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kenananamin · 6 months

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Nanami as a girl dad

Nanami is a girl dad, I will not argue or fight on this but if you think he's not... i got news for you ANYWAYS these are my Nanami headcanons as the best husband and dad and what he would do as a girl dad during pregnancy, birth, and actually raising the baby

takes a personal day off work to take you to your doctor's appointments then takes you to brunch and a movie. will hold your hand the whole time

fought HR/managers/supervisors/ANYONE for as much paternity leave as he could get

asked if he could work from home bc he doesn't want to miss a single moment of your pregnancy or newborn baby

sits on the floor to talk to his baby girl and holds your tummy saying that he's holding her hand

made 20 copies of the sonogram picture and kept them all. there's a copy in his wallet, behind his phone case, in the glove compartment, and in every suit jacket pocket close to his heart. he likes to brag about his girls (you and baby)

comes back from the store with more diapers and wipes bc "we need to be prepared"

bookmarks blog posts talking about how to bond with your baby

reads every book he can and asks the doctor more questions than any other dad who comes into the office

will ask anyone he trusts for advice, but gets defensive when someone tells him to do something differently

takes naps with his head on your lap and his lips touching your belly

has two hospital bags ready in the closet but has an emergency one in the trunk... just in case

does not sleep the whole time you're in labor even when the nurses tell him to "rest before the baby gets here"... that gets him more excited and doesn't let him sleep

tells you to dig your nails into his arm if you need to when you start pushing. kisses your entire face when the baby starts to cry and rushes to the nurse holding her to ask if they could stamp the baby's feet on his shirt/gown before cleaning her (a/n: my dad did this with me and it is the cutest thing ever. we still have the gown with the tiny feet stamped on there)

carefully takes off the shirt/gown and immediately wants to do skin-to-skin contact after you hold the baby first

follows baby to the hospital nursery and takes pictures of sleeping baby to change his wallpaper

changes wallpaper every two days bc "she did something cute" or "sticking her tongue out" or "giving me the stink eye"

loves waking up with her at night bc besides letting you rest... it's daddy-daughter time so don't interrupt

demonstrates what tummy time is while she lays on her baby bouncer (you laugh bc it's ridiculous and she's only a couple weeks old)

buys scrapbook and disposable cameras to start an album (the first of a hundred probably)

buys special clips for crib blankets to be tight and immovable around mattress bc he kept reading about possible suffocation

either way, does not like for her to sleep in her own room so he buys an extra baby moses to put in your room

has an extra diaper bag in his car bc he likes impromptu trips to let mommy rest

sulking when he has to go back to work

finds remote job within the next month

sits baby down on his lap while be works and she plays with her toy

throws an intimate 1st bday party first then a second one the next weekend to invite anyone he's ever talked to and brag about his family

literally kicks his feet and giggles with his daughter then stands up to be the most intimidating man to anyone else

tears of joy when you're pregnant again and sobs when they say it's a girl

carries his girls with him everywhere he goes

is proud that he's raising strong women who will learn how to fight for themselves. keeps reminding himself that he's raising the next generation and that fuels a fire deep inside him

let's the girls play with his hair and put all the clips they can find around the house on his head

lets his fingers and toes be horribly painted while he reads the newspaper and leaves the house with those nails

gets teary eyed on the first day of school and waits outside the school the whole day for a week (paid time off used)

can only do simple pony tails and braids but loves waking the girls up, sitting them on his lap and doing their hair while you get them dressed

making cute lunches for the girls with you is one of his favorite parts of the day

likes dressing the girls alike or the same and has a strange obsession with buying them overalls

loves playing barbie with them and lowkey has a favorite barbie

goes toy shopping behind mommy's back and tells the girls that this is the only secret that they can ever ever keep

randomly brings back flowers for every single one of his girls

takes his girls (you and daughters) on group and individual dates

makes the girls sign a contract written in crayon stating they "will love daddy forever"... frames it and puts it in his office

cries tears of joy AGAIN when you're pregnant with another girl... and looks for a bigger house

rips off door side where he was marking the girl's height and puts it in the new house. he did not believe in marking/tracing it on another thin piece of wood and said he wanted the original

takes everyone out for dessert every Friday and checks in on each kid to see how they're feeling and if they're ok

never misses a single game, recital, rehearsal, practice, ANYTHING

takes his daughters to their first self-defense class

does not believe in violence and does not condone it... but will first ask the girls if they won the fight (strongly insinuates that he will be disappointed if someone kicks their ass)

corrects the girls when needed and has a special look to tell them to stop messing around

later goes to apologize if he ever uses the look

will ask the girls for a sleepover and will throw every blanket on the floor to make one huge bed

tells the girls to follow him as he does repairs around the house or on the car bc they "need to know how it all works and how to deal with it"

is shocked when you're pregnant again (even though he likes to do a certain something that leads to babies) but is REALLY SHOCKED when it's a boy this time

reminds the girls that they have to be nice and helpful with their brother

starts all the reading and bookmarking all over again, but his time on how to raise a gentleman

raises the best little dude and let's the girls show him everything he has shown them so far

okaaaay okay i know i said he's a girl dad and a girl dad only buuuuut Nanami would raise the best little gentleman ever. AND IMAGINE A MINI NANAMI?!! ... but he's still a girl dad first and foremost

extras:

would absolutely praise his wife and randomly thank her for giving him a family

will wear a disguise and follow daughters to first date

refuses to parentify any of his kids and wants to let them be kids

constantly reminds them that they only get to be kids for a short amount of time then they have to be adults for the rest of their lives. so be silly

is always down for a quiet drive if anyone needs to clear their head

dreads the day when he will no longer he able to carry his kids on his shoulders

has already made mental plans for every possible situation the kids may create, even the absolutely crazy ones his brain has imagined

is very open w the girls and talks about safety in intimacy

leaves cute notes during bad or iffy days and writes motivational quotes on their mirrors with dry-erase markers

loves when you say he's a dilf

tries to talk to them about the stock market

passes his budgeting king crown to the kids

feels super cool when his kids brag to their friends about him, even puffs his chest a little bit

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terastalungrad · 1 month

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Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.

I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?

Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine. According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire. According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset. That’s the level of news you’d expect.

The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.

The first question is about the show’s angle. Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:

So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control. And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway. Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.

Fun! This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.

Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.

Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.

And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).

You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times. You can see this with an act like Gervais. Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.

The journalist finally addresses this head on. It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:

But here are my favourite bits:

[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing. There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil. In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes. He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time. And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward. [...] If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs. It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked. But he didn’t have that experience in the same way. [...] Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them. I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me. I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird. On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary. And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material. He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).

It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material. That’s a big taboo. I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.

Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:

It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review. And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right. Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.

#stewart lee #ricky gervais #tagging my hate

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amongemeraldclouds · 2 months

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Things I’ll Never Say

Why say things out loud when you can write them all down in a journal? No need to inconvenience everyone else with silly declarations of love that’s only guaranteed to break your heart. So what happens when your enemy - of all people - finds it?

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

Thanks to @thatdammchickennugget for the prompt. Here's my official entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt one. 1k words.

Author’s note: The way I screamed when this idea came to mind! Journaling is such a big part of my life, I’ll take any and every chance I can to incorporate it to my stories.

Indented text are journal entries.

Warning: Cursing, no use of y/n, slight angst but it’s kinda cute. Fluff express coming through!

✿ Masterlist

“Stop copying my notes!” I hiss at Lorenzo, moving my arm to cover my parchment.

“Come on, I missed class today. I need to catch up,” he says, tugging at the arm of my sweater.

“Go ask your friends,” I retort, moving my arm away from his grasp.

“You know they’re not in that class, just you,” he insists.

“Oh we’re not friends,” I deadpan.

“It won’t take long,” he tries again.

“If you weren’t busy sleeping around with everyone, Berkshire. You would have made it to class this morning.”

He leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I grab the nearest hardbound book and swing it in his direction. Thwack! It strikes his shoulder.

The librarian looks at us sternly. “Your final warning was just given five minutes ago. No noise in the library!” She points her finger to the exit, “You two, out!”

“Great. Thanks for that, Berkshire. Good luck with your notes.” My face gets hot with embarrassment as I gather my things and rush off to the exit.

Enzo spots a black leather bound journal in the area you just vacated. He takes it with him as he exits the library. She’s always writing in this notebook. I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek, I’ll give it back to her anyway.

He damn well knew you would mind. When he reaches a quiet corner of the hallway, he proceeds to turn the cover anyway.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Lorenzo Berkshire. Why the fuck did I just draw a heart over the “i”! That’s it. I’m losing my mind! I can’t be caught liking the boy who spewed the word mudblood in my direction our first year. Like it’s my fault I was born into my family. And screw him okay, muggles are awesome. I can break my own heart with my misguided affections, but I’d rather die before I ever let him break my heart. So before I check myself into a mental asylum, I need to just say this somewhere. Anywhere. A last ditch effort to save my sanity.

He’s the intrusive thought I love to entertain in my head.

As a dare, he took off his shirt at the party. My toes curled. I pretended not to notice him.

I heard him laughing with his friends. I love the way it lit up his face.

I saw him enter his dorm hand in hand with a girl. I never wish to be her, another one night stand. Once would never be enough.

I nearly kissed him again.

He helped me pick up the pile of books I dropped at the library. He seemed kind and concerned. Ha! Who am I kidding?

I count down the hours until I see him again.

Maybe in another lifetime it wouldn’t matter: bloodlines, social status, and hierarchies. So unnecessary.

I noticed the veins in his arm at quidditch practice. I tried not to bite my lip. What must it be like to be wrapped in those arms?

And there he was again with his stupid hair breaking my stupid heart.

Enzo hears determined footsteps approaching and he shuts the journal, hiding it behind him.

“Fine, Berkshire,” I sigh when I reach him. “Here, take my notes,” I say, handing it out to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you so desperate to get them earlier?” I fold my arms. “I will not be part of the reason you fail in class.” I point at him, “you and your dumb ass can very well do it yourself. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

My brain short circuits, the fire freezing in my veins. How the hell does he know?

He smirks, pulling out a familiar black journal. My eyes widen.

“On second thought,” I say, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter,” I turn around and walk away. “Fail class for all I care.”

I’m yanked back when I feel Enzo’s grip on my wrist. “Wait.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He knows!

“I’m sorry,” he says. What? I turn back, my confused expression directed at him.

“That I called you a mudblood,” he explains. “I was a dumb ass when we were younger.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” I state, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you back then and I was prejudiced. Over the years, I enjoyed watching your passion for magic and studying. How you light up when you talk to your friends about a book you just read. And how you’re always the first to volunteer when someone needs help. You have this fire and warmth in you and I just need to be around it all the time. I’m reduced to being a moth to your flame and I don’t mind it at all.”

I blink, speechless.

He takes a step forward, voice softening. “Why do you think I tease you all the time?”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The anger not quite there in my voice.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you and I thought you hated me.” He brushes the hair from my face and cups my face. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh no, I do hate you.” I falter, “but maybe I kind of, just sort of, like you too.”

He grins. “It seems there are things we need to talk about. Will you go on a date with me?”

My heart stutters. “You already know my answer.”

He laughs, “stubborn as always. I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls me in for a hug.

Oh. Being wrapped in his strong arms is even better than I imagined. I rest my head on his shoulder when a thought occurs to me.

“You’re sure this is not just some elaborate ploy for me to keep giving you my notes?”

He sighs, “of course not, just enjoy this moment."

He moves his mouth to my ear, "But if you do, I solemnly swear I will make it worth your while.”

I don't hit him this time.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: For those who get the Avril Lavigne title reference, here's a tight hug for you! ♡

I may or may not have also had a place where I wrote down love confessions for someone I couldn’t have. Some of those may or may not have been included in the journal entries.

Two fics published in one day? Who is she?

#hogmarch challenge #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #enzo x reader #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fandom #slytherin boys #wizarding world #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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wqnwoos · 8 months

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kwon soonyoung is hopeless at subtlety.

when a guy who’s never touched a book that wasn’t absolutely necessary for an exam suddenly starts lingering around the campus library, it becomes noticeable. it becomes more noticeable when it’s soonyoung, as the popular dance captain and renowned party thrower that he is.

hell, even you’ve noticed, and you’re usually miles and miles away, in a world of your own. when you’re not helping students find books or scanning out their required readings, you’re sitting behind the student librarian desk reading your own books, or studying, or, in some of your lesser moments, scrolling through tiktok. you don’t pay too much attention to who comes in and out, but the thing about soonyoung is that he demands attention.

not him himself, that would be obnoxious. but it’s the bleached hair, and handsome features, and just the fact that he seems to know everyone around here. so yeah, his face becomes recognisable with each day he skulks into the library, dithering between shelves that you never would have assumed held his interest.

today, however, is the first day he actually borrows a book. he waltzes up to the counter carrying, surprisingly, a jane austen — persuasion. which is only one of the greatest novels ever written, but you restrain yourself from blurting that out, instead asking for his name and typing it in.

he’s quieter than you’ve seen him be, around campus with his friends. gentle, almost — shy, too, with the way his cheeks pink when you repeat his name, and the way he drums his fingers nervously on the book.

a moment later, your brows are furrowing at the words that pop up. “um. soonyoung? it says here you last borrowed a book… three years ago. and you didn’t return it.”

the boy in front of you practically goes scarlet. “shit,” he curses, quiet but emphatic. “which book?”

you cast another glance to the computer screen. “um, diary of a wimpy kid. cabin fever.”

he passes one hand over his embarrassed face; it seems that a meagre amount of words is enough to reduce him to a fumbling mess. he drops persuasion, picks it up, slides it back over to you, and, with a strained voice, says, “i’ll find it! i’ll bring it tomorrow. cross my heart.”

and, much to your surprise, ten minutes before you shift ends the next day, kwon soonyoung is running breathlessly through the library double doors; he meets your eyes and brandishes a battered looking copy of cabin fever with a triumphant grin and needless declaration;

“i found it!” he drops it with a satisfying thunk, and you can’t help the amused smile that breaks out onto your face. “you won’t believe where it was,” he continues, shaking his head. “it’s probably best if i don’t even tell you — anyway!” he cuts himself off before you can think too deeply about what that means. “do i have to pay a fine?”

“no,” you say, and bring forward the copy of persuasion he’d been eyeing yesterday. “do you still want this, by the way? i kept it to the side in case you came back for it.”

he beams, and it’s like the sun’s in front of you: bright, warm, lovely. “you did? thank you, ___. actually… you finish up in a few minutes, right?”

“i — yes,” you say slowly, squinting at him. “how do you know that?”

“i’ve been coming here every day for two and a half weeks trying to get the courage to talk to you, and i accidentally memorised your schedule doing that,” he admits with a shameless grin. before you can even process that, he’s suddenly looking a lot shyer; but he taps the cover of the book between you, and continues: “so, um, could i… persuade you to get a coffee with me?”

you can’t help it — you laugh, much louder than library regulations allow, but you can’t bring yourself to care when soonyoung is looking at you, half-hopeful, half-sheepish. “did you pick this book just to — ”

“yes,” he interjects, cheeks flushing. “i was desperate!”

you pretend to consider. “so… you’re not an austen fan?”

“i am if you are,” he says instantly.

again, you laugh, but this time you add an answer. “in that case,” you say, lips curving upward. “i’d love to get a coffee with you.”

an / requested by the lovely lovely @etherealyoungk !! hope u like it skye <3

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

#seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #hoshi fluff #soonyoung x you #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung x reader #seventeen fic #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic

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greenxgloss · 1 month

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Friends For Now? (Charlie Walker)

NSFW

summary: you and charlie have been friends for some time and he would help you do your homework sometimes, this time he caught you at the perfect time, struggling to finish your psych homework that happened to be about his favorite movies. while he was helping you he went in for a kiss and you allowed it to escalate.

warnings: unprotected sex, implications of stalking, mentions of female masturbation, fem!reader, use of Y/N, soft!dom!charlie, p in v, fingering, implied overstimulation

It's Tuesday night and your assignment is due tomorrow but you just can't get yourself to sit and focus on the Stab movies for this psych homework. "Watch Stab 2 and write a summary of the movie and a synopsis of the killers." you read aloud, hoping that it would help your answer click in your head. you scoffed and shoved your books over. for some reason you just couldn't focus on the movies and even after trying to cheat online you got nothing.

You heard a tap on the window and it was Charlie your best friend. "hey! need help?" he asked, opening the window. you quickly stood up and put on a shirt before he got in. "relax dude nothing I haven't seen before." he said, taking a deep breath as he gathered himself at the window. you giggled and sat back on your bed. "here just copy mine and change the wording around. the usual." he said throwing his notebook in front of you and zipping his bag back up. "thanks. I've been stumped for days." you told him as he joined you on the bed. "why didn't you just call me?" he asked. "ahh I don't know I just wanted to do this on my own. i always ask you for help." you told him as you copied down the answers. "no shame in asking for help." he said sheepishly, almost blushing.

sometimes you'd wonder if he'd ever watched you from your window. you knew that would be a crazy thing to accuse your friend of and also illegal but you didn't mind the idea. charlie is awfully pretty. he has big blue eyes but they weren't piercing, they were soft and laid gently on you every time. even before you both became friends and he would peer at you from across classrooms you didn't feel uncomfortable, you felt... admired, like he was watching in adoration. of course, it felt lustful but it also felt wholesome and full of love. still, you never pursued him that way. you felt as though you didn't have room for that kind of commitment in your life. you wanted to get your shit together first, to get the grades, the job and the money. then and only then would you have time to give someone your undivided. anyway you didn't mind his pretty eyes on you at night with your hand slipped under your lace, watching from the window as you pirspired and whined quietly to keep anyone in the house from hearing.

charlie snapped you out of it. "y/n?"

"uh.. i don't know it would just be nice to get it for myself." you told him as you continued writing. "I appreciate it don't get me wrong but its not like you're gonna be able to help with tests and exams." you giggled. he smiled. "no I know I just, want you to know Im here you know? you can always call." he said, moving over to sit next to you and shove your shoulder. you nodded and let the comfortable silent engulf you and you looked at each other in the same admiration you felt when you'd spot him watching you in class.

he looked down at his hand and back up at you as he slowly put it on your thigh waiting for your approval at which point you lightly put your hand on his and inched it up to your heat. "charlie." you started, "do you ever watch me from the window?" you asked him as your face heated up and you let him press his fingers to your clothed clit. he let out an exhale. "mhm." letting his eyebrows furrow as he thought about all the times he wanted to crawl through the window into your bed and make you cum and scream his name. "you watch me touch myself?" you whispered, a quiet whine following as he pressed firmly. "you knew I was. don't pretend you don't know I watched you arch and say my name and beg for me." he said, finally getting on top of you and kissing your neck. you'd been kissed but you'd never been touched this way and it made you ache for him. you had to bite your lip a little harder while his hands roamed you freely you felt your body cling to his. "fuck charlie." you moaned. "just like that." he smirked, grinding his hips between yours, feeling the tent pitch in his own jeans.

he inched your shorts off. "you're so beautiful baby." he said, scanning you over then kissing you, placing his hands on your tits and lightly groping you causing you to moan into his mouth. "you gotta stay quiet if you wanna keep going." he pulled away and whispered, keeping eye contact as he slipped in two fingers causing your mouth to gape. "you're so good to me charlie fuck it feels so good." you continued to whine and melt into his gentle touch. "yeah? tell me how good it feels baby." he hummed watching you squirm and buck your hips at his fingers, desperately wanting him to reach deeper. "I need you so bad. I want you to fuck me." you told him and felt him curl his fingers up making you grip his arms and moan into his mouth. you wanted to touch him so you reached for his jeans and he let you unbutton them. his cock popped out hitting him on the stomach and you quietly gasped. "holy shit Charlie it's so big." you watched the length just keep going. you took his shirt off as he pulled his fingers out of your throbbing cunt causing you to gasp softly.

you sat back and watched him. you deeply thought he was beautiful. "you're so sexy charlie." you told him as you reached out and caressed his chest then pushed him down and got on top of him. you tossed your shirt off as you straddled him. "speak for yourself." he dragged his hands from your waist to your ass as you adjusted yourself and slowly slipped his length into your tight wet pussy, one hand on his chest and the other wrapped around his cock. "oh fuck fuck fuck" you moaned and you began bouncing but of course, charlie couldn't hold his patience and began rocking his hips up into you both of you now quietly whimpering and whining in sync.

the room was sweaty and the light was dim as your moans filled the walls along with the sound of your skin smacking each others. the sound only made you more and more wet. soon you felt your core untangle and you slowly reached your climax. "fuck I'm cumming I'm cumming." you almost yelled and he quickly covered your mouth as his thrusts became sloppy. charlie fell apart at the same pace as you did, both of you finishing in sync. a rare occurrence for him who has had sex before.

you fought to catch your breath as you fell beside him, your shoulders touching. "that was..." Charlie trailed out. "my first time." you interrupted causing him to jump up. "YOUR FIRST TIME?" he whisper yelled, looking right into your eyes with pure lust. you could swear his pupils were hearts. "yeah? isn't it obvious?" you said, furrowing your eyebrows. "absolutely. I've never finished at the same time as the other person.. that might have been the best sex I've ever had.." he said, laying back down and holding you to his chest. you giggled quietly as you snuggled into him. "I mean not that I have anyone to compare it to other than my own hands but you did amazing." you whispered as you turned over to let him spoon you. "oh no we aren't done." he said, whipping up and throwing your legs apart, startling you.

needless to say, the two of you went on and on for hours and you had no complaints when you were falling asleep in psych class next to him while he laughed at you.

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shiny-jr · 1 year

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damnation (peek V?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Neige LeBlanche, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: Should I be posting this right now? Probably not. Especially since Scarabia isn’t completed, but I haven’t posted anything in a while and I’ve been more motivated and inspired for Pomefiore lately. Maybe seeing comments and opinions on this might boost my energy and make me write more and complete both Scarabia and Pomefiore. Hopefully. Anyways, I wanted to post this anyways because technically it was part of the first sneak-peek before I edited it out so I could make its own and make it longer too. That, and after seeing fanart by a mutual, I wanted to write even more. I’m finally getting the chance now. So I’ll be writing right after I post this. Go check out the most recent fanart I got for this specific part of the project. Oh, and if you have no idea what this is, you might want to check the first sneak-peek post (the “I” below) and my previous posts under the #damnation twst au tag. One last thing. None of this is edited, I just copy and pasted from the draft I have so yeah, just in case y’all see mistakes it’s because I haven’t gone over it yet. I usually go over everything once it’s completed.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE BEAUTIFUL KING

A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall!

Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment?

Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.”

But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! This page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven?

How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending.

Knowing this brought you much relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be.

Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard.

Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace.

When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing.

“Thank you…! You saved me!”

Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––

“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you must already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?”

“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.”

“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, “Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…��

So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure.

“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you.

“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story.

In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her like some sort of stalker, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense.

“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!”

Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason.

“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.”

The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass.

You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming.

“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!”

Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathered fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow.

The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger.

Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke and caused you to freeze.

“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.”

You slowly stepped forward, closer to him.

“Closer.”

Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne.

“Closer.”

Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.”

The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”

It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.”

After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.”

Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear.

“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile.

The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes.

His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!”

You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him.

Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two.

Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago.

The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival.

“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.”

Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it.

The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!”

“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.”

The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king.

Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”

“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?”

Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess.

Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

#yandere #neige lubanche #neige leblanche #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst writing #work in progress #damnation twst au

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katy-l-wood · 3 months

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Let's talk cover art!

Firstly, here is the first official look at the full jacket for my new book!

Camp Daze has had a really wandering path to publication, which I'll talk more about later, but back when I still didn't know what I wanted to do with it exactly, I got this crystal clear image of what I wanted the cover to look like. So I created that cover, just the front cover at the time, as more of a portfolio piece than anything. But even though it was meant to just be a portfolio piece, I loved it so damn much, and it stuck in my head hard. When I did finally decide to self publish the book, I knew I had to use this cover.

Usually, I go through a lot more iterations for my covers when it comes time to finally publish things, but this one has just stuck with me over the years as I tried to bring this novel out into the world. Back in 2023 some of you may remember I tested another cover featuring two of the main characters, and did some tumblr polls to see what people liked most, and the tent cover won by a LANDSLIDE each time. (That other cover, or the art from it anyway, will still be available other ways! Just not as THE cover for the book.)

I think the very stark, simplistic nature of the cover fits the themes of the book really well. It's do or die and all they've got is the resources in their camp--represented by the tent, the resources of the wilderness--represented by the mountains/forest, and the looming/hovering threat of a nuclear war that they don't actually know that much about. When it came time to create the full wraparound version of the cover, I added in a little archery target on the back cover because archery plays a major roll in their survival as well.

Colors wise, everything was built around the green tents. The tents are based off of the ones at my own childhood summer camp, and they play a big roll in how the camp manages to create better shelter for themselves. I think found a purple that worked well with the green because, well, they're in Colorado and "purple mountains majesty" and all that. Then it was just filling in other areas with colors that fit within the scheme. I kept everything a little more muted mostly because I just like more muted color schemes.

For the back cover I picked a few lines from the book that, I think, capture the overall vibe of the book which is "if we try, we MIGHT die, but if we DON'T try then we WILL die, so we may as well try."

And shoutout to @gallusrostromegalus for helping me write a new author bio while I was flailing around in the discord chat having a minor identity crisis, lol. The new bio kicks ass, even in this shortened version.

Something that is very important to me is to make sure cover artists are always credited, so I do have a credit for that under my author bio even though my cover artist is also, ya know, me. Just trying to set precedent so more people will start doing things like that.

So yeah! That's how this cover came together. I think it's one of my favorite covers I've ever done.

You can back the Kickstarter here to get your own special edition copy of this book!

#Camp Daze #Camp Daze Kickstarter #My Art #Illustration #Cover Art #Kickstarter #Signal Boost

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maivolpe · 1 year

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as long as you’re with me (you’ll be just fine)

summary: you neglect an injury to be able to see your boyfriend. he, however, sees right through your charade.

a/n: my first "full" one-shot! this is a reminder to take care of yourselves or else. i hope you enjoy ♡

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader cw: descriptions of blood, stitches, wounds, needles, bucky dog-earing a book wc: 1.5k

the lights were dimmed when you arrived home, battered and bruised. you almost sank to your knees upon entrance, the exhaustion from the day coursing through your body. you dropped your backpack just inside the door with a resounding thud. you'd deal with it later.

your suit still stuck to your skin unpleasantly, the slick feeling of blood still coating your leg. it had taken a few minutes to even realize you had been stabbed, but that was a small mercy. it was a sharp pain like you'd never felt before, and the heat of it all tortured you through the rest of the fight. you had lost the feeling, for a few fleeting seconds, thanks to adrenaline, but now it was back. and worse than before, as your stupid suit rubbed against the wound.

shower, was the plan. shower everything off, bandage it up, and pretend like nothing happened. then you would get to spend the time with bucky that you missed on the mission.

"baby?"

his voice echoed softly across the room, and you squinted before realizing that bucky was tucked under a pile of blankets on the couch. only his eyes, his nose, and his battered copy of the hobbit showed. you laughed breathily, slowly making your way across the room to him. "hey, lover."

he dog-eared his page, causing you to wince internally, and struggled out of the blankets he had trapped himself in. his eyes flitted over your face, taking in your features. the small crease in your forehead, the bags under your eyes. the little tilt to your head, because... you were favoring one leg over the other. busted.

"where are you hurt?" he asked, though he already knew.

you groaned, defeated, and displayed your left leg in front of him. though your suit was still on, there was a sickening stain of blood collecting where you'd quickly wrapped it up and tied it off before leaving the compound.

"it's really not a big deal, doesn't hurt that badly. don't worry about me!"

bucky cocked an eyebrow at you, and reached for your leg. he gently bent your shin backwards, eliciting a hiss of pain from your lips.

"sure, princess. not that bad. sit down."

he headed off to the bathroom to fetch the kit, and you let yourself slowly sink onto the couch.

"if it was bad they wouldn't have let you leave," he called from the other room. "knife wound?"

"yeah," you answered. "i kind of... hid it? but i think they knew you were gonna patch me up regardless."

bucky walked back into the room, his bare feet grazing the carpet. "i'm nothing to you but a nurse."

you laughed and leaned forwards, trapping his lips in a soft kiss. it tasted like heaven after a long day of granola bars and the metallic tang of your own blood. but then again, it always tasted like heaven.

"hottest nurse i ever met."

he chuckled, tying his hair up to keep it out of his eyes and squatting down to see your thigh in the dim lighting. "don't tell sharon that."

he slowly untied the cloth you'd had tied just above your knee, muttering "crude" before letting it fall to the floor. while it wasn't completely soaked through with blood, you still looked away from it, instead watching bucky's jaw set as he pulled out a pair of scissors.

"'m just gonna cut your suit here," he assured. "you've got like fifty of 'em anyways."

you nodded your assent, laying back on the cushions as you heard the tear of fabric. he hissed upon seeing the wound, a three- or four-inch gash just above your knee. it was probably three-quarters of an inch deep, he figured. dried crimson covered every available inch of skin. if it had happened to himself, he wouldn't have cared. he had plenty of scars, and the serum would help to heal it fast enough that it didn't matter.

but to his girl?

he was filled with a rage he hadn't felt since the forties, when steve would show up bloodied and bruised, acting as unaffected as you were right now. he'd been against you going on missions in the first place - while he knew you were capable, he couldn't protect you in the field. he wanted, needed to protect you. but he knew the best way to do that would be to help now, to clean you up, and so he did.

"how're you feeling, pretty girl?" he asked, moving to the faucet in the kitchen. he ran the water over a clean cloth, never taking his eyes off of the couch where you lay.

you pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, sighing. "'m a little dizzy. stitches?"

"mm-hmm."

"ugh."

you closed your eyes - just for a minute - and it felt like the couch would swallow you up, or you would sink right through the cushions. it was quiet, only the ticking of the clock and the hum of the tacky lamp that bucky loved to read by filling the air. they soon faded, and you didn't question why. there was silence for a moment, and the burning in your leg subsided until it was just a dull ache.

your eyes flickered open in surprise at a cool pressure on your lips, parting them just a bit when you realized bucky was holding a glass to your mouth. it felt cool and wonderful trickling down your throat, and before you knew it, the cup was empty and he was pulling it away. he made up for it with the loving look he gave you, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. it could've just been the shadows, the way the light fell on him, but you knew better.

"hang in there for me, doll," he murmured, sitting back down and pressing the wet cloth to your skin. the sting of the fabric against the gash was more than enough to bring you back down to earth. you groaned, and bucky nodded in sympathy.

"almost done."

he was finished in no time, though it felt like forever, and soon wielded the needle and nylon that you so dreaded.

“here, baby, i got you.” he tucked the end of one of his blankets into your mouth, letting you bite down on it. "ready?"

you nodded, giving him a weak thumbs up. ready as you'd ever be, you supposed.

he went in as quickly as he could, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he slammed out stitch after stitch. you gritted your teeth, your breath hitching. it stung so badly. but it was done as fast as it had begun, and the needle clattered to the ground.

bucky pulled himself onto the couch next to you, his hands moving a million miles a minute. he gently took the fabric from your teeth, laying the blanket softly over your legs, hiding the stitches from view. you held your trembling hands out to him, and they were swallowed up in an instant, deft fingers tracing your veins.

“good job, darling, that was amazing,” he murmured, pressing a tentative kiss to your mouth. your lip quivered and he pulled away quickly, cautious eyes searching for any kind of pain he might’ve caused.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

tears gathered at your waterline, and you sniffled before choking out, “you treat me so well.”

he smiled, but knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “you’ve been stabbed. do you think i wouldn't help you?”

“no i know you'll always help, but… i don't think i deserve it. i didn’t do amazing. it hurt.”

he laughed. “pretty girl, when i had to sew myself up for the first time, i was cussin’ and screamin’ everywhere. you didn’t even make a single sound.”

"well then i shouldn't have gotten stabbed," you grumbled.

he pulled you into his arms. “you got through the fight, first of all, and that's a win in my book. and on top of that, you toughed it out just to come see me, dove. which you shouldn’t have, that was stupid and reckless, but the point here is that you're strong. even stronger than me, i think."

you only hummed, moving your head to rest on his shoulder. it felt as though all of your energy had evaporated from your body, and would float away through an open window somewhere. the rumble of bucky's voice deliberately softened, proving your exhaustion did not go unnoticed.

“want me to sleep on the couch with you tonight?”

you hummed, leaning forward to kiss his neck as your way of saying yes. he chuckled again, the sweet melody of his laughter bringing a ghost of a smile to your tired face. you couldn't see his, but you knew he was grinning.

“c’n you read to me?”

bucky reached for his book, flipping to the dog-eared page. "i thought you'd never ask, dove."

"you know, one 'f these days 'm gonna get tired of hearing about dwarves."

"you won't," he said confidently. "you love me too much."

you snorted, but settled in, tucking your uninjured leg close to your body. bucky tightened his grip around you, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he cleared his throat dramatically, coaxing another smile from your features.

“bilbo rushed along the passage, very angry, and altogether bewildered and bewuthered…”

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

ko-fi ♡

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #protective bucky barnes #winter soldier #avenger reader #marvel #mai writes

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burningvelvet · 5 months

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Why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason Couldn't Get a Legal Separation; or, the Utter Madness of Marital Laws

So I saw a Jane Eyre post discussing why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason couldn't get a legal marital separation. I've thought a lot about this topic, and in order to procrastinate writing the final for my upper-level Brontë class, I've decided to write this sort of convoluted analysis instead. I know many others have written about this subject, but I wanted to explore a bit further on my own.

Preliminary context about me, the Brontës, their Byronic inspiration, etc.: I've learned a lot about 19th century British marriage laws recently in my classes on old British literature, as well as by having studied Byron, whose marital separation in 1816 was a notorious part of his history & also reverberated through 19c literature. He refers to this separation in many of his works, most famously in his notorious poem "Fare Thee Well." Harriet Beecher Stowe, the most famous American female writer at the time, was friends with Lady Byron and wrote a book defending her called "Lady Byron Vindicated: A history of the Byron controversy from its beginning in 1816 to the present time" (the original callout post).

Insanity accusations did factor in to Byron's separation. Many scholars have remarked how the Queens of Byronic Criticism, the Brontë sisters, took significant inspiration from their well-worn copy of Moore's biography Life of Byron when creating their works. The Brontës would have been very familiar with marriage laws not only due to their knowledge of Byron's trainwreck of a marriage, but also due to being well-educated women at the time who knew that marriage was the most important economic decision of one's life and could very well make or break a person. As a result, marriage plays a significant role in their novels.

More relevant preliminary context about the novel: Jane Eyre actually takes place in the Georgian era, despite most adaptations and anaysis presenting is as a Victorian piece due to the novels publication date (this drives me crazy; same goes for the other Brontë books). Marriage laws did not change drastically from the time the novel is set to the time Brontë was writing the novel, but things were a bit different socially. Rochester was also married 15 years before his attempt to marry Jane. According to this very good analysis, Rochester and Bertha probably married in or around the year 1793: https://jane-eyre.guidesite.co.uk/timeline.

Now, here are the reasons why Rochester couldn't separate from Bertha:

1) Insanity wasn't grounds for divorce/separation in the Regency era.

Rochester himself says that he couldn't legally separate from her because of her insanity, which presumably rendered any of her faults null on the grounds of that marital vow "in sickness and in health." This is possibly one of his biggest reasons:

"I was rich enough now – yet poor to hideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legal procedings: for the doctors now discovered that my wife was mad — her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity [..]"

2) Divorce was nearly impossible anyway.

There had only been around 300 divorces in English history at the time. Almost all of them were husbands divorcing their wives for committing adultery. Only a handful of divorces had succesfully been obtained by women, and they were only in cases where the husband had committed incestuous adultery or bigamy, and was extremely physically cruel. So technically after his bigamy attempt, Bertha may have had more grounds to obtain a divorce than Rochester would have, if only she were lucid enough to do so. However, in that scenario infertility would have helped their case, and Adèle's existence would have harmed their case if he attempted to seek a divorce before marrying Jane. Though as the novel explains, Adèle is probably not his, she definitely would have been used against him, as would the fact that he kept Bertha's existence a secret in England. But he wouldn't have tried for divorce that late in the game anyway, considering it was one of the most difficult options.

3) Female adultery was your best bet at divorce or separation, and this probably wasn't applicable to Mr. & Mrs. Rochester.

Although some scholars claim that there is subtext hinting that Bertha was adulterous (which some adaptations, like the 2006, include), you needed substantial proof of the adultery, which Rochester may not have had if it did occur. Being a proud man, he also wouldn't have wanted to be humiliated in that way by letting it be publicly known (as shame is one of his main reasons for hiding their marriage to begin with).

However, I lean toward the idea that Bertha may not have committed adultery. If she definitively did, seeing how affected Rochester was by Céline cheating on him (he shot her lover in revenge and left her with a stipend), if he ever suspected adultery on Bertha's part then I'm sure he would have been at court the very next day. I also think Rochester tries not to be too much of a hypocrite, and he is well aware that he himself is an adulterer, so he probably doesn't want to accuse Bertha of a crime he's committed and which he couldn't definitively prove she did.

Rochester does talk about hating Bertha's "vices" when they lived together, citing drinking, arguing, cruelty to servants, cursing, her being "unchaste," a "harlot," etc. - the last epithets, combined with her supposed lack of morality, and her being described as seductive, heavily imply that adultery could be added to her list of offenses. However, if she did truly cheat on him as well, I don't see why he wouldn't plainly tell this to Jane as well. I would imagine it would be his first complaint, and it would probably be considered his most justifiable reason against her by their cultural standards.

I don't see why he wouldn't jump to take Bertha's infidelity as an opportunity to defend his own actions, considering how open he is with Jane about his own adultery and being cheated on by Cèline Varens. While I can see how some of the textual evidence may strongly suggest Bertha's adultery, we cannot be fully certain, and that may be because Rochester himself is not fully certain. I cannot see why he wouldn't have sought legal advice on that account alone.

In short, if Bertha was an adulterer, there must have been no evidence to convict her.

Also: while the double-standard may seem odd and trivial to us, the reason why female adultery held more weight than male adultery has entirely to due with old patriarchal inheritance laws; i.e the risk of a wife getting extramaritally pregnant and passing the illegitimate child off as her husband's heir was considered too great of an affront. A man could have as many bastards as he wanted because he would know they were bastards and were not at risk of inheriting his stuff. One needed legitimate heirs to justify passing on one's ancestral wealth to. Essentially, marriage was a mere economic tool, and the economy was and is inherently patriarchal. I digress.

4) Rochester's lack of social & economic leverage, and risk of social ruin in general.

Only the wealthiest of the wealthy could obtain divorce or official separation, and it often led to social ruin. Rochester is rich, but he has no title and no great network of supporters due to being a younger son and having been abroad for most of the past 15 years (this was the length of his marriage to Bertha, stated by Mr. Briggs during the bigamous wedding attempt). He doesn't have as much leverage as Lord and Lady Byron had.

To continue on official separation, like Lady and Lord Byron obtained. Just like divorce, this was also a messy and scandalous legal proceeding, and required numerous good reasons to obtain, and being well-connected Lords and Ladies really helped your case. You also needed many witnesses and written statements as evidence. Bertha's family, as we see with Mason, would have been unhelpful to Rochester, and due to his shame and secrecy, no one could really testify on his behalf I'm assuming.

5) Unofficial separation would have been inconvenient, especially in regards to living situations.

Aside from divorce, which was extremely rare, extremely controversial, and only for the wealthiest members of society — there were unofficial and official separations. An unofficial separation was simply living apart from one another. I've often wondered why Rochester didn't simply move Grace Poole and Bertha somewhere else, but my main theory is that it would have been cost ineffective, and due to his family who were implied to be shitty, he probably really didn't want to live at Thornfield anyway so thought it would be convenient to place her there. Rochester says it would be dangerous to place her in his other residence of Ferndean:

"[..] though I possess an old house, Ferndean Manor, even more retired and hidden than this, where I could have lodged her safely enough, had not a scruple about the unhealthiness of the situation, in the heart of a wood, made my conscience recoil from the arrangement. Probably those damp walls would soon have eased me of her charge: but to each villain his own vice; and mine is not a tendency to indirect assassination, even of what I most hate."

6) Annulment was likely impossible given their circumstances.

Annulment means evaporating the marriage, acting as if it never existed, that it was a mistake. This was rare and only granted in unique circumstances, and I believe it was more common with aristocracy and royals. I believe you could possibly get an annulment if you could prove that the spouse was insane at the time of the wedding and you did not know. However, Bertha did not begin to truly deteriorate until after they had been living together for a bit. And while Rochester says that he did not know her mother was in an asylum until after the wedding, having an insane mother doesn't mean that you are insane, which Bertha clearly wasn't at that point, at least not in a way that people would have publicly acknowledged, since Rochester says she attended parties and her hand was highly sought after.

Generally, the longer a marriage had gone on, the harder it was to prove why it could not go on. Rochester says that he and Bertha "lived together" for "four years" in Jamaica while her condition deteriorated and he tried to make things work. And again, after the wedding he found out her mother was "mad, and shut up in a lunatic asylum." So we have more reasons for Rochester's difficulty: the fear of Bertha going to an asylum while she was still mostly lucid in those first four years, combined with the fact that they openly lived together and certainly must have consummated their marriage (things which would further prevent annulment), and were certainly publicly recognized as a couple in Spanish Town society, and her family wanting the marriage to continue so she could have children of "good race" i.e. to produce heirs.

Here's an important passage that to me suggests that Rochester and Bertha not only had an initial flirtation but likely consummated their marriage, likely had a passionate sexual relationship for some time, and likely implies his feelings for her were more complex than we'd initially assume, making annulment not so clear-cut of an option to him at the time:

"My father said nothing about her money; but he told me Miss Mason was the boast of Spanish Town for her beauty: and this was no lie. I found her a fine woman, in the style of Blanche Ingram; tall, dark, and majestic. Her family wished to secure me because I was of a good race; and so did she. They showed her to me in parties, splendidly dressed. I seldom saw her alone, and had very little private conversation with her. She flattered me, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms and accomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is no folly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience, the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to its commission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; she allured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was. Oh, I have no respect for myself when I think of that act! — an agony of inward contempt masters me. I never loved, I never esteemed, I did not even know her."

7) Spousal abandonment wasn't possible, and on some level he honored his legal and financial obligations to her and the Mason family.

Bertha's family likely refused to house her for legal and personal reasons, and spousal abandonment was forbidden due to the husband's financial responsibility as well as the law of coverture (a wife became her husband's full legal responsibility; some say "property"). Like we see in Anne's Tenant of Wildfell Hall, if a woman ran away from their spouse they would have to live in obscurity and be at risk of being sussed out. You couldn't just abandon your partner. Still, people did, because it was the easiest route to take.

But the more upper-class you were, and the more financial entanglements you had, the more inconvenient this was. We know that Rochester and his family became enmeshed with the Mason family, and he got a lot of money from Bertha, so her father likely would have taken him to court. At any rate, Rochester was legally bound to bring Bertha with him to England when he left Jamaica. If he attempted to abandon her in Jamaica, the backlash it would have brought would have brought him social ruin and foiled his chances at getting away with any bigamy attempts.

All this brings us to a further notice of Bertha's family situation. Based on Charlotte Brontë's positive comments about Rochester's character (https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/731403104856195072/in-a-letter-to-w-s-williams-14-august-1848) I see no reason to suspect him, like many feminist critics do, of being an unreliable narrator or of lying about Bertha Mason's history. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, and in mine, that is simply not the novel Charlotte wrote. By her own admission, she wanted his narrative to be a path to further goodness.

It makes no narrative sense for our explanation of his and Bertha's history to be full of lies when he's trying to make ammends with Jane, who never suspects him of lying during his admission, but who does critique him and figure he'd tire of her like she was one of his many mistresses. Jane wonders if Rochester would lock her in an attic too, which he refutes on the basis that he loves her more than he loved Bertha when she was sane, and so he would care for Jane himself. Jane also tells him that it's not Bertha's fault that she's mad. So in my opinion, if Charlotte wanted us to believe Rochester was lying about his and Bertha's history to make himself look better or Bertha look worse, I don't see why she would have been vague about it, and I don't see why Jane wouldn't have called it out like she does everything else. I don't think Rochester is really a villain who locked his harmless wife in the attic for giggles; I think he weighed most of his options and found, like most people back then and even today, that keeping his problems locked up and ignored was the best solution.

Now, on with the point. I have often wondered why Rochester didn't simply "unofficially separate" from Bertha by leaving her with her family when he left. Why did he take her to England? Why didn't he just run away? It wasn't because he was an evil villain who wanted to keep her as a trophy. It's because 1) I don't think her father would have let him, as he was so quick to marry her off, 2) he felt obligated to her, and 3) it was criminal for men to abandon their wives, and it would have attracted publicity, which is what Rochester was avoiding by taking Bertha to England and sheltering her in secrecy.

Many claim that Rochester's adultery is a betrayal of his wife; and while religiously, narratively, socially, we can accept this statement, it was not legally a crime. While Rochester does honor his financial and legal obligations to his wife and her family, he does not take the religious part of the vows into account, and that's why he's cosmically punished and only rewarded after he repents, as he explains toward the end of the novel.

Another interesting point is that when Rochester recounts his decision to move back to England, he tells us that Bertha had already been declared insane in Jamaica and that she was already confined there (presumably around the 4 year anniversary before they left), meaning her father probably knew about confinement:

"One night I had been awakened by her yells (since the medical men had pronounced her mad, she had of course been shut up) — it was a fiery West Indian night; [..]"

Locking away "insane" people was standard procedure then, and if this was done with Bertha's father's knowledge, considering he locked his own wife away in an asylum, then this further absolves Rochester of a lot of the blame in my opinion. It more than likely wasn't his idea to lock her away, but the advice of "the medical men" and presumably her father's consultation as well.

8) Even if he divorced or separated from her, he couldn't remarry. Attempting these, or getting caught attempting abandonment, would have brought negative publicity that would have likely prevented the success of any future bigamy attempts. To him, secrecy and bigamy seemed better chances at securing happiness than the social ruin and likely failure the other options would have brought him.

Aside from Rochester's own explanation (which I supplied in #2 re: the separation veto inherent to Bertha's insanity), the other biggest reason as to why Rochester wouldn't seek a separation/divorce even if she hadn't been declared insane and even if he were willing to accuse her of adultery truthfully or not, is due to the fact that one could not legally remarry upon separation or divorce (unless you were Henry VIII and got God's permission lol). Rochester's impossible dream is that he wants to be married to someone he really loves, and if secrecy and bigamy are his only options then he is willing to succumb; this is shown in numerous passages:

"[..] I could reform — I have strength yet for that — if— but where is the use of thinking of it, hampered, burdened, cursed as I am? Besides, since happiness is irrevocably denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life: and I will get it, cost what it may."

"I will keep my word: I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness — yes, goodness; I wish to be a better man than I have been; than I am — as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hinderances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood."

"Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment — I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion — I defy it."

Closing remarks on the above's validity: I can't cite all my sources because a lot of this stuff I learned from lectures via my professor who specializes in 19th century English literature & history. But here's some recently published information from a historian, taken from "Inside the World of Bridgerton: True Stories of Regency High Society" by Catherine Curzon (2023):

"And if you were one of the newly-weds, you really did hope things would work out, because in the Regency till death do us part wasn't just an expression. As the Prince Regent himself had learned when he separated from his wife within eighteen months of their marriage, obtaining a divorce in Regency England was no easy matter. He never achieved it, and for those who did the stakes could be high and the cost ruinous in every sense."

"Until the passing of the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857, which legalized divorce in the civil courts, it was governed by the ecclesiastical courts, and the Church didn't end a marriage without very, very good reason. Even these divorces didn't allow a couple to remarry, though, and they were more akin to what we would today call a legal separation, with no shared legal or financial responsibilities going forward. It was freedom, but only to a point."

"The only way to obtain a complete dissolution that allowed for remarriage was to secure a parliamentary divorce, and these were notoriously difficult to obtain. They began with a criminal conversation case, because they relied on adultery by one of the parties to make them even a slight possibility. If a woman committed crim. con., her life in polite society was over."

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abbyromanoff · 10 months

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Yeheyyy! Can I req something with pregnant reader x g!p wanda?. Reader's craving for her wife after one week of not seeing her(Wanda's away from mission leaving her 6 months pregnant wife) and some breeding kink & teasing pls?. Thank uuu!!🤗

The Keeper Of Her Cold, Wretched Heart

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: 2,049

Warnings: soft sex, angst, comfort, readers prego, we’re pretending like Wanda didn’t get blipped, teasing, mommy kink, masturbation, facial, kinda service top!Wanda

I FORGOT TO PUT BREEDING KINK OMG IM SORRY!!

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

The color of the TV had been the only brightness illuminating your dark room. You were watching the news in fear of the mission your wife had been sent on. You knew the stress it caused wasn’t good for you, Wanda had stated that multiple times after reading many parenting books. But you were worried sick, it had been already two days longer than expected and she wasn’t home. Your mind was plagued with the worst possible scenarios, but you didn’t want to think about your wife being hurt or, better yet, dying. God, the thought made tears threaten to escape and your head throb.

You were alone in your apartment waiting for her, you had even driven yourself to the compound multiple times in the few days in case she was there. But you knew deep down this would be the first place she’d come to, you were her home.

Suddenly, you heard the door slamming shut as the intruder ran through your house. Your fears of who it might be instantly got shot down when you heard the familiar voice of your lover.

“Y/N? Y/N?! Please, baby, where are you?” You heard her speak in a much more frantic voice. You rushed out of the room as quickly as you could with your large tummy and saw her pacing back and forth in every inch of the house to find you. She was still wearing her suit and there were drops of blood on her face that were hiding her cuts.

“Wanda? What’s wrong?” She turned to look at you, running faster than the speed of light to grab you and hold you in her arms. She cried into your shoulder and felt all over you, trying to convince her mind that you were real, that you were in fact still here.

“Oh, my beautiful babies, you’re all okay.” She mumbled through tears, dropping to her knees so she could kiss your stomach holding her children.

“My little Pietro, and my little Anastasia, you’re okay. Momma’s here now, I’m not ever leaving my babies again, okay? Never again.” You smiled at the mention of your twins, but it soon got replaced when noticing her shaken-up state.

She quickly leaned up to face you again, your hands brushing the hair out of her face before you rested them on her cheeks. You wiped away the tears and felt her arms holding yours. She pressed her forehead against yours and wept in sorrow.

“Love, please tell me what’s wrong.” She shuddered, and you could tell she was not quite ready to speak. You nodded to yourself, grasping her hand and leading her to the bathroom where you had her sit on the toilet seat. You cleaned her face with a wet cloth, small apologies leaving your lips whenever she hissed in pain.

You bandaged her cuts and wounds and found yourself removing her clothing. It wasn’t sexual, but you knew Wanda needed lots of help right now. You were about to walk to her clothes drawer when you felt her hand grip yours tightly.

“Please..please don’t leave me.”

“I’m just going to get you some comfortable clothes, I’ll be back in a few seconds.” You tried again, only to feel her holding you tighter.

“No! You- you can’t go, you can’t!” She yelled, but you see the way she gulped away her emotions. Your heart cracked hearing the way her voice broke in sadness.

“Okay, I won’t leave. We can stay right here, alright? I won’t leave your side.” You kissed the top of her head gently and she wrapped her arms around your waist before you could take off, not like you would anyways. She pressed her ear against your stomach and felt a small kick land near her face.

“They’re gone.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. And before you could press on the topic, she was already continuing her sentence.

“Thanos, he-he killed them all. I had to kill Vision, my own friend. He died from my hands, my hands, Y/N. And the worst part, even though I already killed him, Thanos found a way to get the stone from his head and,” She was trying to speak, but she was choking on tears. You waited patiently, stroking her soft hair in a soothing matter.

“And he killed them! He killed everyone like- like they didn’t even matter! Like they didn’t have families to return to. All of my friends, my family, gone with just a snap of his fingers. He wiped out half the universe, so I came home in fear that you and…you and our babies would be..gone.” She struggled when talking about you three, her true family. While the Avengers had over time become what she felt was a second home, you would always be the first.

“I- I don’t know what to say. Wanda, I am so, so sorry you had to witness that. And that fear? God, I can’t even imagine what you must’ve gone through. But I’m gonna tell you this, no matter what happens to me, I will always be right here with you.” You pointed to her heart and she nodded. Her heart beat for you. She had already lost her parents, her brother, and now her friends, she couldn’t bare losing you either.

“Can I kiss you?”

“No need to ask, Wands.” She grabs your cheeks and pulls you in, passionately kissing you and pouring out any emotions she had bottled up. She stood up slowly and you followed, feelings her hands travel all over your body. They went to your back, traveling up and down until they circled to your stomach.

She walked you backward into the bedroom you shared, discarding you of your shirt and letting you sit on the side of the bed. She dropped to her knees in front of you, removing her lips from yours to place them on your thighs. Her hands landed on your knees as she separated your legs.

“May I?” You nodded in approval and you lifted your hips to help her remove your shorts. She did the same with your panties, smiling to herself at the small wet patch.

“Were you thinking about this, love?”

“Y-yeah, was thinking about you all day.” Her tongue teased your cunt, grazing over your folds as you shuddered, grasping her hair in your hands to pull her closer.

“Ah, ah, why don’t you tell me what was going on in that pretty little head of yours all day, then I’ll consider touching you.” You whined, receiving an amused chuckle from the woman between your legs.

“C’mon, Y/N, we’re losing daylight.” Her thumb trailed to your clit as she rubbed slowly.

“I-I was thinking about you a-and this. I’ve been craving you so badly, Wands, I tried fucking myself but it just wasn’t the same.” While you spoke, her tongue returned to your wet slit, drawing in and out of your tight hole. It made it even more difficult to speak, but you did in hopes of a reward. That reward being the orgasm you’d been craving for over a week now.

“Mm, mommy’s so sorry, baby. She was so mean leaving you like that, all desperate.” You hummed along with her alluring words. While her raspy voice was seductive and unbelievably attractive, it only made you all the more frustrated when she’d pull away to speak.

“How can mommy make it up to her angel, hm?”

“J-just keep fucking me. Let me use your mouth, mommy.” She groaned deeply and, without a worded response, dove back into the complete mess that was your cunt. She ridded her tongue from your hole to bring its attention to your clit, sucking the delicate flesh as you could hear your juices swashing around.

“Taste so good, baby.” She tried muttering, only to be interrupted by a pull on her hair. She looked up at you with her tongue still fucking you mercilessly, it was the sexiest look you ever did see.

“Don’t speak, just let me fuck that hot mouth of yours.” She smirked against you due to the control you had over her. You weren’t just the owner of her heart, you were the owner of her body and soul. She belonged to you, she was your Wanda, and she would forever be so.

Your squeezed-shut eyes led you to not pick up on the fact that Wanda’s free hand had traveled to her crotch. She had been stroking herself and could already feel the arriving orgasm begging to be released. But as always, you came first. Quite literally.

Her moans traveled through you and sent shocks down your spine. You were thrashing in her tight hold on your thighs, your legs quaking around her shoulders, and your head was thrown back. Your back arched into her as you bit your lip in order to quiet yourself.

“Let mommy hear you, sweetheart. Let her hear those precious moans.” You didn’t have time to warn her before your orgasm came crashing over you. All of the pent-up sexual frustration for what felt like months but was really only a week was finally let out. Your mouth flew open in a silent moan, and your leg's unbearable hold almost fractured her skull. But she couldn’t have been happier.

“Fuck, mommy needs to cum too, you wanna make mommy cum, baby?” You grabbed her hard length in your soft hands, stroking up and down quickly as you were craving to see her lose it. She was trying her best to hide it, but inside she was going absolutely nuts.

“Yeah- fuck! Mommy’s gonna paint that pretty face of yours, little girl.” You closed your eyes and opened your mouth as her release spurted onto your face. It felt like a never-ending stream and you wondered if the distance had the same effect on her as it did on you.

Her breath was shaky and so was yours, but she used her thumb to wipe your chin before pulling you in for a kiss.

“You look even more beautiful with my cum all over you.” She chuckled, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. She grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and wiped your face of her essence.

“I’m so sorry for what you went through, sweetheart. Nobody should ever have to witness the pain you went through, and the pain you’ve survived though. You’re so strong, and I’m so beyond proud of you for everything you do. You fight to save a world that sees you as a monster, and that…that is a type of courage and strength I’ve never seen until the day I met you.” Her arms entangled around your hips as she broke down crying over your thighs, she could cry all night in your arms, and you’d never get tired of holding her.

She had always thought she deserved the things she had gone through. She believed that all the suffering she’s gone through, all the nights she was too afraid to sleep in fear of another hopeful dream or nightmare, that all the mothers who hid their children when she was in sight, maybe she deserved it. It pained you when she told you her fears of being a mother. It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready, it was that she feared her kids looking at her the same way every other child did, like she was a monster.

She didn’t believe in any sort of God after she lost her parents, and especially after her brother. But that didn’t stop her from staying awake at night, praying over you and her children to be kept safe in a world full of harm.

Truth be told, she didn’t want to keep fighting. She had tried taking her own life at sixteen, then again at twenty-one. And the thought of why, why couldn’t she just be set free from this pain was all answered when she met you. She didn’t believe in love at first sight either, but every time she gazed into those mysterious eyes of yours, she knew. She knew that you were the one. And while it wasn’t always easy, she knew she’d never let herself lose another keeper of her heart.

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adamsmasher · 4 months

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Okay it's after 1am and I've had a lot of wine so obviously it's time for a late night wall-of-text post, but this time it's less likely to piss off your weird uncle or whatever because once again, I gotta talk about the best $4.99 a month I've ever spent.

Please, if you haven't yet, I'm begging you to look into all of the incredible content available on the Dropout.tv streaming service (formerly known as College Humor) . Not only did Whose Line Is It Anyway's Wayne Brady say that the Dropout crew are the only ones doing improv comedy on the same level as Whose Line, but they were also one of the only studios/streaming services allowed to work during the writers' strike because their contracts went above and beyond industry standards. (And, from my own observations, Dropout LOVES hiring queer, trans/nonbinary, and BIPOC performers + crew. Obviously I don't know much about the industry, but they seem like one of the most inclusive companies in Hollywood.)

"Alex, thanks for the recommendation! What shows do they have that you think I'll like?" Oh, you're asking me to gush about my favorite tv shows? Don't mind if I do!!!

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"Oh, why aren't there any good game shows on TV?" you wonder, wishing that the Game Show Network could come up with something that isn't a lame remake of a free-to-play phone game. Well how about Game Changer, "the only game show where the game changes every show (except for [...] Game of Games, Taskmaster, and a few others that have come to light AFTER [Game Changer first aired]. That's right, [the] players have no idea what game it is they're about to play. The only way to learn is by playing, the only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning." And yes, I did sit there and watch the beginning of an episode to make sure I was accurately quoting Game Changer host (and Dropout CEO) Sam Reich's description of his flaghship game show that has THREE separate spin-offs. (for context, he only mentions the other shows that copied his in the one episode I pulled up to get an accurate quote. could you imagine how uncomfortable it would be if he said that every episode? hah!)

Are you more of a traditional Whose Line fan? Look no further than Game Changer spin-off Make Some Noise, where contestants act out "improvisational prompts that [they have] never seen before, isn't that right contestants?" ("We won't know if we've seen them before or not until we see them!" Brennan insists every time he's on...)

You like musicals but wish they were less... ya know, scripted? Check out "Play It By Ear", a fully improvised musical! (you may be familiar with its primary cast members Jess McKenna and Zach Reino from the podcast that inspired it all, "Off Book: the Improvised Musical Podcast with Zach and Jess")

Or maybe you're more into trivia, cuz you're a total nerd like me (and every single performer that's ever appeared on dropout.tv). How about "Umm, Actually" where contestants are given an incorrect statement and have to buzz in to correct it - but you have to say "Umm, Actually" first!

Straight up, you can't go wrong on Dropout. Please, check it out. They're nearly doubling the amount of original shows they have in 2024, and no other streaming service is doing it like them. If I haven't convinced you yet, get the 7 day trial and give em a chance. There's no referral code I can give you that gives me some sort of kickback or whatever, I genuinely wrote what looks like a thousand word essay about Dropout at 1am just because I love them so much.

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#dropout.tv #umm actually #dimension 20 #make some noise #game changer #brennan lee mulligan #aabria iyengar #for a late night wine-fueled rant on a broken keyboard i think this went well #actually i feel so guilty about my CR dig because i loved Exandria Calamity so much so please dont yell at me #also google said quiddie is exactly 6 feet i hope i did her justice

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five-rivers · 20 days

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Chance and the Community Chest

@bellsandmischief phic phight phic!

“I don't know, Tuck.”

“Come on, Danny. You said it yourself. There's not much else to do on a Friday night since ghosts trashed the mall. And the arcade. And the theater. And the mini-golf course. And the bowling alley. And the ice rink. And the roller rink.”

“You don't even like skating.”

“And Floody Waters. And the park. And the Nasty Burger. Both of them. And the McMasters.”

“We wouldn't be able to hang out in a McMasters anyway.”

“It's the principle of the thing. The park is closed, too–”

“The park isn't closed. It's just that the Amity Park New Religion Convention is happening there.”

“Do you really want to go to the park when it's full of cultists?”

“I don't know that it's fair to call them cultists–”

“One of the groups literally calls themselves the Coalition of Universally Lateral Thinkers.”

“No. That has to be a joke.”

“It isn’t. I've looked them up. They've got some kind of Scientology-level crap going on. They're convinced that you can astral project yourself to the Ghost Zone and travel to other realities that way.”

“Well, I mean, you can, but–”

“Wait, what? Stop. Stop walking. What do you mean, ‘you can?’ Are you saying that astral projection is an actual thing?”

“Yeah? Is that not what I said?”

“Right. So. Should we, uh, stop them? Is that why you've been so weird about coming?”

“I haven't been weird about coming. I've been questioning your decision to bring a dozen binders full of rules for a game when we've never been here before.”

“Excuse you, these are the latest Dragonpath PDFs that I got for the low, low price of free. And there are thirteen of them, not twelve.”

“Yeah, and then you made up the price difference by making color copies. Seriously, Tucker, I think community board game night is more like Monopoly and Scrabble, not, uh. Something with fifty pounds of rules. And no board.”

“Actually,” said Chance Counter, unable to resist butting in despite his eavesdropping being quite successful so far, “‘board game’ in this case is more shorthand for– What is that?”

He’d been listening in, but he’d thought the teens were exaggerating, as teens tended to do. Nothing had prepared him for the enormous stacks of white plastic three ring binders.

“Fifty pounds of rules for Dragonpath,” said the white one, deadpan. He was the one carrying most of the books. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Oh,” said Chance. “Yeah. Are you the only ones planning on playing… that.”

“I wasn’t planning on playing anything in particular, Tucker just needed help bringing them over from his house. I’d be perfectly happy with Monopoly or, I don’t know, that one where you’re building stuff on an island.”

“Catan?” suggested Chance.

“Could be,” said the boy. Thinking back on the overheard conversation, Chance was pretty sure his name was Danny.

“I can’t believe it,” said Tucker. “I’ve been abandoned. Abandoned by my own friend. Abandoned! For what’s objectively the worst board game ever.” He almost dropped the binders, but his friend shored up his stack with his hip.

“What, why is Catan the worst?”

“Not Catan! Monopoly!”

“Why is Monopoly the worst?”

“Because, as our dear friend Sam would say, it signifies and symbolizes the ultimate capitalist hellscape. And also it causes fights.”

“I don’t think Sam would say that.”

“You don’t think I’d say what?” asked a girl who had just walked through the door of the community center. “Oh, hi. Are you one of the organizers?”

“I sure am,” said Chance, smiling. “My name is Chance Counter. We’re right in here.” He gestured behind himself, into the room where he’d just finished setting up the last of the old folding tables. He hoped they’d withstand Tucker’s massive tomes. “You three are a little on the early side, but our regulars should start coming in soon enough.”

“You might get some extras,” said Sam, walking past him. “Basically everywhere else is torched. Ghosts.”

“It’s not only the ghosts. There’s also the construction and the convention–”

“But it’s mostly the ghosts. By the way did you see that one of the groups set up in the park has an acronym that literally spells ‘cult.’”

“Did everyone know this before me?” asked Danny. He circled Chance and deposited his load on the nearest table. It creaked alarmingly. “How much math do you need to know in order to play this, anyway?”

“Less than Monopoly,” said Tucker, also dropping his binders on the table. “Look, man, we can basically play Doomed with these rules.”

“Why would we do that when we can already, you know, just play Doomed?”

“Because we can do things that we can’t do in Doomed. Trust me, it’s going to be great.”

Danny blinked down at the books. “Look, I like a good TTRPG as much as the next guy, but this is a bit extreme. Sam, will you play Monopoly with me?”

“Sure,” said Sam, sliding the box out from the stack of games on the central table.

“Sam! You were supposed to rail against the greed and corruption of capitalist states where monopolies are allowed to form!”

“I can do that and still enjoy a fictional monopoly,” said Sam. “I get to be the race car.”

“I want the dog, then.”

“You two are horrible.”

“And our battle will be glorious,” said Danny. “Should we wait for the other people, or will they not want to play Monopoly?”

“Oh, our regulars are very easy-going. Most of them will go with whatever is set up, although we do have an RPG group that meets every other week. They mostly play Eldritch Endeavors, though.”

Tucker groaned. “I want the boot.”

“I sense a butt kicking joke approaching, but would you really kick a dog? A doggy? A cute little puppy?”

“I hate you.”

Chance heard the community center door open again. He poked his head back out into the hallway. “Andrew!” he said, as the teens mumbled something about sense. “Great to see you. We don’t usually get you on the first Friday.”

Andrew, who was tall, thin, and sported a goatee, paused. “The first Friday?”

“Lost track of the days, huh? Well, might as well make the most of it. We’ve got some kids setting up a game of Monopoly back there.”

“Yes, I suppose I might as well,” said Andrew. He pulled off his coat, folded it over his arm, and stopped halfway into the room. “You!”

“You!” replied Danny.

“Chance, you really can’t allow this poetry-destroying hoodlum in here!”

“I said I was sorry! And then you attacked me!”

“It was my magnum opus!”

“Hey! Hey! This is a community game night,” said Chance. “The center policy is that everyone is welcome here unless they start something here, okay?”

“What about restraining orders?” asked Danny.

“Do you have one?”

“... No.”

“Then I don’t see how that matters. Now, you don’t have to play together–”

“Oh, but I will,” said Andrew, pulling a chair up to the table. “I’ll take any avenue to give this brat the beating he so richly deserves.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

“Uh, could we maybe tone down the smack talk as well? Maybe to something that wouldn’t get you arrested when taken out of context?”

Andrew simmered. Danny glared.

“Hi, Chance, what’ve we got– What are you doing here?”

“Star?” asked Sam, incredulously.

“Mikey?” asked Tucker, more incredulously.

“Oh, uh, hi, guys,” said Mikey, shyly.

Danny looked between the two of them. “Did you guys not know that they’re dating or something?”

“How do you know that we’re dating?” demanded Star.

“We’re keeping it secret!” said Mikey, horrified and loud enough that any secrecy was most likely moot.

“Not very well.”

Star swallowed visibly. “If you tell anyone–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no threats during community game night, please,” said Chance. “My heart can’t take it.”

“Who would we even tell?” asked Tucker. “We’re social pariahs. Hey, Mikey, how do you feel about Dragonpath?”

“Third edition is better. And Eldritch Endeavor is better than all of them.”

“You’re dead to me.”

“Aw, Tucker, I thought I was dead to you.”

“Anyway, this is the first Friday,” said Star. “Not RPG night. Is this the set with the purse?”

“Don’t think so,” said Danny, peering into the box.”

“I’ll get it,” said Mikey, moving towards the stack of game boxes where the second Monopoly set was hiding. “Is anyone the iron yet?”

“The what?” asked Tucker.

“The clothes iron,” said Mikey. “I like the irony.”

“Oh, you mean the useless technological throwback.”

“I iron some of my clothes,” said Sam.

“Of course you do,” said Tucker, shaking his head. “Of course you do.”

“I would like to play the game, now,” said Andrew.

Chance clapped his hands together. “So, Danny, why don’t you start us off, since you were the first one in?”

“Mm, yeah,” said Danny. “Let me just finish dealing out Mikey’s money.” He set down a few more bills, then shoved them over to where Mikey had just sat down. “Okay. Dice?” Tucker handed them over, muttering imprecations. “And… seven. That’s… one… two… three… four… five… six… seven. Chance. Erm. Chance card, I mean. So, let’s see here… ‘Take a walk on the Boardwalk. Advance token to Boardwalk.’”

There was a wave of quiet as Danny happily paid the bank four hundred Monopoly dollars and set the Boardwalk deed card down in front of himself. He looked up. “What?”

“Danny,” said Sam. “This is nothing personal, but you know that we all have to destroy you now, right?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “Bring it.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #fic

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