#the thought of giving away that little bit of power and it not being perceived as a weakness of mine but a gift to the other person? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doberbutts · 2 months

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I think the terms TMA/TME work best when they're used as rules of thumb, rather than expected to function as strict categories. They're often helpful, but occasionally they can become obfuscatory, and there are edge cases where they can't be neatly applied. In those cases, they should be set aside, but with an understanding that they will be brought back into conversations when helpful.

To give a personal perspective - I'm a trans masc individual who has, upon occasion, experienced misdirected transmisogyny. I was on T for 5 years, then came off it (partly due to health problems, partly due to starting to identify as nonbinary rather than as a man) and began presenting in a more feminine manner, and people would regularly mistake me for a trans woman.

When people thought I was a trans woman, I did notice an increase in hostility, harassment and unwelcome advances from strangers. Groups of men would shout at me in the street, mothers would glare at me and physically pull their children further away from me if I came near. I also started getting catcalled and couldn't enjoy a night out in a club without being groped. I'd experienced some of these things as a trans man and as a girl, but probably never at such a high frequency or so intensely.

I definitely think I got a taste of transmisogyny and people do still assume I'm trans fem from time to time. But I still wouldn't describe myself as TMA. I don't shout it from the rooftops, but if it feels relevant in the context of a conversation, I will say I'm TME. Because I think the terms are about overarching dynamics, rather than whether or not an individual has ever faced a single instance of transmisogyny.

For me, there was always a sense of distance between myself and any negative experience, that came from knowing they'd misread my AGAB - "that lad just called me a chick with a dick! How funny! I'd be so lucky!" / "You're harassing me for using the female showers at the gym when I am literally menstruating. Are you going to stop being a creep, or do I have to show you my bloody tampon?" There's a degree to which I can sidestep or disavow their idea of me in a manner trans women can't.

I also don't know what it's like to deal with many other elements of transmisogyny, or deal with it as an overarching narrative in one's life rather than a freak episode.

I think it's fair to say I have at times been a grey area and I could use my experiences to argue against the validity of TME/TMA, but I don't want to do that. I don't like it when the terms are just used as a way to say AFAB/AMAB while being perceived as less problematic. But I think it is helpful to have little shorthand reminders about specific power dynamics that do have an impact in our communities. I have absolutely seen transmisogyny play out in queer spaces, both online and IRL, and I think it's worth having vocabulary that emphatically reminds people to check themselves and to not assume they don't have internalised bias against trans women just because they're trans masc.

Trans women are a boogeyman in popular culture and the collective unconscious in a way trans men never have been (at least, not to anything like the same extent). Trans women face an intensity of monstering that I think most people won't understand unless they spend a lot of time sharing space with and listening to trans women. The rapid adoption of TMA/TME feels like an attempt to fast-track that understanding en masse. Maybe it's a bit clumsy, but I do think it's having an impact and important conversations are happening. I don't know if the terms will stick or fall out of use. Having been in the trans community for over a decade and seeing how our vocabularies evolve, I'm inclined to think they'll stick around for a few years and then largely disappear. But I feel that while trans women are finding them useful, we need to be respectful of that fact.

Idk sorry to rant in your askbox, I wanted to give my two cents. Feel free to ignore lol

I'm going to be a bit blunt here: in the span of time I've been off tumblr to, you know, sleep... I've gotten 20 different asks trying to convince me to like the usage of tma/tme and also several transphobic asks about my top surgery. The transphobic ones I blocked and deleted because I'm literally 3 weeks out and will not be dissuaded. But I'm simply not willing to continue arguing a point I've made very clear that I don't love the usage of this particular theory the way it's currently being used.

You can like it for yourself. I have said this over and over again. I do not like it for me, and do not think it is accurate for my life or my experiences or the reality that is what I have to go through on a regular basis. True to everything else that I've posted, I don't really care what you call yourself. If you want to call yourself TME and you believe that framework works for your experience, more power to you. Just don't label me that, because I don't think it works for mine.

Trans women are absolutely a boogeyman in a way that trans men often aren't. That is, unfortunately, one of the ways that hypervisibility is such a curse. Everyone knows what a trans woman is, and a good majority of those people also think the only good one's a dead one. That's bad. That's transmisogyny, and we should ally with trans women to help fix this problem.

Also unfortunately, as trans men become more and more visible to the world, instead of facing mass erasure and dying in silence or escaping to live in stealth, trans men are also beginning to become a boogeyman as well. Now we are a social contagion, a craze, with rapid onset gender dysphoria, mutilating ourselves and ruining our precious bodies, carving out our wombs, simultaneously debasing ourselves and also becoming predators lurking to snatch daughters up and forcefeed them our ideology, betraying women by becoming a mockery of men. What's worse, we tend to politically close ranks with trans women and cis women alike so it's harder for transphobic lawmakers to divide and conquer as they're used to with cis men, so instead they have to demonize us to prevent any further allyship.

That's the conversation trans mascs are trying to have.

Genuinely, I do agree that trans women face an othering that most people do not grasp without understanding transmisogyny theory, which is why I think everyone should have at least a basic understanding of it. But I also think that's true of many other demographics, and that if we want to get out of the pit that bigoted society put us in, we've got to work together to do so. It was, after all, the combined efforts of Marsha P Johnson AND Storme de Laverie that brought us out in the open. And among me friend group, we have people from all different races and backgrounds and genders and more locking arms to ensure the safety of each other, wanting to understand and know each other, lifting each other up.

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mncxbe · 4 months

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Life love is beautiful but you don't have a clue

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff/ if you squint there's some itty bitty angst

The little piece of charcoal in your hand glided along the paper with a soft scratchy sound leaving dark, cloudy lines in its wake. With each stroke the portray of the man beside you came to life.

Akutagawa was still asleep, one of the few times when he was completely at peace; the thin line between his brows melted away along with the slight downward tug of his lips and the tension in his jaw- signs of his perpetual annoyance and displeasure. You couldn't deny the charm of his moody personality, but you liked him better like this.

Your gaze drifted to the bedroom window, eyes musing on the cotton pink colours of the sunrise. You could already hear Akutagawa complain about the weather "Can't I just get a break from all this sun. It's July for fuck's sake it's supposed to be raining." Indeed, he was like a little vampire, hiding away from the sun as if it were a plague; he always said he got sunburnt easily but you knew it wasn't the only reason.

Just as you started drawing again your boyfriend's eyes fluttered open. "What ya doing there?" he mumbled sleepily, his voice carrying that morning hoarseness you so adored.

Sheepishly, you showed him the sketchbook only to earn a displeased groan from him "Didn't I tell you to stop drawing me when I sleep? It's... embarassing. Not to mention the mess you make in bed. You're staining all the sheets"

"But you look so pretty like this baby" you cooed, earning a huff from him. His eyes shot daggers as he grabbed your sketchbook and placed it on his nightstand.

"Aye Ryuu don't be like this" you whined but he paid no mind to your pleas, simply dropping his head on the pillows again.

"I'm tired, Y/N, and really not in the mood to have this talk again"

His eyes were closed so luckily he couldn't see you exasperated eye roll. Sliding your bare legs from underneath you you leaned towards him, cupping his face with your charcoal stained hands. Akutagawa's eyes immediately shot open but before he had the chance to protest you pulled him into a kiss, succesfully shutting him up. Why did he always have to be so complicated?

He eventually returned the kiss, letting out a soft moan when you hooked your thigh around his waist, shifting closer to him. His fingers slid up your thigh, making their way to your ass to give it a light squeeze.

He nipped at your bottom lip before parting his lips from yours, looking down at you with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes "You really think a kiss is going to make things better?"

Chuckling, you booped his nose "Of course, there's nothing a little loving can't fix"

Akutagawa didn't respond, simply turning away from you. It wasn't rare for him to shut you out like this; to give you the cold shoulder whenever you tried to show him the tiniest bit of affection. But despite being used to it, it still hurt. You slid your fingertips along his shoulderblade, whispering softly "Why do you have to be so cold, Ryuu?"

Akutagawa tensed under your touch, his breath catching in his throat. He could already picture the stupid lines you were tracing on his back, using his skin as your personal canvas. Frankly, your habit of drawing him was irritating him beyond belief. Your sketches showed him in the most mundane and vulnerable states: sleeping, reading on the couch with a cup of his favourite herbal tea by his side, lounging under a willow tree in the park the two of you liked to visit before sunset and the thought of it made his stomach churn. This is not the Akutagawa he wanted to be perceived and rememberd as; not a ruthless, powerful assassin but a lovesick young man.

But how could he be stay mad at you when you held him so lovingly in your arms, whispering sweet nonsense against his skin as your lips slid over his neck and shoulder, buying his forgiveness with saccharine affections? Your words spilled from your lips and poured right into his heart, making the mighty wall he built around it crumble.

No, he couldn't stay mad at you. Sighing, he turned to face you, resting his hand on your hip. You couldn't help but chuckle upon seeing his features: cheeks smeared with graphite, a singular dot on his nose. If you looked close enough you could see the ridges of your fingertips on the imprint.

Akutagawa arched a brow, his thumb drawing soft circles on your hipbone "And what's so funny?"

"You look like a panda" you cooed, your laughter bouncing off the walls of your bedroom "I wish you could see how pretty you are?"

"Don't call me pretty" he huffed, trying to hide the blush that tinted his cheeks. But you knew the effect your words had on him.

Cradling his face in your hands again you leaned in, smothering his face with kissed "You, Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, are the prettiest guy I've ever dated, the sweetest and kindest man and I love you even when you're grumpy"

The man couldn't help but cringe out your words, letting out a choked laughter. He mumbled a you're killing me under his breath but made no attempt to stop you. If anything, he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

When you eventually let go of his face he opened his eyes, grabbing the sketchbook and hanging it to you "It's very well done love. But I think you could add some colour to it"

"Would you like that?" you asked sweetly, already reaching for your charcoal kit.

"Yes, I think I'd like that."

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #akutagawa bsd #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa fluff #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bungo stray dogs akutagawa

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anxiouspineapple99 · 7 months

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Midnight Masquerade - Wrecker

Summary: The bottle lands on Wrecker, and the pair of you enjoy a smokin' hot time. Prompt for the party in bold.

Warnings: 18+ so minors be gone; fire giant!Wrecker x f!reader; kinks: size kink / distention + wax play; dry humping, pussyjob / non-penetrative stimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected PiV sex (wrap before you tap), squirting, creampie, brief aftercare; I think that's it.

Word Count: 3.1k (don't perceive me. I don't know where this is all coming from)

A/N: Here is my submission for Pineapple's Halloween Party! You can read the introduction to this chapter here, as well as any of the other parts. Happy spooky season y'all.

...Wrecker.

A round of wolf-whistles rises from the rest of the table (quite literally, in Hunter’s case), but loudest of all is Wrecker’s booming voice.

“Aww yeah! Hahaha!”

Maker, you always forget how built he is. You grin in spite of the sudden rush of nerves that slinks down your spine. Wrecker’s enthusiasm for life is infectious, and no matter your mood, just being in the same room as him lifts your spirits. So when he turns to crinkle a smile at you, you can’t help but respond in kind.

“C’mon!” He stands up with a bit too much force, knocking into the table with his powerful thighs. Glasses scatter, spilling their contents or shattering on the floor, much to the chagrin of the others. “Oops. Sorry!”

Shaking your head with an amused smile, you stand with a bit more deftness and hold out your hand. “They’ll be fine. Come on.”

Wrecker takes your hand, dwarfing it in his own massive one. You nearly jerk away at first: his skin is so hot it feels nearly feverish, like he’s lit on fire from the inside. But then you look more closely. That’s exactly what’s happening. Where Rex gives off a cool, effervescent radiance, Wrecker’s entire body glows with dull, flickering firelight. Flame tattoos, probably sketched on by one of his brothers and now become real with the potion, ripple as his muscles flex. And his clothing leaves little to the imagination, just a haphazardly ripped animal pelt secured around his waist. Your throat bobs when you gulp.

He grins down at you, and now that you’re actually paying attention, you realize two things. First, has he always been that tall? You swear you didn’t have to look up that far before. And second, embers smolder a deep red in his good eye, like a hearth warming the home. Warmth spreads over you.

“See somethin’ you like, pretty girl?” he asks, all teeth and teasing.

A shudder skitters across your body. “Y-Yeah, big guy. Shall we?” You jerk your head toward the back.

His eyes widen a fraction before his face sets into what you imagine is his battle face. Scrunched eyebrows, determined slant to his mouth, his shoulders square as he effortlessly scoops you up. You squeal in surprise.

“Wrecker!”

“Wha’?”

Blinking up at his confused face, so much closer now than it just was, you shake your head. “Nothing.”

His confusion clears, and it strikes you, not for the first time, just how expressive Wrecker is. Now that you’re over your initial bout of anxiety, you wonder if his openness extends to the bedroom. Your core clenches at that thought.

As he adjusts his grip on you to be more comfortable, you curl against his bare, heated chest, the warmth a welcome respite against the conditioned air of this building. Wrecker carries you princess style through the crowd to the back where there are dozens upon dozens of rooms. At least, you assume there’s that many rooms; Wrecker grows visibly impatient from all the doors and kicks one in at random.

He has to duck to enter the room, and angles his body so neither your head nor your feet whack against the doorframe. He knocks the door shut with his foot.

“Here we a—woah.”

“Oh.” Your jaw drops at the sight of the room before you. Pushed to one wall is a massive bed with deep red sheets and a black satin duvet, cradled in a wrought iron frame. To either side, glossy wooden bedside tables rest, their surfaces artfully arranged with burning votive candles and other decorations. A few well-concealed ceiling lights focus all the illumination on the bed.

Against you, Wrecker’s entire body begins to grow hotter, matching the flush creeping over your own skin.

“Where, uh, where d’ya want me to put you down?” Wrecker asks, voice hushed in awe.

“Here is fine,” you murmur.

Yeah, no, he’s definitely taller than he should be. The trip back down to solid ground takes a heartbeat longer than you’d expect, but once your legs stabilize under you, you almost wish he’d kept holding you. Chilled air once again greets your skin.

“So,” he says.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “So.”

“You were being serious out there, huh?”

Ducking your head, you twist your fingers over one another. “Yeah. Is that— I mean, would that be something you’d wanna do?”

One of his thick fingers, gentler than you’ve ever experienced him act before, catches under your chin to tilt your face back up to meet his gaze. “I would love to.”

“Yeah?” you breathe.

“Yeah.” He offers a shy smile, the expression so incongruous with the clearly fierce and deadly creature he’s chosen to dress up as, and your heart skips a beat. “Can I kiss you, pretty girl?”

Humming low in your throat, you bat your eyelashes at him. “First, can you tell me what monster you are?”

“Oh!” His smile broadens to an excited grin. He props his fists on his hips as if to show off his admittedly impressive physique. “Yeah! I’m a fire giant. Look!”

He squints in concentration, and after a moment, fire—real, actual fire—ignites all over his body. You yelp and scramble back, the heat threatening to singe your eyebrows. But your jaw drops in awe once you’re a safe distance away. The flames dance across his skin as if orchestrated by a silent symphony; the flickering tongues of light flash between colors. Bright blue makes the air around Wrecker shimmer with heat waves; yellow casts warm, buttery light into the enclosed space; but your favorite is when the flames sputter pink.

Wrecker exhales a loud grunt and the flames recede. Steam curls off his skin in vaporous wisps, and he staggers back half a step.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?” You go to take a step forward, but his hands come up to ward you off.

“M’fine,” he says, though it clearly takes a lot of effort. “That was harder than I thought it would be. Gimme a moment.”

Glancing around the room yields no options for helping him cool down. Though, the longer you think about it, the less you’re certain that throwing water on a fire giant would even be a good idea.

“You should get comfy,” he says, offering another smile.

Biting your lip, you nod. You’d nearly forgotten, in the midst of his light show, the real reason you’re in a rather sexily decorated bedroom. Without taking your eyes off Wrecker, you begin to slowly, deliberately, shuffle out of your clothing. The embers in his good eye flare to a brighter red as he drinks the sight of you in. Once you stand completely naked before him, you fight the urge to cross your arms, and instead let him pick you apart with his gaze.

“Pretty girl,” he husks, low and raspy.

Your cunt flutters around nothing, arousal beginning to creep back into your veins. “Yeah, big guy?”

“Get on the bed.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Scurrying to the bed, you perch yourself on the edge, letting your legs fall open just enough to give him a glimpse of your dampening folds.

Wrecker stalks towards you, using his full (and improved) height to his advantage. When he halts in front of you, you nearly shrink in on yourself, not out of fear but rather the sensation of feeling so small, so utterly tiny in front of this literal giant of a man. His broad shoulders and thickly muscled torso dominate your field of vision.

The look he gives you, though, is impossibly soft. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

You simply nod, voice failing you.

His two massive palms cradle your face with extreme care, and he leans down slow enough to give you time to change your mind. You don’t. Instead, you push up with your hands on the bed and meet him halfway. His lips part in a gasp against yours; mouths moving in slow, synchronous tandem, the pair of you remain locked together like that. There’s no rush, no need to hurry up and touch one another. No, you want him to take his time with you just as much as you want to take your time with him.

Pulling away, his eyes flutter open to meet yours. Matching grins spread over both your faces. He trails his fingertips over your cheek, before sliding his grip to cup the back of your neck, crushing his lips against yours once again.

You groan into his mouth. You draw back just enough to mutter, “Get naked for me,” and he complies eagerly, shredding the cloth concealing his cock from you. Reaching with curious hands, you whine at the sheer size of him in your grip: one of your hands can barely wrap all the way around his girth, and without looking, you estimate him to be at least the length of your forearm.

Wrecker rumbles pleasantly as you stroke him with both hands. For a moment, you continue your actions, but when he licks into your mouth, you drop your hands. Shifting back on the bed, you silently urge him to follow as you walk backwards on your palms until your back hits the pillows. You lie back into the cushioned support, one arm wrapping around his neck, the other caressing his side, as you tug him down on top of you. Wrecker props his elbows to either side of your head, caging you in, as he continues to kiss you.

His cock rests hot, thick, and so heavy on your thigh. Hitching one leg up around his waist, you press your heel to his back, wanting to feel him rut against you. He complies, breaking away from your mouth with a low groan to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck as his hips rock down against you. You squeeze at his body, hands never idle, exploring every inch of his scarred body that you can reach.

“Wanna stuff you so full,” he mumbles against your skin.

Head lolling to the side, you pant, breaths coming harsher. “I know, big guy.”

When he bites down at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, your eyes flutter open in surprise. A moan punches out of your chest as he licks over the same spot, soothing any sting—but your mind is immediately distracted, forming an idea. On the bedside table, nestled amidst the dried roses and burning votives, are several smaller tapered candles. You know, instinctively, what they’re for.

Turning your head, you tilt Wrecker’s face back to yours and capture his lips in a heated kiss. One of his hands wanders down to grip the flesh of your ass, pulling you tight against him as he continues to rock his hips. His cock, now trapped between your bodies, grazes over your clit.

“Oh, kriff,” you gasp. Your hips flex out of pure reaction, chasing the stimulation to the neglected bundle of nerves. Pleasure begins to burn in your lower belly. “H-Hang on. Wrecker.”

He pulls back to meet your gaze, a worried line creasing his forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” you say with a smile. “I just— I wanna try something.”

A smirk tugs at his kiss-swollen lips. “What’s that?”

“I wanna drip candle wax all over you,” you admit.

A strangled moan escapes him. Faster than you can react, he flips the pair of you over so that you’re straddling his hips. Giggling breathlessly, you reach to the bedside table and retrieve one of the slim, tapered candles, then reposition yourself so that you’re sitting up.

“Can you?” you ask, holding the wick towards him.

Wrecker nods and brings his pointer finger to the wick. A small spark of flame shoots from his fingertip. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, the wick catches, and a small flame begins to burn. The pair of you share excited smiles.

It doesn’t take very long for the wax to begin to melt. Holding the candle so the wax doesn’t drip onto your fingers, you brace yourself with your free hand on Wrecker’s stomach. The hair there leading down to his groin tickles your fingers. As you tilt the candle, watching in mesmerized fascination as a droplet begins to form, you rock your hips. Both you and Wrecker groan at the friction of your slick cunt over his length; the candle wax drips onto his skin right after.

His stomach flexes beneath your palm at the sensation. “Oh. Oh wow.”

“S’it good?” you ask. You don’t cease dragging your wet core against his cock, voice catching with pleasure.

Humming an affirmative, Wrecker points to a new spot on his torso. “Here.”

You gladly reposition the candle and let a few more drops land on the indicated part of his body. A groan, low and growly, drags out of his throat. Biting your lip, you continue to let the wax dribble over his heated skin, sometimes at your whim, sometimes in specific spots he asks for. By the time that the candle is half-burned, Wrecker’s cheeks are flushed and sweat finally begins to dew over his skin, despite the layer of it on your own body.

Blowing out the candle, you toss it to the floor where it can’t burn anything. Then, now using both hands as leverage, you undulate your hips faster, harder. His fiery palms come to rest on your hips, speeding your movements. You toss your head back, a near-incessant whine clawing out of your chest.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he pleads. “Please.”

All you can do is obey his request. Body locking up, you twitch and moan, orgasm rolling through you slow and hot like fire itself. Slick gushes onto Wrecker’s length. Wrecker’s hands remain on your hips until you slump forward, catching yourself on his biceps.

He smiles at you, pure lust and pure affection both scrawled over his expression. “That was so hot.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle. Still catching your breath, you lean down to kiss him. Beneath your body, his cock jumps.

“Mm, why don’t you ride me, pretty girl?” he mumbles against your lips. “You control it all.”

His words loosen a knot of anxiety that you hadn’t realized was still wound in your chest. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before, and the ability to be in charge of your experience sets you at ease. Nodding, you shuffle until you squat above him. Grabbing his length, you smear the pre-cum that leaks from his flushed tip over the velvety skin.

Wrecker props his hands behind his head to watch through half-lidded eyes as you line up his cock at your entrance. Drawing a breath, you lower yourself as you exhale, letting your muscles relax.

Fuck, he’s big. So big. You’ve got just the tip in you and he’s already stretching you. Breaths coming faster, you adjust so that you can press two fingers to your clit and rub lazy circles there.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Wrecker praises.

You whine. “Wreck.”

“You can do it,” he says. He spits on his thumb, then gently nudges your hand out of the way to press the digit against your clit. “Here.”

A choked moan gets lost at the extra heat of his touch. Raising yourself up a fraction, when you sink back down you’re able to take a little more. And then a little more, and more, until you can’t possibly take any more—and even then, only half of his length is buried into your cunt.

Walls fluttering around his mind-melting girth, you whine. “Wrecker, fuck, please.”

“Whaddaya need, pretty? Need to feel my cock in your tummy?”

Your pussy clenches at that, drawing a groan from Wrecker.

He chuckles, sounding wrecked. “Look down, baby. Look where I am.”

You do, every muscle in your body beginning to tremble with the combined strain of squatting and feeling split open. A gasp escapes you when you see what he’s talking about: in your lower belly, a noticeable bulge distends your body. Pressing a hand over it, you and Wrecker both groan.

“Now ride me, baby,” he urges.

Slowly, tentatively, you settle into a languid pace. You keep your hand on your belly, delighting every time you feel him deeper than you’ve ever felt anyone before. Wrecker moans with every movement of your hips, his teeth digging so hard into his bottom lip that you’re afraid he’s going to break skin. His thumb never leaves your clit, rubbing tight, hard circles over the sensitive nub. His gaze flits between your blissed-out expression and where your cunt swallows half his length.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to begin to build again. Rocking your hips a little faster, you can’t help but smirk at the way that it makes Wrecker whine, his head tossing back against the pillows. As if to keep pace, his thumb circles a little faster, a little harder.

“Wreck,” you gasp out. You angle your hips, trying to find a better angle to facilitate your impending climax. “Wrecker, please, don’t stop.”

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he assures. “Want you to cum all over me.”

Nodding, you whine, teeth clamped over your bottom lip. It only takes a moment to find the angle that drives his cock into that one spot deep in your core. The harder you bounce, the steeper the climb becomes, your body winding tight, tight, tight, so tight you know you’re going to snap and break.

A secondary sensation begins to build as you continue to fuck yourself on Wrecker’s length. Pleasure blinds you, and you have just enough presence of mind to wonder what the feeling is before you cum with a ragged wail.

Wrecker’s other hand flies to your hips to hold you still as he gently fucks up into you. Your cunt spasms around him, and then, as if you hadn’t already reached the summit of your climax—

You squirt.

Your mind goes blank. “Fu-u-u-u-uck!” Body giving out, your arms and legs both turn into noodles. Wrecker sits up fast enough to catch you and keep you from hurting yourself or him. His damp skin slowly lowers in temperature, his body shrinking slightly, the change in size making his length slip from your stretched pussy. Something warm and wet slides out, as well—his cum.

Whimpering, you blink through tears to find Wrecker already looking at you.

“You okay?” he asks, voice tender.

Nodding, you offer a half smile. “That’s never happened before.”

“I’m glad to be your first,” he says with a smug smile.

You slump forward against him, loosely wrapping your arms around his frame and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. His broad hands splay over your back, thumbs rubbing comforting circles.

“Did— Was that good for you?” you ask, voice muffled against his skin.

His chuckle sends a tingle through your body. “Pretty girl, that was better than good.”

Kissing his chest, you hum in satisfaction. For a long while, the two of you sit there, wrapped in one another’s embrace, enjoying the quiet and the company.

#submission #pineapple's 2023 halloween party

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fardreamer · 10 months

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SENGEN HEADCANONS

note: there are spicy headcanons in this :)!

general:

❤️ senku sometimes is messy when he starts tinkering and experimenting. gen often sneaks in behind him and puts things away as senku keeps moving around.

❤️ as stated in another post of mine, senku is an aggressive big spoon cuddler with gen. once he gets settled and is comfortable, he’s not moving. gen pretends to hate it but he does love it.

❤️ gen is phenomenal at back massages.

❤️ senku, when cuddling, prefers to lay atop gen. gen loves it because it means he gets to kiss senku a little easier, play with his hair, and tell him how cute he is.

love languages:

*note: i make a distinction here between how they prefer to receive love, and how they prefer to give love. i know not everyone perceives love languages that way.

🌼 gen, as anyone can imagine, loves telling senku how intelligent and beautiful he is. he saves the sweeter compliments for when they’re alone, but will proudly proclaim how much he loves senku (especially if it’s to embarrass him). his second is physical touch, followed by quality time. he actually prefers physical touch to receive love.

🌼 senku, on the other hand, is strongly split between acts of service and physical touch to give love, which means gen and senku unintentionally spend their days with passing pats to the back, stray kisses, standing as near to one another as they can, etc. that is how he prefers to give love. he claims he has no preference on how he receives love, but gen can tell that he enjoys spending time together, even if it’s just gen napping near him while senku works.

🌼 being that love languages are somewhat like data points, which clear parameters for what constitutes each one, senku was surprisingly on board with love languages and makes a point of meeting his “goals” of giving and receiving love each day. the power of science.

emotional:

❤️‍🩹 as smooth and well put together gen can be, he does need more consistent attention than senku realized. in the beginning of their relationship, there were plenty of fights and miscommunications because gen felt unloved or ignored, and senku was wrapped up in whatever new goal he had in mind.

❤️‍🩹 similarly, senku felt some tension whenever gen chose to spend time with others. not that he was particularly jealous, only in that he hadn’t realized how much he’d come to enjoy having gen by his side, even for mundane tasks.

❤️‍🩹 both are fierce secret keepers. gen was the first to talk, and confided in senku some of his biggest fears. that opened the door for senku to do the same, as sharing his vulnerabilities do not come easily to him whatsoever.

spicy:

⭐️ gen, initially, thought that he would be a more dominant top with senku and assumed that his lack of experience would mean he needed a lot of guidance. turns out, senku needed guidance in being dominant and topping, because he easily fell into that headspace.

⭐️ both of them are switches. just depends on the day. gen prefers bottoming and senku prefers topping.

⭐️ senku is a service top, through and through. gen tries to get him to be a little more selfish but it rarely works.

⭐️ gen loves the spectacle and drama of cute lingerie and visual aids. senku didn’t understand it until gen started wearing his favorites (particularly, a cat costume).

⭐️ while he may never actually verbally admit this, senku’s goal during sex is to make sure gen cums twice. if he doesn’t, he feels a bit like a failure, despite gen’s satisfaction.

⭐️ gen adores edging and extended foreplay. senku loves it the most when gen is submissive and bottoming.

#sengen #sengenheadcanons #dcst sengen #dcst #dcst gen #dcst senku #spicy sengen #drst #dr stone #drst sengen #drst asagiri gen #dsrt ishigami senku #senku ishigami #asagiri gen

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twstunes · 2 years

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A recurring concept in self-aware AUs is that the player (or their MC) possesses some form of ‘divine grace’—by interacting with and upgrading characters, the player imparts a sense of happiness, power, and so on to them. This is often used as a setup for yan stuff and similar darker works centered around obsession, typically with the characters becoming increasingly dependent on the emotional high caused by contact with the player/MC.

But what if the existence of divine grace was not so readily accepted?

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Characters: Rook, Azul, Leona, Lilia, Idia

Notes: gn Yuu, early stages of self-awareness, mostly platonic

Warnings: character-appropriate levels of stalking (Rook, Idia)

‎

✧ Very little escapes Rook’s notice, and the strikingly positive effect Yuu has on others is no exception. Like any good hunter, he spends some time stalking familiarizing himself with the Ramshackle prefect before making any final calls. He manages to work out a number of things about Yuu’s ‘grace’: only certain students (named characters) are affected, staff members don’t seem to be affected much at all, the effect is strongest on those physically near Yuu and with Yuu’s direct attention…comment trés étrange. This is certainly unfamiliar quarry for him. How exciting!

✧ He may or may not report his findings to Vil. He does care dearly for his housewarden, but considering how happy Vil has been since Yuu entered their lives…well, la grâce divine de Yuu does not seem to be a threat. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let a sleeping dog lie, for now.

✧ It’s worth noting that despite his stalking observing, Rook doesn’t shy away from approaching his target directly. He can only appreciate Yuu’s beauté so much from a distance, after all—and of course it must be some form of beauty, for what else could evoke such emotion from the hearts of many? He may outright ask Yuu about this ‘grace’ they seem to possess, though the questions are phrased so poetically that they’re a bit hard to parse.

✧ Yuu’s euphoric effect on others is something Azul notices quickly, specifically due to how some rather high-profile students seem to gravitate towards the Ramshackle prefect. His first thought is, naturally, if it can be used to lure in more customers to the Mostro Lounge. He could rope Yuu into working some shifts, prompting their little entourage to follow along, score some customers and some free publicity at once…wait shit why does he feel so high-spirited when they’re near, why does he keep tripping over his words when they speak to him, this wasn’t supposed to happen– Jade Floyd stop snickering this is serious, no he does not have a CRUSH–

✧ Azul likes to think that he’s savvy, and he really is—but he’s also very much not equipped to handle this. The effect of Yuu’s presence is warming, empowering even, and given freely at that. It absolutely does not fit into Azul’s worldview, where anything given comes with a price attached one way or another. What does Yuu want in return for this…niceness, for lack of a better word? What are they angling for? It deeply disturbs him that he can’t divine an answer.

✧ Yuu’s grace is a gift that keeps giving, and Azul is convinced that there will be a steep price to pay for it in the end. He makes attempts at tempering it, offering discounts and the like, but it’s hard to focus on digging himself out of a perceived debt when being near Yuu keeps making him forget about it altogether.

✧ Leona has spent long enough mired in depression that the effects of Yuu’s divine grace just feel weird at first. He knows Yuu doesn’t have any magic up their sleeves—they still smell like the same magicless herbivore they were that day they stepped on his tail. So then why does he feel so much…lighter when they’re around? Less blasé about everything? Something’s off, and he’s not entirely sure he’s okay with it.

✧ He definitely has an “am i in love??” moment before shutting it down entirely. Screw Farena and how he gushes about his wife the queen; Leona might privately admit to believing in the existence of love, but he does NOT buy into any “love at first sight” junk. Besides, his senses are sharp enough that he can tell how others are similarly affected by Yuu’s presence. It’s a little complicated, how he feels about that—the irrational, possessive part of his brain is annoyed at having to “share,” but he’s overall glad that it’s an easily-observable phenomenon.

✧ After mulling it over for a while, he ultimately concludes that it isn’t a serious enough issue for him to bother stressing about. It doesn’t look like the herbivore consciously controls…whatever it is they’re doing, and their conscious actions come off as genuine attempts to help out. He might still be a little wary, but by the Seven, it’s not going to interfere with his naps.

✧ With how long Lilia has been alive, he’s definitely gone through his fair share of heart-pounding experiences—love, infatuation, adrenaline rushes, illicit substances, the whole nine yards. None of them are quite the same as whatever effect Yuu has on him, however, and it piques his interest.

✧ He’s a little concerned about how Yuu is imparting such an effect without so much as a hint of magic, but for the most part, he’s content to just let things be. Yuu doesn’t seem to want anything other than to bring out the best in others, which is hardly an ignoble goal. He might question Yuu about this ‘grace’ they seem to possess, but it serves more to sate his own curiosity than anything else. He just wants to know a little more about his new human friend, that’s all~

✧ Though he’s not one to deny himself novelties or pleasures, he’s no fool. His role as Malleus’ overseer takes priority. If he notices that Yuu’s presence is becoming literally addictive to him, he’ll start taking precautions as needed, distancing himself from Yuu. He’ll bring it up with Malleus immediately, especially if he suspects the other fae is being affected in a similar manner.

✧ Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly?—Idia is one of the least receptive to Yuu’s ‘divine grace.’ Though he can admit that he doesn’t dislike hanging around Yuu, a potent mix of paranoia and pessimism keeps him shying away. Like Leona, he’s not exactly in great emotional health, so suddenly feeling giddy and relaxed instead of gloomy and anxious throws him for a loop. He also has a mild case of ‘little hater behavior,’ being quick to find fault in anything not immediately pertinent to his interests or useful to him. Yuu qualifies as both in the beginning; even after they get acquainted, Idia’s at a loss for how he’s supposed to react to the effects of their grace. It’d be easier for him if they would just leave him alone, at least then he wouldn’t be stuck not knowing what to do…

✧ He doesn’t actually realize that Yuu’s presence has the same effect on others until he starts noticing irregularities in Ortho’s functions. The lil guy is already designed for optimum processing and performance speeds, but being around Yuu somehow makes things run…even more optimally? Ortho what’s with these energy readouts, how do you have an extra 12% charge? With all you’ve done today, you should be at 46% power maximum…what do you mean being around Yuu makes you happy? That shouldn’t affect your charge levels so greatly??

✧ Idia’s probably the most vigilant about observing how Yuu’s presence affects others once he notices, if only bc he has access to both the school’s security system and any scans Ortho runs. He’d written it off as normie behavior before, but…huh. People are acting weird around Yuu. If it winds up being something bad, it’ll be annoying to get caught off-guard by it. He’ll have to keep monitoring things, just in case…

#twisted wonderland #twst #self aware twst #twst headcanons #rook hunt #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #lilia vanrouge #idia shroud #twisted rambling #also note that my understanding of french is. minimal fgjhfgjh

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marc--chilton · 13 days

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Hi! Im more-mouse-bites on ao3 and I came and followed for the mgv content.

I’m writing an ABO house fic of my own atm! I was going to follow the long-beloved trope of “house hides his second gender and everyone thinks he’s an alpha, but then something happens and he’s exposed” but I realized that I could have a lot more fun with having House as a known omega from the start. I have omegas as slightly more uncommon and definitely frowned upon in high-intensity careers like medicine, because of their perceived frailty. I’m such a slut for the socio-economic implications of an ABO universe, lol.

Which segues into my question— in your AU, what’s the general consensus societally on omegas? Does House have to routinely fight against ignorance and dismissal? And if so, how would Wilson react? Or even just to general patients being terrible to House. Would he step in, or would House stop him because that would undermine his credibility?

Really love your AU! Can’t wait to see more ❤️

(hiii thank you for the kind words on here and ao3 kisskiss) house hiding his status as an omega and going through life as a false alpha is great i won't lie, but the idea of house being ASSUMED to be an alpha simply because of how he carries himself and taking great joy in surprising people by being like (loud incorrect buzzer).... the mischief. it's so yummy

that's rly neat!! i definitely believe that omegas being in places of power/authority are uncommon due to how they are perceived as the lesser secondary sex. an omega NURSE or orderly would be easier accepted than an omega DOCTOR, for instance. and then some patients being like "i don't wanna get treated by no 'meg, i want a different doctor seeing to me" of course.

given to the types of people who end up seeing house for their mystery illness of the week, there are definitely more than a couple of hardheads who try to challenge house's authority either as a patient in the hospital bed, or as family/loved ones of the ill who can't believe a mere omega can cure the patient. house would antagonize them back, of course, but not give up the case either if it's good enough a puzzle.

wilson's reaction to seeing house get discriminated would depend on what the aggressor says/does and wilson's own cycle as well. (this is operating on the default that they're unbonded as well) because as much as i LIVE for protective wilson, he also knows how to throw house's shit right back at him. and house is a jerk, no matter the au, so from the outside looking in he wouldn't bat an eye. if he's brought on as a consult to the case, he'd be a little more involved; professional, but he would defend house's integrity and skill.

closer to rut, though, he would be a bit more..... tense. he catches an alpha kick house's cane out from under him in a fit of aggression and before you know it, he's pinned them to the nearest flat surface and is growling in their face. HUGE no-no as a doctor but also one he can get away with at trial, yknow, "crime of passion" type thing.

as a distinguished (.... sort of. it's greg house) specialist and literal grown man, it gets on house's nerves, yes. and as someone at odds with his secondary sex, he also hates that he even brings out that part of wilson's alpha biology, too. but -- and he wouldn't admit this under threat of death -- it also makes him preen a little inside that wilson's hindbrain (his subconscious, the pure primal instinct with No Thought behind it) deems him as something worth fighting over, protecting, defending when house himself does not.

#asks #lucradiss #your handle makes me chuckle btw it's like ludacris but not! funny! love that #house md #hilson #yeah i'm tagging this i feel like i wrote a thesis paper while my food was cooking #house seeing himself a bad omega years before the infarction too #because he doesn't like to submit and he's not the ideal omega male physically #getting into something serious with stacy (alpha) was the first time he let himself be bonded to someone else #which meant in turn that her later betrayal of his wishes hurt even more..... man #for me a pair can become unbonded over time if they don't reaffirm regularly or can be induced medically #which is painful/unpleasant and probably only relegated to emergency situations #and house probably opted out of it medically so he was naturally being unbonded while also recovering from the surgery. man #no wonder him and wilson would get mistaken for bondmates. house probably imprinted on him without either realizing

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starryevermore · 2 years

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do not chastise the dove (6) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you.

chapter summary: feelings get weird when you’re in isolation.

word count: 3478

warnings?: 18+ MINONRS DNI, a little angsty, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, a little bit of fingering, a little cockwarming, pet name (dove), not proofread

You weren’t sure what was a worse fate—hiding in the safe house after Benjamin tried to have you killed or hiding in a hotel room with 24/7 security and next to no access to the outside world. A part of you, the naïve part perhaps, had thought you might be able to return to the palace after Benjamin’s plot was revealed. Why should he get to stay in your rightful home? His actions barred him from holding the throne ever again, regardless of if you were the true heir to the throne. The law was clear: If any member of the royal family attempted to kill, or succeeded in killing, an heir to the throne, then that member could never sit on the throne. While it was still contested that you were the heir, you were still an heir. Benjamin’s actions had consequences. He needed to pay for them.

Alas, Benjamin remained in the palace. Jessica’s investigation had revealed important information, but Parliament still needed to conduct its own investigation to verify her findings. Removing a king from the throne was a big deal unto itself. Add into the fact that the perceived-heir was not the actual-heir? That everything the country had been preparing for when the powers of the crown were passed down needed to change? Parliament couldn’t mess this up, they couldn’t get this wrong.

So, you held your tongue and waited in the hotel room, wasting your hours away by staring out the large windows that overlooked the capital. In the early days of your imprisonment as you so affectionally called it, you had watched the news. But now, you couldn’t stand hearing people call Charlotte a liar, call Marc a manipulator, call you an innocent victim of people who wanted to use you to gain wealth and power and connections. You were a victim, sure, but you were neither Marc’s nor Charlotte’s victim. Some people just weren’t willing to face that. You supposed some people never would. A consequence of the circumstances that would likely never be remedied.

It, perhaps, wouldn’t be so bad hiding away in the hotel room if you had company. But your fiancés were still in police custody—a precaution, just in case they did have something to do with it all. Layla was being questioned, too, and spent most of her days down at the police station being interrogated. After all, if this all was a lie, she should’ve been in a position to protect you from the manipulation. Or at least, that’s what people were arguing on the news. Jessica and Charlotte, and even Karen had to give their sides of the story. While you weren’t close to them, it nevertheless narrowed down your list of people to speak to even further.

You were at your wit’s end. You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand this isolation. You almost wondered if this was an elaborate scheme created by Benjamin, to drive you to insanity so that, even when it was proven that he had falsified Kieran’s birth certificate and later tried to have you killed, you would be deemed unfit to take the throne. You wouldn’t put it past him. If he was willing to kill you, making you seem legally insane wasn’t so out of the realm of possibility.

The only solace you had was flipping through wedding magazines. You hadn’t spoken about it with your fiancés, you weren’t entirely sure that they still wanted to be engaged to you after everything that’s happened, but…Well, it was nice to look at the pretty dresses. It was nice to imagine what flowers you would have in your bouquet, what decorations would adorn the walls. Would you go with a traditional wedding march or would you choose a classical rendition of a modern song? Would Layla be your maid of honor? You hoped she would. What would you do in lieu of a father-daughter dance? What you bypass that tradition entirely? You didn’t exactly have a father figure in your life. Would it be a stuffy ceremony and reception, or would you finally take a chance and make things personal to you?

You found yourself fiddling with your engagement ring every time you got too far into your thoughts. It was a rare comfort in the hotel room. Nearly everything there was property of the hotel. You only have a small fraction of your wardrobe, your phone, and your computer. And, of course, your ring. Everything else belonged to someone else. It reminded you too much of the palace—that someone else was in control, that someone else was positioning you to be a perfect little doll—even if that wasn’t the intent. But the ring was yours, and the ring was your mother’s.

What would she do, if she saw you? Would she hold you tight, smooth down your hair, and tell you you were the strongest woman she knew? Would she tell you stories about when you were younger and how she wondered what kind of woman you would become, and tell you that she was beyond proud of who you are? What would she think of your fiancés? She’d get along with Steven and Jake, you think. Marc, too, but she’d have to warm up to him. She used to tell you about how, if there was ever anything you should look for in a man, it was for him to be smart, and kind, and passionate. And you supposed you did—all wrapped in three wonderful men.

It was hard, not having her. You had gotten good at pushing down the pain of her not being here anymore. There was always an ache, but it was dull. You kept yourself distracted with your duties, trying to live up to Benjamin's expectations. If you kept yourself busy, you wouldn’t hurt. You thought if you tried to build a good relationship with the only parent you had left, that maybe things would be okay again. Maybe the pain would go away. It was funny, almost, how wrong you were.

Now the weight of it all was starting to crash down on you. You didn’t have a family anymore. You supposed you hadn’t really had one for a long time now, not since your mother died. But you had tried to delude yourself into thinking Benjamin and Kieran cared, that they just had a funny way of showing it. You were alone now. You wondered if you would always be alone.

Because, you wanted to believe that Marc, Jake, and Steven would still want to be with you. You thought about how Marc had kissed you, how they all took care of you in the hospital, how they risked it all so you could out Benjamin as the horrible man he truly was. A person doesn’t do that if they don’t care.

But, at the same time, a fear began to settle deep in your heart. They hadn’t asked for any of this. They probably never wanted to marry you in the first place. They were just as forced into this as you were. After all of this was said and done…If they wanted out, you wouldn’t blame them. Letting them go, though…That might just be too heartbreaking. You really, really, really didn’t want to think about that.

And yet, it was the thing that plagued your mind the most.

“And…this is allowed?” you asked, looking between the two lawyers standing before you. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It was what you had wanted, but…You didn’t think you would get to see them again so soon.

Foggy nodded. “The investigation has determined they’ve had no involvement in your poisoning. Parliament approved them coming to see you.”

“And…and it won’t mess things up when I have to go be questioned?” You couldn’t afford for this to be ruined. Even if you wanted to see them again…You would rather suffer than for there to be room to argue you were being manipulated.

“You don’t have to worry, Your Highness,” Matt said. “We’ve dotted our i’s and crossed our t’s. We wouldn’t do anything if we thought it would ruin the investigation.”

You nodded. “Okay. Are…are they here?”

“I’m here.”

All self-control exited the building when you heard his voice. You ran past Matt and Foggy, straight to him, throwing your arms around his neck, holding him so tight that he nearly stumbled over. He barked out a laugh, his arms snaking around your waist, catching himself before the two of you fell to the floor.

“I missed you, too, dove. I missed you too,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here now. We’re together now.”

“Please don’t leave me again.”

And you meant it. You really meant it. It felt almost pathetic, how you had latched onto this relationship so quickly, how it started out as a way for your father to pin your death on an innocent. Did they think you were this pathetic?

“I won’t ever leave you again.”

And you hoped he meant it.

“Your questioning is at the end of the week,” Matt said. “We’ll call later to set up a meeting to prepare you for it.”

They then left, and you and your fiancés were all alone again. And nothing could have made you feel as ecstatic and melancholic at the same time.

“Can we lay down? I’m on the verge of collapse,” he joked. “I can’t remember the last time I got to lay down in a real bed.”

“Of course,” you said, unwinding yourself from him, taking his hand and leading him toward the bed.

He kicked off his shoes before climbing on the bed, tugging you with him. You laughed as you fell on top of him, letting him wind his arms around you, rolling over so the two of you were on your sides. Jake held your body close to his, an arm wrapped around you, a hand caressing your face, your legs all tangled up with his. He gave you a dopey smile as he looked at you, what you hoped to be pure adoration brimming in his eyes. His voice was husky as he said, “The others are lucky I share you with them. Though, I don’t plan on sharing any time soon. ”

“Oh? They’re lucky?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Perhaps he did truly care, perhaps he did want to stay. But what of Marc and Steven? What if they wanted to go? Would you have to lose all of them? And could you really be sure Jake wanted to stay? Was he just being kind? Was he just acting like this so he wouldn’t hurt you more than you’ve already been hurt? Did he feel like he had no way out?

“Mhm. If I wanted to, I could keep you all to myself, forever and ever.” His lips brushed against yours. You were conflicted—did you want to cut him off, kiss him til you both were breathless? Or did you want to hear him talk, let his voice be a comfort to you? “But you make Steven happy. And you make Marc really happy. Poor guy was giving us wrinkles from all of his brooding. But he smiles a lot around you.”

“That still gives you guys wrinkles,” you giggled, reaching up, rubbing your thumb over the crows feet crinkling around his eyes. You wanted to memorize their face. You wanted to commit every freckle, every wrinkle, every twitch of their lips, every crinkle of their brows, to memory. You wanted to be able to see them every time you closed your eyes. You wanted to be able to remember this. You wanted to remember this moment.

“Mm, but they’re better wrinkles,” Jake said, nuzzling his face into your hand. “Those wrinkles are a reminder of how much we care about you. Those wrinkles are welcomed.”

You bit down on your lip. You never imagined before that someone, anyone, would care about you as much as your fiancés did. Or at least how you imagined they did. You still couldn’t place how they truly felt, if they might have been pretending for your sake. You always imagined that you would be tolerated at best by whoever you married. Benjamin, you supposed, was to blame for that. He, and Kieran, had wrecked your self-confidence, made you feel little and small and completely worthless. But being with them…It made you feel special.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, “please.”

Jake’s mouth twitched up into a smile as he leaned in. His lips molded perfectly to yours. He kissed you like if he stopped, he would no longer breathe. He kissed you like you were giving him life. And you found yourself pressing your body impossibly closer to him, clinging to him like he would disappear if you ever let go. You reached up, your hand gripping his hair, relishing in the moan he let out.

“Fuck, dove, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held onto you.

“I need more,” you whispered against his lips. “Please, I need all of you.”

He pulled away, his eyes wide. For a second, you were worried if you had gone too far. If this was the thing that was going to send him running. But as you looked at his blown out pupils, listening to his labored breath, you hoped you were wrong.

“I don’t have a condom, dove—”

“I don’t care,” you said. “I just want you, please. I want you inside me. I need to feel good.”

Jake moved faster than you could’ve expected. His clothes were removed in a flash, revealing a toned body. If you were honest, you had imagined what he looked like before. You imagined the thick muscles he hid beneath the suits he was forced to wear at formal events, beneath the hoodie and jeans he wore at the safe house. You imagined each ridge and dip, thought of what it would be like to trace his body, to pepper every inch of him in kisses. But nothing could have ever prepared for just how beautiful he looked. You were no stranger to this kind of pleasure, but god, you had never seen anyone who looked quite as angelic as your fiancés.

But when he finally tugged off his boxers? His hardened cock, already leaking with precum, springing free? The sight of him made your fucking mouth water. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out, from touching him. He was so thick, your fingers couldn’t touch when you wrapped your hand around him.

Jake let out a hiss as you stroked him, grabbing your wrist and stopping you. “Shit, dove, you’re gonna make me cum on the spot.”

“Good,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

“No, no, we’re focusing on you, okay? All about you,” he said, pulling off the sundress you wore followed by your bra and panties, leaving you bare beside him.

Part of your heart ached. The irrational part of your brain made you wonder if he didn’t want you to pleasure him because he wasn’t attracted to you, because he didn’t want you like that. That he would do what he could to take your mind off of things, but that he didn’t and wouldn’t derive any pleasure from it. That he was only hard because he wanted to have sex, that he would only cum because of the stimulation. That it had nothing to do with you. That it had everything to do with biological responses to stimuli.

The other part of your heart soared. You’d had sex before, but it was never anything great. You’d been with men who only cared about getting themselves off, where you were only a vessel for that pleasure to be achieved. You always had to pretend you came, always had to finish yourself off later. No one you had ever been with cared about your pleasure, about making sure you had a good time. And you didn’t doubt that Jake would make sure every moment was enjoyable.

His hand dipped down between your legs, swirling over your clit, pressing into your slick cunt, making sure you were completely ready for him. One finger pushed past, then another, slowly curling in and out. Jake leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. “I only care about making you feel good, dove. That’s all that matters.”

“Fuck me, please,” you said.

Jake pulled his hand from between your legs. You let out a whimper at the loss of contact. But you didn’t have much time to whine, as he rolled you onto your back, his body hovering over yours. Still, he was moving to slow for you. You reached between your bodies, taking his cock, guiding him into you.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned, slowly thrusting into you. “You feel so fuckin’ good, dove.”

He kept a slow pace, letting you feel every inch of him as he fucked you. His head dipped down, pressing sloppy kisses up and down the valley of your breasts, nipping at the soft flesh of your breast. You hooked yours legs over his hips, arms wrapping around him, holding him close to you. You didn’t know how long this would last—this moment or him being with you. You wanted to cherish every second while you still could.

A tension started to build, a cord deep in the pit of your belly began to tighten with every thrust. He one particular spot, and you found your nails digging into his skin. You felt his smirk against your skin as he kissed you, making sure to hit that spot again and again and again with near deadly precision. Fuck, it was almost unfair how good this felt.

How long would this last, you wondered? How long would Jake, and Marc, and Steven stick around? Would this be the only time you got to feel like this? Would you get to do this more, get to experience it with Steven and Marc next? Or was this just a one-time thing, something to remember them by? If the investigation had already revealed they had no involvement…What reason did they have to stay? With all the outrage, with all insanity happening, it would be the perfect opportunity to leave. And they certainly had every reason, every right, to do so. But god you wanted to be selfish, wanted to make them stay.

You choked out a sob, a hand flying up to cover your mouth. Jake hesitated, slowing his thrusts, lifting his head. You felt his question of concern on the tip of his tongue. Quickly, you said, your words slightly slurred, “Feels so good. Don’t stop, please.”

“Whatever you want, dove,” he whispered, “it’s yours.”

Then don’t ever leave me, you wanted to say. But that was too unfair to him, and to Marc and Steven. Instead, you said, “I’m so close.”

His thrusts picked up again, hitting that tender spot again and again. Stars began to dot in the corners of your eyes, the cord in your belly tightening and tightening until—it snapped. You cried out as the tidal wave of pleasure consumed you, your eyes squeezing shut, your legs tightening around Jake’s waist, holding him close to you. He came soon after, filling you with his spend, his breaths labored as he came down from his own high.

“Was that good?” he asked, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Perfect. It was perfect,” you said, reaching up, pushing his messy curls out of his face. “Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re so adorable, dove. C’mon, lemme clean you up.”

But you grabbed his arm as he started to get up, started to pull out of you. “Can we…Can we just stay like this please? I wanna enjoy this a lil while longer.”

He nodded, but adjusted the two of you so you were lying on your sides, your limbs entangled together, his cock still buried inside you. He still wore a dopey smile as he looked at you, caressing your face in one of his large hands. “I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a minute, okay, dove?” he said.

You nodded, watching as Jake’s eyes fluttered shut, as he nestled into the pillows. You reached down, grabbing at the blanket, pulling it up and over your bodies. He snuggled into it, into you, keeping his arm wound around you, not letting you go.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, sure that he couldn’t hear you as a quiet snore escaped him.. “Of all the heartache I’ve ever had…That would be the worst, I think.”

#do not chastise the dove: a royal moon knight au #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x female reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female reader #starrywrites #starryevermore

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acourtofthought · 11 months

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🔮🔮🔮 SEER? 🔮🔮🔮

In many world mythologies, some figures can provide insight into events and even predict future events. Prophets, diviners, oracles, and seers are just some of the names given to these powerful people. The term ''seer'' comes from the word ''see,'' meaning to perceive something, usually with the eyes.

Elain is a Seer (obviously) but there's a lot of unanswered questions surrounding things she's done that being a Seer doesn't quite answer.

She found flowers—somewhere. She laid them at his head, on his chest.

It's not impossible to think they were simply growing on their own somewhere nearby but the fact that Feyre draws attention to, as if she hadn't seen any flowers and wasn't sure where they came from stands out to me.

… “She loves her garden. Always loved growing things.

Could she have somehow magicked the flowers into existence?

Elain rushed to Cassian, but the warrior was panting—smiling grimly and panting— / Had she (Feyre's referring to Nesta) done some healing, somehow, in those moments after she’d severed the king’s head? Or had it been Cassian’s immortal blood and Azriel’s battlefield patching that had already healed him enough to manage to stand, even with the wing and leg? I didn’t ask my sister, and she supplied no answer as she took the water bucket dangling from Elain’s still-bloody hands,

How was Cassian healed? We know Nesta hadn't done it as Feyre initially wonders. And anytime Az or Cassian have healed themselves, she states it as fact rather than making it a mystery. Elain was the one who immediately rushed to Cassian after stabbing the King which is interesting when you consider that she previously had a vision about Cassian's death.

“Will—will many of these soldiers die?”

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her.

She had been always so full of light.

She glowed with good health.

- Healers in the TOD series are synonymous with light and we know that Yrene uses memories of "light and goodness" to help defeat Valg infections: "And I saw what it was doing to you, and all I could think to stop it, to blast it away …” She pursed her lips, as if they might start trembling again. “A bit of goodness,” he finished for her. “A memory of light and goodness.” He didn’t have the words to convey his gratitude for it, for what it must have been like to offer up that memory of her mother against the demon that had destroyed her. Yrene seemed to read his thoughts, and said, “I am glad it was a memory of her that beat the darkness back a little further.”

Which is interesting when the last page of SF has the following: "A permanent marker of the beauty and GOOD he’d tried to bring into the world.", in reference to Elain's rose carving that Nesta places on her father's gravestone. The carving belonged to Elain, roses are somewhat symbolic of Elain and SJM chose to have it go on a bit of a journey in SF, first being placed near a figure of a goddess then at her father's resting place instead of having Nesta give it back to her. And Elain, based on canon, tends to remember things in her life with optimism (or with clarity) though it would have been very easy to focus on the negative:

She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger.

“You tell yourself there’s nothing that could have been done because it’s unbearable to think that you could have saved him, if you’d only deigned to show up a few minutes earlier.” “You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people. “No one but the King of Hybern is to blame for that.”

I've seen people comment on how Elain didn't seem to mourn for her father all that much which they found odd because she was supposed to love him the most but I think what's more likely is that she's choosing to remember the positive memories she had with him rather than dwelling on the sadness of his death.

Silba, the Goddess of Healing and Gentle Deaths also is symbolized by an owl 🦉

Elain perched silently

Elain blinked and blinked,

Elain cocked her head,

Elain shifted her face toward him. Another blink.

Blinking every now and then.

Very bird like mannerisms and this thought continues below.....

Rhys’s body strained with the effort of not going after them as they soared for a copse of trees far behind the battlefield. / I had Rhys move Elain to the farthest reaches of our camp. / Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

Seriously, how did Elain get to the clearing where the King, Nesta and Cassian were? No one took her, there's zero chance anyone would have let her face him alone.

And how did she hear that they were in trouble in the first place? A vision is one thing but usually they're not so detailed but she knew the exact moment to arrive.

“I can hear your heartbeat—if I listen carefully. I can hear her heartbeat, too.”

“I can hear the sea. Even at night. Even in my dreams. The crashing sea—and the screams of a bird made of fire.”. It was an effort not to glance to Nesta. Even the town house was too far to hear anything from the nearby coast.

“Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil? Or the stretching of roots?

“I can hear your heart beating through the stone.”

“I can hear her—crying.”

Seers have visions but Elain hearing things seems something different to me.

Mercifully, Elain quietly approached me at breakfast

Elain was again at my side. I hadn’t heard her steps.

Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.

Not only did Elain somehow make it to Nesta and Cassian in time all on her own, not only can she hear things (not just see) that others are unable to because of distance but she can also move with quiet and stealth. To me, the answer being, "yes! She must be training to be a spy!" seems too obvious since Nesta thought the exact same thing and that means there's then no mystery waiting to be revealed. It also doesn't account for the fact that Az tells us he's been avoiding Elain and Elain had been moving quietly since the novella, before she had ever given Az her present and they chatted that first Solstice.

She can hear things from a great distance beyond that which others can (which is not the same as Az's shadows whispering to him). She can move with stealth and quiet in a way that surprises people, she was able to travel a great distance in a short period of time in order to get to Nessian and she asked Amren about being able to choose a specific body.

I've seen a lot of theories based around these things as standalone scenarios.

The hearing things must be related to her being a Seer.

Her moving quietly must be because she's training to be a spy.

Her question to Amren must be because she wants to be human again.

The secret she's keeping must be that she's trying to work with Koschei.

She got to Nessian because she can winnow.

But put them together and you've got enhanced hearing, stealth movements, speed, and questions about choosing forms (as well as keeping these things a secret) and that all seems to make a more intriguing picture to me than claiming Elain is a spy who might betray her family and friends.

What I also love about these possibilities are they have nothing to do with Elain and any love interest. They are about Elain as an individual and what she might be capable of without any influence from anyone else.

#elain archeron #pro elain archeron #acotar theory #acotar elain

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queen-scribbles · 5 days

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#YEEEESSSSSSS WHAT AN AMAZING GIFT 🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖#god I don't even know where to start it's all so good#tragen and marii understanding each other so well they can communicate without words or using the force YES#marii having a voice-kink and competence-kink and struggling to keep her mind out of the gutter while tragen gently threatens people YES YE#when brin actually thought he'd trapped them! 😂 alexa play 'now you fucked up' from whitest kids you know#the action! the fighting and the chase sequence! their banter! 😘🥰 YES YES YES YES#the contrast of tragen being so calm and in control as he casually wins 4v1 fights and sprints down hallways without even getting winded#vs aramarii 'force-assisted recklessness' wrinn ripping out wires and stabbing consoles and barreling around corners#him preferring to travel in her ship because his is too gloomy and scares people 😭 darling boy you would've made such a good jedi#(give her a hydrospanner and a week and she can fix it up. she's already planning a shopping trip to bed bantha and beyond with vette)#does he KNOW how sexy his voice is? that he could melt her into a puddle reading space-ikea instruction manuals?#or is he genuinely unaware of the power he wields? thank the stars he's not the type to use it for evil#okay I better stop before I write an entire tag novel 💖💖💖 I'm gonna go eat some cake and read this like. 30 more times

@haledamage I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT. :D I did some poking around in Marii's tag for details and personality stuff but didn't have time to read everything, so I'm happy to have done her justice. 💖 (cut for length)

I love couples who know each other so well it's like they read minds or share thoughts, it's so good. They would clean up at one of those game shows where you have to writ down your partner's answer to a bunch of questions. xD I cannot blame Marii for any of those kinks bc they're all very fair ones to have wrt Tragen. Competence is extremely sexy. 😂 (I might have a bit of a Thing for the M!Warrior's voice. Just a little one. That may have bled through. I mentioned it was self-indulgent, right?)

And I've long headcanoned for Tragen's own universe--and now this one apparently-- that they don't make it common knowledge he has less of a Force connection than your average Jedi/Sith. Might be perceived as weakness yada yada. And people he fights are too busy trying to survive to notice he's like 95% martial skill/5% Force use. This is just one more benefit; someone like Brin goes "How do you catch a Sith? Get him away from his lightsaber and cut the Force and he's nothing" aaaannnnnnddd they're Very Very Wrong. >:3 I love the contrast between Tragen and Marii's personalities, and their complementary roles in escaping(I had to throw in combat. It's my Brand now) were so fun to work out. The thing about Tragen's ship is another long standing headcanon, and Vette will be thrilled to help Marii redecorate. She's already complained about it being gloomy multiple times before the end of the class story. xD (Now I want to write Marii "kidnapping" Vette for a girls' day which just means giving the Celestial Dawn a makeover and Vette's practically dancing with excitement the whole way through Bed Bantha and Beyond(I'm laughing at that again jsyk) bc she's wanted to do this for a DECADE, why didn't you start dating him sooner?!?!? shush with your logic about Emperor's Wrath and Jedi Battlemaster etc

Tragen is... aware some people(Marii included) find his voice attractive. He is NOT aware of just HOW Attractive. We are very lucky he's at least partially ignorant and not the type to use it for evil even if he fully understood bc holy HELL could he conquer galaxies. That voice? His charisma and diplomatic skills? the Arms? YEAH.

#queen rambles #welp you may have stopped yourself from makign a novel but I FINISHED THE JOB XD #(sidenote: I put the @ symbol and IMMEDIATELY it gave me you #i think tumblr is trying to say something)#i am haunted every day by the thought of tragen as a jedi #he would have made a damn good one #but he would have struggled a lot with the attachments part #bc he's VERY relationship oriented #his friendships with vette and jaesa(and later romance with jaesa) and relationship with his family are all SUPER important to him #he would definitely wind up more jolee bindo/grey jedi in the end but it would be WAY less dangerous/deceit based survival than him as sith #and it's very much a case for him of not changing things even though it was AWFUL at points bc of the people it brought into his life #and the way it shaped their relationships #the skills it gave him #that sort of thing #and marii is such a fun match for him bc she's not as quiet as jaesa so there's more banter & his playful side comes out more and i LOVE IT #tragen xoric #marii/tragen

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darkvioletwonderland · 6 months

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𝙎𝙪𝙗𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚

(Kayn x Ezreal x Yone)

-> Chapter 1 - Dry Mouth

It was easy to pour your thoughts into a cup and drink it up.

No one had to know. No one needed to know what Kayn had thought on a day to day basis. But the voice inside his head became a permanent reminder of it. Laughing at how pitiful he was for thinking such things of the people he chose to be around.

HEARTSTEEL. A band composed of wildcards like him, sounded too good to miss out. Specially after being a pariah of the music scene for a long time. That thrill of being on a stage always made Kayn experience a different form of power. Influence to the people that heard him and the crew. It was exciting to the man with pink hair.

But it wasn't a long time after that he started to have these thoughts. Once he got to know the people around him. The thought alone was enough to feel his mouth dry, and the solution needed to be bitter to drown it out.

"Uh. Earth to Kayn? Hello?" Kayn blinked as he perceived the movement of a hand. Looking at Ezreal, wearing his signature yellow sunglasses. Looking at Kayn with a raised brow. "You alright? You've been spacing out for a bit." Kayn sighed, fixing his sitting position in the car. Stretching a little as he did so. "What? Can't a man think for himself a bit after a big show?" he grinned, despite not putting much effort behind it like he usually does. "Ugh. If you're gonna be like that then forgive me for asking" Ezreal rolled his eyes with a smile. Elbowing Kayn a little. The pink haired one did not let that slide. Poking the green one on the side, a squeak escaping him.

"Hey. No fighting in the car" On the drivers seat sat Yone, looking through the mirror at the two of them. Driving the van their group had been using to go back to their shared apartment. Aphelios glanced back at the duo, more interested in seeing what was going on for the drama of it than actual concern. Holding his phone on hand, maybe ready to record or change the song through aux cord.

"We're not fighting" Kayn said with a smile, still making Ezreal chuckle a little by tickling him. Making the other push on the others shoulders. "Hahahah! Stop! stop! I'm gonna fucking pee bro please!"

A row behind the two sat Sett and K'sante. The cat beanie wearing one munching on a protein bar and chuckling at the duo in front. Meanwhile, K'sante seemed to be listening to some music and bopping his head to the tune of what he listened to.

"Kayn please." The tired producer sighed, glancing back at the traffic jam in front of them. "This isn't moving anytime soon, I don't want to clean up the car over you two." Kayn stopped his tickling onslaught, leaving Ezreal to shrivel up into the other corner of their row. Wheezing and regaining his breath "And to think I just asked to know if he's alright!"

"I mean, he looks alright to me" Sett leaned over, looking at Kayn. "Hungry?" "Nah. Just can't wait to get home and fucking drink that new bottle I got." Kayn raised his legs to rest them on the bit of space between Ezreal and him on the seat. Having to deal with the green one pouting at him and trying to move his legs unsuccessfully. Sett laughed. "Sounds exactly like you Kayn, yeah he's alright."

"If you plan on drinking, at least consider having something to stomach it." Yone glanced back a little to give the man an unmotivated glare.

The voice within laughed, making Kayn glance away. "Whatever." "Ooh! Maybe we can order some food? We did have a great show today!" Ezreal immediately cheered up, getting within sight for Yone to see. "That's a great idea! OH OH! THAT SPECIAL RESTAURANT YOU ORDER FROM YONE!" Sett looked like a big pup when the word treat is mentioned. "Mmm? Y'all planning a dinner?" K'sante paused his music to tune into the conversation. "YEAH A DINNER!" Ezreal clasped his hands together. "Can we do that? pretty please?"

Yone gently huffed. "Well, it was a good show today..." Glancing at Aphelios, he was glad to see the mute man quickly open the search engine. "Check to see if the restaurant is open... and please hand the phone to Ezreal so he can order. I don't want a ticket for using the phone."

As the others talked, Kayn crossed his arms and rested up against the window once more. Listening to the music from the speakers and the sound of car horns blaring out someplace in the distance.

Yet despite all the noise, he still heard the laugh. Like an echo in a closed chamber.

'If only they knew why you wanted to drink.'

Kayn mildly frowned. "Shut up..." He mumbled under his breath. Rhaast continued to cackle at the poor man. Silently going unnoticed by the group around him.

Only making him wish the traffic jam could hurry up. The current solution to his dilemma sat at the apartment, awaiting to be open.

More chapters are available on AO3 ⬇️

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Stockbroker's Clerk pt 1

I don't know if the title of this one just never stuck in my mind, or if I have never read it. It's not the most inspiring title ACD has ever written, so maybe I just forgot about it.

...which saw Holmes and I leave the comforts of London to visit the city of Birmingham...

Oh hey! It's Brum. That's kind of cool. If I did read this as a kid it probably wouldn't have meant much because I'd been to London but I hadn't been to Birmingham. However, now having spent a not insignificant portion of my life living not too far from Birmingham and a year working there (for no money, ask me my opinions on unpaid internships, I dare you), this definitely means more to me. I'm not super familiar with Birmingham, but I am familiar-ish.

Shortly after my marriage I had bought a connection in the Paddington district. Old Mr. Farquhar, from whom I purchased it, had at one time an excellent general practice; but his age, and an affliction of the nature of St. Vitus's dance from which he suffered, had very much thinned it.

Not to try to deskchair diagnose or anything, but does Old Mr Farquhar have Parkinsons? Is that what he's saying? I guess there are probably other illnesses that manifest as involuntary motion, but that was where my brain went.

The public not unnaturally goes on the principle that he who would heal others must himself be whole, and looks askance at the curative powers of the man whose own case is beyond the reach of his drugs.

Yeah, this sucks. I mean, surely if your doctor's still alive they must be doing something right. Also, this reminds me of that old brainteaser about the two barbers in town. Do you go to the one with the good haircut or the one with the bad haircut. Obviously the one with the bad haircut because he doesn't cut his own hair. Doesn't really work for doctors, I suppose, but that was my immediate thought.

I heard a ring at the bell, followed by the high, somewhat strident tones of my old companion's voice.

Oh wow. Holmes came to Watson. On his own two feet. He didn't just send a letter. Watson didn't show up on the doorstep of 221B at a loose end because his wife was visiting her 'mother'. Holmes actually walked right into Watson's house.

And inquires after their health. He is doing all the socially correct things. He is getting an excellent score in being a house guest.

“To-day, for example?” “Yes, to-day, if you like.” “And as far off as Birmingham?”

I actually went and looked at a Bradshaw's guide to look this up, because I was interested in knowing how quick a train to Birmingham was in the 1890s. About 3 and a half hours, apparently. These days the fastest train from London Euston to Birmingham New Street is about an hour and a quarter. If HS2 (ugh) ever gets finished, they say it will take 49 minutes. But yeah, 3 and a half hours is a bit of a trek for a spontaneous trip (in the UK, I know in the US you think that's a perfectly normal amount of time to travel to get breakfast, but these stories are set in the UK so I'm keeping my UK expectations glasses on.)

“I perceive that you have been unwell lately. Summer colds are always a little trying.”

Holmes hasn't seen his bff in a little while and needs to show off. Perfectly fair.

“I am afraid that I rather give myself away when I explain,” said he. “Results without causes are much more impressive. You are ready to come to Birmingham, then?”

Hence why he hasn't explained why he's going to Birmingham. I love that Holmes is always eager to show off his working and teach Watson, but then we often get this little 'oh, I shouldn't have explained, it's so much more impressive if it's a mystery' moment afterwards.

“Ah! Then you got hold of the best of the two.” “I think I did. But how do you know?” “By the steps, my boy. Yours are worn three inches deeper than his."

I was confused by this because I was thinking 'surely the best one is the one with the best doctor, so that's more on Watson than the building.' Then I realised that Holmes is talking from Watson's perspective, so the best one is the one that came with the most patients. So yeah. Pre-NHS medicine was wild. 'Oh a new doctor just bought my practice, so you're his patient now. Also he believes in Miasma theory. Good lu-u-uck. Toodles!'

The man whom I found myself facing was a well built, fresh-complexioned young fellow, with a frank, honest face and a slight, crisp, yellow mustache. He wore a very shiny top hat and a neat suit of sober black, which made him look what he was—a smart young City man, of the class who have been labeled cockneys, but who give us our crack volunteer regiments, and who turn out more fine athletes and sportsmen than any body of men in these islands.

A yellow moustache and a shiny top hat. That's very distinctive.

Getting a bit condescending and classist again at the end there, Watson.

a half-comical distress

Dude. 'Guy looks so sad I almost laughed' is such a thing to say. Is this supposed to indicate that some of his distress is exaggerated, or is Watson just laughing at him for showing emotions? I guess it's not very stiff-upper-lip of him, what what.

"It is a case, Watson, which may prove to have something in it, or may prove to have nothing, but which, at least, presents those unusual and outré features which are as dear to you as they are to me."

Holmes is really there saying right in front of this guy that his case is so weird he just had to tell his friend. This is so unprofessional, I'm laughing.

Imagine someone coming to you with a problem that's really upsetting them, and as soon as you hear it you're like, 'we have to get my bff' and then after you've dragged your friend in as well you say ''OK, so bestie, this might be pointless, but it might be super weird, and I know you love the weird ones. Listen to this."

Oh god... Watson is like one of those nurses who posts weird cases on tiktok. He really is. Oh no. Now I've thought that I can't unthink it. No!

“The worst of the story is,” said he, “that I show myself up as such a confounded fool. Of course it may work out all right, and I don't see that I could have done otherwise; but if I have lost my crib and get nothing in exchange I shall feel what a soft Johnnie I have been."

OK, so when ACD said cockney he meant 'hold my beer, I'm doing slang.' Right, gotcha. This is going to be a thing.

Also, I love this man already. This is such a me thought process. I hope he doesn't turn out to be a dick. I will feel so betrayed.

I'm not going to quote the entire next passage, my tl;dr summary of it is:

Mr Pycroft used to work for a company that had a financial crisis and had to let him go. He got a good reference, but because so many people were let go, they were all trying to get the same jobs. He's running out of money and applying to every job he can find, but no luck. He saw an ad for a job at literally The Best Company, but they only accepted applications by post, and he got the job. And he's getting a 33% rise on his last job.-

I'm already getting bad vibes about this. 'only apply by post'?? No in person interview? Job seems too good to be true? Getting paid more than in his previous job when clearly there's so much competition for jobs at the moment that they wouldn't need to do that to attract applicants?

"...up came my landlady with a card which had “Arthur Pinner, Financial Agent,” printed upon it."

If he has it on a card then it must be true.

“‘Well,’ said he, ‘the fact is that I have heard some really extraordinary stories about your financial ability. You remember Parker, who used to be Coxon's manager? He can never say enough about it.’"

Look, my company gives me security training like... constantly. I have seen so many videos about phishing and spear phishing and smishing and all other ishings that some of it was bound to stick and this. CLASSIC fraud technique. Name drop someone official that the mark will know? Classic. Establishes a false connection and a false sense of authenticity. Oh well, if he knows Parker he must be alright.

Also, appealing to Mr Pycroft's ego... this is absolutely and totally not a scam. Can't you see how he's got 'Not a Scam' written on his forehead?

“‘Now that shows real application!’ he cried. ‘That is the way to prosper! You won't mind my testing you, will you? Let me see. How are Ayrshires?’ “‘A hundred and six and a quarter to a hundred and five and seven-eighths.’ “‘And New Zealand consolidated?’“

Yeah, he doesn't know what any of those things are. He's not checking anything. He's just asking you questions to seem real and like he knows stuff. He doesn't know anything.

"'My boy, my boy, you are very much too good to be a clerk at Mawson's!’"

Oh boy... is there a scam within a scam happening here? Like, I was already suspicious about the job he got at Mawson's, and now there's another layer to it? What convoluted webs are being woven here.

“‘Ha, ha! I think I would risk a little sporting flutter that you don't go there at all.’"

Ah, well that explains the answer to 'what's going to happen when he turns up to a job that doesn't exist.'

“‘No, sir. By that day you will be the business manager of the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited, with a hundred and thirty-four branches in the towns and villages of France, not counting one in Brussels and one in San Remo.’ “This took my breath away. ‘I never heard of it,’ said I."

“‘I must be frank with you,’ said I. ‘Mawson only gives me two hundred, but Mawson is safe. Now, really, I know so little about your company that—’ “‘Ah, smart, smart!’ he cried, in a kind of ecstasy of delight. ‘You are the very man for us. You are not to be talked over, and quite right, too. Now, here's a note for a hundred pounds, and if you think that we can do business you may just slip it into your pocket as an advance upon your salary.’

Aaaaaaand there's the convincer.

Oh boy. Mr Pycroft was being smart about the thing and then they come in with the £100 note and he's lost.

“We picked him out of the gutter, and he won't leave us so easily.” Those were his very words.’ “‘The impudent scoundrel!’ I cried. ‘I've never so much as seen him in my life."

Yes, that does seem weird, doesn't it. Why would a person you have never met who offered you a good job be so insulting about you? Hmm.

“It was a quarter of an hour before my time, but I thought that would make no difference. 126b was a passage between two large shops, which led to a winding stone stair, from which there were many flats, let as offices to companies or professional men. The names of the occupants were painted at the bottom on the wall, but there was no such name as the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited."

I just have this image of Leverage in my head of Sophie talking through the comms to Nate:

"We have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

"He's early."

"What do you mean he's early? He's not supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes, the sign's not up! Hardison isn't in position!"

"Well, I suppose when you convinced him this job was important you convinced him a bit too well, Nate. I told you 500 a year was too much."

"He wouldn't have quit Mawson's for less."

"Well now he's fifteen minutes early and he's looking at the companies in the building and We're. Not. On. There."

"Stall him!"

"I'll do what I can, but even I can't convince a man he's seen a sign that doesn't exist."

"Yes you can."

"Well yes, but I shouldn't have to. And that was an entirely different situation, Nate. You know that... You've got five minutes."

"Give me ten."

“‘This is a directory of Paris,’ said he, ‘with the trades after the names of the people. I want you to take it home with you, and to mark off all the hardware sellers, with their addresses. It would be of the greatest use to me to have them.’"

Well, at least it's not copying out the encyclopaedia Britannica this time? And this time the dumb task at least seems partially relevant.

But unlike Mr Jabez Wilson, whose shop was next to a bank, Mr Pycroft here doesn't own property, so why would anyone need to get him out of the house? Especially all the way to Birmingham? Obviously there's got to be a lot of money involved as they gave him £100 as a convincer. (About £10,300 in today's money). That's a hell of a lot to toss away on a whim. There has to be a massive payout.

"'Don't overwork yourself. A couple of hours at Day's Music Hall in the evening would do you no harm after your labors.’ He laughed as he spoke, and I saw with a thrill that his second tooth upon the left-hand side had been very badly stuffed with gold.” Sherlock Holmes rubbed his hands with delight, and I stared with astonishment at our client.

I've got to assume that this means Holmes recognises the tooth (It's a very distinctive tooth) and that's why he's so excited about dentistry.

Also, getting the impression that this work is not very urgent.

“You may well look surprised, Dr. Watson; but it is this way,” said he: “When I was speaking to the other chap in London, at the time that he laughed at my not going to Mawson's, I happened to notice that his tooth was stuffed in this very identical fashion. [...] I could not doubt that it was the same man."

Oooh, yeah. That makes sense. It also implies we're working with a single antagonist rather than a crew. Unless all the other members of the crew are either easily recognisable criminals or just terrible at acting. But it being the same guy totally makes sense.

"Why had he sent me from London to Birmingham? Why had he got there before me? And why had he written a letter from himself to himself?"

I mean... I honestly don't have a clue about this one. Clearly there must be money involved, or else giving away £100 would be ridiculous. All that Mr Pycroft has done so far is go to Birmingham and read through lists of French retailers. It's got him away from London.

UNLESS... the job offer from Mawson's was real? I mean, it had red flags all over it. But if they're planning to do some sort of stockmarket crime with the Best Stockbroker in London then convincing him not to go to work and then sending an imposter in would work. And there is at least one other person involved, but they were needed to pretend to be him. That seems to be the only logical explanation at the moment. So he really did get a job at the best place in town without an interview?

Sending him all the way to Birmingham seems a little excessive, but I guess he'd know all the other places in town and Birmingham is the next biggest city in the country. Finance is pretty centralised in the UK, and I can't imagine that was different in the Victorian era.

Mawson's needs a better hiring policy, though, if that's the case. First they don't even know if the person who turns up is the person they hired. Second, someone managed to get information about a new hire from them before that new hire even had their first day.

If that's not the case, and the Mawson's job was also fraudulent as I initially believed, then I have no clue what's going on.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Stockbroker's Clerk #long post

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diasomnia-dreams · 2 years

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An Unusual Prince| Malleus Draconia character study

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WITH each step he took, the Dark Fae prince took a stream of darkness with him. Creating a deep shadow which allowed whatever followed behind him become swallowed by the umbra in his path. The green streams of his magical signature leaked from his slender and pale fingertips as he wriggled them. More magic seeped through his hands which commanded the vines and thorns around him to kindly unblock his path to his special spot in the wildflower clearing in the Valley of Thorns’ forest.

There he would sink his toes into a babbling brook, listening to the water beneath him speak in words only he could understand. That was how he spent his holidays and breaks from his college, Night Raven.

And while Prince Malleus did enjoy the temporary command over the plants, he could not fully control them at his will. Contrary to popular belief to all who claim to know him, Malleus Draconia did not even understand his own magic at times…let alone did he understand how fellow people Fae perceived him. Of course he was very powerful. One of the strongest magic users of his day—he still had a little bit of trouble keeping the branches that would get caught in his ebony horns at bay. His highness wished he could at least do that much.

Another thing Prince Malleus, for all his long life could not understand; why did people fear him? Was it because of his appearance? The prince did not think it was fair for others to judge him based merely on his horns. He liked to believe he was kind and timid. Curious to say the least. Of course like he heard once from Grandmother:

‘It’s better to be feared than loved.’

Being feared and revered by all who even have the pleasure of being near his dark and princely gaze was not all it was cracked up to be. It was ironic however! Because there were times when Malleus would set his own self up for this kind of reputation. He would shut away in his chambers for days, weeks even! (if Lilia allowed it), and he would busy himself to practicing his magic while others wonder where could the Dark Fae prince be?

Pursing his onyx-black painted lips, Mall’s memory traced all the way back to when Silver assumed that because he was taking a nap in his chambers, that he did not want to be invited to go bird watching with Silver and Sebek. Now that’s one way to ruffle a dragon’s scales…

Why assume he didn’t want to be invited all because he wanted to rest a little early in the day?

Well the answer is simple. Malleus thought to himself as he crumpled a few thorns hanging in his wake while on his nature walk. They fear me all the same.

A few green colored shimmering rocks caught the prince’s emerald green eyes as he scanned the dark and thorny woods of the Valley. It was getting rather late which was his favorite time of day. Isolated from others who would turn tail in run (mostly if they’re Beastman), but he was far too entranced with the red rocks below his boots to mind anyone being around. Reaching down, he grabbed each of the rocks and tucked them into the pockets of his black robes. Giving the pocket a light pat to ensure they’re inside snug, he continued his trek down to his secret wildflower clearing. Once he reached the hedge of bushes that separated him from said clearing , he stopped in front of a large wishing well and began to admire the architecture of it all. So well made—the craftsmanship tugged at Mall’s lips making them turn upward into a very unnoticeable smile.

Malleus stood right next to the beautiful well that lay in the shadow of the mysterious castle with many spires and small windows which he considers home. The castle’s roofs were dark grey and with a small dark lavender. Now, this easily contrasts to the surrounding lands where lush green grass seems to not be able to stop growin.g and heavily surrounded by thorns here and there. There also sometimes appeared to be gaggles of forest creatures frolicking about, making the scene more aesthetically pleasing than if it had been a dream. The well was hard to look over, the other side of it was covered by vines and thorns excepting the center where water flowed into.

Malleus looked very much out of place with his dark robes and horns which sat on top of his raven colored hair. There was something so tranquil about Mall’s resting face as it was handsomely stoic from the animals surrounding him. It was a normal sight for the prince. He never left the castle and he never left the garden. This was as far as his family would allow him to go. The other Fae-people of Moors often wondered what their prince looked like, never even meeting him before. They would always speak amongst themselves in the town area and gossip and lie to each other about whether or not they’ve even got a gander of their monarch or not. Odd as it was, Malleus was one of the only horned Fae in the Moors area in Valley of Thorns. (Aside from his grandmother of course). So the citizens were not so used to seeing someone with them, and while magic was not in the least bit rare since everyone in the Moors area was magically gifted in some way or form, everyone knew they could fly but not like Mall. He could soar over the clouds and into the heavens and he could glide right back down with his wings—like a dragon.

It’s not like Malleus did not want to be seen! Sebek once caught him staring outside one of his bedroom windows in an idle position—and he was convinced that his prince was contemplating taking his life! Sebek couldn’t have been more wrong.

He was only imagining what it would like to have a decent conversation with someone other than his grandmother, Lilia, Silver or the castle staff.

Dropping one of his newly found shimmering rocks into the wishing well, his mind raced to imagine his dreams. He had magic, so he had no trouble materializing whatever he desired. However what he did want was a fleshy desire…a person to talk to. Whether they were human, Fae, beastman, or even a young child.

So the prince gave the glimmering stone a single kiss, touching it against his full black painted lips, he planted the kiss gently and dropped it into the well watching the water swallow it whole. Dissolving the green hue of the rock into nothing.

Once upon a dream, he imagined someone to speak to, pour his heart out to and even walk with. And upon reaching the babbling brook of his wildflower clearing, avoiding the thorns on the grass which did not bother him in the least, he removed his robe and revealed a longer sleeved tunic which was…unironic black.

Malleus used this time to get a little bit of practice on his hobbies. The prince was quite handy with stringed instruments so he knew what better way to practice and not have Sebek in his ear than to work on his skills near the brooks.

With the wave of his fingers, he materialized his violin which Sebek loves so much. It does encourage Malleus to play even better! However, he appreciates Sebek’s praises and cheers, they keep him going.

Placing the chin-rest side of the violin under his chin, he closed his eyes and dragged the bow across the strings and began to play a sweet melody. It was solemn and euphonious. The tune attracted some of the woodland animals of Moors, from the tiniest chipmunk to the wise owl. Prince Malleus opened one of his green eyes, which was currently slitted like a dragon’s. He mustered a small grin at his little audience. The attention was unexpected and he felt a little warm twinge in the cold of his heart.

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trashcatsnark · 7 months

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Just rambling because I really wanna be feral about my bg3 tav and dont have a place to really do so lmao but my little rotted brain wanted to play with the whole- tadpole fucks with previous conditions/characters shit. Ala making Astarion able to walk in sunlight and and seemingly making Gale's orb hungrier/less stable (judging off the first artefact helping him as usual but then the second one doesnt)

And I don't do fantasy often but since arcana Ive always wanted to play with a character with a enchantment/spell on them that makes people forget them shortly after meeting them. Unable to form lasting connections and living a life thats almost entirely in isolation (i love lonely transient bitches)

So, my tav, Petra (half wood elf, rogue/ranger) ran away from a shitass abusive life with her now dead partner who casted the enchantment on them both, so only they could remember one another. Being each other's entire world. Shit happens, her lover dies, but the enchantment is binded to their instrument (lover was a bard)

Which is all build up to say, she had and only wanted a cozy insignificant existence, because significance just means giving people the power to hurt her/being known means vulnerability and yet now thanks to the tadpole, she is being perceived and thats horrifying enough- i also really love the extent that Petra contradicts with many of the companions in terms of the idea of ambition and desire.

For so many of the companions (except Karlach really) insignificance is their like nightmare. Gale has both an innate hunger f for power because he derives his sense of self-worth from being a powerful, significant, and impressive wizard. Gale of Waterdeep, chosen of Mystra, deep down he does want a more simple life of relaxing in his tower and idly reading, and cooking for someone he loves but he can't ever seem to fully shake this feeling that when he sees power or opportunity he must grasp it because without talent, power, significance, magic, utility- he thinks he has no worth at all. Astarion craves power, once you start to enter act 2, he starts to talk about how he thinks the player has ambition and that maybe heyyy you can use that ambition for me? Because to him ambition and power, his own or using someone elses is how he'll find a way to permanently escape his abuse. He says he's not content to sculk in the shadows, what good is freedom if he doesn't have the power to make sure he'll never lose it. Wyll, the blade of frontiers, wanting desperately to help everyone- be a hero, make the sword coast proud in a way he never could make his father. He wants to matter, he wants to be important, he is forever burdened by the weight of his mistakes- the pact that binds him, never able to feel free of it and just wants the world to look at him and see something good.

Lae'zel fears insignificance, this is stated plain as day in the scene where she threatens the player, if you choose to probe her thoughts. She's doesn't care if she dies, if her skull splits, and tentacles writhe through her flesh- she's terrified it will happen before her queen ever knows her name, that she'll never be more than a failed soldier, that she'll never wield the silver sword or ride a red dragon. That she'll die before she feels she ever mattered.

Shadowheart wants to be a dark justiciar, she wants to be of value to her god, she wants to matter- similarly to Lae'zel, ironic given their hostility, but it is the same ultimate goal. She doesn't want to be no one, she doesn't just want to be another follower who's struck with pain, mind wiped tirelessly, and nothing to show for it- she wants her pain to have purpose, meaning, even if it's just serving the god causing it. Karlach is already a bit of an oddity in terms of, she never really seems to be scrounging for power and signficance and in fact- her power, her strength, her ability is what led to Zariel choosing her as her attack dog. So, while she's a bit more similar in not having a heavy desire for power, ambition, and a goal beyond- not wanting to be hurt, the desire for freedom and life on her terms. They still differ so greatly in terms of- Karlach lost out on getting to be a part of life for so long, she misses people, connection, and she doesn't want to avoid life because it hurt her, she wants to take back the parts stolen from her- she wants to live and be apart of the world finally again on her terms. Even if it kills her.

And my brain just kind of buzzing and feral for this idea of how she somehow finds herself thrusted into not only being perceived, being surrounded by people who are learning who she is, knowing parts of her she hasn't shared, and also being asked to... lead. When it's never truly been something she craves and even overwhelms her, but it finds her regardless and how she helps ground for many of them their grappling for power/ambition while for her they help her find that... she deserves to be a part of the world around her, that she can touch the world around her and make a difference. And she's no less guilty of wanting something that's bad for her, that she's been alive but not truly living and returning to that loneliness once the tadpole is plucked out won't be peace, won't be contentment, isn't freedom, because it was never that to begin with- she was just languishing in isolation and grief as a living ghost.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #laezel #karlach cliffgate #karlach #bg3 tav #petra of nowhere in particular #something something the balance between being desperate to prove you matter and resigning yourself to the idea you never can #something something the fight of needing to be seen to feel like you matter but the horrifying ordeal of being known #will you forever languish for more knowing you'll never be sated or do you starve yourself so you may learn to live with hunger

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jakowskis · 19 days

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Day 15 - Are there any ships you dislike?

alrighty so. there are only rlly four i ‘dislike’, and the first three… it’s more complicated than anything, it’s not entirely utter pure-n-simple disdain. it’s less about the ships themselves (in two of the cases, anyway) and more about how they seem to be perceived by the fandom + how much they dominate everything. other ships exist, guys! the other characters exist! anyway ill try not to be mean but i am gonna be petty, lol

so for starters, yeah, jack x ianto. i have a very specific view of it, that i do enjoy, but the fandom seems to be doing something else entirely and i've developed some resentment despite myself. especially bc it’s overrated as fuck. don’t get me wrong, it’s iconic, as far as being culturally significant gay rep, but if im honest idk how well they hold up in 2024? i thought their relationship in s1 and s2 of the show was lackluster at best. poorly written bread crumbs. and yeah i know it was big for 2006 but im just personally kind of offended that they could show them sucking face but not show the intricacies of why the hell ianto would fall for a guy who shot his girlfriend down?? like, their relationship is inherently dark and angsty to me and im interested in exploring that, bc the show certainly doesn’t (initially) bother to, and a lot of the fan content i see is either fluffy (??????????), or angsty in a Tragique way, or is just kind of… fetishy and whumpy? people slot them into a Specific Kind of Dynamic and it grosses me tf out. so the fandom culture rubs me wrong, and then it’s just… such a bummer to like owen and tosh and gwen in a fandom that only seems to prioritize this one ship. there are 22k fics in the torchwood ao3 tag, and 13k of them are janto. now, all that being said… they do intrigue me and endear me, just a bit. but it took the audios to make me give a fuck about them, which is sad.

on that same note - i have the same relationship with tosh x owen, but i'm significantly less fond of it, cuz it just plain rubs me wrong. i like them in theory, so i spent months trying to figure out how to make them work and what other people are seeing that they think is so endearing and cute - i just can't find it. owen's treatment of tosh is just about the only thing i can't stand about him. he treats everyone poorly, but most of the rest of the cast defends themself (or even hit back, like ianto and gwen, and thats why i ship them with him! it’s spicy! i love balanced unhealthy dynamics in fiction hfdsjkf i can’t lie) - but tosh just lets him, creating an unhealthy power imbalance where she’s just getting hurt over and over again, and it makes me wanna fucking punch him cuz she does Not deserve that. i want him far away from her lmao. except under certain circumstances, cuz i have written fic about them, and i’ve read like three rlly good ones (and the main link between them is tosh stands up for herself and puts him in his place! i HATE how he walks all over her in canon ughhhhhhhhh). additionally, i do admittedly enjoy the angst of their canon arc. i just think fandom throwing them together and making it cutesy is lazy, uncreative, and an injustice to both characters. i think the SHOW throwing them together was an injustice to both characters, especially tosh’s. they're tragic and compelling, ill give them that, but theyre not sweet, and i don't think they'd be good for each other.

(also worth noting on a show where everyone has tension w each other, imo barrowman & gareth and naoko & burn pull it off the least convincingly and have little to no chemistry. like every other duo just kind of sparks in some way or another, and neither of those duos do. which SUCKS bc they’re the canon ones. but it’s also heavily poor writing like they were doing the best w what they had. grr. like i still dont know what the fuck ianto likes about jack or what tosh likes about owen 😭 that’s ridiculous!)

the other ship i’m petty about is jack x john hart. i just think it’s far too popular for what it is. idek why that is, do we have a substantial amount of buffy fans in the fandom? don’t get me wrong, i liked john in the show + i liked their relationship as well, but i'll always be annoyed when a minor character gets more attention than the fascinating main ones.

and lastly i hate john x ianto, because i respect ianto, lmao. i can’t lie, if he was my fav i’d probs ship it HJFKDSHFK i love putting my favs in awful situations. but as is it just grosses me out. get him outta there!!

tldr: i don’t interact w the john hart side of the fandom, and if a fic is tagged 'jack/ianto tosh/owen gwen/rhys' i probably won’t read it 😷

#tdot #txt #i feel meannn fdshfjkd #idk how tumblr search works anymore i RLLY hope this doesnt go in any tags cuz im not interested in hurting ppl's feelings u kno #i dont wanna be smth negative in another person's fandom experience #lord knows i block owen haters HJKFSD cuz it bums me out to see so #but! yeah these r my thots n opinions

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