#an intimate display

[writtenonreceipts]

We are slowly (oh so slowly) chugging along on this fic!

Find the Masterlist here! // AO3

warnings: none!

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Of Friendships and Families

It was well after midnight when Rhysand returned home that evening.  Between follow-ups with the city sheriff, fending off news reporters, and ensuring shops were boarded up properly—it was nearly two in the morning that Rhys could finally relax.

His apartment was quiet.  Too quiet.

It had never really bothered him that he could remember.  But for a few months now he’d realized just how off putting it could be.  The space was big, too big for just one person, and despite being in the center of the city it was damn near isolating.  Everything was modern, updated with the newest styles and appliances to fulfill every modem of comfort.  Usually his place was a mess of chaos with his brothers, Mor, and Amren crawling around and he didn’t notice it.

Tonight, had been different.

Because his father had shown up and been Benham about everything.

As soon as he’d seen his father talking to Feyre, a pit formed in his stomach.  Nothing good could come from the two of them interacting.  His father wasn’t cruel, not really.  But he did have an eye single to his own purposes and desires.  So Rhysand didn’t trust the interaction no matter how brief.  And then Feyre disappeared, only for Cassian to tell him she’d left with her sister.

And he knew that Benham had royally screwed things up for him.  Not that Rhys knew what had happened, yet, but it couldn’t be good.

Rhys made his way to his bedroom, passing the too big kitchen and too clean living room. His apartment had a modern feel to it—dark wood, metal fixings, and monochromatic decorations.  Nothing special about it really, even though everything he’d worked towards in his short adult life was supposed to get him here.  Business school, a minor law degree, even a few courses in civics.  

This was everything he’d wanted.

Supposedly.

As he was readying for bed, he found his phone and found the small texting thread he had with Feyre.  Before he thought better of it, he sent out a message.

>>Rhys: Sorry for the late hour, I just wanted to check in and make sure you were alright?

He waited for a minute, two.  The message sent turned to read but no new message came through.  Five more minutes later and he knew that she wasn’t going to respond.  It took all of his self control to not fire off another message, or worse call her.  Instead, Rhys plugged his phone into its charger and walked away.

No good would come from being overbearing or too much into her business.  Maybe he’d have Mor follow up with Feyre.  Though, he had a feeling that with or without him, Mor would be friends with Feyre no matter what.

Still, as Rhys prepared for bed and what little sleep, he was going to get, he couldn’t help but worry that whatever had started with Feyre was not over before anything had really begun.  He should have known his father would have come around as the police commissioner.  Should have tried harder to keep that man from the scene as best he could.

For as long as Rhys could remember, Benham had snaked his way into every aspect of Rhys’ life.   His father was always playing these games of will and competition, often seeing if Rhys could…manipulate his way out of any circumstance.  The subtle control was usually easy to ignore or simply fix on his own.  But Rhys wished he had more memories of throwing a baseball around with his dad instead of collecting ideas to undermine his fellow teammates.

And now Benham was screwing things up all over again.

Rhys couldn’t help one last glance at his phone that told him no missed messages.  He tried not to let it bother him as much as it did. 

…

The only thing that could draw Feyre out of bed at five o’clock the next morning were the sounds of her daughter crying.

She’d gotten back at around midnight and spent a solid hour talking through things with Elain and Lucien.  Mor, wonderful and thoughtful as she was, came by too in case Feyre needed anything else.

In all honesty, Feyre was too overwhelmed to know what she needed.  What she wanted was to remain curled up in bed.  But Seren was not going to self-soothe by the sound of it.

Feyre rolled out of bed and hurried to the spare room.  The apartment was nicer than anything Feyre had thought she could afford as a single income holder with a scant two-year degree.  But Vassa and Jurian had pulled a few strings to help her secure a lease.  They were in a good neighborhood with decent sized rooms and heating and cooling that actually functioned.  It was already better than what Feyre had grown up with.

She’d made it her own over the last year since moving in, too.  The walls were painted a soft cream with a seafoam green accent wall in the living room.  She’d put up her own paintings, photos of the family, of Seren.  It was chaotic and messy at times, certainly.  Feyre didn’t have a good place to store her paints so sometimes Seren decided the walls and floors needed a splash of color.  And then there was the fact that even in the mess—it was quiet.  And not the good sort of quiet.

“Oh, little star,” Feyre said as she scooped her daughter from her crib.  Seren immediately nestled into her, her tear-stained face in her neck and body conforming perfectly to Feyre.

Rocking back and forth, Feyre soothed Seren as best she could before setting out for a binky search.  She knew she should start weaning Seren soon from the thing, but she couldn’t bear it yet.  At least she’d stopped breastfeeding within the last few months.  Though, Feyre could honestly say she missed that connection it brought.  

She found a spare binky and Seren’s favorite blanket before sitting in the rocking chair Nesta had bought her to accompany the nursery.  It didn’t take long until Seren had calmed and the only remnants of her tears were the heavy breaths that pressed into Feyre’s chest.

“Good morning,” Feyre murmured as she pressed a kiss to Seren’s forehead. “Are you hungry?”

Seren grunted, her eyes still drooping with sleep and the remnants of her rough wake-up.

“It’s hard to wake up, isn’t it?” Feyre agreed.  She ran a hand over Seren’s back and kept rocking them for several more minutes. 

Finally, Seren perked up and leaned away from Feyre.  Her blue eyes went wide and her chubby fingers dug into Feyre’s shirt.

“Pancake, mama,” Seren said, “pancake.”

Ah yes.  Once all the tears were out the only concern was food.  Feyre shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” Feyre agreed.

She stood, shifting Seren to her hip.  They made their way to the kitchen while Seren babbled happily.  Her blonde curls were in absolute chaos as they stuck out in every direction and her round cheeks were still pink from sleep.  It almost hurt how much Feyre loved her daughter.

Feyre set Seren up in her high chair and peeled a banana to occupy her while she got the frozen pancakes from the freezer to warm up.

She tried to ignore the reminders of the previous night as she moved.  The dishes that were carefully washed and dried, the leftovers stacked in the fridge, the extra cookies that Mor and snuck in at some point.  Everything had been so nice and fun and had actually made Feyre feel like she belonged to something.

Only for it all to be ripped away by the vandalism.  And meeting Benham Avitas.

She’d been stupid to think that Rhys would have actually been interested in her.  Because really, Benhams words from last night made sense.  Elections were coming up and Rhys wanted to keep his seat as mayor.  What better publicity than helping the small business of a struggling single mother?  What better campaigning than to be seen helping at a crime scene?  Oh, she was sure there may have been some kindness in his actions, he wasn’t a complete asshole.  But when she’d seen his texts last night all Feyre could feel was blind panic.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t play games.

Not with Seren.  Not with her heart.

And then there was the truth of the matter that she’d been trying to ignore for a few days now: Tamlin knew about Seren and he was in town.

Feyre heated up the pancakes, poured a sippy cup of milk, and settled the meal before Seren.  Happy with her pancakes, Seren continued babbling as she ate.  

The distraction was all Feyre needed to start a pot of coffee and get her own breakfast going.  Well, breakfast was a relative term.  Lately, she hadn’t had an appetite and had been surviving on coffee and coffee alone.  It at least made for cheap groceries when all she needed to buy was milk and frozen pancakes.

You’re better than that.

Feyre flinched at the thought.  It was too reminiscent of what Tamlin would say to her.

She tossed a piece of toast in the toaster and watched as Seren tore up another pancake.  They had chocolate chips in them and the melty bits smeared over Serens mouth and cheeks.  Though, the baby hardly noticed or cared as she carried on eating.

When her toast and coffee were ready, Feyre quickly retrieved her phone from her room before taking a seat at the table next to the high chair.  Seren was finally slowing down in her voracious appetite and was now drowning herself in milk.

Feyre ignored the messages from Rhys, not bothering to pay attention to the little preview either.  Maybe later she’d work up the courage to see what he had to say.  But she did may attention to a new contact that had messaged her.

NEW CONTACT: Hi Feyre!  It’s Morrigan, I know you’re probably not up for it, but is it alright if I swing by this morning?  I just want to drop some things off and see how you’re doing.

It took three more re-reads for Feyre to get a full grasp on the words.  She couldn’t help the small tug of gratitude on her chest either.  Feyre was certain that this message had been sent of Mor’s own volition, not prompted by Rhys or anything of the sort.

She saved the number and texted back.

Feyre: We are a mess of pancakes and milk.  So if you’re alright with that, come on over.

Mor: Girl, we thrive on chaos.

Not even ten minutes later and Mor was knocking on the door as Feyre was trying to wipe Seren down.  It was a losing battle, so Feyre let her child run around still partially smeared in chocolate and just her diaper.  

Feyre answered the door, grateful she’d managed to change into clean leggings and a new t-shirt that had only one stain on it.  Mor was flawless as ever, her blonde hair pulled into a low pony tail and makeup effortlessly neutral.  She wore jeans and a graphic tee of a popular band on the front.  If she’d had the energy, Feyre would have felt self-conscious over her own appearance.

“I brought bagels,” Mor said with a smile.

Seren ran through the background screaming.

“And Xanax, I hope,” Feyre joked.

Mor’s smile broadened. “We’ll save that for later.”

Feyre invited her in, grateful the house was still clean from last night's events.  Seren had nabbed her favorite blanket and was occupying herself by pulling all of the childrens books from the small bookshelf in the corner of the room.  

“How are you doing?” Mor asked as she handed Feyre a bagel.  It had been toasted and was still warm and smothered in cream cheese.  

Feyre sighed and settled into the coach, Mor following suit. “Fine?  Maybe I’m still in shock.  I want to go down there and be at my shop, but the officers said to wait a day and they’d tell me when I can get things back in order.”

She took a bite of the bagel; infinitely better than the poor slice of toast she’d had not ten minutes ago.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had,” Feyre said. “Thank-you.”

“The deli out on State Street is the best,” Mor affirmed.  She had her own bagel and leaned into the couch, quiet for another moment before finally speaking up. “I hear you met Benham.”

Feyre arched one eyebrow.  While she believed Mor wasn’t spying on her for Rhys, or even if he knew she was here, Mor wouldn’t say anything to her cousin—Feyre didn’t know how she wanted to broach this conversation.

“I did,” she said, taking another bite of bagel.  It was mostly to buy herself time in answering.  

Mor, however, was more than willing to provide her own opinions. “He’s a bastard.  I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

She picked at her own bagel, frown tugging on her lips.

Trying not to choke on her food, Feyre covered her mouth. “What?”

“Benham is the worst,” Mor said.  She shrugged and licked cream cheese off her finger. “He wasn’t as bad as my dad, I’ll give him that, but he was so strict and cruel and just…terrible while growing up.  The only thing that made going over to Rhys’ house as kids bearable was his mother.”

A soft smile stole across Mor’s face as she spoke. “And his sister, really.  Thea’s years younger than him, just starting her junior year in high school, she’s just like him.  Only a little less of an arrogant ass.”

Feyre shifted in her seat. “Why tell me this?”

It was an understandable question.  Maybe a little forceful.  But Feyre didn’t need games.  Not right now.

Seren ran over to Mor, her stuffed kitty-cat in hand and thrust it at the blonde. “Rhys!”

“Is it Rhys?” Mor crooned softly. “He is looking pig-headed today.”

“Yeah!” Seren chirped, oblivious to the jibe at the cat’s namesake.  She toddled away to the pile of building blocks in the middle of the room.

“I’m never going to get over that,” More mused.  She gave another smile before growing serious in her acknowledgement of Feyre’s question. “I know my cousin, Feyre.  He likes you.  I haven’t seen him like this about someone in…a while.  And he’s somehow found a chivalrous bone in his body and won’t say it to you himself.”

Feyre’s traitorous heart skipped a beat at Mor’s words.  She really hadn’t let herself think on the possibility of she and Rhys.  Hadn’t wanted to let herself even consider that possibility despite the fact that she actually liked him.  Which in and of itself was ridiculous.  She had a daughter that wasn’t even two yet and a new business.  What would she even do in the face of a prospective romance?

And still, the memory of his smile, the way he’d stayed by her side after Tamlin’s appearance--all remained far too prominent on her mind.  It had been so long since someone had actually cared for her (outside her sister and Lucien) that she didn’t even know how to recognize it or acknowledge it.

“And how does Benham fit into this?” Feyre asked.  

“He will do whatever it takes to see his family succeed,” Mor said simply. “He probably tried to get under your skin or lie to you about Rhys?  All he’s ever been concerned about it what his kids can accomplish.  Not if they’re happy.”

The words made sense.  It certainly felt like a wedge had been driven in what little relationship had been budding between her and Rhys.  But…Feyre couldn’t help but see the truth in Benhams insinuations.  

Feyre shook her head, dread sludging around in her belling and utterly demolishing her appetite.

“It doesn’t matter,” Feyre said.  She tucked the rest of her bagel away in its wrappings, knowing she wouldn’t be able to finish it.

“It doesn't—Feyre,” Mor said, sitting up a little straighter. “Whatever Benham said—”

Sighing, Feyre waved a dismissive hand. “Mor.  My life is in shambles.  It’s messy and ridiculous.  I just…I can’t do this.  I can’t make Rhys go through this.  I can’t make anyone go through this.”

Even without the baby complication and the abusive ex…Feyre didn’t know what it was like to be in a good relationship.  She didn’t know how to be in a good relationship.  And, truth be told, she was the mess.  She was ridiculous.  Not just her life.  It all came down to her.

That thought was all it took for tears to prick in her eyes and her chest to tighten in pain.

Sympathy fell over Mor’s features and she scooted closer on the couch to Feyre.  She reached out a hand to lay on Feyre’s arm.

“And Tamlin?” Feyre stuttered just a little.  She had no idea why she was spilling so much to Mor, but damn, it had been so long since she’d had a friend to talk to.  Someone she could trust.  And while her sisters were wonderful…their relationship was complicated. “Tamlin wasn’t a good man.”

It was all she could say then but Mor seemed to understand.  She pulled Feyre into a hug and murmured softly in comforting undertones.  Feyre held on to the hug like her life depended on it.  

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand single parent au #single parent au #acotar #fanfiction #fic #an intimate display

[ahappydnp]

happy 1 year since this photo changed everything

#their most intimate and vulnerable display of companionship

[mj-iza-writer]

I don't want to talk about how long this sat in my drafts waiting for me to figure out the ending 🤦- Mj

Whumpee adjusted how they were lying on their pedestal. They were bored to death for this last-minute dinner party Whumper planned. They hid a small yawn, not wanting to seem too bored.

"I saw that", Whumper stepped up, and handed them a plate of goodies, "a few more hours and you can be done."

Whumpee sat up and eagerly took the food, "thankyou master."

Whumpee watched as Whumper talked with their guest. The food they had just received made it worth being their master's eye candy for the guest.

Whumpee was considered a Chattel slave, Whumper had purchased them from the black market. A chattel slave was pretty much considered someone's property, no different than livestock or the couch in the corner.

Whumper used Whumpee as an ornament, an object of their money. The guest often marveled at just how beautiful Whumpee was. Whumpee had been conditioned by their traffickers for this type of work.

Whumper never laid a punishing hand on them, they didn't have to. That hell was all done by the traffickers. Whumper could just enjoy their doll... or honestly, their puppet.

Whumpee was often dressed in the most expensive, often revealing outfits Whumper could find. Whumpee looked down at the lacy skin tight outfit they had on. They had lacy wraps around their wrist to match, but to also hide the rope burns from last night's fun in the master's bed. Lastly, they looked down at the sparkly shackle on their ankle, that was followed by a sparkly chain cemented into their pedestal.

A lady came up and started to ask Whumpee questions about themself and Whumper.

Whumpee stared straight ahead, not acknowledging the woman. They wished she'd go away though so they could eat more.

"Look at me, and talk to me, you useless...", the woman comanded, "how rude", they took their wine glass and threw the drink at Whumpee.

Whumpee gasped as the dark wine spilled over them.

Whumper came running, two butlers followed.

"What the heck is going on", Whumper looked at the wine covered Whumpee, then the woman.

"They wouldn't answer me. It's just like you to have a rude servant", the lady answered.

"She came up and started asking me questions about you, and about me master", Whumpee also answered while awkwardly holding out their arms do to the wine dripping from them, "I didn't acknowledge her, and she threw wine at me."

Whumper's anger flared at the lady, "they are not supposed to talk to people. They are furniture to look at. They were doing exactly as they were trained", Whumper spoke through gritted teeth, "the only way they can talk to someone is if they have my permission to talk to them."

"So you purposely made them rude", the lady looked up at Whumpee, who now was looking right at them.

"No that is how they were trained, and who are you to think you have a right to talk to my property", Whumper argued, "I literally started this party explaining how to interact with Whumpee, and if you wanted to talk to them to ask me, I would have happily introduced you. Everyone else has followed that rule, and that is much appreciated by me and Whumpee. Whumpee enjoys talking to people under the correct circumstances."

"I'm sure they would appreciate being able to talk to whomever they want", the lady fired back.

"And they would want to talk to you because?", Whumper asked sarcastically.

Whumpee grinned a little, hiding a laugh.

"Well I've never", the lady gasped.

"Well, it's about time someone talks to you like that", Whumper frowned, "your invitation to my parties is being revoked, my butler will escort you out.

When the lady was gone, Whumper turned to Whumpee.

"I guess that outfit is done. There is no coming back from that grape wine", Whumper stepped up, and unlocked the shackle, "I'm relieving you for tonight, go get cleaned up and relax in my room", Whumper caressed Whumpee's face.

Whumpee leaned their face into Whumper's gentle hand.

Whumper looked up at a butler, "Whumpee didn't get to eat much thanks to the lady, have chef cook them something."

"Yes sir", the butler bowed.

Whumper gave a hand to Whumpee to step down from the pedestal. They watched Whumpee as they left the party.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance in our party. Please continue to enjoy yourself", Whumper looked around, "I do apologize. Whumpee won't be joining us for the rest of it though."

The crowd had watched Whumpee leave, they all seemed sorry to see them go.

Later that night, Whumper went into their bedroom. They smiled when they saw Whumpee resting on the bed reading a book.

"Master", Whumpee closed the book and sat up, "how was the rest of the party."

"You have no idea how many people asked about you once you left", Whumper walked to them, "all so concerned about you", they started to get undressed.

Whumper caressed Whumpee's face lovingly.

"I'm going to shower, then we can go to bed", Whumper grinned.

Whumpee leaned into the touch.

"Are you tired, my dear?", Whumper smiled.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry about the wine spill", Whumpee frowned.

"That wasn't your fault. You were doing what you were supposed to do", Whumper turned toward the bathroom, "it only means I need to find you a copy of that outfit. You looked stunning in it."

"Thankyou master", Whumpee smiled weakly.

That night, Whumpee was cuddled into Whumper's arms.

They moved up and down with every snore Whumper made.

Whumpee blinked away a tear.

"I wish I was free", Whumpee whispered before forcing themself to go to sleep.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

#whump community #whumplr #whumblr #whump stuff #whump writing #whump writer #whump ideas #whump #whump scenario #whumpee #black market whumpee #slave whumpee #whumpee on display #whumper #intimate whumper #master whumper #slave whump #caretaking #oc #original story

[daily-hanamura]

#hanamura yosuke #yosuke hanamura #p4au #p4 #persona 4 arena ultimax #persona 4 #narukami yu #souyo #this scene makes me chew glass (positive) because AGAIN. #it reflects Yosuke's unwillingness to trouble others and how he would rather take on the problem himself #(and it's also so hypocritical of him because hes all about not letting others do things by themselves lol) #but again i also like having yu's perspective here because again it shows how yosuke is understood #iirc shortly before (or after) this calll yosuke had just been talking to chie and yukiko as well and trying to cheer them up #and yu's perspective acknowledges that kind of consideration yosuke has for others #i think the feeling of being known is one of the most intimate there is and here its just ... out on display in full force.... i love it sm #i swear this blog isn't going to become a souyo centric blog i just have a strong bias lol #he's good with his queue

[somnefarious]

There's something so fun and cute about coils being used as an elevated seat or bed, love to see it

#my art #hypnosis #naga #one off characters #there's something intimate about using coils to give hypnotized prey somewhere to sit or rest and I'm very here for it #Depending on the vibe of the situation it could be the same as a lap pillow or like being displayed like a trophy on a shelf #both with absolutely zero awareness of it being done #yes #very good #very cute

[takitori67]

Growing bond 2

#fgo #fate grand order #fgo fanart #arjuna alter #junao #ritsuka fujimaru #this is more about the journey from bond level 10 to level 15 of junao #i have junao in the random ascensions display mode so (kinda self-insert) i had the thought that guda saw him in each ascension every day- #-based on his mood (?) #also this is more intimate than the last drawing so yep i will put ship tag here #gudajuo #juoguda #ttls gallery

[doortotomorrow]

memori » down bad for each other

#The 100 #John Murphy #Emori kom Spacekru #Memori #the100edit #even though they're broken up with each other #intensely hurt and upset over it #they're still madly in love with each other #and with Murphy's intimate display of affection #he's telling Emori #'please give me and our relationship another chance #because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me #and I don't want to let you go'

[mommyhorror]

no because how would a man know the vibes of a girl/woman alone in our room. How is that your entire portfolio of art … your niche…….

#I do think we’re all connected but #That’s why u can just paint guys being in their rooms #If a man is doing it I hate feeling like women are on display #When women paint ourselves in our rooms being comfortable it’s like reading a journal entry #Intimate and vulnerable .. honest … #So what is it if it’s giving MALE voyeur? #Vincent Giarrano

[wingedcat13]

Heya!! So I was rereading Villians Never retire (for like the 5th time), and I'm still stumbling over one of the lines at the end. "You can tell from Alexandria's 'woah' that she thinks it's cool as hell. You can tell by Minerva's sharp inhalation that she knows what it means." Maybe I'm just not thinking clearly but... what does it mean, beyond just proving Syn's heritage?

Heya! I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed them enough to reread <3

That line is vague, no worries about missing it! The exact ramifications haven’t been expanded on (yet) but it’s based roughly on the romanticized idea of the role of tattoos in organized crime - essentially, the larger and more detailed the mark, the higher you are in an organization. For Synovus to have one that covers so much of their back, it means a few things:

1. Sunhallow made sure they were marked as his, extensively.

2. Synovus would’ve received this tattoo at 16 at the latest, meaning they did enough active work to merit it before reaching that age and killing Sunhallow.

3. Given Sunhallow’s activities, Synovus’s abilities, and the history, Minerva can put together that Synovus was most likely used as an assassin.

(It’s also conveniently shaped to put a target on their back, depending on how much you want to read into it)

#synoverse #ask box #synovus #Sunhallow #there are other implications too #such as the fact that Synovus can’t see the mark but anyone they’re intimate with would #that it isn’t easily displayed as a way of pulling rank #that Synovus couldn’t be ‘claimed’ publicly without willingly turning their back to someone and making themselves vulnerable #Sunhallow sucks

[schoethe]

@sorrel-ly: #what is a philosophical talk about the Urpflanze if not #the 18th century version of gay people on their first date at a botanic garden #fun fact the house where they met got bombed away but the current building in its place #has their letters running in an infinite loop along two walls #Briefwechsel-Apollo-Filiale my beloathed <3 #OTP: Ein Gedicht. #and that's how i met your mother.

Und dann auch noch:

Am heutigen Haus Unterem Markt 1, an dessen Stelle einst das Kirstensche Haus stand, lebte im ersten Stock niemand geringeres als Friedrich von Schiller von Mai 1794 bis April 1795. Man kann hier, wenn man genau hinsieht, auf einer 31 Meter langen LED-Laufschrift den vollständigen Briefwechsel zwischen den beiden Schriftstellern nachlesen. Konkurrierend dazu existieren auf dem Unteren Markt 60 handtellergroße Messing-Bodenplatten, die 30 stilisierte Blattarten zeigen. Dahinter steckt natürlich auch eine interessante Geschichte. Die Plaketten zeigen den Weg, den Goethe und Schiller vom ehemaligen, nicht mehr vorhandenen Bachsteinschen Haus in der Rathausgasse 1 bis zum ehemaligen Kirstenschen Haus, also das Haus, in dem Schiller wohnte, entlangschlenderten. Hier auf diesem Schlenderweg, symbolisch mit den Messingplatten dargestellt, fand das erste intensive Gespräch zwischen den beiden statt. Beide waren sich nach einer Sitzung im Bachsteinschen Haus nähergekommen, bummelten die wenigen Schritte bis zu Schillers Wohnhaus, während sie sich angeregt über die Metamorphose der Blätter unterhielten und ließen den Abend dort ausklingen. Der Rest ist Geschichte. Schiller ist glücklich über diese Begegnung und Goethe erhält bald darauf erste Post von ihm. Der rege Briefwechsel zwischen den beiden nimmt seinen Anfang.

[x]

#i'm... i'm ummmm #nothing to see here #just Jena being cute about their otp #danke @sorrel-ly #ich war nur einmal kurz in jena #aber der nachkriegsstadtkern hat mich so verschreckt dass ich schnell wieder verschwunden bin #vielleicht hätte ich genauer hinsehen sollen #i don't even know how to tag this #jena #?? #cute things cities do for your otp #????? #hey who wants to form a codependend creative and intimate relationship with me #so that our chat history will be displayed at the facade of an ugly post war building above an optician's shop 200 years from now #👉🏼👈🏼👀

[thrassisfras]

The fact that I went into that first conversation with Gortash completely blind and he somehow managed to be the one that almost convinced me to side with him is just wild to me. Gwydion had been incredibly resistant to anyone (even his partner) trying to get him to be just a little power-hungry, but then Gortash came along and started talk about unity and stability instead of "we're gonna be evil and rule the world" and it was working on Gwydion.

My only thought during the coronation scene was "damn, he really does know Gwydion"

#don't get me wrong i think gortash wpuld have definitely leaned into the 'let's be evil and rule together as evil overlords' thing if he'd #thought it would work #but the conversation had a definite 'oh yes let's be partners again and work to preserve the city and save it from itself' bent #and the fact that he was so sincere about legitimately wanting to be equals with gwydion again #I dunno #all of that really culminated in Gwydion not knowing what to do for the first time that playthrough #when I say he has a very strong personality I mean it. Most 'moral dilemmas' in the game weren't really dilemmas for him #perks of being a paladin #but then Gortash came along and confused all of that for him #I only really found out about their working relationship during that conversation bc I missed a bunch of stuff #so my surprise was genuine when Gortash started displaying fairly intimate knowledge of how Gwy works #I had Gwydion wear Gortash's gauntlet for a bit for roleplay reasons #he didn't remember the man but something in him hurt when that final blow was struck and he wasn't quite ready to move on yet #the dark urge #enver gortash #what's even more wild is i was headcanoning that his paladin oath (devotion) had been sworn to someone other than bhaal before #orin happened #and i could see a pre-tadpole Gwy deciding Gortash was a good person to swear that to so when Gortash #when Gortash started talking about swearing oaths to each other?? #wild #absolutely wild #i did not get enough sleep and it shows #12:43 #bg3

[shshshquietnow]

Yes yes I have many unanswered prompts, but this was the vibe I had today, so I had to chase the feeling.

...

Coal-Black Catch II

Contents: child whumpee, dehumanization, "it" as a non preferred pronoun, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, pet whump (sort of? Maybe display whump is a better description), manhandling, noncon touching

...

Andras... didn't pay Kiran much mind the whole way back. Not that Kiran minded THAT, they did not like any attention from the demon whatsoever. He still had an arm around them, grazing through their feathers idly as he shouted commands at the other demons and the horses.

But Kiran couldn't stop looking at Andras. Thet were frozen, even in the bumpy chariot ride home they couldn't bring themself to rip their eyes from the potential threat, it was like trying to look away from a snake you knew was about to strike. They were in danger, danger danger, Andras could do anything to Kiran at any moment and Kiran couldn't do anything and no one would help them...

... but already from that Kiran could see a few things. The demon liked gold, he wore a necklace and a few rings and earrings, and very fancy clothes. Andras had two scars on his purple-y skin, and a few nicks on his twisting horns. One that went straight across his nose, and one that looked like scratches right on his brow.

"... what are all those cuts from?" The world's were out before Kiran even realized, voice small, barely audible over the wheels going over roots and rocks.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" Andras smirked, moving his hand from their wings to their hair, petting the back of their head while keeping their eyes on the road. It made Kiran's skin crawl. "Hunting incidents, if you must know, sweetheart. Well,the one across my nose was from a spar. I'm quite the swordman, everyone here can attest. Maybe you'll see me in a duel, I'd love to show you off at a tournament... hm. Once you're a little more cleaned up. One would think you've been wandering the woods for years before I claimed you."

Andras... liked talking a lot. Arrogant. They could use that... not now of course, but he didn't seem to see Kiran as intelligent, as a collectable item. They filed the details away... eventually he'd get over confident, and Kiran would have a window to escape. That was it.

... and while Kiran was getting out of here- away from his touch and away from being a... what, decoration? Away from having their whole life being reduced to looking pretty for demons, if Kiran got some answers while captured... there'd be no harm done, and they'd know more to not ever get caught again.

It's fine. This is... it's not fine at all. It's very bad. But be smart, don't reveal anything, take everything in and and find out as much as possible and get out. Kiran could do that much, they've always been too smart for their own good.

"Your feathers are ruffling," Andras chuckled, lightly sing song. "Does that mean you're scared?"

Kiran hesitated. Their whole plan felt so out the window once Andras was actually looking at them. Gods they were really powerless here... they were approaching a large building, Andras's manor, and everyone would be working and looking for Andras's approval, and Kiran would have nothing.

They nod shakily, just once. They were terrified.

Andras smiled, flashing his sharp teeth and ruffling Kiran's oily matted black hair. He hopped out of his seat onto the paved path up to the manor. "Lovely, all the easier to tame."

He took one of Kiran's wings, nails digging, and yanked them out of the cart by it. A few demons snickered at the surprised and pained yelp, Andras looking down at them with such a glint in his eyes... he enjoyed that.

He enjoyed that.

"Hurry along now!" Andras clapped his hands held high, looking to the other demons he had been hunting with. "Load the other game to the kitchens and have them prepared, get someone to bathe and groom this thing so it'll be fit for the tailor's by tomorrow. And set out my swords in the training area for a spar, get to it!"

Demons all hurried off in different directions, Kiran didn't even have time to be unsettled by being called an "it" before two demons- more gruff and older than Andras- grabbed their arms and dragged them inside the manor. Their wings involuntarily beat and flutter, flitting to try and miraculously get away.

They did their best to memorize where they were going, but the manor was a dark labyrinth compared to the forest... right right left past four doors right... but it was difficult to concentrate with the two demon's grips being so tight, and walking too fast for Kiran to keep up with their smaller legs. They swore they got pinched on the shoulders more than once, just for the demon's amusement at their startled squeaks.

"Get us in any trouble, try any shit-" one demon pulled Kiran close, freezing them up and whispering in their ear in a low growl. He grabbed a handful of hair to keep the fallen angel in place. "And I'll beat you senseless, regardless of what your owner says. Got it, birdie?"

Kiran nodded, shuddering in a breath, wishing they were so small no one could see them, or even hold them. At last they were shoved into a room, flourished with gold and rubies like the rest of the manor. A... sink and a tub and towels and robes...

And a mirror. Kiran looked upon the glass. Their hair was a mess, just around their shoulders and tangled, now the same color as their wings, which... haven't been presented in a bit. Not fully anyway, not since falling. Their skin was now a light grey too, dirty from the forest, but what was... oh.

Cracks. Or a pattern like cracks, like a broken porcelain vase, stretching diagonal up their face, one on the neck and... now they look, even one on their arm. They had a halo... before they fell they had a halo, but it's not there anymore, though they still had the wings on the side of their head, pressed to their temples in stress.

Nothing about Kiran was an angel anymore. They were quite literally broken, and the world could see it. And the world was GOING to see it as Andras would dress them all up and show them off to all the demons of the earth...

Once again, Kiran hadn't realized what was happening until sharp clawed hands shoved them in the tub, not bothering to adjust their wings so they wouldn't bend so awkward. More demons had came in while Kiran was distracted, and they began the process of soaking the kid in icy water as they did their best not to thrash and cause trouble.

Just think. Just think and collect and don't think about all the demons touching and...

There was a single window in this room, barely big enough to fit Kiran through, as small as they were. This room would likely always have soap and hygienics in supply. Humans- mortals, Kiran once read they use files on their nails. If there was one of those around or even scissors, Kiran wouldn't have to worry about ropes. Maybe.

The demons were talking. Kiran couldn't hear, all they sensed was hands everywhere, cleaning grime off and touching their hair and going between their featgers... they couldn't move.

Someone slung them over their shoulder, carrying them off... okay okay. Three doors down two lefts one door... that one is easy to remember, still on the bottom floor. The demon carrying them unlocked the door and sat the fallen angel down on a chair in a sort of... office? With a desk and paintings of... he is arrogant. Andras with dead animals mainly, but a few of him with some others that look like him.

It was garish and sterile, Kiran hugged their wings close. They'd be... Andras said he was going sparring, but they didn't know how long that would take. They felt small in the chair, and they felt like the walls were closing in...

... though, an office has a lot of information in it. If Andras was gone a while... this could be very good for getting out.

#whump #quiet whispering #whumper #fantasy whump #whumpee #possessive whumper #intimate whumper #fallen angel whumpee #angel whumpee #demon whumper #pet whump #coal black catch #sadistic whumper #display whump

[of-the-faerie-folk]

Fellas is it indecent to have a small picture of girls cuddling on my wall?

According to my mother it is

#fi thoughts #I can’t hang my vision board up because what if younger kids come into my room and see it #what young kids??? #can’t even hide it behind my door #cuddling is too intimate to be displayed #but at least she would say the same thing if it was a guy and a girl #this isn’t the homophobia #it’s the really weird about intamicy in any form #anyway #vent

[asachuu]

That moment when you’re writing something quite positive as a totally informal manga reaction, skipping over one single small visual detail because it was both so insignificant you didn’t even notice it at first, and it would also contextually be so heavily overshadowed by something far more important everywhere around it, only to log on somewhere one fateful day and see that it is precisely said detail which has become gospel, despite the fact that it makes rather little sense in canon.

Ah well, I say as if I were to let it go, knowing very well the tags will be another literary work again.

#I’m not going to rant about it BUT #yes this is about the flashbacks in the last Fifteen manga chapter #specifically that one panel of Paul and Arthur looking rather…close #I don’t even want to bother saying much because of everything surrounding it and how much it wouldn’t matter one way or the other #though I’m very confused as to why it’s Paul reaching out to Arthur and not the opposite #only one of the two canonically hated the other at the time and I’m not sure if he’d want to be anyhow physically intimate yk #unless it’s a visual representation of how Arthur was thinking about their relationship the whole time given the following panel #but yeah I’m not going to look into this because it’s not worth my energy #I’ve already said I’m not opposed to the manga flashbacks at all and I believe they speak for me here #I won’t be stopping anyone from fishing out Rimlaine stuff in the middle of a flashback literally about #how Arthur was actually alone in thinking about them as close friends the whole time #so long as all that outside context is right on display for anyone to see and make up their own mind I’ll let it go #because I’d just be repeating what’s right there already #bungou stray dogs #bsd fifteen #bsd arthur rimbaud #randou #bsd paul verlaine #bsd manga #asachuu

[black-quadrant]

it would have been very sexy if, when Joshua and Neku performed their fusions, Neku's eyes took on the color of Joshua's while synced.

#TWEWY #remembered this on twt and it's still delicious #intimate #and just a casual display of Joshua's terrifying inhuman power #handicapped or not #his powers were still prominent #and I could see such a phenomena occurring #accidental or not

[toosexymommys]

LOOKING FOR A ROLEPLAYING PARTNER

The roleplay revolves around mom having an impossible fantasy about incest with her son. Son is a moral and ethical person, who would never cross that line. Therefore, mom's strategy is to find ways to tease him in ever more seductive ways hoping that one day he'll brake and just rape her. So, she makes up false reasons, lies and excuses to provide a believable cover and plausible deniability for increasingly teasing and seductive activity like dressing, acting, talking and touching in incestuous ways - but always for some unrelated or mistaken reason. She must always keep her true intentions under the radar or she'll scare her reluctant son away.

As this goes on, son always verbally maintains his position of moral purity (e.g., "mom, are you sure this is necessary? I feel like this is crossing the line", or "careful mom I can see your X!"). However, he never physically stops his mother's actions, as he respects his mother and doesn't want to offend her. He refuses to believe that she would actually have perverted desires for him, so he prefers to believe her excuses, ridiculous as they may sometimes be.

On the other hand, it so happens that Son's moral objections and discomfort from his own attraction to his mother is exactly what mother lusts for and turns her on more than anything in the world - so the more he resists, the more turned on she becomes.

Clarifications:

At NO POINT in the roleplay do either mom or son admit to their incestuous desires for each other. The entire roleplay revolves around finding excuses, reasons and lies that mother uses to allow for increasingly perverted activity to happen. I didn't give examples for these reasons as all the fun is in coming up with them. The story can be modified in any way to make the reasons work, e.g. defining the circumstances (e.g., lockdown) professions (e.g., she's a physical therapist, doctor, or psychologist), etc.

With that in mind, so long as we come up with good excuses, things can go VERY far. In fact, given a good enough reason/excuse, even full sex can occur (but it does require some real creativity to come up with a seemingly non-incestuous, non-perverted reason why it's necessary for son to stick his penis in his mother pussy and thrust repeatedly. But it's not impossible!)

Bonus game which I also love: Husband/Father also has a secret mom-son incest fetish, and so he's the one coming up with fake reasons and excuses why mom and son need to see or touch each other in ways that would normally be considered perverted. In this game mom is (surprisingly) cooperative with fathers suggestions/requirements, and son is still the reluctant/moral/innocent "victim" of the situation, though he doesn't physically stop it and must comply with his parents wishes. It's also possible to have a daughter/Sister in a similar role to this Husband/father (that is - who loves mom/son incest). In any case, all erotica revolves around mom-son.

I don't mind playing either son or mom (or husband/dad, or sister/daughter). My favourite - we switch between the characters.

I'm not interested in passive partners who just expect me to do all the writing.

When I come online, it's usually around 10pm-1am CET (Europe), 4pm-7pm EST (US), 2am-5am India.

I'm not interested in any roleplay that doesn't follow these guidelines. So please ONLY ask me about roleplaying if you've read all of the above and you LIKE it (don't expect me to compromise about the above 6 rules). However, so long as we're keeping within these (admittedly stringent) boundaries, I'm open to any scenario.

you can send me a message here on Tumblr or by email/hangouts at [email protected]

If all of the above sounds good to you, we may be a rare and incredible match, so I definately would be thrilled to hear from you!

#hot mommy #mommy k!nk #domme mommy #mommy milkers #sugar mommy #son #cougar #mommy #mother #mom #teasing #on display #passion #intimate #sensuality #seduce me #seduce #seduction