing him a small box lunch. "you deserve a treat for all of the hard work you've been doing lately. i know it's the least i could do for such hard work, but i was in a rush."

eagle flies smiles at the gift, his heart fluttering. "thank you, my love. i appreciate this a lot. i've always liked your cooking." he says, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your temple, before sitting down to eat the meal you made specially for him.

sean macguire:

he didn't know why he came on this hunting trip. hunting irked him.

he wasn't even all that good at focusing on the prey, let alone shoot it in a vital spot to kill it. he wouldn't admit that, nor the fact that he'd rather be doing something more entertaining.

he just about tossed away the bow, but you twined your arms around him in a hug and gazed up at him, a smile on your lips.

"hi honey." you say gently, "i brought you something to eat. hunting isn't your forte, and i know you like my cooking. maybe it'll calm you down."

sean stared at you for a moment, his expression flat before it grew a bit embarrassed, "i can hunt just fine!" he snapped, and you laughed. "i saw the anger in your face, honey, you hate it. here."

you pushed the box meal into his hands, and he wasn't going to deny this. as you said, he loved your cooking. he'd never say otherwise... even if he didn't like the flavor of something, he was the biggest fan of your meals and would eat up the whole plate.

he was quick to slump down underneath a tree with you, blabbering on about his day with you leaning against his shoulder. he didn't have any manners when eating, but that was fine. at least he was back to being happy.

kieran duffy:

he prefers being back at camp with the horses, let's just say that.

he didn't like the idea of hurting animals, preferring to take care of them. so, he purposefully made this a bad hunt.

he didn't even know why they asked him of all gang members to go out and hunt... although, he'd still try. he wanted them to trust him at least a little bit more. he wasn't just some o'driscoll..

he sat crouched behind a bush, expression a bit worried as he aimed the bow he borrowed at an unaware rabbit.

when he let go of the string, he jolted back, the squeaky, high-pitched sound from a pained bunny not meeting his ears. only the sound of panicked scuttling and the small thud of an arrow.

"oh..." he sighed, a bit displeased with himself. although, he sorta preferred that he didn't kill something so innocent.

"kieran?"

the sound of your voice caused him to jolt once again, and he looked up at you. "o-oh, hey, darlin'.. um, i uh.."

"i see you haven't caught yourself anything."

"nope.." he mumbled, gaze straying elsewhere. he listened to your soft laughter as you sat down beside him. "that's okay," you promised, earning his eyes on you again, "don't worry. i'll catch something later. anyway, i brought you something."

when you handed him a box, he felt the warmth seep into his palms. he looked at it, then at you. "what's this?"

"some lunch. i made it specially for you, you deserve a break from all that harassment they give you. even though it's not much, i thought you might like it."

kieran blushed at this, putting the box on his lap and managing a small-voiced "thank you."

you made him feel so dizzy, so stupid in love. but he liked that. he liked it a lot.

john marston:

he was pretty self confident in today's hunt.

he'd managed a few kills, a deer and some birds. nothing too big. but he was still pretty proud. and with this confidence, he felt he'd be good with another kill.

however, as soon as he plucked an arrow to shoot with, he noticed you coming up the hill. he was quick to smile all dumb, shoving his bow and arrow away.

when you came over the hill, you halted your horse, looking to him as he made his way over to you and pulled you from your horse.

you noticed quickly that he was in a good mood, as he began to swing you around when you were in his arms. "there's my angel! how are you doing?" he asks, nuzzling you as he sat you down, listening to your giggles.

"great! i don't think i have to ask you how you are..." you tease, before stepping slightly back from him. "made you a little something, by the way.

this caught his attention, and he raised a brow, "what's that?" "made you a lunch, with your favorites." you said as you handed him the lunch. "i figured you'd like it. you've told me about two million times that my cooking's your favorite." holy shit, was this day going good. john was through the roof now.

john grinned like the idiot he was and took the box from you. "thanks, my angel. always did like your cooking, you do it real good. i always wonder who taught you." he admits, wrapping you up in his arms again, careful not to spill what he has in his hands. you giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw, "i try, and i'm glad my hard work is met with a good product."

"mmmhm. now, wanna sit down and share?"

the boy:

he wasn't usually the type to hunt.

however, today, he went out hunting, and it wasn't going so good. he ended up pouting on the forest floor, leaning against a tree.

"honey?" you call out, which distracts him from his moping. he looks like he lightened up a bit, but not as much as you hoped. you sighed when he looked back to his hands.

"not much of a result, huh, love?" you ask, dismounting your horse and approaching him. you squatted down beside him, putting a hand on his cheek and tipping his head up. he grunted a "no."

"huntin's stupid. i'm the best 'round here, but these damn animals.." he huffed. you only smiled softly, leaning in close to him and pressing a kiss to his temple. "will this cheer you up?" you ask, putting a small box in his hands.

he looked at you, confused, blue eyes searching your face and waiting for an explanation.

"it's lunch i made for you. i know you're not the biggest fan of hunting, so i decided i'd make you a lunch to cheer you up... and before you ask if there's any watermelon, yes, i put watermelon in it."

he grinned dumbly, his face growing warm and dusting with a rosy color, leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the nose. "thanks, i always did like your cooking... makes me feel better 'bout this."

"oh, i know. you're blushing all silly."

"i ain't!"

here's this! i hope this suffices for my first post in 8 centuries. i hope you enjoyed, have a nice day! love you guys ♡♡♡♡

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fic #charles smith rdr2 #charles smith x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #eagle flies rdr2 #eagle flies x reader #sean macguire rdr2 #sean macguire x reader #kieran duffy rdr2 #kieran duffy x reader #john marston rdr2 #john marston x reader #the boy rdo #the boy x reader #｡ nut's rdr2 headcanons ☁️ #｡ nut's fulfilled requests ☁️

[lil-binuu]

I was listening to Saku’s birthday stream and everyone got really emotional 🥹

Some of the things he said were really touching, and i just wanted to share his words so y’all can understand how flipping hard he works and how much he cares about his work, especially because Saku is one of the realest content creators out there.

I hope he doesn’t mind me posting this, Saku you are such an inspiration and mean more to us than you may think. Keep doing what you’re doing because it’s bloody fabulous. You have touched so many hearts and will continue to as you grow and become more and more recognised for your amazing work.

…

“Honestly, a part of me, earlier on this month, I was honestly doubting myself as a creator. I was really doubting myself as a creator, hence why i’m taking a break. But, I feel like i’ve gotten to this point where.. It’s not like i feel like i’ve run out of ideas, it’s that I lost purpose in what i was making. I couldn’t find it. And i kind of had it in the beginning, where i was just really eager to create and learn, but i think that i lost my purpose with content creation. And i think, having you all here, reading all of your messages, it’s… *laughs* it’s crazy to think that i think i’ll be able to find it again, because of..because of all of you.

I was really exhausted, i mean i am exhausted, but i was exhausted *laughs* because i was just, go go all the time. I had no breaks, if i was making an audio i would brainstorm it, i would outline it and then i would record it. Then things could go wrong, it could be longer than expected, so then i would have to make a completely new one in a shorter time frame, and get that out much quicker which would be more stress, but then if something went wrong with that one then i’d have to make another one and it was just on, and on and on and .. there are things that don’t work out behind the scenes that no one knows about. There’s things that i don’t talk about that happens, there’s like, i would have to change things very quickly, i would have to change the story. The thing is, when it comes to the work I do, I am so particular about the stories that i make, that it hurts me. When i need to change things, with the story, because it’s something that i just have to do, and even though, y’all might be like, you won’t mind what i make, you won’t mind what character you get or what story you get, you won’t mind if it’s set in an AU, all that stuff, it matters to me. It matters that I put out quality content, it matters that I’m providing you what I know is the best that i can provide.

And when I can’t do that, it .. goes very bad for me, let’s just put it that way. I.. overanalyse ..”

(rev: oh it bugs the hell out of him.)

“Yeah, it does. Because i know.. I know what you expect of me and when I can’t give that to you, I get .. very anxious and I disappoint myself. And the biggest thing is, I don’t want to disappoint y’all. That is the biggest thing. So I always have to make sure. I’m like, okay: it’s even down to..and it might *laughs* it’s probably ridiculous if you hear it, but even- even down to like, making sure all of the sound effects are completely right. Like if someone is coming into the left side of the room then i have to be like ‘oh, every single sound effect has to be the exact left pan because if it’s not then they’ll notice!’ you know, I’m that particular about my work.

And then it’s like, all of the different sound effects like uhh, if I make (trying to remember what it was) in asirel’s audio, i can’t remember what it was or what i was doing or holding, but i had one item in my hand which wasn’t the item that was actually in the audio but I was like ‘they’re gonna notice if i use this as a sound effect, and it’s gonna take them out of the immersion’ you know? It’s.. i think it’s something that i have to work on for myself.. how, engrossed i get with my work, because i do.

Umm, but.. I truly, truly care about the work that I put out. And i think it’s come to a point where I’m starting to question it, but reading all of your messages today has kind of helped me see a glimpse of why I do this. And, i guess, look outside of me… And look outside of why i do it for myself and more about what other people are getting out of it. You know?

Yeah.. *sighs* I love y’all. So so much. I can’t put it into words. I really can’t. So thank you.

Ugh. YALL MAKE ME EMOTIONAL! FUCK! OH MY GOD!

(thank you sleepybunnex for the bits :D)

This would be the one circumstance where I would hug y’all. I would. I would absolutely just have a huge hug, i feel like i need to hug someone right now.”

(rev: that’s why one day, CRUMPET PLUSHIES!!)

…

“I feel like that’s where i thrive, making stories, you know? It’s what I love doing.”

(saku ends up hugging a biscoff with his mouth)

…

“Literally like, a hundred. A hundred people from all around the world, are here to celebrate my thirtieth birthday. Like when you actually say it out loud, it is insane to me. But the fact that y’all are here, it just.. blows my mind and… I could not be.. I could not be happier, I really couldn’t.”

(and then kieran makes saku cry again with his sweet comment 🥹)

anyway.. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAKU!! WE LOVE YOU!!!

#sakuverse #zsakuva #zsakuvafandom #happy birthday #we love you

[fuwaprince]

🌟 Calling ALL Compassionate Souls! 🌟

PLEASE READ CAREFULLY

In the heart of my local community lies a sanctuary of hope. A haven where lives are transformed and futures are rebuilt. My dear friend's family home, which has been a beacon of kindness and generosity for many (myself included), is in jeopardy. As in it could be lost FOREVER in 1 week! For good! Countless souls of every background have found solace within its walls and were guided back to stability and success. Now it all faces an uncertain fate... unless, we come together to make a difference!

This is not just about saving a house; it's about preserving a legacy of compassion and support. Every dollar donated, every share, every act of kindness WILL make a monumental difference.

We positivity bloggers/tumblrinas know not to underestimate the power of a supportive community!! 😤 We have made literal fucking miracles happen in the past through our unwavering camaraderie and solidarity. I know we can do it again, collectively. Let's band together, once again, virtual hand in virtual hand, to ensure that this sanctuary of hope continues to shine brightly for those in need. Please! People deserve safe spaces... that aren't just virtual.

Please lend your support and spread the word, and together we can make a difference and ensure that this sacred space remains for generations to come.

Mr. Leonard is a talented man. He is a proud native and the modest master of a few trades. He is a carpenter, a painter, a jeweler, an arborist, a plumber and more... He never charges anybody for his work and, you know, if he did- which he wouldn't, then his contributions to local and overarching communities would have earned him a mansion by now. Seriously, maybe two.

He built this home alongside his grandads. His handprints are on the ceiling still. It's a token of his love and the labor he's willing to put into this home. He is a father, a survivor of many things. When his babygirl passed, he gave all her stuffed animals away to people who needed them. He's the kind of man who feeds his dog and neighbor before his skinny self. This man is such a light and I cry so hard typing this, realizing that nobody rly supports him. He doesn't get the support he deserves. He starves to keep the lights on for everybody here and, only if he's lucky, a friend might bring him fast food so that he has more than cereal to work on. Many people take full advantage of a generous soul like his. He knows this, accepts it and that never stops him from doing what's right and needs to be done. He has saved my life and making this post is the least I could do. He's a grown ass adult but even grown ass adults (like me and all my friends still here) need help along the way.

The oldest resident here is a senior transient with no family and no place to go. Just like Mr. Leonard. And I've met young men as young as 18 with no families come to his home for much needed guidance, for protection from the streets. Mr. Leonard has empowered women to escape abusive marriages through the process of divorce. He helped me escape my tormentors. He has my admiration and respect. He has my support.

Please help my friend. I have known him for a few years now, talking nearly daily, minus the times I go on hiatus. Now he's desperately reaching out for our support. Please don't ignore him. He is the type who never asks for anything. Even when he needs to. I... don't even think he's asking for himself... He's probably asking for all the people that he knows depend on this home to still exist. I rly want him to be able to exist in this home for the rest of his life. To him it's still "grandma's home" but to me it is truly all his. He's the one taking care of it. Please believe me, he is worth the time it took for you to read up to this point.

He is human. Worthy of unconditional compassion, respect and support... worthy of a home- like you and I. And he's happily willing to share his gifts with those who need it, which makes him a hero in this community. 🏡💖

ANYTHING HELPS. REBLOG + DONATE.

SPREAD THIS ACROSS PLATFORMS LIKE WILDFIRE. PLEASE.

IT'S FOR A VERY SPECIAL AND VERY IMPORTANT FRIEND! 🫂💕 PLEASE SHOW YOUR SUPPORT. I AM BEGGING PEOPLE TO CARE. MR. LEONARD NEEDS HUMANITY BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

THANK YOU. STAY SAFE, AND IF YOU CAN'T, BE CAREFUL 🫂

or as Mr. Leonard would always say: "Whatever you do today, do it well. Don't forget to eat today. You're awesome, stay awesome."

#save the sanctuary #community strong 💪 #please signal boost and help #i rly should have helped Mr. Leonard sooner!! i regret not typing this post for him during summer #it took a long time for us to meet but he is truly one of the nicest and most positive souls #he has a dog named karma who keeps everyone here safe #i came here with a bunch of cleaning supplies to clean this place from top the bottom just for the realtor to ask him to leave #he has somehow been allowed to stay here in the home he grew up just by what seems like sheer fucking luck #when his grandma passed he didn't get left with anything no help no family PLEASE #this man deserves to be in the home he grew up in #he still calls it his grandma's #this is their family home #i type this now while being protected under their roof #this place has offered me peace and the people here have offered me so much love #this place restored my humanity #this is the place grief is finally shared and traumas are healed from #people have come from all walks of life #so many people will be out of a home #of hope and of care and of help #myself and karma and Mr. Leonard included #pls pls pls remember me #i have been gone for so long but if we're friends and you're part of the community then don't let the chance to help slide by please #ANYTHING helps even if its $1 #if all my followers donated $1 he would at least have a solid 40K #idk how many more helpful souls we can reach but please reblog if you cant donate #boost #crowdfunding #gofundme #fundraising #donations

[pennylanefics]

Spirit - Seth Jarvis

a/n: this one gets a little angsty for a moment bc insecure and scared jarvy hurts my heart and i need it more in my life. anyways enjoy as always <3

summary: you and seth decorate his place for halloween

word count: ~1.8k

“Absolutely not,” Seth grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. You sigh and cross your own arms, copying him in a grumpy manner.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s one night. Why decorate the entire house and porch for one day?”

“Halloween is the entire month of October, Jarvy, for your information. Everyone knows that. Plus it’ll be a fun little bonding moment, don’t you think?”

You were trying to convince Seth to let you decorate his house for Halloween, as it is a few days into October and you were really getting into the spirit already. While you didn’t exactly officially live together just yet, you were at his place more than you were at your own, so it was pretty much like you lived there.

When he was on road trips during the season, you stayed there to take care of things and keep it clean, plus his bed was very comfortable and you loved being surrounded by the scent of him, curling up in his sheets late at night when you miss him.

After a bit more thinking and convincing from your side, he agrees, and seeing how ecstatic you were with just the thought of doing this with him, it suddenly became worth it; his main goal is to make you happy, and he was glad to be fulfilling that with this request.

“Well, let’s go shopping for decorations!” You jump up from the couch, rushing to put your shoes on. Seth laughs while shaking his head, standing with you to grab his keys and slide his shoes on.

Following a trip to Target and a restaurant for dinner, you return home with all the bags of decorations you splurged on, realizing you may have gone slightly overboard with it all.

“We’ll start working on the outside tomorrow, tonight we can put some decorations up in here,” you say, Seth dropping his share of bags on the floor next to the coffee table. “I think they’re all mixed in, so let’s separate them.”

You start removing things one by one from the bags on the dining room table, remembering things that you forgot you even put in the cart. Seth holds up a plastic skeleton of what appeared to be a bear.

“Babe, what the hell is this?” He wonders, examining it.

“I thought it was cute. It’s like a teddy bear but it’s a skeletal form. I also got a shark,” you say, pulling another skeleton out of the bag, “and a duck.” You slyly smile as you pull the third animal out of the bag. Seth stares at you blankly, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Why?”

“Because they’re funny. Sharks don’t have bones and I just thought the duck was cute. Plus they’re not just Halloween decorations, they can be kept up year round.”

“Yeah, if people want to think we’re weirdos.” Sighing, your hands drop to the table, pausing taking things out.

“Why are you being so sour about this? I thought you said it would be fun,” you say, your voice dropping, along with your shoulders.

Upon hearing the sadness in your tone, Seth’s eyes shoot up at you and he immediately feels bad. He steps over to you and wraps you up in a hug, kissing along your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right. I uh, I’m not sure why I’m acting like this, but I promise I want to do this with you. I’ve never really set up for Halloween like this, it’s always been I’ve just gone to parties to celebrate and wore a dumbass costume. I’ve never had a place of my own to decorate and think about these kinds of things, so I guess it’s just…new.”

“Is it me? Is it because it seems like I’m trying to move myself in prematurely or take over your house? Because I don’t want you to think I’d be that way. I know my boundaries, but I thought it would be fun, so-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers, switching positions to cradle your face in his hands, his eyes burning into yours. “That is not what I think at all. I promise. If anything, I want you to move in officially because I love having you here.” He sighs as he chooses his words carefully.

“I think…deep down, I know things are changing and it scares me,” he continues, averting his eyes away from yours for a moment as he speaks. His tone is filled with shame and regret.

“Like…what?” You gulp nervously, staring up at him. Your hands shake ever so slightly against his wrists, where you held on to keep his hands glued to your face.

“Like, things are serious between us and…decorating for a holiday, in a home that we practically live in together, it’s…scary. I have always been terrified of settling down with someone, and now that it’s happening, I don’t…I don’t want to ruin it because…it’s perfect.” He chokes back tears as he describes his feelings. Your heart aches in your chest at his confession, not expecting the conversation to take a turn like this.

“Oh, Jarv,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to caress his forearms comfortingly. “I know it’s scary, believe me, I get it. And if this is too fast for you, we don’t have to do anything for Halloween. We can put all these decorations into storage for next year, if you’re okay with that.”

“I want to decorate, baby. I do. I guess I wasn’t expecting it and I haven’t had time to prepare.” You nod along to his words, ideas wracking your brain.

“Why don’t we wait, then? We can wait closer to Halloween to put things up or until you’re ready, or not even put anything up at all. I want you to feel safe and secure, Seth.” He nods and takes a breath, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Can we wait till after the season starts, and after I get back from our first road trip? That’s about a couple weeks away, I think that time will help,” he replies shyly. You nod, his hands still on your face, which at this point was a way to keep him grounded.

“Of course. I’ll keep everything in the bags in the office while you’re gone. And if you get back and don’t want to do anything, don’t be afraid to tell me, alright?”

He nods at your words and kisses you hard, full of passion and love.

“Thank you,” he breathes out against your lips, his voice dropping a few decibels. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jarvy. You deserve to express your thoughts anf feelings just as much as I do, and I never want to rush you for something that you’re not ready for, even as simple as decorating for a holiday.”

He kisses you again and continues to hold you to his chest, your hands gently running up and down his back to soothe him.

In the coming weeks, hockey season starts with a whirlwind. You gave Seth some space while he prepared for it all, going to his first home game of the season to cheer him on. Even when he was away for their first trip to Colorado to face the Avalanche, you were watching the game on TV, watching intensely as he plays his heart out.

Once the excitement of the new season starting settled in and everyone was finding their groove, Seth felt far more relaxed and conscious to have that talk with you, now that he’s returning home from their road trip.

He flew in from Texas late at night, getting in at around three in the morning. You were already fast asleep and the last thing he wanted to do was wake you up. But seeing as he didn’t feel tired, he put his plan into action after quickly showering.

Quietly, he took all the bags from the office, filled with the decorations you bought weeks ago, and laid everything out on the dining room table, separating it between outdoor and indoor. By the time he was finished, it was nearing five in the morning, so he finally decided to try and get some sleep.

In the morning, you found yourself wrapped up in Seth’s arms, smiling as you take in the sight of his exhausted face, his long eyelashes resting against his soft cheeks that you love to kiss. Yawning, you carefully escape his grasp and walk out to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, when something catches your eye.

The dining room table was covered with all the things you and Seth bought earlier in the month. Your jaw drops in wonder, your gaze running over everything.

“Want to decorate today?” Seth suddenly appears behind you, startling you. He laughs at your reaction and whispers a soft, “sorry” to you for scaring you.

“Did you do all this?”

“Yeah. I got home early this morning and I wasn’t tired so I set everything out. I feel ready, so let’s do it.”

“Really?” You gasp, your eyes filling with excitement.

“Hell yeah. I’ll start on breakfast if you want to make a plan on what we should do with everything.”

So, that’s what you and Seth did for the remainder of the day. Inside, you hung up paper bats all over, along with some fake cobwebs and cute little pumpkin and ghost items around. It wasn’t a lot, but it did set the tone for the holiday quite well.

The weather today was crisp and cool, a perfect temperature to set things up in. Seth stands on a step stool while you hold the string of pumpkin lights to hang them up around the porch, plugging them in to the exterior electricity. Stepping back to admire your work, you smile, feeling everything coming along nicely.

You also set up a projection light to show different Halloween objects and colors onto the house, a popular item as of late. Seth hangs up a few ghost figures on either side of the porch while you place a few fake tombstones with puns on them in the yard.

When everything is done and finished, Seth stands on the sidewalk with his arm around your waist, admiring how spooky your home looks.

“Move in with me,” Seth asks, although it’s more of a light demand. You gaze up at him and smile softly. “I want you to live with me, in our home.”

“Of course I will, Jarvy,” you beam, kissing him a couple times.

“Good. So, now all we need is candy to hand out on Halloween night, which is thankfully an off day for us. I get to spend it with my girl for our first holiday together in our new home.” You giggle and hide your face in his chest, hearing that he wants to spend the night with you instead of going out with the guys.

“Just wait until we get to decorate for Christmas,” you comment, raising your head to look up at him.

“Oh baby, I truly can’t wait, it’s going to be the best.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

#seth jarvis #seth jarvis imagines #seth jarvis x reader #seth jarvis imagine #seth jarvis fanfic #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes fanfic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[blamebrett]

Hello! This moment is so weird for me because I have just rejoined tumblr. I have not been on tumblr since I believe 2018, and I’m excited. I look back at that girl I was then, and it’s so many things about life I have learned since that time. I’m now 29 years old, and it’s so much I want to share about myself and life that I have experienced. I also would love to use this as a platform where I meet wonderful people as I did in 2018 with shared interest, and if not shared interest, then shared curiosity.

So, I’ll start by posting some of my interest:

1. K-Pop & K-Hip Hop: I have been a fan since God knows how long, and I find it to be something that has joined me with so many people. I remember when I first felt free to express my love for K-Pop tumblr was the first place that I found friends with this interest. And as a millennial, I would love to see what the K-Pop and K-Hip Hop tumblr looks like now.

2. Literature: I love to read, and books have been my confidants since I was a child. I love to analyze and take my time. Sorry, I’m far from a speed reader. And I tend to maladaptive daydream that I’m the character to feel exactly what the author wish to express.

These are all the things I can think of right now, as this was a very spur of the moment decision. I hope to get to know awesome people while posting my interest, life, and thoughts.

With Love,

Taylor 🤍

#kpop #khiphop #literature #booklr #black kpop fans #black kpop stans

[denial-permanente]

I love your page and that the two of you share so much of your lifestyle on here. I’m not sure if this is a statement or a question. I’ve read your answers about realistic feeling of this strap on you have and the technique of warming it up first. I just can’t wrap my head around your preference for it compared to the real thing. There has to be some give and take here like, it doesn’t feel as good but Tom’s technique with it is better than the real thing? Something along those lines. Stamina maybe? Either way thank you both for sharing so freely and so often!

😅 Oh boy, this is a hard one for some people... both women and men... to understand.

A lot of, women say that they don't like the feel of dildos, that they are unnatural, or they feel off, or they're too cold, or they just don't like the idea. I was kind of like that myself, and honestly I never even thought about using them with my husband. He was... very satisfying in bed and I honestly didn't feel the need to bring anything else in.

So, when my husband discovered the Vixskin company, he researched them carefully and bought a model that had a size and shape that was very close to his own. There was something about the feel of it that felt more normal to me. It wasn't quite him, but it felt okay and it was attached to him... so it was him close to me, his smell, his muscles, his arms holding me. I decided that I could live with it.

But here is the important part. After a while his wearing it began to feel totally normal. Just like having him locked all the time felt totally normal. I loved him being horny and affectionate all the time, I loved having all the control over our love life, and I loved how passionate he was making love to me while wearing the Tex.

When I missed feeling him come inside me I would unlock him... but those times became less and less often. We often went for months at a time without me wanting to unlock him... which meant that his wearing the Tex felt more and more natural to me.

Eventually he figured out the trick of warming it up before we made love, and that made things go from feeling natural to feeling... better. Like, I don't know why he didn't think of it sooner, it's so simple. But because I could feel the heat inside me it made our lovemaking more intense.

And now here the part that you men always ask about: unless your wife is a porn star, do not assume that she really wants a foot long monster inside her.

After 4 years of using only the Tex my husband asked if I wanted to try something bigger. While I honestly did not feel the need to I went along out of curiosity. We ended up with the Ranger X for several reasons. One is that it was supposed to have been made with a different process that made it more lifelike. Another is that when looking at the dimensions it was only a little bit bigger... maybe an inch longer and a half inch thicker. But when we first opened the package that little bit bigger on the website looked huge!

I have written before about what it was like getting used to it. But to the point of the question, I found that it made my husband feel the same to me but different... and in a good way.

Remember... when we make love I am feeling my husband holding me close, whispering in my ear, his weight on top of me, his hot cage pressing into my ass. All of those things are him... how he feels and smells and sounds. And because he is totally focused on me, he moves the way I want him to move to give me pleasure depending on my mood.

I guess what you were looking for was for me to say "I love the Ranger, but I miss my husband because..." except that there really isn't anything because I don't think of it that way. I do not think of him as wearing a strapon... I just think of it as doing what was very natural for us... just with something that feels even better than the Tex.

#chastity question #foxing

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Garden of Wishes: A Retelling of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”

We go to the same garden every day, but you never see me. Why should you? You are the Princess Sonatina, youngest daughter of the greatest king on five continents, while I am only a gardener's assistant, with not even a surname of my own, save one that was given to me half as a taunt for my daydreaming ways. If you were ever to ask, I would tell you I answer to Michael Stargazer—but you never will think to ask, and I will never presume to speak.

Instead, I work silently in the gardens, while you wander past with your sisters—eleven of them, all unsurpassed in beauty of face and form and voice—laughing and chatting and singing snatches of songs. You are all more beautiful and vibrant than any of the flowers I tend, and I feel more alive just being near you.

Then the day comes when your morning songs are silent. You drag weary feet through the gardens, look blankly at the beauties of the world, lounge wearily along the edges of fountains and atop retaining walls. The rumor comes that every night, you are all wearing through your shoes.

Were I a prince, I would think no quest too perilous to save you from such sickness. I would climb a million trees in search of golden apples, cross storm-filled oceans in search of the Water of Life, work a dozen years at impossible tasks to find the key to ending your curse.

But I'm only a gardener, and nobody's son, so it falls to those with name and fortune to try their hands at saving you. The king has vowed that the man who finds the secret of where you go at night will win your hand in marriage, and there are many who are willing and worthy to try.

They are wonderful men—strong and handsome, noble and brave, with royal titles, vast holdings, great fortunes. They have skills and talents that a simple gardener could never match. Any one of them would make a fine husband for a princess. Yet all of them, to a man, disappear within a day of taking up their quest.

The rumors turn darker then, casting you not as victims but villains, luring men to their deaths with some dark magic of your own. Those who say such things did not see you in the gardens, or they would know that not one of you is capable of the crimes they accuse you of. Unfortunately, no one will ask a garden lad's thoughts, and I cannot speak unbidden unless I have proof.

So I go to the gardens and find two tiny rose trees. The head gardener tried to tear them out, in my first days at the palace, and I convinced him to let them live. I have watered them, fed them, saved them from disease and decay, told them stories of the princesses they serve. You have never seen them, I'm sure—you have never seen me—but though they are small, they are fine little plants, with dark, glossy green leaves, and little buds that seem always to be waiting for just the right time to bloom. An old woman told me once that they were wishing trees, planted in the earliest days of the kingdom's existence, and my service to them meant they would give me anything I desired.

For myself, I want nothing—wishes too easily become the ruin of those who have them granted—but for you, I would dare all. I ask my two rose trees to make me not only unseen, but unseeable, able to follow invisibly wherever you go.

The rose tree sprouts a single bloom, its petals so white and delicate they are almost transparent. When I pluck it from the bush, I disappear from sight. I place it in my buttonhole and move about the gardens, unseen by all who cross my path, even in the brightest sun.

That night, I follow you into the bedroom you share with your sisters, and I hide beneath the largest bed while the room above fills with the sounds of rustling dresses, clinking jewels, and girlish whispers. At last, your eldest sister Aria declares you dressed to perfection and calls for silence.

I creep out from under the bed and find you and your sisters dressed in ballroom finery—silks and satins and twelve pairs of perfectly-mended dancing shoes. I take my place just behind you, and find you more beautiful than ever in this moonlit room.

Aria pulls aside a tapestry, and the blank stone wall suddenly becomes an wooden door that Aria opens to reveal a torchlit staircase. You all rush through in single file. I keep close at your heels, afraid that I'll be left behind unseen.

I rush past where Aria holds the door, afraid she'll follow too close and crash into my unseen form. In doing so, I trod too near your skirt. The fabric tears beneath my foot as you take your first steps down the stairs.

You shriek and grab hold of Lyra, standing just before you on the stairs. "Someone stood on my skirt!" you scream.

I hold myself flat against the damp stone wall, heart pounding so fast that I'm certain you hear me.

Aria breezes down the staircase, rolling her eyes at her foolish juniors. "Don't be silly, Tina," Aria says. "I was nowhere near you on the stairs."

You protest that you felt someone on your skirt, but your cries for belief are drowned out by eleven dissenting voices, and your sisters continue down the staircase. You go only reluctantly, looking back at me—right through me—a thousand times as you go forth. Were it not for the weight of my mission, I would cast off the rose in the hope of a single moment when our eyes could truly meet.

After what seems like a million stairs, we emerge into an open clearing that would look like the outdoors if there was any sight of sky above. Trees tower over us with drops of silver on their branches, like rain upon the leaves. Further down the path is a gold-spattered orchard, each precious drop catching the soft white light that comes from I know not where. Even further beyond is a forest full of diamonds, every stone flashing fiery rainbows.

The forests are strange, but also strangely unsurprising—as though they've always been here, but simply unseen. Your sisters whisper of the night that this place was wished into existence—a place where they might revel in pure beauty and joy, away from the weighty expectations of the watchful world.

But the forest, it seems, is only a prelude—the true marvel is far ahead. We emerge onto the shores of a shimmering lake—so vast, so deep, and so darkly blue that I can see neither the bottom nor the opposite shore. On an island in its center stands a castle so magnificent that it makes your father's palace seem like a paper toy. Its white, sculpted spires glitter with gems in a thousand colors, every brick spangled with precious stones. Its windows hold wonders caught in flawless stained glass. Music sweeter than any I've ever heard pours out its open doors. Light from within forms a shining path across the lake, upon which float twelve sleek obsidian-colored boats.

Each boat has a boatman who rows swiftly toward the shore, and as they approach, I find that I know all the faces. Every one of these men is a prince who failed at finding your secret—or rather, they found it, and did not return. They are dressed in silks and velvets unlike any I've seen in the outer world, too rich for comprehension. As they slide up to the shore and each offer a place to one of you girls, they wear smiles that shine as bright as your own—but there is also something empty in their eyes.

You, as the youngest, take your place in the very last boat of all, piloted by a king's younger son whose sires have ruled half a continent for centuries. He smiles and bows as he takes you by the hand. The way your eyes light up make me wonder if I've seen what you look like in love.

The prince rows with arms strengthened by a warrior's skill—I doubt he's ever held a shovel in his life—but the other boats still outpace us by far.

"Why are you so slow tonight?" you ask him, half teasing, but with a trace of true annoyance.

"The boat is heavy," he says, "and I know not why."

You glance backward, toward where I sit in the stern, and again, I half-wish you could see me. But I let out a sigh of relief when you turn your eyes back toward the castle and give no further thought to unknowable truths.

We disembark on a dock just beneath the castle entrance, and in moments we are inside the palace of enchantment. This is a ballroom beyond what I could imagine—floors of marble streaked with gold and silver, towering windows displaying fantastical birds and beasts, spidery silver chandeliers holding thousands of brightly-lit candles, and at the far end of the room, tables tottering beneath food enough to half a nation.

But this splendor is nothing compared to the beauty of the music. It is like a living thing—vibrant, rapturous, all-consuming, pulling all into it like a roaring, flowing river. The moment one steps through the door, there is nothing one can do but dance. Your prince pulls you into his arms, and your sisters' princes do the same, and soon you are swirling through that wondrous room, beauty and motion and life all brought to their fullness and put into perfect order. All along the edges of that room are other faces—other princes who've failed at your father's quest—and they all take their turn in the dance.

If I thought you alive in the gardens, you are a thousand times more vibrant now, laughing and dancing so you glow with pure joy. These princes are your perfect partners, matching you with every step, reflecting the glow that you bring to the room. If I ever thought that I could take a place beside them, maybe win your father's wager and claim a princess for my bride, that spark is snuffed by the brightness of your blaze. You are ethereal, almost angelic, and could never be happy with one whose hands are stained from working with the common, solid Earth.

While the princes take their turns, you and your sisters dance without ceasing, and I no longer wonder how you could wear through your shoes in a single night. Those shoes are little more than tatters by the time the last note of the last dance plays, and the twelve of you trudge toward the boats to reach bed. Your princes are silent as they row the boats to the forested shore, and you, Sonatina, do not say a word about his slowness.

When you reach the banks, your prince bids you farewell, then all twelve of them row back to the palace, choosing to stay in the splendor rather than return to the pressures of their ordinary lives. After what I have seen, I cannot blame them for their choice.

But you and your sisters choose to return to your father. You trudge through the diamond, then gold, then silver-spangled forests, and as your sisters file one-by-one up the staircase, I realize that none of this fantastic tale will have a ring of truth unless I have something to bring as proof. I reach toward the nearest tree and snap off a slender silver branch. It disappears from sight as soon as I touch it to my clothes, but the sound of its breaking rings through that silent wood like a gunshot.

You jump at the sound and are suddenly wide, wide awake.

"What was that?" you ask your sister.

Aria rolls her eyes. "Only an owl," she says. "You know it roosts in the castle at night."

The explanation does not please you, I can tell, but having no other, you fall silent and leave the silver woods behind.

When you are all safely asleep in bed, I slip unseen through the door and make my way invisibly to my small cot in the servants' quarters. When I lay on my bunk, I take off the rose, and my face reappears in the reflection off the washing bowl. I look as I did before I left, though infinitely wearier, and perhaps—though it might only be fancy—I carry something in my eyes of the enchantment of the night.

In my hands sits the branch I broke, its leaves as green, its silver dewdrops as solid, as they were in that fantastical land. I imagine myself taking it to the king at dawn, having triumphed where the sons of kings and emperors have failed.

Then I imagine the you and your sisters standing by. In a horrible flash, the daydream shatters, and I see myself for what I am—a sneak and a spook, who crept uninvited into a strange woman's room to steal evidence that would bar her from the place she loves most in the world. If I have a role in this tale, it is as the villain, not the hero. I have triumphed in discovering the secret, but if I have any love in my heart for you, I cannot think of speaking.

After a short hour's sleep, I awake with the dawn, but I do not go to the king with what I've found. Instead, I go to the head gardener and get myself assigned the task of bringing the twelve princesses their morning bouquets. I gather careful handfuls of daisies and larkspur and bind them together with handfuls of greenery. I hand them to your sisters one by one as they come bleary-eyed to your bedroom door. When you come to me, last of all, I make sure that your bouquet contains a single silver-spangled branch.

Then, at last, you see me.

#

Golden sunlight streams down upon a freshly-turned flower bed. I am soaked with sweat and crusted with dirt as I shovel mulch around newly-planted seedlings. I can imagine no scene less like the moonlit enchantment of your jeweled forests and wondrous dances. Even you, when you come into the garden, are nothing like you were last night. Your golden brown hair is unruly, your dress is hastily done-up, and instead of floating with ethereal grace, you storm toward me like an angry warrior goddess.

Only the branch, silver-spangled, is the same as it was last night, when you brandish it beneath my nose.

"Garden boy, where did this branch come from?" you demand.

Your eyes blaze and your golden curls flash in the sun. I could cast myself at your feet in devotion.

I keep my countenance blank and my eyes downcast—the dutiful, lowly servant. "Your highness knows better than I," I reply.

"You have followed us!" you hiss.

I raise my head to meet your gaze. It is a wonder I am not struck dead by your fury. "Yes, your highness."

"How? I saw no one."

"I hid myself."

"It is impossible. I don't believe it."

"Believe as you like," I say. "You will still hold the branch."

You scramble to grasp something at your belt, and you throw a sack full of gold at my feet. "Keep your silence, and you will have this and more besides."

I stare at the bag of gold—more than I could earn with a year's labor—and my heart sinks like a stone. This is what I am to you. Not a man of honor, whose heart and reason can be trusted, but a common blackmailer whose silence can be purchased for a price.

"I will not be bought," I say, and when your face goes white, I add gently, "You have nothing to fear from me."

It is only after dark that it strikes me I may have something to fear from you. I have vowed my silence, but you have said nothing about yours. The secret encompasses your sisters and nearly two dozen princes. What would they be willing to do to ensure my silence?

Though the thought shames me, I cannot vanquish the fear. I must know more about you royals and your hidden world—and I long to spend just one more night in that palace of enchantment. I take the pale rose from its cup on my washstand, place it in my buttonhole, and make my way invisibly to your room.

You and your sisters are already dressed for the evening when I make my way among you. You are pale, and quieter than you were last evening, but none of your sisters remark upon it. I follow you down the staircase, through the forest, and to another wondrous dance. I can tell you are watching for me, but none of your sisters join in the search. They and all the princes laugh and dance as usual. At midnight, you dine upon a feast of impossible delicacies, and though the conversation is steady and quick-witted, none of you makes the least mention of me or the secret I know.

As dawn nears, I take my place in the rear of the boat that you ride in with your prince. Tonight, it is he who comments on the unexpected weight of the boat he steers.

My heart stops. Now you will tell him of my spying, and since there are few places to hide in a small boat, like as not I will be pitched headlong into that bottomless lake.

Your answer lifts my heart like the arrival of the long-awaited dawn. You take up a second oar and say to your prince, "It feels light to me."

The wonder of your defense of me makes me love you more than ever. I all but float behind you as you make your way through the jeweled forests.

In the golden orchards, I stumble and snap off a branch. I hide it against my invisible clothes, just a moment before your sister Melody looks toward where I stand.

"What was that sound?" she asks in fright.

"Only an owl," you answer quickly.

Though you do not know it, you meet my eyes. I bow my head in thanks.

The next morning, the golden-spattered branch I place in your bouquet is a gift of thanks—and an expression of trust.

#

When you storm toward me in the gardens the next morning, the golden branch quivers in your iron grip.

"What is it you want?" you ask. "You won't take gold. Do you plan to win yourself a princess, garden boy?"

"I do not plan to take a wife," I say. "When I wed, it must be to a woman whose love is freely given."

"Then why did you follow us?"

"I had to know if I could trust you. I now know that I can." I pluck an ordinary blossom from a nearby rose bush. I focus on its petals so I do not have to take the daring step of meeting your gaze while I ask my more-daring question. "Why did you shield me? You could have betrayed me to your princes or your sisters a thousand times."

"This is between you and me alone. I saw no need to frighten them."

I nod, understanding, even as I fight a strange sense of disappointment. It is love for your sisters, not care for me, that leads you to keep my secret.

"Do you see need now?" I ask.

You examine me, and you look at the golden branch, and I can tell you are thinking of the events of the last two nights. "You do not merely hide yourself," you say. "You make yourself invisible. How?"

I could no more lie to you than tear out my own heart. "I made a wish, and it was granted me."

"By whom?"

"Rather, by what. Your garden holds a wishing tree."

You seize my wrist. “Show it to me.”

I stand firm. "Tell me, Princess Sonatina, if you found such a tree, would you suffer to let it live?"

"I should tear it out by the roots," you say, and I know it is true that you would do anything you thought necessary to guard your secret.

"Then although it pains me to disappoint you, I must refuse your request. The trees serve me because I serve them. I cannot repay their gifts by bringing about their destruction."

Your eyes flash. "You refuse your princess?"

I bow my head in apology. "Because it is my duty as a gardener to the king."

You release my wrist and pull away. You pace in frustration—back and forth, back and forth, your golden-brown curls wilder than ever. "There is nothing to prevent my finding it?"

"It is not concealed," I say.

"If it is fair for you to follow me to find our secret, it is only right that I can follow you to find yours."

"It is not my place to say otherwise."

You come to the garden every day after that—sometimes openly, sometimes skulking behind bushes or trees. Some days, I am sure, you watch from places I cannot see. But I do nothing save my ordinary gardening tasks, and I do not try to follow you at night. If I were the sort of man to make wishes for my own benefit, this would be the perfect way to make me use that gift against you. I love you more than ever because this does not occur to you—either you are too pure-hearted to suspect such villainy, or too trusting to imagine it in me.

Eventually, your constant watch breaks down the barriers between us, and you begin to speak to me. You ask me the names of the flowers I tend, and I tell you of the lilies that bloom by day and by night. The next day, you ask me about the blue flowers in your bouquet, and I tell you of the morning glories that make a gorgeous arch over the path you stand upon. In the days that follow, you pepper me with questions, wanting to know the names of every flower and bush and weed that grows in your father's gardens. And then, at last, one day, the name you ask to know is my own.

"I am called Michael Stargazer," I say, as I hand you a white bloom like a five-pointed star.

"Is it not your true name?"

"The first was written on a slip of paper in the basket where I was found upon a church's doorstep. The second was given to me for daydreaming too much."

You sit upon the edge of a fountain and stroke the petals of the flower. "It suits you," she says. "Michael the guardian."

"And the Stargazer who spends too much time dreaming of what is unreachable?" I ask, feeling the rebuke I deserve.

"No," you say—firmly, kindly. "The one who watches. So he can know what is true. And know what to do with his knowledge."

"You trust that I judge rightly?" I ask.

"I trust you," is all you say.

After that, you are with me in the gardens—not merely watching, but being, doing, helping. You wish to help the flowers grow, so I teach you of spades and trowels, watering cans and fertilizer, pruning and grafting and weeding. We start out hesitant—you uncertain of your tasks, I afraid to put a princess to work—but soon, you work with enthusiastic gusto, and I am glad to let you do what gives you joy.

Every night, you still wear through your dancing shoes, but yours are less ragged than the other eleven pairs, and you are wide awake with me in the gardens every morning. We talk while we work, but we do not even mention wishing trees or diamond groves or the music of enchanted palaces; there are too many other things to discuss in the sunlit world. You tell me of your sisters, of growing up royal, of books you've read and tutors you've teased. I tell you of the village where I was raised, of the dreams I had of one day meeting a princess—though I do not tell you that I've dreamed I will marry one.

One morning, in the height of summer, you are kneeling beside me, in a gown that you borrowed from a serving girl, wearing work gloves you borrowed from the gardener's shed. There are streaks of dirt on your face, and you smile at me in triumph as you dig up a bulb for transplanting.

In that moment, the sun shines full upon you, setting the gold and brown streaks of your hair alight. Suddenly, you are not an ethereal being, too high and fine for me to reach. You are here, with me, laboring in the Earth—and you glow with joy. It is not the blazing joy of your dances in the midnight palace—burning bright and fast and destructive. This joy is gentler, life-giving—like a hearth fire or a candle flame. It warms and nourishes, comforts and caresses. For the first time, I can picture you as a gardener's wife, laboring with me in a cottage, caring for our children, giving life to sons and daughters and helping me to make good things grow.

I nearly speak something of the joy in my own heart—but the words freeze on my tongue when I hear a laugh high above us.

Five of your sisters—Lyra and Cadence, Harmony and Melody, and in the center of them all, elegant, dark-haired Aria—stand on the other side of the flower bed, peering down at us.

"Is this where you sneak off to every morning, Tina?" Lyra laughs. "Grubbing in the dirt with the garden boy?"

You drop the bulb as though it burns you, desperately try to brush the dirt off your skirt, and back as far away from me as possible on the narrow path between flower beds. Your face burns bright red. "No," you stammer. "I was only..."

"What a charming couple you make," Aria sneers.

"You wouldn't have to leave us if you married him," Harmony laughs.

Her twin adds, "You could live in a cottage at the bottom of the park, and you could bring us our flowers every morning!"

"He is nothing!" you snarl at your sisters. You storm toward the palace, and you do not look back.

I do not see you for two days.

#

On the third day, you and your sisters return to the garden in the company of a prince—yet another who has taken up your father's impossible task. To spare you the horror of seeing me, I keep the white rose in my buttonhole and invisibly tend the wishing trees while you entertain the prince nearby.

Prince Ivan is sterner, more solemn than some of the others. Even I, a lowly gardener, have heard tales of his valor in battle. A thick saber-scar runs from his temple to his chin. He knows the danger he has placed himself in and faces it without flinching. There is something in his eyes that makes me think he welcomes it.

As I watch him, I wonder how he will fare in his quest. Will he reveal your secret or remain in the enchanted world with all the others? For the first time, I question the fate of those other princes. I have assumed they remained by choice, but in such a magical place, can first impressions ever be trusted? For their sake, as well as yours, I must follow you to the dance one more time.

When I reach your chamber in the evening, Prince Ivan is already among you. The twins, Melody and Harmony, focus on flattering him while your sisters tie on the last of their ribbons. His eyes, however, are for the dark-haired, sweet-tempered Princess Melisma. I think she does not dislike the attention.

As you descend the staircase—Melody and Harmony taking the lead with Prince Ivan—Princess Aria keeps Melisma at the end of the line.

"You mustn't encourage him," Aria says. "It might give him reason to follow us back home."

"He is so brave," Melisma says, "and so gentle. Would it be so terrible for me to have him as a husband?"

"If he weds you, he will take you to the Northlands, and we shall never see you again. Is that the life you want?"

Melisma blushes. "No," she whispers.

"Then let him drink," Aria says in a low tone. "He shall be here always, for you to dance with as much as you like. He will be the same brave and gentle prince, but will never take you away from us."

That night at the dance, there is a banquet in honor of the new guest. The tables pile high with delicacies I cannot name, and silent, ghostly servants keep your plates and goblets constantly filled. Prince Ivan looks younger, almost childlike, as he takes in the wonders, and his eyes have lost their haunted look.

"Such a wondrous place!" he breathlessly declares. "All beauty and joy! No sorrow, no politics, no battle."

Aria, seated at his right hand, plies him with red wine, and leads him to speak upon the war he won such honors in. He served with valor and is proud of protecting his people, but he has lost friends and brothers, is haunted by the fields strewn with the bodies of those who died too young.

"I should not speak of such things," Ivan says, putting down another empty goblet. "They are better forgotten."

"Do you not cherish some memories?" Aria asks.

"If I could forget every moment of it, I would," Ivan declares, "and stay always in this dance.

Aria smiles, then takes a golden goblet—the largest and most ornate in the room—from a servant standing at her shoulder. "You may do so," Aria says, "if you only drink this elixir. You shall have no regrets. No duties. No memories of battle. Only the beauties of this world."

Ivan looks to Melisma, seated at his left hand. She squeezes his scarred fingers in her long, delicate ones. "I shall come every night," she says softly.

Ivan takes the goblet from Aria's hand. His face holds the grim determination of a soldier, and the innocent bravery of a child hoping a bitter tonic will bring relief from pain. He drains the cup to its dregs.

When Aria takes the empty goblet, the prince is transformed. His eyes hold the same light of joy as all the other princes, but the honorable nobility of his bearing has drained away, leaving behind an empty imitation, all paper and gold leaf with nothing solid behind. For the rest of the night, he dances every dance with Princess Melisma. She is all joy when she looks in his face, but every time she turns away, she seems close to bursting into tears.

For the rest of the night, I cannot enter into the enchantment of the dance. I see only those princes, and wonder who they were before their will was drained away. I see your sisters dancing, each choosing one partner more than all others, and wonder if they too renounced marriage to someone they admired for the sake of this endless courtship. I travel across the lake in Aria's boat instead of yours, and as her prince hands her off to shore, I see even she seems on the point of asking him to come with her, before dropping his hand and turning resolutely to the diamond forest.

When you alight from your prince's boat, I see no similar love or regret in your eyes. At first I am relieved, and then my anger flares at your heartlessness. I snap off a diamond-spangled branch so fiercely that the sound of its breaking makes your every sister jump.

They glance in all directions, bewildered by the sound. You look directly toward me, your face burning with shame. Though I remain invisible, I know you feel me standing before you.

"What was that?" Melody shrieks in alarm.

"My guardian angel," is all you say, and though your sisters pelt you with questions all the way through the forests and up the staircase, you do not say another word.

When I leave your room, part of me wants to run to the king and tell all, but I cannot let judgment fall upon you without giving you a chance to speak for yourself. The diamond-spangled branch I place in your bouquet is both an accusation and an offer of parley.

You come to me—though you do not know it—when I am tending to the wishing trees, in the most secluded corner of the garden. "You have seen," you say.

"You have witnessed every one and said nothing. I want to know how you can defend yourself."

The innocent confusion in your eyes makes me repent of every crime I imputed to you. "What is there to defend?" you ask. "Every prince chooses to drink. We cannot deny them their choice."

"Do they know what it makes them?" I ask.

"If they do, they don't care," you say.

"Because they have been made incapable of caring for anything but the dance."

"Would you send Ivan back to his wars?" you ask. "Edmund to his awful father? Kristoff to his plague-filled land? They all have horrors they are escaping. It would be cruel to make them remember all the sorrows they were so desperate to forget."

The things that seemed so simple when I stood invisibly at your shoulder are more muddled now that you can look me clear in the face. There is one place in the world untouched by sorrow or strife—can I judge those who have fled for refuge there?

"You have had your wishes granted," you say softly. "Would you deny all of us ours?"

Looking into your innocent, imploring face, I find that I cannot. Your silence, I see now, is not heartlessness, but compassion. Loyalty to your sisters who wish to remain together. Pity for those princes who can find no other peace from their sorrows. There is no simple answer to the riddle that has entangled us all.

"Will you follow us again?" you ask.

"I do not know," I say. "Will you tell your sisters that I do?"

"I do not know," you say.

When you wander at last from the garden, your eyes—and thoughts—are far from me. This game has gone much further than any of us could have predicted. Any bond the two of us have built will break, I think, when pitted against the bond that you share with your sisters.

So that evening, when I pin the rose to my collar and invisibly slip into your room, I am not surprised to find that I am the topic of discussion. You are seated on a trunk in the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of glaring sisters.

"You knew all this time," Aria says, her voice low with anger, "and only now choose to tell us?"

"He vowed to keep the secret," you say. "He could do us no harm."

“Yet now you fear he will speak! He could destroy everything!”

“I told you when I thought you needed to know.”

Aria steps back and smooths her skirts and hair, becoming in one fluid motion the ever-composed crown princess. "There is only one thing we can do," she says. "We hand him over to the king’s justice. He has violated our royal persons by coming uninvited to our bedchamber. He will be hanged before the end of the week."

"No!" you shriek, jumping from your seat.

Your other sisters murmur in surprise—I cannot tell if more of it is directed toward you or Aria.

“There must be some other way,” says soft-hearted Allegra.

“Not if we wish to protect our secret," Aria says. "We have a world of perfection, an escape from all sorrows. We have twenty men who wish to stay there all their lives. We can’t endanger it for the sake of a presumptuous servant.”

You turn to Aria and say, “ He is not the first to know our secret. None of the other princes have had to die.”

Harmony says, "The garden boy is no prince."

Aria gazes thoughtfully at you. "Do you wish us to treat him as one? Let him present himself as a suitor for your hand?"

"I will not marry him,” you say, turning red.

"No one expects you to," Aria soothes. "But he can share the fate of the better-born. Let him dance and dine with us, then, at the end of the night, he will drink and forget there ever was a world above."

Your lips make a thin line, and your face goes white. “He would not like it.”

“Better than death, surely.”

You leave the circle of your sisters, tears in your eyes.

Aria follows you to where you gaze out the window. I could reach out and touch both of you. “Sonatina,” she says, soft and sweet as a mother. “I know you are fond of the garden boy. But you must be realistic. In this world, he can be nothing to you. You cannot marry a servant. He cannot marry a princess. Even friendship between you two can only be a scandal.”

Her words sink into my heart—cold, cruel, yet undeniably true. I have never dared to dream myself worthy of you—but there was, despite all, a small part of me that hoped for the impossible. Yet even if I could wish myself up a name and a title, it would not change who I truly was. Though I will love you to the end of my days, you can never love one such as me.

Aria’s voice becomes brighter, enticing. “But we have another world, where he can be whatever he wishes. You can dance with him every night without shame. You never have to face the impossible choice. You have him, and us, your title, your dances—forever.”

You gaze silently out the window. I stand at your side. I think of the world I would leave behind—the sunlight in the gardens, the wind and the rain and the wonderful flowers—in favor of that underground palace. I think of you laughing in the sun with dirt on your hands, and my wish that we could stay in that moment forever, ‘til death do us part.

It can never be anything more than a wish.

When you assent to your sister’s plan, my fate is sealed. I would risk all to give you the slightest joy. If it is your wish that I drink, I will drink—and gladly.

#

Your sisters come to me with their proposal, offering to present me to the king. They say nothing of their plan to give me the drink that will keep me forever in the dance. You, pale-faced at the rear of the crowd, say nothing at all. I say nothing of my presence at your midnight council. We are all trapped in the deafening silence of our secrets.

I accept their offer, but ask for time to prepare. Before I present myself at the palace, I make another trip to my faithful rose trees.

"Dress me as a prince," I beg. "Give me clothes fine enough to be seen in any royal court."

The second rose tree sprouts a crimson bloom, every petal as crisp as if cut by a tailor's scissors. When I place it in my buttonhole, my gardening clothes become a suit of black velvet, and a white-feathered cap appears upon my head.

As I stride toward the main doors of the palace, not one set of eyes knows me. Guards do not stop me as a presumptuous garden boy. I present myself before your father and he gives me all the respect due a prince.

When I rise from my bow of greeting, your eyes are riveted to my form. As I follow your father from the throne room, you stop me in the doorway with a hand upon my arm.

"Michael?" you ask, all amazed. "Can it truly be you?"

I bow my head—more garden boy than prince. "You need not be ashamed to be seen with me tonight."

Even so, you keep your distance. In the enchanted lake, I ride in a boat as Aria's guest, not yours. During the dance, your sisters all take their turns with me, from eldest to youngest. At last, I come to offer you my hand, but you seem reluctant to take it.

"Will you not dance with me, Princess Sonatina?" I ask.

"What need have you of my hand," you ask lightly, "when my sisters all treat you as a prince?"

"I want no hand but yours," I say.

You look down, your face drawn.

I bow over your hand and say softly, "Fear not, princess. You shall not be a gardener's wife."

I sweep you into the dance, and it is everything I could have dreamed. You are a wisp, a breath, a butterfly, moving at a touch, at a thought, stepping perfectly with my every unschooled motion. There is an energy between us, and at last you yield to it, looking deeply into my eyes.

In your gaze, I see the princess who I loved from a distance in the gardens, the companion who planted flowers at my side, the friend who defended me from her sisters' threats, and now a woman waiting to doom me to an eternal dance.

In this moment, such a fate does not seem a terror—it seems a gift. Here in this enchanted place, I am no gardener, no nameless, abandoned son. I can dwell here and see you night after night, as worthy as any man, if not to wed you, at least to take you in a dance, and know, if only for a moment, that I am the cause of your joy.

We whirl through the ballroom, through dance after dance after dance, neither able nor wishing to stop. After a time, all your sisters and their partners fall still, watching as we move in flawless harmony, our very heartbeats seeming to move in perfect time.

As the final dance draws to a close, you are silently weeping, tears in crystal rivers streaming down your face.

"Michael," you say. "After dinner—"

There is no need for you to speak what I already know. "Peace," I say. "All will be well."

At the dinner, your sisters flatter me, distracting me with delicacies and drink. Yet, they all seem restless, unsatisfied for once with this perfect palace and their empty-eyed princes.

At last Aria approaches with an ornate golden goblet.

"Garden boy," Aria says. "In the world above, you are a common laborer, unworthy even to gaze upon a princess. Here, you are an honored guest, who could dance with her every night should you choose. With this drink, you may stay here always, without the shame of your birth standing between you. Will you drink, Michael Stargazer, and forget all pain?"

I take the goblet between two work-hardened hands. The wine inside is clear as water and thick as blood. The scent intoxicates me, promising me endless joy in exchange for all memories.

There is much I loved in the world above—I love none of it so well as I love you. I close my eyes and set the cup to my lips.

There is a cry, and the cup is dashed from my hands. It crashes to the marble floor, and the wine oozes out in a thick mass.

Suddenly your arms are around my neck, and your face buried in my shoulder as you weep desperate tears.

"Michael, my love! Don't drink! I will love you beneath the open sky, in sun and rain and wind! I will be a gardener's wife! Let this castle crumble into dust! I would rather lose all the world than lose the man I love!”

My despair—though I did not know it by its true name until this moment—becomes hope, bright and dancing. I gather you in my arms and rain kisses upon your brow. It seems impossible that you love me, which makes it all the more wondrous to find it real.

Around us, the princes wake from their trance, and there is life in their gazes. They are men again, with minds and hearts, and the ones who served as boatmen each take one of your sisters in their arms. Your sisters—even Aria—cry with joy to see their restoration.

Suddenly, the ground shakes beneath us. Shards of colored glass and precious stones rain down from the castle walls.

“What is happening?” you cry.

I bend my head to kiss your brow, then look up at the castle. “You no longer wish for this world,” I say. “It cannot last.”

The other princes are already leading your sisters out the door, with Prince Ivan—Melisma at his side—taking charge of all. Each boatman leads one of your sisters to the water. They pile you into boats, and I help them arrange the transport, until you, your sisters, all the spare princes—and, least of all, myself—are safely across to the other shore.

We race through the forests—jeweled branches shattering as they fall—and clamber up the crumbling staircase. You and I are at the back of the line, hand in hand. As we stand at the base of the stairs, we look back at the crumbling palace, the destruction of a wondrous world of wishes.

“I am sorry,” I say, as the palace sinks into the black water of the lake.

You smile at me. “There is nothing to mourn.”

Laughing with joy, you tug my hand and lead me up the stairs.

#

In your moonlit bedroom, you and your sisters are as alive and beautiful as you once were in your mornings in the garden—moreso, because every eye is lit with love. Your sisters stand hand-in-hand with the princes who served as their boatmen. No longer empty revelers, they are men—noble, true, devoted—and overjoyed to be back in the world, despite its pain, rather than trapped in the never-ending dance.

Aria comes to us as we emerge from the staircase. She embraces each of us in turn, then closes and locks the wooden door behind us. The door disappears and becomes a blank stone wall once more. A low roar sounds as the tunnel and its staircase crumble.

“It is gone,” Aria says, "and good riddance.”

We gaze at her in astonishment, shocked to hear those words coming from the one who had been the greatest defender of the dance.

“I lost myself in wishes,” she says, “but I have found the truth again.” She takes the hand of her boatman—a dark man with kind eyes who reigns as prince of a far-southern realm. “I feared the future because I feared change. I thought the dance could keep us together—young and careless forever. Blinded by enchantments, I could not see that I kept us all from the possibility of a better world. You saved all of us.”

Your sister embraces you, and then—one of the night’s most astonishing sights—the crown princess of one of the greatest nations in the world kneels before a garden boy and bows over his dirt-stained hand.

You all ask for forgiveness, but there is nothing to forgive. All your princes—even myself—fell to the despair that kept them in the dance. We can forget the dance and its soulless wonders and return to the real, bright world.

But first, we must tell your father.

#

You all agree that the honor of revealing the secret should fall to me. You give me the three branches I placed in your bouquets, and at first light, still dressed in my princely clothes, I ask for an audience with the king.

Your father needs little convincing to believe my tale—with so many witnesses, and so many lost princes standing before him, there is little room for doubt.

“You have solved the mystery, Michael Stargazer,” the king says, “and have earned the offered prize. Which of my daughters will you have to wife?”

Stepping before all the assembled royalty, I say, “Majesty, I do not wish for a wife that I claim as a prize. I will only take the wife who chooses me freely, with all her heart and mind.”

In the moment of silence that follows, the glimmer of doubt reappears. You declared your love for me in that unreal underground kingdom, but can you do the same in the sunlit world, where your words have real and eternal consequences?

In that dawn-lit room, before all your sisters, your father, and twenty foreign princes, you come to my side and place your hand in mine. “I will be your wife, Michael Stargazer, with all my heart, mind, body and soul, until the end of my days.”

I answer with a kiss upon your brow. “I give you the same, and all my worldly goods, if you will join me in a cottage in the gardens.”

“There’s no need for that,” your father says. “You have helped to save the royal sons of more than fifteen kingdoms. No one would question your right to a title after such service. I can make you a prince, and you and my daughter can have a royal estate as a wedding present.”

After that is a day of rejoicing, your sisters and their princes all celebrating their restoration and my elevation. But before sunset, you and I slip away to the gardens, where I at last show you the two little rose trees that made all of this possible.

“They are beautiful,” you say.

“They have brought me all I could desire,” I say, “but I have one last wish to make.”

In answer to my whispered words, a pink rose blooms on the smallest bush, with a lady’s ring—twined gold and silver, with a diamond at its center—sitting at its heart.

I kneel before you and place it upon your finger. With your ringed hand, you raise me to my feet and pull me into a kiss.

The rose trees are transplanted to a place of honor in the gardens of our new home. You and I tend to them every day, but since we’ve had our three wishes, they grow only ordinary roses.

I am glad.

With you as my wife in such a glorious world, what further need have I of wishes?

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #the twelve dancing princesses #it turns out that finishing this one seemed like less work than starting from scratch #it still took a lot of work #but it's a bit more polished than it would have been if i'd just tried to rush out a new idea

[captainfern]

hi fern! i hope something nice happens to you today! i just wanted to drop this little thought in your askbox.

so i'm quitting smoking, yay! it's hard but i'm so proud of myself. it's been a month since my last cigarette but i still have cravings and i just can't get it out of my head that gaz would be the best at supporting me (why are they always worse after i've eaten?! or i'm tired?!). so i've been sucking on a lot of lollipops and well... obviously my mind drifted to other things i could suck to alleviate my cravings....

(if you're not comfortable sharing this, that's totally fine! i know smoking is gross and no one is comfortable writing about it so feel free to delete this! either way, have a wonderful day!)

congratulations i’m super proud of you !!

gaz is too lol

18+ fem!reader (m!receiving oral bbyyy)

there’s something so erotic about it. about the way he’s looking at you. looking at you with those deep brown eyes, molasses-thick and warm with admiration.

the situation isn’t overtly kinky, or laden with excruciating levels of lustrous allure. it just feels so intimate, so hot and heavy, and he’s barely even touched you.

but that’s what gaz does to you. what he’s always done to you.

when you told him you’d quit smoking, he was so incredibly happy for you (although, conversations of him quitting were whittled down to nothing more than i’m a casual smoker, sweetheart. nothing regular, i promise). you’d then confided in him, a month-or-so in, that you felt like you needed something to… suck on. to chew on. to occupy the parched cavern of your mouth and entertain your restless mind.

like the sweetheart he was, he bought you all kinds of sweets— things to chew on, things to suck on, things to roll around along the ridges of your lower molars. but soon, the cravings went beyond the odd lollipop.

and that’s what led you to this very moment.

gaz’s thumb hooked into the corner of your mouth, gently prying your lips apart as you kneeled in front of him, hands splayed across his strong thighs. he stood, towering over you, unhinging your jaw with the soft, gentle beckon of his thumb. your eyes remained locked on his the entire time, butterflies filling your stomach.

you were completely naked. stripped bare— on your own accord— and situated on your knees, soft carpet beneath you (he wouldn’t let you kneel on the kitchen tiles, where you originally proposed this idea). gaz was dressed almost fully, his toned abdomen covered by his t-shirt. but you could see the prominent V-line, the dips in his muscle, paired with a thin line of hair, right to the base of his hard cock.

the cock which he was slowly feeding into your open mouth. thumb still hooked into the corner of your mouth, gaz held the back of your head with his other hand as he guided his cock past your lips. gently, slowly, inch-by-inch. you watched him, and the way his beautiful face flickered with restrained pleasure.

your tongue instinctively curled a bit to meet the width of him, of the hard length sliding over it. saliva built behind your teeth, your breaths falling in laboured pants as gaz pushed in further and further. further, still, until the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat, making you gag. he drew back a few centimetres, with the hand on the back of your head petting you fondly.

“my perfect girl…” gaz muttered, slowly pulling out until the flared head of his cock was all that remained inside your mouth. he removed his thumb, instead moving it to rest against the rear of the bed he was leaning against.

you suctioned your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently and dispersing the saliva. gaz groaned, the hand on your head tightening. he canted his hips forward, shoving his cock back into the tight heat of your mouth. you whined around him, the vibrations hitting him straight-on, forcing a low moan from his chest.

“so perfect,” he whispered, eyelids lowered.

he then let you set the pace. bobbing your head back and forth, you took one of your hands and wrapped it around the base of his cock, coating your palm and fingers in your saliva. you gripped him there, twisting lightly while your mouth suctioned around him, tongue rubbing flat along the vein curled up the underside.

he watched you with those heated brown eyes, long lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones beneath the low light. he continued to pet your head, massaging you, as you took more and more of his cock. his pretty girlfriend, naked and on her knees for him, cock in her mouth. what a sight.

your cheeks were slowly beginning to hurt as you hollowed them, sliding his cock in and out, taking time to jerk him off while you licked around the tip with the point of your tongue. you could taste him— not at all unpleasant and not too salty. it almost tasted good. it suited him.

you slowly took him to the root again, lips brushing along the thatch of thick hair at the base. the leaking tip brushed the back of your throat, and this time you managed to withhold a gag. you closed your eyes momentarily, willing tears away, before starting your rhythm back up again.

gaz moaned at the wet warmth, the tightness of your pretty mouth. god, you were so fucking perfect.

“you like that, baby?” gaz cooed, rubbing the back of your head. “you like keeping that pretty mouth busy, huh? y’like sucking on things, don’t you?”

you did, but not that you could answer anyway. the butterflies in your stomach were going wild, the heat in your core blooming, pulsing in time with the beating of your heart. you imagined that you’d have slick running down your thighs soon.

gaz moaned, tossing his head back. he looked so pretty like this. “yeah, that’s it. suck my cock, sweetheart.”

you wanted him to come in your mouth. you wanted to feel his cock twitch against your tongue, and feel the heat of his seed splash down your throat. or maybe you wanted it to fill the crevices of your mouth, so you could hold it there with a triumphant smile, before swallowing it and showing him your barren tongue. hopefully you’d taste him for days.

like the universe was listening to your innermost thoughts, you felt gaz’s cock twitching against the flat of your tongue. his balls were drawing up tight, low groans filtering from his mouth, breathing turning into panting— desperate, pent-up panting.

“oh god,” he whimpered out, hips bucking. “oh god, oh god— fuck, fuck— baby, holy fuck.”

you kept your pace steady as the hand on the back of your head started to hijack your efforts. your boyfriend fucked himself into you, forcing his cock to the back of your throat again and again, neglecting your breathing as he chased his high. you’d forgive him. hell, you weren’t even mad at him, to be honest.

and he sounded so fucking good. this whole thing was meant to appease you, but now it was starting to feel a whole lot more like you were appeasing him. appeasing a god, clearly.

“oh fuck, m’gonna come, sweetheart. can— oh, fuck— can i come in your mouth?”

you looked up at him with tears blurring your vision and you hummed a yes, unable to nod. the hums were a buzz against the smooth, sensitive ridges of his cock, and he found himself moaning your name in desperation as he came.

it was the first option. your second favourite option of the two, but you weren’t really complaining.

his cum, warm and, well, a lot, emptied down the channel of your throat. you wanted to cough, but the head of his cock pushed it all aside— including your breath— as his cock twitched and jerked against the soft muscle of your tongue, still writhing around him. he moaned your name again. again and again until his cock settled, semi-hard inside your mouth.

he stroked the back of your head, pulling his cock out of your throat but letting it rest between the softness of your lips. he didn’t look like he was going to pull out any time soon. so you swallowed, and attempted to give him a smile.

“beautiful girl,” he said, other hand shifting to cup your cheek, thumb running along your cheekbone, feeling the heat there. “i’m so proud of you.”

#dropping this and then retreating again tbh #sorry for the lack of writing x #anyway eat this up cause i’m still on my gaz grind and i wanna fuck him so bad he’s so fucking fine #captainfern #captainfernsalutes #kyle gaz garrick smut #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz #gaz smut #gaz call of duty #gaz x reader #cod smut

[hauntedgrin]

An unnecessarily thorough analysis of the Tarot imagery in Merlin Season One by an amateur tarot reader

(who is also a hopeless romantic and is currently very affected by the disaster that is BBC Merlin)

I started watching Merlin around two months ago. I fell in love with the show instantly, even if I technically haven't finished it yet because of time reasons (though I did spoil myself everything right to the ending and I’m devastated. Still trying to find courage to start season 5. But that’s beside the point)

There was something in the first season that caught my eye and hasn't let me go since. In fact, I was thinking about it today, went on a search for discussions about it, fully under the assumption that this is something the fandom noticed long beforehand is a well-known fact. To my endless surprise, I’ve found no mention! Nada! Not a single one. That won’t do, I thought. I have to share with the people. It's something that fueled my conviction in Merlin the Show being a love story between Merlin and Arthur (whatever the nature of that love may be, I love both the platonic and romantic interpretation equally, though this specific instance could be leaning towards romance somewhat more, I'll explain it in a second) and here it is.

It's this scene.

It is Merlin and Arthur, facing each other with two cups in between them, trying to decide who is going to drink the poison, sacrifice himself and save the other. And I thought Oh my god, tarot symbolism.

That's the card, the Two of Cups. The similarities are obvious (and, in my opinion, very intentional. I’d like to kiss whoever came up with this specific creative decision)

Slight disclaimer: Tarot reading can be very subjective, meanings shift depending on the reader and their perception of the card. I’ll try to be objective with the main aspects of the cards, but there is a lot of subjective opinions too. It’s okay if you disagree)

The main meanings of this card are partnerships, loving relationships, mutual attraction, unity, harmony and, you guessed it!, soulmates. It’s not hard to see why that card would have been chosen to represent them. I think that’s the most outright the show’s ever been about calling them soulmates, without hiding behind labels such as ‘each other’s destiny’ and ‘two sides of one coin’ as if those are any less gay. There is also themes of equality and becoming one, mutual respect and, in certain cases passion and sexual attraction (though it’s not a definition that is applicable in all cases, and can absolutely be ignored for platonic or asexual relationships, it’s still one of the main aspects, given that its represented by, you know, the big red head of a lion with wings right at the top of the card. Can’t exactly forget about it.)

Personally I've always preferred the Two of Cups to The Lovers tarot card (which looks very similar and has some intersections in themes, also concerning love, intimacy, passion). Plus, The Lovers is part of the Major Arcana, so technically it should be more impactful, ‘epic’, someone said, divine. While doing some research into that distinction I've found why exactly it makes me a bit queasy. The Lovers are not always a card about love, in fact, more often it isn’t. And The Lovers aren't made for each other. That is to say, they obviously are, considering the entirety transparent Adam and Eve imagery (and this also makes it a more conservative card, with clear molds for a ‘traditional relationship’). The Lovers are brought together by a higher power, made for a purpose. It serves something. It is a message. It is a lesson. It's a choice between what you want and what you need. It is a partnership, often intense, out of this world, but it’s also about all the factors in between, the things that unite them, the snake, the temptation, the apple, the garden. It can be also about soulmates, and happy relationships, of course, about fated lovers… and mortal enemies. It actually is more in line with Merlin’s and Morgana’s relationship. Out of this world fated connection? Absolutely, guaranteed. Do you want that kind of connection though, really?

How is this relevant, you might be thinking?

Well, there is no such divine power pushing the couple portrayed by the Two of Cups. In fact, they are choosing each other. It’s only them and their union. That’s why I like it so much. They are only the way they are, not the way they are meant to be, not specifically made for each other and yet they are right for each other anyway. And, somehow, just being them is enough. Is that not love?

In Merlin we are told that Merlin and Arthur are a part of each other’s destiny. The Once and Future King and Emrys, his protector, uniting Albion, prophesized by some unnamed seer(s). Does not seem very much like a choice, does it? I guess it depends on the way you view the prophecy and destiny in the show. Is it really all inevitable, and destiny is set in stone, unable to be changed, all leading to the same end, no matter what you do? Or is it the choices themselves that are the constants, fixed in place by the prophecy fulfilling itself? I think the answers to those questions are entirely up to each viewer, and that we can only speculate on it, and never know for sure which was it. Maybe there isn’t a right answer at all. But what I do know is there was a choice Merlin and Arthur made. Let’s return to the imagery on the card..

The couple is exchanging the cups. They are not just toasting – they are performing a ritual, a ceremony. Like exchanging rings, like giving vows. It’s a promise, it’s a connection, it’s a new step, it’s a commitment. And the parallels of the scene in 1x11 don’t end with just imagery. Merlin and Arthur complete the ritual! In the show!

In the episode 1x04, The Poisoned Chalice, Merlin starts the ritual by drinking from Arthur’s poisoned goblet, which he does to protect him. I would also like to add that this is the first time Two Cups appear that season (that's twice they used the imagery), notably, two ceremonial goblets that are supposed to symbolize peace and partnership between two kingdoms. Even if it doesn’t represent the actual state of the two kingdoms, it definitely shows King Bayard’s genuine desire for a peaceful alliance. And Merlin drinks from one of them!

Merlin drinks poison for Arthur and in Labyrinth of Gedref, Arthur drinks ‘poison’ for Merlin in turn. Very unconventional way to get married, I must say, but it’s remarkable that they do it in the same way (even if not at the same time).

So. What does all of that tell us about Merlin and Arthur?

We’ve established that the card signifies a very close, strong and significant relationship, chosen by both parties. Again, I like that it emphasizes the choice, that they didn’t just fall into the friendship because of destiny (even if it aided them). The Two of Cups is a part of the Minor Arcana, which deals with the every day matters, earthly lives. Is that not fitting? Merlin didn’t choose The Once and Future King, he chose Arthur, and Arthur didn’t choose Emrys, he chose Merlin.

Merlin’s who been promised a peaceful future. A land where magic is free. Merlin, who knows what’s supposed to happen: The Once and Future King brings that future. The King dies. Merlin, who has a choice to bring that future. To save Mordred. To remove the ban on magic. He doesn’t choose that, he chooses to essentially destroy that future entirely, just so he can have Arthur.

Arthur, who values Merlin’s opinion above everyone else’s, Arthur on his deathbed, finally seeing Merlin for who he is, says, “I don’t want you to change, I want you to always be you,” Arthur, who is dying, a few steps from the chance being saved, (still too far, not enough time), decides to stop because in his last moments he just wants to be held by Merlin.

They chose each other.

And that’s, dare I say it, love.

#why HASNT anyone mentioned this before #if someone has please tell me #i wrote this while running a fever if this is incoherent thats why #im scrared to put tarot tags in so i wont #merlin meta #merlin and arthur #merlin analysis #merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur

[the-kingshound]

Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人 I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)

Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.

Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌

No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.

For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!

You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3

You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.

Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!

#lovely adorable anons #also never apologize for sening asks in anon i understand #i do the same #(anxiety) #love you!! #anon love

[dadvans]

I knew this bucktommy daddy kink thing would be right up your alley and I'm so excited to see what you end up creating (fics, posts, etc.) with it!

“right up your alley” this is the street where i LIVE and own REAL ESTATE. in general the way it came up, the flirting tone of it being silly and tender couched between something heavy is what i really adore about this pairing. and like i said previously, the main fic I’ve been hacking away at for the past two weeks is on both buck and tommy’s relationships with their parents, and the broader dialogue of that scene either matched some of my own dialogue or reinforced it, to which i am THRILLED. i love writing angst and hurt/comfort and am happy going into the hiatus knowing nothing is going to joss this for at least a few months and it feels true and right to buck and tommy as they stand now, and i have a feeling people might really vibe with this when it’s finished the way i’m vibing with it now.

i’m also gonna use this ask as an opportunity to lament that up until last night i’ve been quietly working on some fairly sizable buddie content, and the extremely vocal shippers on here kind of took the wind out of my sails. like, i just don’t want to participate in any section of fandom that comes across so vitriolic and entitled. so, not sure if i’ll put those things on pause, take a break from them, or walk away from them completely. i make the fandom content i make for myself first and foremost, and i’m loving what i’ve made so far and am proud of it, but almost to a degree where i don’t want to share it with an audience like that.

#dadvans replies #bucktommy #911 abc

[hacked-by-jake]

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So...I just I just ended the first episode of Moonvale (and my thoughts on some point I already express it)....when I saw the screen glitching at the end and Alan bodycam's recording the backpack...I IMMEDIATELY knew it was Jake...

THANK YOU EVERBYTE FOR MAKING JAKE SURVIVE 💚💚💚💚💚

I have still some point I would like to talk with you... like what Charlie have to tell us?? Maybe he knows Jake?? Or Richy?? And I still have question form Duskwood... like I would like to know if Phil got discharged from prison?? Who gave Hannah our number and why??

And for the Everbyte dilemma...I really hope they would change the game purpose and restore the Duskwood idea's of the package for the all game

When I saw the first glitch, I was like "Wt-" and then the second glitch came and I immediately knew what is going to happen and my 'Wt' ended with "OH MY GOD!" I immediately started gasping and almost wanted to throw away my phone with excitement. Then it said "new message incoming" and the next second I saw Alan's cam and was a bit confused at first and then I was ready for everything.

At first I actually thought we're going to see Alan chasing Jake through the forest which would have been sooo cool as well but I loved how Everbyte decided to do it. It was seriously everything needed and wanted. 😩

I never thought they would make him die but still, always a little worry in the back of my head. But now I'm just a silly little happy fangirl and this ending have me so much motivation and I love it.

About the thing with Charlie, I link you this post here because I have already talked in much more detail and I certainly can not remember everything I said. And it would only be a repetition.

But I can say that I have absolutely no idea what this means. I have so many questions and theories in my head but somehow I don’t believe in most of them myself.

Just another really mean Everbyte thing to give us this grudge and then to say "Yes, see you later, we’ll talk about it again in the next episode" and then we have to wait and worry again. It really is torture!

And I’m pretty sure we’ll get things answered. As long as they have not forgotten this promise as well...

But no, I think the side story will definitely not be too short and we will have to deal with it in the next episodes and hopefully find out everything. I mean, Everbyte took good care of Duskwood, I hope they brought that to Moonvale.

Personally, I would much rather have a real premium version again, even if I’m sorry for those who can’t afford it. I don’t want to have such inequality and such an advantage but as we have noticed now it is still not so easy to get through the game without paying money. No one is happy about it, and makes it unfair either way.

While some can buy gems, others can’t, it’s simply unfair to everyone. And I also hope that Everbyte will change their mind and bring back a little more from Duskwood.

Everything that has happened is still a bit confusing to me and even if I'm calmer, the disappointment is still there. And I really hope they will give us some of the Duskwood vibe back.

Otherwise, I just hope that you also liked the story of Moonvale itself and that you had a really nice game experience besides of everything around it.

And of course, thank you a lot for sharing your opinion with me/us. I really enjoyed reading it and it's especially wonderful to see other people being happy about Jake as well. 🤭

Have a wonderful day/evening/night! 💚

#jihobixarmy #moonvale #moonvale thoughts #moonvale game #moonvale episode 1 #moonvale episode 1 spoiler #moonvale spoiler #moonvale criticism #moonvale jake #duskwood side story #duskwood jake #hbj mv x dw answers #hbj mv answers #everbyte studio #everbyte game #everbyte moonvale #moonvale everbyte

[sapphickittykenz]

STORYTIME 📖

Hi lovely people! 🩷😙

I've been instructed by my Mommy (@themistressdomme ) to recall the events that occurred last night when we had a gaming session over the phone.. 🙈

So, I'm gonna do as told, and share the story....

It started off as any other time when we gamed together on call. Most of the time I'm in charge of choosing what games we play on Roblox, since Mommy can never decide what she wants to play! 🙄 First we played an obby which she sucked so poorly at, so eventually I told her we could play something else since she kept losing so badly! 🤭 During that game I teased her endlessly, I knew at some point I'd pay for it. Mommy even reminded me herself, and gave me a fair amount of warnings which I completely ignored.....bad mistake!

So blah blah blah, we started playing bloxy bingo, and Mommy kept teasing me endlessly! She picked up on the teasing when we were getting ready to end the call! Obviously, as any innocent little sub would, I got excited from all the constant teasing. You can't blame me! 🙈 Mommy knew I was getting excited, but she pretended to be clueless, saying she didn't know what I meant, and that I had to ask specifically for every little thing I wanted. So, eventually.. I told her that I was excited. She asked me what I wanted to do about it...and made me say in detail what I wanted to do to myself. 🙈🙈 I told her that I wanted to finger myself... and when she asked how many fingers I said 3. 😵‍💫 KEEP IN MIND THE ENTIRE TIME IM BEING LAUGHED AT AND TEASED BY MY EVILY SADISTIC MOMMY!!!

So, I was pushing for her to get off the phone with me, since I was so greedy and eager to touch myself! 🙈 I got so needy to where I just started touching myself whilst Mommy was still on the call! I tried to hold my moans to avoid the teasing that would spark once she heard them. Mommy knew this, but once little whines and whimpers started to escape I eventually gave up trying to keep quiet. 🙈🥴 With Mommy's encouragement and constant teasing, I came two times from my fingers! After the first ones, mommy made me spank my kitty 10 times while counting them out loud. I didn't think I could cum anymore since I was already so sensitive, but Mommy told me to keep going, and that she thought I had more to give her..

Bad girls don't get to decide when they're done cumming, Mommy says. So, I had to keep fingering myself while rubbing my clit when I was already extremely sensitive! I was a moaning mess, and I couldn't keep quiet at all! Not that I wanted to.. 🤭 I apologized to Mommy for my bratty behavior repeatedly, and begged for mercy...although she just laughed at me and told me to continue. 😵‍💫 I got so close again, but Mommy made me wait. Told me to count down from 20 and then I'd be able to cum. So of course I followed the rules...for once. After that, I came super hard for the 4th time, and I was left in a puddle of my own excitement, unable to give Mommy any other response besides 'mhmm'. It was a while before I was able to walk, or even close my legs, since I was so sensitive and overstimulated.

I guess you can say I learned my lesson... Maybe 🤭

That's my storytime! 😌 Hopefully I didn't leave out any important details...

#lesbian #lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #wlw nsft #sapphic #wlw post #wlw ns/fw #gay girls #gay nswf #wlw #lesbian smut #overstim kink #hornyposting #saphhic #wlw smut #f/f smut

[mysticalcats]

experienced an autism loss today

#my friends made fun of me because i said i liked cats :( #we have a musical every year at our school and i said if they did cats next year i would want to join #and they laughed at me :( #even my friend who does the musical every single year laughed #sigh. sigh #i know it's pretty silly but. idk #i rarely share things about myself or my interests with my friends because they always make fun of me #so idk. i've learnt my lesson by trying to share with them! #i know i shouldn't really care what they think but. i'm sensitive 🤷‍♀️ #sorry for being negative i'm always about the positive vibes here but i just wanted to get this out because it's been bothering me