#catching my breathe with butterfly nets

[dimlylitbasement]

Collage by Jesse Treece

#jesse treece #art #cool kids never die #catching my breathe with butterfly nets #we are trying to cover it up with verdure

[clandestineloki]

Cold Flower (NSFW)

A/N: My public apology for going dormant on Tumblr for nearly 5 months.

tw: jotun!loki dom!loki, sub!cottagegirl!reader, loki’s cock is big but his size kink is bigger, corruption kink, praise kink, manhandling but very cutely if i may say!!, unrealistically fast paced because loki is horny ) >:D

read it on ao3!!

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The grass tickles your ankles as you step through the bushes, careful not to step on any pretty flowers in your path.

Sunset is nearing, and you've only gotten so much as a few ferns. But you don't mind. The forest will bloom when it wants to, and even if you haven't collected any flowers for your work you're having a wonderful time looking around at all the birds and the deer and the butterflies and nature; just getting away from the busy life in the village is enough of a treat.

Stepping through a clear patch, you look around for any deer traps. What deer traps? The ones that have hidden nets that burst out from the ground like flytraps and scoop up any poor being that just happened to be there, leaving them trapped up in the air by a rope tied to a tree.

Now that you think of it, a clear patch in the middle of the forest means one thing: a deer trap has been set off already.

Right above where you stand.

Realizing the danger of being anywhere near a threatened or harmed deer, you’re ready to bolt out of the woods when you look up, and see a net that’s filled with leaves, branches, and stray grass reeds.

And dangling out of the net is a leg— a leg that looks less like a deer’s… and more of a person’s.

You gasp in horror. Someone’s caught in it!

Running around the tree, you find the rope suspending the trap buried in the ground. You rummage for your shears and hastily cut it, grabbing the rope to pull it down with your weight and let the trap sink to the ground slowly.

When it does, you run over, cutting away as much of the net as you can, digging through the leaves until you reach someone covered in an enormous fur cape.

You gingerly pull it back, and stare in awe.

It’s a man, with dark hair and sharp features, no doubt very handsome despite the scratches and cuts he’s sustained. The linen top he’s wearing is littered with twigs.

Softly, you brush away the twigs when you touch his wrist and freeze.

And quite literally, because his skin is as cold as ice.

Almost as if he were a corpse.

“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”

When Prince Loki’s eyes open and adjust to the glare of the sun— and the silhouette blocking it out— his breath hitches.

Is this Valhalla? Am I… dead?

Surely, he must be. For above him kneels the most beautiful girl, almost shimmering in the golden light, it’s definite that you’re an angel.

“Hello? Sir? Can you hear me?”

An even lovelier voice for a radiant woman. He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You lean forward, brushing away twigs from his face and cloak. “I thought you had died! I hate those deer traps, they’re dangerous and they're so hard to see! It almost killed you! Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s as if he spoke without thinking, eager to hear more from your pretty lips. You catch your breath, kneeling back down, and he sits up to get a better look at the captivating face of his savior.

“How long have you been up there?”

Loki brushes his hand against his cheek. “I'm not quite sure- ah-”

He hisses when his fingers graze a wound on his temple, and he retracts his hand to find a few specks of scarlet.

“Probably not long, I'm still bleeding,” he shows you his hand, and you gasp.

“Oh, no,” you take a closer look at his face. “My house isn't far from here, I can help you clean up and get some rest. You must be exhausted. Are you alright with some porridge and biscuits? They're all I have the ingredients for and the farmers’ market is a bit far so I'm sorry if...”

Loki honestly can’t concentrate on what you're saying. He nods along, but he's rather focused on you.

As he tags along behind you as you retrace your steps to your home, Loki whispers a thanks to whatever Gods led him to be graced by your beauty in this moment, regardless of the circumstance. He had just been hunting for sport, unaware of the trap that had pulled him up into the tree so suddenly and rendered him unconscious.

Now, he's found something— no, someone— better; a much more rewarding, delicious little prey.

“I just realized I haven't introduced myself."

Loki looks up just as you say your name, timidly holding out your hand. He takes it after a moment.

“Loki,” he replies, once he finds it in himself to speak.

“Like the prince?"

He recoils a bit in surprise. “Yes- Yes, like the prince. Uh-"

“How are you feeling?" you ask, dabbing the cloth lightly against his wrist.

“They don't hurt if I don't move."

“Okay. Let me know if it does.”

Loki nods, watching you silently tend to his wounds, before he hisses softly.

You flinch, pulling away. “Oh, I'm sorry-"

“You really don't know who I am?” Loki asks.

A second passes as you look down at him, brows furrowing as you sit down next to him on your bed.

“I can't recall. Sorry, have you ordered flowers from me before?"

“You run a flower shop?”

“Yes, that's why I was in the woods. I was looking for fresh flowers and came across you up in that trap.” You tilt your head. “What were you doing in the forest, anyway?"

“I was... hunting for deer, and the last thing I remember is hearing something above me snap.”

“Hunting… Is that what you do for a living?”

“Well, no. My brother and I do it for sport."

“Oh."

Loki stares at you blankly. “My brother, Prince Thor."

You nod.

Loki chuckles. Your pretty little head hasn't registered it.

He leans in close, brushing his lips against your ear, and whispers very slowly:

“I'm Prince Loki."

And the reaction he gets is the cutest. Your lips part as your eyes widen, to which he grins.

But he doesn't expect you to fling yourself off the side of the bed and onto the ground, bowing down to him.

“Your Highness!” you squeak. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know!! I-”

“Darling, please," he chuckles, shaking his head. “That isn't necessary-"

“I'm so sorry, I'll get some tea, do you want anything from the market? Please, allow me-”

Loki bends down, lifting you off the floor in a princess carry and sets you down on the bed.

“Please, don’t stress yourself. You saved my life.”

He takes your hand, kissing it softly as he smiles up at you.

“Thank you, pretty angel.”

Your eyes widen as you stutter out tiny breaths. Norns, aren’t you the most adorable?

“I don’t think you believe me.” He stands up, pretending to be offended by your silence.

“No!” you cry . “I mean- I do believe you! It’s just- I was surprised, I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? A prince would just be out in the woods for no reason?” He laughs, leaning down to you. Before you can respond, he chuckles again. “That’s alright,” he steps back, “you just need a little… evidence.”

Loki closes his eyes, and lets himself shift into his true form: blue skin, dark green patterns across his biceps. He hears the tiniest gasp of amazement from you as the magic also heals his wounds and cuts (and hopes that he’ll hear more of those cute noises very soon).

When he’s done transforming, he opens his eyes and stares down at you.

Dear Norns.

He knew he was already taller than you in human form, but this was just delightful. You’re much tinier than him, staring up at his stature with those wide doe eyes of yours.

“You are-” you blink a few times in shock. “You are the Jotun prince.”

He smiles even wider. “That’s right.”

“And… I… just saved the Jotun prince.”

He starts laughing, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Clever girl.” He knows he’s downright cruel, teasing you just because you’re so cute. “And do you want anything in return for ‘saving the Jotun prince’?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

Loki walks closer to you, and stands between your legs as he drops his cloak to the floor and leans down, drawling his next words very slowly.

“You deserve something… special. Something downright… pleasurable as a reward for saving my life. Something that you’ll remember for the rest of yours.”

He chuckles darkly when your breath hitches in realization.

He wants to make love to you.

“What?”

He pushes you down on the bed, trapping you in with his large body as he takes your wrists in one of his hands.

“You’ll feel undeniable bliss. I’ll take you over and over and over again until I’m sure you’re truly satisfied, because you’re such a sweet little angel saving my life and cleaning me up and looking so fuckable.”

You mewl, no doubt keening from his dirty words. He cups your chin.

“All you have to do is say yes. You don’t even have to do anything~”

His thumb brushes over your quivering lips, and push into your mouth. Loki grins as you look up at him, nodding slowly.

“Use your words, angel,” he teases, pulling his thumb away from your mouth.

It takes you a few moments to catch your breath. “Okay…”

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted you to say please, please fuck me so he could flip you over like you weighed nothing and take you over and over again like you’d asked but the way you whimpered withered away the last of his patience.

He had to make you his.

Loki captured you into a passionate kiss, muffling every last sound your pretty lips made so that only he could hear. He pulled away only to push you down on the sheets again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you twitch in his hold, unable to comprehend how dizzy you are from just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for air as his dark green irises watches your eyes glaze over with submission. He grins, unbuttoning his white button-up and tosses it elsewhere.

He grins as you stare at his chest. Your tiny hands reach for him, tracing over the markings and patterns.

Loki hisses, taking your hands in one of his. You whimper as he stares down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Did that hurt?”

“No, no.” His voice softens as he leans in, kissing your nose gently, his other hand pushing your dress up your thighs. He kisses your cheek, then presses his lips against your ear. You shiver at his ice-cold breath.

“It doesn’t, angel. It’s just that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and pounding you into the sheets until you’re dripping with my cum and you can’t think.”

He pushes his knee against your crotch, making you squeak like a pathetic little mouse. Loki grins.

“I will be doing that, mind you,” he teases. “But I simply have to get a taste of your pretty juices first~”

Your skirt bunches up against your twitching hips as Loki stares down at your dripping cunt.

“Oh," Loki chuckles. “You're already wet for me, angel, isn't that adorable~?"

You mewl, bashfully covering your face as he grins at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing..."

Loki shakes his head, pouting in mockery. “Only if you stop being so cute when you're flustered. But until then…”

He places his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he lowers his face to your mound.

“... I'll enjoy fucking you until you submit to me.”

Your eyes widen as he licks your folds very slowly, and you whine shakily.

“Prince Loki..."

Loki grins, kissing your pretty cunt wetly and pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. And your helpless whimper of pleasure as he devours your pretty pussy whole is the cutest and most captivating noise he's ever heard.

He draws it out of you again, and again, and again, drinking every bit of your slick, even if poor little you are just getting wetter and wetter.

You're panting now, and Loki is equally as short of breath, only ever breaking away from you to watch your pretty face scrunch up so cutely. Loki licks his lips, nibbling on your thighs and making you squeak and tremble in his icy grip.

“You're such an adorable little angel," Loki grumbles. "Makes me want to eat you up like a little mouse, hmm?”

He holds you down firmly as your moans tickle his ears. The way your little hole squeezes around nothing is just so cute, he just has to stuff you full after he makes you come far too many times than you can handle.

“Aww,” Loki chuckles as you whimper breathily, thighs thumping helplessly against the bed. “Little angel can’t take it anymore?”

He brushes a blue finger against your dripping folds, sinking into your hole for the millionth time making you squeak and sob in sensitivity.

“P-Please…” you mumble, glazed eyes pleading for a moment of rest.

He sighs, forgetting you’re just a pure little thing having her first time, and gently scoops you into his arms to press a few kisses to your cheek and whispering your name.

“Have I thanked you enough already~?” He teases, and you nod, nuzzling into his hold though you shiver lightly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. He feels you cling to him tighter and he feels your little ass grinding against his cock.

“Well,” he muses, “I believe my kingdom will be overjoyed to find that an angel like yourself saved their prince, hmm?”

“Huh?” you ask, still pleasure-drunk as you settle into his lap, as if you perfectly fit in his hold.

“I said,” Loki chuckles his icy breath tickling your face, “My kingdom would be overjoyed to find a pretty thing like you saved the royal prince, wouldn't they?"

“Mhm..."

“And they'll throw a week-long celebration...” he continues, trailing kisses from your cheek to your shoulder. “All for you~”

“R-Really?” you gasp as he begins sucking on your skin, sure to leave marks after. “A whole week? That's too much-!”

Loki laughs against your shoulder, holding your hips down so he can feel your hips grind against his cock. “Nothing is too much for a perfect little angel like you~"

Loki licks the bite mark he's so carefully placed on your skin, then looks up at your glazed eyes and twitching pout.

“Would you like to come back with me to the palace?"

The look of confusion and bashfulness across your face makes his cock twitch against your bare folds.

“Me?! With you?!"

“Do you abhor the idea of that?”

He knows he's being mean and he knows you don't hate the idea, but Loki just can't resist seeing you so embarrassed and stuttering to apologize.

“No! I didn't mean that! I was just surprised-"

Loki shakes his head with a little chuckle, and brings you closer to his face to kiss the crease between your eyebrows.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing."

“Don't be mean like that!”

Loki laughs darkly when you cross your arms.

In a flash, he’s got you on your hands and knees before your pretty head can even figure out what’s going on.

“And if I do, what are you going to do about it?”

You shiver at the dark growl in his voice.

You're so far deep in this haze all you can see is blue.

“Your highness-!”

Loki presses your chest against the bed, leaving your pretty ass on display, purely his for the taking.

“You’re just a little mouse that can’t hurt anything, hmm? Just so innocent, and weak, and ready to be ravished.”

A cold, thick finger traces your wet folds, and you whimper, burying your face in the sheets as he tickles your hole until you’re shaking with need.

“Maybe I’ll take you back home with me… and make you my wife.”

Loki shoves his finger all the way in, knocking the wind out of you because you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

“Your- Your wife?” You ask, voice higher and breathier.

“Yes~” he mocks your airy voice. “My pretty wife, who won’t have to get her pretty hands dirty ever again, who I’ll take care of, and protect, and fuck every single night.”

Loki curls his finger, reaching that sensitive little part in your cunt that effectively leaves you a mumbling, drooling mess on him.

When he’s gotten you wet enough, he draws his finger back (to his cute little angel’s momentary dismay) and forces your thighs apart with his body, the head of his cock twitching against your folds.

Loki will forever remember the gasp you let out when you feel just how big he is.

“Do you want to be fully mine? Do you want me to fuck this little hole of yours with my cock until you’re screaming for me?”

You whine at his dirty words, slurring something that sounds like a yeah, and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“Really?” he chuckles, fingering your little hole one more time to slicken your folds. “Do you think I’ll fit~?”

And with the dirty wet noises that tickle his ears as he sinks all the way in he gets his reply.

“Oh?” Amused, he runs an icy finger up and down your bare back. “She can take it, after all. What a good girl~”

Loki barely gets the praise out before the prettiest whimpers fall out of your mouth like sweet honey, your poor cunt clenching down on him as your voice gets higher and breathier by the minute.

“Please-” you hiccup, turning to look at him with those pretty teary eyes.

His vermillion eyes stare you down cruelly as he grinds his hips down into your ass, making your head fall onto the sheets as you slur out a moan.

His cock feels so heavy inside you and by the way he laughs quietly you know he knows just how big he is compared to you.

And the way he pins you down harder lets you know he loves it.

“Oh, you just feel so good around my cock,” Loki groans, pulling back and thrusting into your leaking little pussy.

Poor you, already sensitive beyond imagination as this handsome blue prince ruins any other man for you with the way his cock stretches you out better than anyone ever will.

Not that anyone else will get the chance to. Loki’s decided it: he will take you home to the palace and make you his wife, and everyone will bow before their new princess.

Loki can't resist you any longer. He beats your poor cunt like the beast he is until you're whimpering and bucking against him helplessly.

“Feels... weird..." you shudder and gasp, tears leaking from your eyes as he sinks deeper into you, his huge cock hitting all the good spots inside you as your pleasure takes over your senses.

“Oh, is she close? Is this perfect little cunt going to come all over me?”

Loki's dirty words make you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Yeah," you sob.

Loki laughs at how blissed out his little saviour is and stops,pulling out slowly and groaning when he hears the sinful squelching as your juices drip onto the sheets. He turns you on your back, pinning your wrists to your sides, and captures your lips in his as he sinks into you once more.

“I missed these pretty lips," he smirks into the kiss, taking you for himself.

“Y-You just kissed me a few minutes ago..." You sigh dazedly, though you love the attention he's giving you.

“Still can't get enough of you. You're just so sweet~" Loki licks your lips, thrusting harder and making you squeak and link your fingers through his.

“Say my name."

“Loki...”

“Gods," he throws his head back, almost moaning at how submissive you sound. “Surrender to me, darling."

His hands snake down to the back of your thighs, lifting them and pressing them to your chest, quickening his pace.

Your eyes scrunch up as you nearly scream in pleasure, wriggling away as if you could escape from him.

“Surrender to me, angel~" he grins, kissing your neck and marking you up. “A pretty angel like you deserves to be pampered like this every day. Imagine that? You'll never have to lift a finger, I'll do all the work, I'll do all the fucking.”

Loki accentuates that last word with a hard thrust into your hole, making your eyes blur over with tears as you mewl helplessly in the Jotun prince’s tight grip.

“Awh, don't cry," he teases, kissing your nose when he gets a sinfully great idea.

He stops his movements, making sure he's buried all the way inside you before he flattens his tongue against your soaked cheek and licks your tears away.

You gasp, stunned for a moment before you keen and twitch helplessly, whining loudly as he does the same to your other cheek.

And your poor little cunt just clenches down again.

Loki growls, his primal instincts taking over because you're his ideal mate and you're nothing like he's ever seen. The sounds in the room get filthier and filthier as he loses control and rams into your poor hole.

“What do you say, angel?" Loki asks, letting go of your wrist before his hand makes its way down to your clit, rubbing the little bud and making you scream and tremble in his arms. “Be my- fuck- be my bride? Be my pretty little princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut.

“Are you close?"

“Mhm..."

“Cute little mouse," he chuckles, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck as he rubs your clit. “Let go for me now, angel."

It’s a sight from heaven as you orgasm all over him, soaking his cock with your juices and helplessly thumping your thighs against the bed because Loki won't stop thrusting in and out of you.

Loki growls, pinning you to the bed. He stills, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm, thick cum filling you up. It makes you feel even more full than you already do and it makes you dizzy with even more pleasure.

It becomes too much for your melting brain to handle when he pushes deeper into you and you gasp, attempting to kick him away.

A firm, cold hand grabs your ankle and spreads you wider, and you whine shyly when he grins at you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Stay with me, darling," Loki teases, gripping your hips possessively and holding you still on his cock so he can finish filling you up.

It feels like hours before he breathes again, but it's only been seconds for him, already wanting another round with you.

But the prince resists, setting your sore legs down slowly and carefully sliding out of your cunt.

You sigh in exhaustion, but your breaths falters in embarrassment when you feel just how much he pumped into you, dripping out of your twitching folds and onto the bed.

A tiny drop even lands on your ass and Loki chuckles at your wide eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips and whisper a dirty promise that he'll fuck you down there too next time.

“Next time?” you ask, lips parting.

“Yes," he teases. " I've decided it, you're never leaving my side, my guardian angel~”

And he scoops you into his side, letting you rest before he has a few more rounds with your pretty hole— then he'll take you back home to the palace and convince you to stay. He'll show you the library. He'll let you lose yourself in the royal gardens all day if you wish! As long as you return to his chambers each night and let him please you the way you deserve to be.

But he's fallen for you already and the whole kingdom will burn in a blaze of sapphire dust if anything or anyone ever keeps him away from you.

#loki fluff #loki x reader #loki oneshots #loki x reader smut #loki smut #dom!loki #dom!tom hiddleston #soft!dom!loki #dom!loki smut #loki of jotunheim #jotun!loki smut #jotun loki smut #tw corruption kink #tw: corruption kink #corruption kink #innocence kink #tw: innocence kink #tw: dumbification #tw dumbification #loki laufeyson smut #marvel smut #tom hiddleston smut #dom loki #sub!reader

[sorryimananti-romantic]

YUMI ( ノД`)…

MY BRAIN HAS STOPPED FUNCTIONING. THIS IS GOING TO BE MY 13TH REASON.

GIRLIE I SAW THIS YESTERDAY AND I FREAKED OUT FOR A HOT SECOND BC HELLO????? THAT'S MINGI????? (the resemblance is uncanny)

but like... mingi's actually the type to do that so 🤷‍♀️ and i'm having a few thoughts- (drabble ahead bc if this has to be your 13th reason let me make it a good one 🤪)

imagine you and mingi were planning to go to this party but he had some work to wrap up so you were going to meet up there instead of going together. now, you brought this red dress a few days ago and when you tried it on, mingi couldn't help but scan every inch of your body ever so slowly and then he went, "nuh uh. you're not wearing that to the party. this dress is for my eyes only."

however, you also know mingi doesn't always mean what he says. and mingi loves the little game of "i told you not to" "i did it anyway" that you both often play. so when he finds you at the party wearing that very dress hugging your curves perfectly and making your skin glow?? and with those mesh/net sleeves? the glare he sent you from the other end of the room? the smirk that creeped up on his lips as he shook his head in amusement?

you ignored the butterflies- no, the zoo in your stomach and got distracted by a group of friends who greeted you and complimented your dress. just as you were about to leave, you felt a strong familiar grip on your wrist and you knew you couldn't escape this, so you followed your boyfriend upstairs until you found a secluded corner, and-

suddenly, you were caged between mingi's arms, your hips resting against the railing and your breath catching in your throat as mingi looked down at you.

"i thought we talked about this," his deep voice rumbled as if inside your head. "as pretty as you look, this dress was supposed to be for my eyes only."

"i had nothing else to wear," you pouted and mingi scoffed, sliding his glasses up his nose with one finger, uncaging you and letting his eyes roam around your figure. "are you mad at me?"

he caught the teasing in that tone. he caught the intent laced behind those words. so he licked his lips, bringing his hand to your hips and trailing it ever so slowly up, up and up until they wrapped wround your throat like the necklace they were meant to be. and then he slid his thumb below your chin, tilting your head up as he squeezed the sides of your neck-

just like you liked. a breathy moan escaped your mouth and you felt warmth course through your body. mingi knew exactly the effect he had on you and he caressed your neck, bringing his lips to your jaw and planting a lingering kiss.

"when we get home," he whispered in your ears, voice raspy and almost shaking- you knew the effect you had on him very well too, "i'm going to fuck you in this dress so hard that you forget what your name is." he nibbled your earlobe and this time, you moaned because of his words alone. "and then i'm going to take it off and do it all over again."

#i got carried away lmaooo but #this pic haunts me so my drabble should haunt you #give and take kinda thing #mdni!! #💌 #kaya <3 #ateez hard hours #ateez drabbles #ateez smut #mingi smut #mingi hard thoughts #mingi x reader #yumi.asks

[madwomansapologist]

Hi. Can you write a smut scene between the female reader and my favorite Disney character, Captain Hook from Disney’s Peter Pan 1953 original film that starts with love at first sight please? I have a serious fangirl crush on him.

hooked by you | captain hook

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Captain Hook | AO3

synopsis: It happened. It finally happened. Hook defeated Peter Pan. He saw the silhouette flying above the clouds, readied the modified harpoon that fired a net, and finally managed to catch him! Little did he knew it wasn't Peter Pan.

warnings: DarlingSister!reader. female!reader. porn with plot. love at first sight. mention of erotic literature. that man is possessive. guns. chats about murder.

note: Thanks for your request, darling! I watched it again to write this, and I've just realized it's been almost eight years since I last saw Peter Pan. It was fun. And you made me realize I don't have normal pure thoughts about Hook. Like if I needed another character to be obsessed with. Hope you like it!

After so much screaming and arguing, George and Mary finally left the house. You waved, wished them a good night, and locked the front door. What a mess. All that fuss because of a character from a bedtime story.

You went upstairs and opened the door to your sibilings' room, but the three of them were already asleep. You knew that Wendy didn't want to leave the children's room, you thought that if you talked to her that fear could be eased, but she was already sighing. Maybe tomorrow.

You entered your room and changed into your pearly nightgown. You saw your parents entering a cabriole from the wide window. When they disappeared, you ran into the backyard and released Nana from the leash.

Tomorrow you'll sort it out with your dad. George can be furious, your mom word it as passionate, but deep down he's the most caring father you could wish for. George is always barking, never biting.

And your night would have ended there if you hadn't looked up. You should have seen a starry night. A full moon. But you saw your brothers. Flying.

That's it. You went crazy. Mad. Lunatic.

"Peter, wait!" Michael cry out. "You forgot one sister!"

"Michael?" You shuddered. Insane. Completely insane. "Michael, is that you?"

"Wait a second!" Michael waved the teddy bear at you and disappeared into the sky. After a infinite second, he appeared with something glowing in his hand and flew towards you. "Think happy thoughts," he instructed you.

Then a glittering dust fell on you. You coughed and tried to clear yourself. Crazy. Completely crazy. When you looked down, you saw the ground. Which would be normal. If it wasn't too far away.

Michael took your hand. "I told you Peter Pan existed!"

"Oh. My God." You shouted. "Oh. My God." You were flying! Flying. No. No, you weren't. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and emptied your mind. When you opened your eyes, you saw the Big Ben. From above. "Oh. My. God."

"Don't be scared." Michael gave you two pats on the back. The same you do when he wakes up from a nightmare. He gave you his teddy bear. You hold onto it like it would protect you from anything. "We are going to Neverland!"

Then Michael flew again. You got to see John and Wendy flying up ahead, along with who could only be Peter Pan. You tried to follow them, but flying was a lot harder than the three of them made it out to be.

It was just a really realistic dream. Just that. A good dream about flying with your siblings.

Hugging the teddy bear, you slowly followed them. You passed chimneys, climbed through clouds, stood over the hands of Big Ben: always a few minutes late in comparison to them. But in the end, even with a lot of fear, you did follow them towards the Second Star to the Right.

Seeing Neverland, you felt butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't madness, it wasn't a dream, it was true. When the four stopped on a cloud, you thought you finally caught up with them.

Then something hit you.

It got tangled up in your body, heavy enough to make you fall. A net pulling you into the sea. You tried to fly, you tried to let go, but the more you moved the more you got tangled up in it.

The net was heavy, pulling you down, but it wasn't a sudden fall. You just couldn't go up. Which didn't mean it was comfortable. Yards and yards of fabric tangled up on you, just weighing you down.

A whirlwind of voices showed you that people were approaching, but you couldn't see anything. You just felt the impact against what must have been the ground. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird to stop flying.

"Finally, Mr. Smee, I will take care of my worthy opponent." You heard a rough, deep voice. People laughed at what he said. "I've waited years for it."

"That's not countin' the holidays, either", Mr. Smee complete. "Aye, there is the knife, Captain."

You tried to let go but only heard a deep chuckle. "Don't be a coward, my old enemy, face your fate." You heard the ripping of ropes. The weight on you began to lift. "Hook defeated you."

The knot holding the hammock came undone, and only then did you realize how much you needed to breathe without pounds of rope over your face. You blinked, the sun blinded you, and the black silhouette in front of you took on color.

And he was beautiful. You've read stories about pirates. Beautiful and funny stories like the ones Wendy shares with her brothers. But also about strong men, who know their ships like the back of their hands, who survive the ravages of the sea and vanquish the mightiest heroes. And you've also read about pirates who knew how to please a woman, dishonest men who kneel in front of their beloved, experienced men doing things girls shouldn't even know exist.

Hook reminded you of the latter type. "Disappointed?", you whispered. After all, it was just a dream.

Hook was frozen in place. Ready to slit Peter's throat and deliver him an honorable death, what was caught in his net was something far different than his little imp.

His heart was pounding so loudly that he almost didn't hear the question asked by the lady in front of him. Disappointed? How could he? You were more beautiful than any mermaid, more graceful than any woman he had ever seen, more delicate than any pearl. Wars would be fought in your honor and that would be the least any man with sense could do.

But his sailors are not known for being sensible.

"Of course we are!" One of them thought he had the right to talk to you. As if it wasn't already a miracle that he could see someone like you. "Where's Peter?"

Then Hook moved. He took the revolver out of his jacket and, without even looking in the direction he was aiming, pulled the trigger. The sailor fell overboard.

"Forgive me", Hook extends his hand to you. "My men don't know how to treat a lady."

You hesitated but accepted the touch. Hook set you on your feet again, more gently than you thought a pirate could display. "Apparently you kidnapped me."

"Aye, this is just a misunderstanding. See, I thought you were Peter Pan. It's not every day you see someone different flying over my ship."

"So... can I leave?" Your feet left the ground. Looks like you were already getting used to this flying thing. "And nothing will happen to me?"

Hook ran his fingers through his hat, a polite smile spreading across his face. "I would never dream of hurting you." Hook gestured toward his office. "May I apologize for the misunderstanding?"

"Apologize?"

"Drinks and conversation." Hook ran his fingers over his face. Good thing Mr. Smee shaved. It would be a horror if the love of his life met him in something other than his best version. "A proper apology."

You wouldn't normally accept such a request. To be alone with an unknown and dangerous man. Drinking with a man! But that was just a dream.

In his room, you floated around looking at the different shelves and finds. A pirate ship! It has so many treasures. "If you had captured Peter, would you have killed him?"

Your question took him by surprise. "That doesn't strike me as a conversation of lady interest."

As you turned, you saw Hook swapping the silver hook for a gold one. You smirked. "I showed interest, didn't I?"

Bossy. Ah, Hook knew you were his soulmate for sure. "I would have. Does that bother you?"

"No." You floated toward him, and sat down on the chair across from the table. Hook poured two glasses of some drink. You took the glass and thanked him, but didn't drink. "After all, this it's nothing but a dream."

"Dream?” Hook chuckled, downing his drink and sitting back in his armchair. “What convinces you of that?”

"I was at home, ready for bed, and suddenly I was flying to Neverland." You shrugged. "Clearly a dream."

Hook understood what was happening. Peter seems to have been confused. You are not a lost child. He never was careful. "I can prove this is not a dream."

"How?"

Hook rose, slowly circling the table. In front of her, he leaned on the wood. "Aren't you going to drink?"

Only then did you remember the glass in your hands. You took a sip, a grimace came over your face. "Strong", you coughed.

"Here's the proof." Hook touched your chin, making you lift your head and look. Only he did it with the golden hook. "Ever felt something like that in a dream?"

You swallowed hard. "No."

"So that means you're alone with the most dangerous pirate on the seven seas, the person who wouldn't have thought twice about slicing someone's throat out, completely helpless." Hook leaned in until he could feel your breath against his face. "Does that bother you?"

"You don't seem interested in ripping my throat out."

He gave you time to walk away. To fly in the direction you wanted. To leave him without saying a single word. Hook gave you time, but you let him kiss you.

He tasted like the rum you ignored. The hook left your chin and slid down to your waist, pulling you toward him. You leaned into his chest, kissing him back. It was so wrong, so unlike anything you would ever do, but it also felt so good.

You pulled away for air, and felt his fingers caressing your cheek. When you opened your eyes, you saw that Hook was smiling. "Do you know how to be silent?" You nodded in agreement. "Excellent."

He lifted you from the chair, and in one swift movement sat you down on the table. Hook was strong. Too strong. He pressed his thumb to your lip, watching you with lust. "You were made for me."

Before you could say anything, Hook knelt. You've read about it in books, but you could never imagine it would be such a satisfying sight. A man so strong, so dangerous, brought to his knees by you.

Hook didn't even bother to remove your nightgown. He just stuck his head between the fabric, desperate to satisfy you. To make you feel the same way he felt about you. To make you scream for him and make everyone understand that you belonged with him.

And so you did. Feeling him delight in your curves, his tongue brushing against your lips, his fingers pressing into your clit. You tried to be silent as he asked, but after a while you stopped worrying about it.

"You..." You didn't even knew what you wanted to say. You just wanted to feel more. To feel completed. To feel more and more of him. "I think I had dreams like that before."

You felt him gasp against your sex. Hook rose, his damp face close to yours, and you felt your face burn. "Haven't I convinced you this isn't a dream yet?"

His fingers explored your lips again, applying just the right pressure. You moaned against his lips, Hook squeezed his eyes shut. "What else do I have to do to convince you?"

You smiled. "I think you know what you need to do."

He bit your lip. "As you wish."

His fingers entered you. Slowly, carefully, but no less willingly. He filled you, long fingers repeatedly penetrating your insides, and you were unable to do anything but hold on to his shoulders and allow him to do whatever he wanted to you.

The sound of your wet pussy was almost embarrassing. "You're mine", Hook whispered against your ear.

"As you wish."

He quickened his movements, fucking you with a devotion no one has ever shown you. So close, so glued to your body, Hook has guided you to orgasm. You shuddered against his fingers, your fingernails scratched his perfectly groomed jacket, your moans were uncontrollable.

"Do you still think I'm part of a dream?” Hook trailed kisses from your throat to your jaw. “Has anything this good ever happened in your dreams?'

You shook your head. It was as close to an answer you were able to give him. It was enough for him. Hook is patient. He can wait.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #ask box #disney x reader #disney movies #disney villain #disney villains #disney villain x reader #disney #disney villain x you #disney villain x y/n #captain hook #captain hook disney #captain hook imagine #captain hook x reader #captain hook x you #captain hook x y/n #peter pan #petan pan 1953 #james hook #james hook x reader #james hook x you #james hook x y/n #james hook smut #james hook imagine

[dairy-farmer]

https://www.tumblr.com/dairy-farmer/730277865124495360/an-au-in-which-thomas-and-martha-survive-and-raise?source=share

so the combo of me being a jaytim shipper and my desire for tim (and jason) to have nice things has inspired me

martha and thomas are obviously paying good money to keep dick and jason quiet

(they have enough money it wouldn't go to court but it would still be bad pr)

dick and jay both leave asap but jason keeps tabs and when he see that bruce picked up the tiny neighbor boy jason is furious

jason can't get bruce arrested but he can run interference

tim's so tiny it wouldn't matter if he fought back but jason's taller then bruce and a solid wall of muscle and an alley brat and he's is both ready and willing to fight bruce

so he becomes something of a safe space for tim

any time he's at the manor tim is with him more then willing to hide behind jason

and tim gets a crush, jason is safe, he protects tim and patches him up, he takes better care of him then his parents ever had, of course tim gets a crush

jason on the other hand doesn't feel much of anything but pity at first but running interference means spending time with tim and getting to know him

and tim is smart and caring and considerate and viscous when provoked

tim may not be able to beat bruce physically and the wanye family money means that he can't get the man arrested but tim has a whole plan to absolutely ruin bruce the moment he's 18

and jason can't help but be enamored by that

jason and tim both finding comfort, solace, and protection in one another from their shitty childhoods at the hands of bruce 🥺🥺🥺🥺. jason does his best to protect tim the way he wished dick would have for him even though jason doesn't blame dick since he was forced to be around bruce for longer than them. dick endured him the longest and still came out....somewhat okay. he's never had a girlfriend and he lives alone in some penthouse but he sometimes teaches at a gymnastics studio. he avoids the kid's class like the plague though and jason gets it. his insides get all...icky around kids too. some part of him is terrified and fearful that bruce infected him with whatever was wrong with him and that maybe he'd do to them what bruce did to him.

despite that. despite the icky feelings. despite the manor having no good memories for him. he returns. he comes back when he hears about bruce gaining guardianship of the neighbor boy. a small little runt of a thing that jason had once seen from his bedroom window running around in baby cargo pants and carrying a butterfly net to catch bugs.

jason returns and does his best. tries to protect little timmy from the worst of having bruce wayne as a parent.

try as he might part of jason is still terrified of him. he can hardly breathe in that manor so he makes up a bunch of excuses to take tim places. the museum, aquarium, zoo, botanical gardens, amusement parks. bruce wises onto them and begins accompanying them. jason thinks he isn't bold enough to try anything but then tim says he has to go to the bathroom while jason is in line for lemonade. he doesn't come back and jason finds tim crying while bruce has him bent over in a stall.

it's not easy.

trying to protect tim requires constant vigilance. and bruce is a particularly persistent wolf constantly stalking the edge of their territory. at any opportunity he'll snatch tim away to have his way with him.

jason didn't remember bruce being this persistent with him. but then again. at a recent gala bruce had drunkenly confessed to people that tim was his "favorite".

it made jason sick to his stomach when he heard that. dick never attended galas anymore. there was too much alcohol and the risk of him relapsing into addiction at being in a room with bruce and flowing drinks was too high.

so jason tries. he comforts tim as best he can. rubs numbing lotion on his carpet burned knees and does his best.

to his surprise tim is hoarding quite a bit of rage at the waynes. maybe jason had seen the kid as purely a victim but that changes when he hears what the kid has planned for them the moment he turns 18.

he's a smart kid and slowly, bit by bit, jason feels himself letting go of the instinctive discomfort he has around kids. tim is the only exception.

jason would like to believe that, in a better world, he and tim still would have met.

in this one, the two of them might be too...broken by bruce to ever try to make something of the thing they feel between them.

but...maybe one day.

for now jason is content just being by his side and hoping he'll be around for when tim gets justice for what was done to them.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #jaytim #⚠️underage

[larz-barz]

Argument

——————————————————————————

Warning(s)/info: Arguing, yelling, angst, hurt/comfort, Yuto is @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira’s oc, Milo Kocho x swap au (where Yuto is a demon slayer instead of a kakushi)

Tagging: @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira

——————————————————————————

Milo watches as Yuto angrily walks around the butterfly mansion.

He just got back from a mission with a few people he doesn’t like and they made him mad.

Milo wants nothing more than to help him feel better so she slowly and shakily approaches Yuto.

She wraps her arms around him comfortingly.

Yuto shoved her back and she fell to the floor. “LEAVE ME ALONE, MILO!!! YOU’RE WAY TOO CLINGY!!!” He yells angrily at the trembling and crying girl.

Before he can realize what he’s done Milo runs out of the mansion.

Then it hits him…

He just hurt his angel…

He had vowed to protect her from anything…

Yet…

Now she’s scared and crying…

Because of him…

He searches around the butterfly mansion desperately trying to find Milo.

Nothing…

She’s nowhere to be found inside or outside the mansion..

“A-angel.. where did you go..?” Yuto asks himself worriedly as tears begin to fall from his eyes.

He decides to check the forest behind the butterfly mansion.

After around 10 minutes of looking he finds her unconscious and in a net dangling from a tree.

His eyes widen in worry and he quickly cuts the net off of the tree and immediately catches her and he hugs her tightly before getting the net off of her.

“A-angel I-I’m so sorry….” He whispers shakily and holds her close as he begins to sprint to the butterfly mansion.

Yuto doesn’t know what happened to Milo, but he knows a demon probably had something to do with it.

He examines her for injuries as he runs and there aren’t any that he can see.

He breathes a sigh of relief, but he’s also confused.

How is she unconscious but she doesn’t have any injuries?

He quickly rushes into the butterfly mansion and Shinobu looks confused as she examines Milo and finds nothing wrong.

“Stress often makes her pass out.. Was she under a lot of stress prior to you finding her?” Shinobu asks and Yuto nods guiltily.

Shinobu sighs softly at the guilt in his nod. “She’ll be okay, don’t worry..”

Yuto sat by Milo’s side the entire time she was unconscious.

He would wait for as long as he had to for his angel to wake up.

He gently took her hand as worry laced his expression after it had been an hour and she still hadn’t woken up.

“A-angel.. please wake up… I-I promise I’m not mad at you… I-I never was… I was j-just stressed a-and I took it out on you… I-I’m so sorry my sweet angel….” As he spoke tears filled his eyes and he allowed them to fall.

He moves to sit on the bed with her and pulls her up into his lap and hugs her tightly, stroking her back soothingly with one hand and scratching behind her fluffy cat ears with the other, in hopes that being in his arms would help her wake up.

After a few minutes she wakes up and gets confused when she notices Yuto holding her in his arms.

“Y-Yuto…? I-I thought you thought I was t-too clingy…?” His heart broke and he hugs her tighter.

“A-angel please don’t stop being so clingy…. I-I love how clingy you are, it’s adorable and it reminds me that you’re always with me and that you’re okay….” He responds tearfully and when Milo hugs him back and clings onto him his tense muscles fully relax as he holds her even closer and his tears increase.

He smiles when he hears her relaxed purrs and he gently strokes her head and rubs her back as he gently rocks her back and forth to help her sleep.

He moves to lay down with her in his arms, being careful to avoid accidentally waking her up.

He gently kisses her forehead and Milo nuzzles into him and buries her face into his chest.

“I love you so much my sweet angel… I’m sorry I hurt you…” He whispers softly.

“I love you so much too Yuyu…. I-I don’t blame you for what happened…” Milo responds softly.

Yuto soon falls asleep, holding his angel close and propping his chin on her head.

He’s so happy that his angel is okay.

Or is she..?

Deep in the forest, Milo is lying on the ground unconscious.

The Milo that Yuto is cuddling with..

Isn’t the real Milo…

~the end~

OOOOO IM PROUD OF THAT ENDING OMGGG-

#random posts from larz #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #teehee #meow #milo suzuki #larz writes #yuto mendoza #miyuto #oc x oc

[spiltscribbles]

THE ONE WITH THE SOULMATE | WOLFSTAR FIC

Author's Notes: A reblog is like a butterfly kiss, and letting me know what you think is like a hundred hugs all at once.

.-

“You are seriously insatiable tonight,” Remus rebukes, swatting Sirius’s hand away from where he was eagerly grabbing at his arse for another round of fun, positively delicious, bloody remarkable, mind-blowing fun. God Sirius thanks every deity above that he fell in love with such a secretive, little wildcat.

“Oi, wasn’t the whole purpose of this getting married shtick so we could do that whenever we please?” Sirius harrumphs, flopping back on their bed, starfished out as he watches his ridiculously beautiful husband dropping his towel to the floor and digging through their shared drawer for a new pair of pants. He really tries his damndest to not focus on how the dying evening light filters through their room’s open window, bathing Remus in this resplendent, almost heavenly glow, turning the tips of his eyelashes as golden as his hair and caressing the dips and valleys of his lithe muscles, accentuating the smattering of freckles on his thighs and the dimples he’s got on the small of his back. God Sirius can’t take his eyes off of him for even a moment. “Because if not I reckon I can sue for false advertising.”

Remus only sniffs at him, affecting a lofty air as he pulls on the green, turtle net sweater that Sirius especially likes on him for how it brings out the amber flecks in Remus’s emerald eyes and how it hugs his physique in the exact right breath to show off how bloody good looking he is. “We did that right when you came home from the firm, and then again in the shower less than five minutes ago. Don’t tell me it was that forgettable?” He asks with a pointed hiking of the brow.

“Never my lovely little croissant,” Sirius contends hurriedly, popping up from his lounging position to snatch for Remus’s boney wrists, and dragging the shorter man down to sit in his still very naked lap. “You are the best shag and handsomest fellow and—“ Remus claps his hand over Sirius’s mouth, probably trying to come off stern, but Sirius could totally catch the way the corner of his lips begin to flinch upwards— he’s endeared and Sirius knows it.

“Enough of that bollocks, else I’ll get a cavity.”

“But my beautiful crumpet, I want to sing your praises,” Sirius pouts mockingly, kisses the tip of his nose, while one of his well built arms slings around Remus’s slender waste, with his free hand slowly crawling up his inner thigh, thwarted nearly immediately by Remus standing up in a huff. 

“Like a bloody mutt.” He scolds.

“Only for you my delightfully delectable cabbage,” Sirius leers, finally standing up and taking the proffered slacks so to get ready for this little soiree Lily’s law firm is holding for their fiftieth anniversary.

“When do you reckon these awful nicknames will drop off?”

“You’re the one who said you like it when I speak French at you,” Sirius goads, smacking Remus’s pert arse as he struts into their master-bath.

“Oi, when it’s spoken in the ruddy language, and not some awful accent you’ve conjured up.” Remus counters moodily before he grabs for one of the colognes on their vanity, and Sirius only smiles privately to himself, so beyond besotted with him that it’s getting detrimental for his health, exhibit A being how he very nearly squirts his aftershave right into his eyes.

But God Remus is so worth it.

.-

The ballroom of the swanky, Mayfair hotel is dressed up in all the opulence that should be expected for a soiree made up of the throng of stuffy, stuck up solicitors that are present. Sirius is not impressed in the slightest, even if he can work the room for one of these parties as effortlessly as breathing thanks to his upbringing as the son of a Lorde and Countess; though he still hates the ambiance of it all, so much so that it makes his skin crawl to this day, but he promised to be here and at least Remus is right besides him, with Sirius’s hand in his back pocket and hazel eyes flickering to him every few minutes or so, as if attuned to Sirius and all his mercurial moods.

God he loves him.

“Alice and I have been shagging non stop,” Frank says, which works well enough to bring Sirius’s attention away from wanting to drag Remus behind the champaign fountain so to have his wicked way with him, and back to the conversation they’re all having; even if that means that instead of looking passive, Sirius is sneering over at Frank.

“Dacorum man.”

Frank apologizes, beyond glum. “We just don’t know what to do. The doctors say that we shouldn’t have this much difficulty with it, but we just checked before coming and still, nothing.”

“I’m sorry mate, that’s awful.” Remus tells him, and Dorcas nods along, but Sirius just rolls his eyes.

“We’re not even thirty yet for fuck’s sake,” he tells him. “Maybe ’s a sign for you both to stop trying to ruin your lives with a baby.”

“Shut it Sirius,” Dorcas hisses, kicking at his ankle hard enough to make him wince.

“Ouch, hey! I’m just saying, a kid’s a lot of responsibility, and commitment.”

“I’ve been with Alice since we were seventeen Black,” Frank tells him hotly . “I think I’m already properly committed.”

“Then what’s the point of the kid!”

Frank raises his brows, floundering with no words as if he just could not comprehend Sirius and all his Sirius-ness, which is fair, the only two people who’s been able to do as much turned out being his brother, (James), and his lover, (Remus)… Speaking of which…

“I’m sorry he’s acting like such an arse Frank, he doesn’t mean it.” the sandy blonde says cooly, giving Sirius one of his looks that he usually keeps designated for his more rowdy students. “Do you.”

Sirius glares at him before looking back at Frank and nodding stiffly. “Sorry mate, you and Flores would be marvelous parents, I’m just being prickish.”

“Nothing knew then,” Frank says, but it’s coupled with an amiable grin so Sirius knows he’s off the hook.

“Right, well why don’t I make it up to you by grabbing you a drink? Yeah?”

“See if they’ve got an iced white?”

“Me too Black,” Dorcas scoffs, doesn’t even bother to look at him to make the command.

“Righto,” Sirius claps Frank’s shoulder with a friendly squeeze, winking at Dorcas and glancing over at Remus before he goes. “Vodka tonic?”

“With lemon please.”

Sirius nods, still pecks him on the lips even if they’re sorta in a fight, as if Sirius could ever stay away for too long.

.-

By the grace of God, the open bar is mostly vacant, except for a familiar head of messy hair he’s considered family for over half his life.

“All right Prongs?”

James pivots around, drinks already in hand and grinning at the sight of him. “Wow, didn’t even recognize you for a tick there Pads, you don’t even have your hand plastered to Moony’s bum!.”

Sirius smirks, tossing him a covert two finger salute as he saddles up besides him and orders the round of drinks. “What can I say Prongsy, the cheeky bugger made me vow to have it there constantly, can’t just jilt my bloke like that, can I?”

James grimaces with a roll of the eyes, and Sirius’s far accustomed to that look of exasperation from him by now. “You’re a mutt.”

“Would you believe you aren’t the first person to say that to me within the last hour?”

“God save our poor Moony.”

“Oh God doesn’t have to worry, I’m taking care of him just fine.”

“Are you being gross about my best friend,” Lily asks as she struts up towards them, looking like an absolute diamond, even if her nose is wrinkled indelicately.

“Aren’t I always in your opinion?” Sirius asks cheekily, trying to balance the four drinks in his grasp before she just rolls her eyes and grabs the flutes of wine for Frank and Dorcas.

“Your impossible prat-ness aside, I actually think you being all grossly territorial over Remus tonight is actually a good thing.”

“THat’s a first,” James says, but Sirius can only glare, suspicious.

“Why’s that? Oi! Don’t tell me that absolute plonker Dearborn is here!”

“Oh God no,” Lily startles, shaking her head as if the thought was too insane to even fathom. “’S just the firm’s just hired this new bloke and I’m really quite positive that he’s Rem’s soulmate.”

“Lily! Don’t say that!” James balks, glancing over at Sirius worriedly, but he in turn only laughs at the magnitude of the statement.

“Jesus, Evans, didn’t think you believed in that ridiculous shite?”

“’S not ridiculous Sirius! And yeah, ‘course I do, like James and I are definitely soulmates.” She twists slightly so to kiss the curve of James’s jaw, making him go a bit blotchy. Poor git’s wrapped around her littlest finger.

“And what? You reckon Remus and I are just here to kill some time?”

“No, don’t be a pillock,” Lily reproves. “’s just he’s his soulmate is all.”

Okay, Sirius’s amusement has officially given way to irritation, and he twists his head so to scowl down at her as they make their way to the others. “Alright Evans, explain yourself then, yeah? Tell me how he’s Moony’s supposed soulmate.

“Well he’s French.”

“I speak French.”

“He’s got amazing, blonde hair.”

“I’ve got amazing, black hair.”

“He majored in literature just like Remus.” Lily says airily, knowing that Sirius can’t match that being an architect himself.

“Well— I read all that snotty shite Remus asks me too.” He huffs, and Lily answers with a shrug to her delicate shoulders.

“Fine then, I’m wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry bout.”

She struts off to their little lump of friends as if to cut the conversation off completely, and Sirius is perfectly find with that. She’s acting off her bloody rocker. But, if Sirius stands closer to Remus than usual for the rest of the night, or if he ends up kissing his temple whenever he feels like someone is watching them, or if he glares at one of the blokes working catering after deigning to offer Remus an empanada— Well that’s Sirius’s business and his alone. He’s not intimidated by this soulmate shite, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he’s trying to stave off the bastard or something. He does all of that simply because Remus is his husband now, and he loves getting to show that off to all onlookers, even the ones who may or may not be Remus’s soulmate.

.-

“We’ve got dinner with Reggie and his latest girlfriend tonight,” Remus tells Sirius the following Tuesday, tossing the scarf his mother had gifted him last Christmas— with a matching one for Sirius— over his shoulder as they stroll around to the front of the Three Broomsticks for their morning coffees, hands linked and the early winter snow catching in both sets of their lashes. 

And God does Sirius love the sound of that, of their schedules overlapping, becoming one almost. Loves the idea that where ever one goes the other follows. Sirius knows that they’ve both have their demons, from Sirius’s neglect and emotional abuse as a child— occasionally sprinkled with a good smack or two if his mother was particularly fuming. To Remus’s complex of never feeling like he can ever be enough, and the way Lyall had acted for years after Remus had come out to his parents as gay, coupled with his multiple hospital visits as a lad until they finally figured out his lupus diagnosis. But they’re better, so much fucking better now. Plenty of the credit going to the remarkable group of friends whom they’ve picked up along the way, but another huge chunk was finding one another, and Sirius knows it in his bones. Knows that there couldn’t be anyone else for him, and sure he knows Remus sometimes deserves more, deserves better— But he’s chosen him, he’s chosen Sirius. He loves Sirius. And it’s remarkable and unbelievable and amazing, and Sirius holds onto the sensation of it with hungry piety.

“Love? Did you hear that?”

Sirius jolts back to the moment, and smiles softly down at him, kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth in penance. “Yes, of course gorgeous. I didn’t forget, I’ll be home early and maybe we can have a lie down before leaving if you’ve finished grading those papers?”

Remus’s laugh right then is like the most splendid instrument Sirius has ever heard, light and magical and warm as a bonfire. “Try to be good and maybe.” He tells him with a cold fingered tapping of his nose before he flounces off to the main counter to order for them.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stares after him instead of grabbing the gang’s typical seats up front, but is startled when he hear’s a choked out noise coming from behind him and sees Lily, panic faced and eyes wandering frantically.

“Oi, what’s squirming up your arse Evans.” He asks her suspiciously, thick brows furrowed.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here,” she explains so quickly that her words begin to crash into one another. “Oh bloody hell, the one time I have a late start!”

She stomps her foot and Sirius shoots her a fully fledged glower. “What is making you so damn barmy for Christ’s sake.”

Lily parts her lips, but no noise comes out, because right then someone follows her indoors, a very familiar someone if only based off of descriptions. A very tall, very blonde, very smiley looking someone.

Sirius hates him right on sight.

“I’m sorry I took so long at that shop Lily, my mother loves these, how do you say, snow globes?” The stranger says, shaking one for emphasis with Big Ben set in the center.

“Ridiculous tourist trinkets is more like it,” Sirius practically snarls, which earns him a confused look by the blonde and a tired one by Lily.

“Right then, well Sirius this’s Thomas Martin, Thomas this is Sirius Black.”

“Lupin-Black now, ta Lils.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, blue eyes blinking wearily. “Nice to meet you, ah, Sirius.” He extends his hand, and when Sirius shakes it he makes sure to feel the bloke’s bones crushing together, just so he understands who exactly he’s speaking with.

The French arse eventually pulls away, pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint as he curls and stretches his fingers.

“Oh God,” Lily groans, leading them to their spot and depositing herself onto the sofa with absolute exasperation, and Sirius only continues to glare at Thomas as he sits besides her, growing stiffer once Remus returns.

“Oh, hiya Lils,” he smiles, handing Sirius his drink before flickering his gaze to the fucking Frenchman.

“‘lo love, this’s the newest hire at the firm, Thomas. Thomas, this’s my best mate, Remus.” She introduces quickly, the fucking trader.

“Remus?” Thomas asks, dimpling down at Sirius’s fucking husband with bright eyes. And Sirius has to curl his fists so not to punch him right in the sodding face, only growing angrier when Remus chuckles and ducks his head, like he was nervous by him! Like he thought he was in fact very good looking and very charming and his damn soulmate.

“Yeah, blame that on my mum, she was big into the classics.”

Thomas’s grin widens even more and Sirius feels the pulse on his neck beginning to throb. “No, it’s very charming. My Grandfather was very, erm, focussed on those studies as well? Begged my parents to name me Enkidu. They thankfully refused.”

Remus laughs fully now, and Sirius wants to a punch a wall. It took him literal months to make Remus laugh like that— genuine and glimmering and gorgeous. “Lucky bloke. Though I do have to admit that Gilgamesh is a favorite of mine, I think I’ve read the epic twenty times over.”

“Oh mine too,” the fucking Frenchman says, stepping closer to Remus and now in front of Sirius fully, gambling bravely that Sirius wouldn’t try to cap him right here. “If you ask me however, I do believe that he and Enkidu are more than just, friends.” His eyes flicker down to Remus’s lips for a split second and when he looks back up his face is positively leering.

Sirius sees red.

“God, so nice to finally talk to someone who gets it, the professors I work under are usually so painfully heteronormative that it’s crippling.” Remus tells him, smiling kindly.

“Oh, I’m the furthest away from that, I assure you.”

He winks! He fucking winks! Sirius swears to God! He sees the bastard winking at his husband! His fucking husband! What the bloody hell does he think that platinum band on Remus’s finger matching Sirius’s own is suppose to represent! Holy shit!

“I’d love to read anything you have on the subject, most things translated to French are a bit clunky.”

He’s trying to ask him out! Right here! Right in front of Sirius! Sirius is going to strangle his snail swallowing neck! Thankfully, Lily must sense his inner turmoil because she interjects their conversation right then, asking Thomas to grab her a jasmine tea.

“Oh yes of course,” he nods congenially, rounding back on Remus before he leaves. “Would you like a pastry? On me.”

Is he trying to ask Remus to eat it off of him? What the hell! It took nearly a year of them fucking for Sirius to get Remus to bring food in the bedroom, to get to watch Remus lick the chocolate syrup off his cock. And what? Does he think he’s even got a chance so quickly!

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Remus grins and a part of Sirius dies on the inside. “But I’ll come tag along, yeah? I love talking about this stuff and Sirius absolutely hates this ancient rubbish.”

“I do not! I think these dead blokes are very interesting,” he harrumphs, heated, with pouting lips and crossed arms. But Remus only tosses back his head with uninhibited laughter in response, which makes the fucking Frenchman beam that bit brighter.

“After you,” he says with a swish of the hand.

Sirius is going to be tried for murder, and he’s not even sorry about it.

“’s okay love,” Lily reassures him, patting his head dotingly. “We’ll find you someone new.”

“I hate you Evans!”

“Don’t blame the messenger!”

Sirius is about to tell her just how much he does exactly that, but then he catches on the fucking Frenchman putting his hand over Remus’s to prevent him from sliding over his card and all the fight leaves him in an instant.

.-

Sirius ended up not even going to the on sight location for the latest project he’s heading at the firm. He instead spent the bulk of the morning and part of the afternoon grinding his teeth as Remus spoke and barbed and giggled with the fucking Frenchman, like he was enjoying himself. And it was torture, watching the way they naturally clicked and got on— Literal fucking torture.

Sirius is still fuming as they sit in front of his younger brother and his newest bird, a pretty girl named Amal, who’s just graduated from a posh, fashion institute in the north of France. And Christ it’s like he’s being bombarded with the idea of that country all day.

“God that must’ve been such a wonderful experience,” Remus says, smiling as she leans forwards with a grin, speaking louder over the chatter of the busy sushi joint they had all agreed upon.

“Oh yes, the cuisine was simply unmatched, even if I did end up missing London, being home and all. Though I’m afraid my French is seriously dwindling compared to my English and Arabic now.”

“You should ask Reggie to practice with you, I know I love it when Sirius speaks the language.” He winks right then, making Amal crow with laughter and Regulus roll his eyes fondly. But Sirius stays peeved off with his hinged jaw, absolutely seething.

“Bet my hopeless brother recites poetry to you and everything, rose in his mouth and all.”

Remus laughs and Sirius suddenly has the horrid image of the fucking Frenchman doing as much outside the window to their bedroom, and is furious all over again.

“Well Reggie, Remus here does fancy all things French, foods and wines and blokes and just the whole lot.”

“Well good, we have something in common,” Amal snickers, lacing her hand through Regulus’s own over the tabletop. Sirius and Remus haven’t held hands since the waitress brought out their drinks, and remembering as much makes Sirius take a swig of his ail, hating everything.

“Yes well, you can say it’s Remus’s soulmate, France I mean.” He says, words beginning to slur. “He’s meant for French food and wines and blokes, innit true love? You’d prefer a French bloke?”

Amal frowns and Regulus pins him with a one eyed squint, befuddled. But Sirius only gathers his wits about him when Remus clammers noisily out his chair and tugs on his arm to follow suit.

“Reg order us the specials yeah? And a round of spring rolls,” he instructs, words clipped, and a small dent peeking out between his brows, like it does when he’s especially annoyed. “C’mon Sirius we need to talk.”

“But that’d be awfully rude,” Sirius retorts, already hates the flat, fuming tone Remus is speaking with, and feels good and properly nervous for the impending argument.

“They have one another, ’s fine. Now let’s go.”

Sirius concedes and pretends it doesn’t feel like he’s being lead to the gallows.

.-

“All right prick,” Remus huffs, rounding on Sirius right after he locks the door to the single user loo. “What has gotten you in such a bloody awful mood.”

Sirius sniffs, arms crossed against his chest and his head tilted imperiously. “I’m peachy.”

“You’ve been acting like an arse ever since we had coffee with Lily,” Remus counters, reproving.

“Actually love, if you didn’t notice, Lily left about halfway through you and the blonde’s little clucking session.”

Remus furrows his brows now, pillowy lips pinched and looking lost as hell. “You’re angry because Lily left for work?”

“Oh for bloody hell Remus!” Sirius erupts, tossing his arms in the air. “I’m angry because you met your ruddy soulmate and now you’re going to ride off into the sunset with’m and read French poetry together while eating cheese and bread and talking about highbrow shit like Aeneid!”

Remus startles backwards, long lashes flapping and mouth gaped open. “Oh Christ, you’ve gone absolutely barmy. You’re mad.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I feel like I should call someone about my husband going bloody mental.”

“I repeat. Not. Helping.”

“What in hell has convinced you that this random bloke is my soulmate?” Remus asks, back to being patient as ever.

“Lily!” Sirius shouts. “She told me that you and the fucking Frenchman are soulmates! And she’s right okay! She’s bloody spot on.”

Remus rolls back his entire head now, groaning out, “You are such an idiot.”

“Real nice Moons,” Sirius frowns, doesn’t even know how to feel now, the anger seeping out of him the longer he’s standing besides Remus, leaving an awful, clawing abandonment in its wake.

“Did you ever once think to ask me what I think of the damn concept of soulmates? Hmm?” He asks, single brow hiked with pure condescension.

And oh.

Sirius is stuck for a minute there, doesn’t see an out to the question. “Well…. Erm—“

“Well if you had asked, like a normal sodding bloke! I wold’ve told you that I married you because I know your my soulmate you arse! And it isn’t because of some ridiculous notion of stardust or providence or whatever else. It’s because we grew together, and we fight for one another, and even when you’re being a complete prick or we’re arguing like mad you’re the only one I want. Only person I can ever see myself with, the only person I want to try this hard for. The only fucking person I ever want to call my husband! My partner! lover!”

“Oh.” Sirius breathes out, all his fears being strangled by the conviction embedded into Remus’s words. 

And it’s like all of Sirius’s insides melt, like all the adoration and love and reverence he holds for Remus is pooling in his stomach and threatening to pour out his every orifice. And God he can’t even inhale, only scrambles to lock his hands around Remus’s cheeks and press his head against Remus’s own.

“Yeah? You really think that.”

“Hell, I thought the wedding and all would’ve made that clear.”

Sirius chuckles, only lightly, his thumb dragging beneath Remus’s eye tenderly. “God I love you, so endlessly. Please forgive me for being an idiot?”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll keep you around,” Remus teases, bouncing on the balls of his feet to kiss Sirius’s nose and lock his arms around his neck, and the sensation of it— them knotted into one another— could never be replicated in a thousand years, not like this, not like them. 

#Wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fic #harry potter series #spilt ink #idk how to put read more with this update #PLEASE HELP

[idiosymphony]

少年の日の思い出：Das Nachtpfauenauge, by Hermann Hesse

Note: This story is translated from Japanese to English, but its original language is German. I could not find an English translation anywhere online, but I cannot speak German, so I referenced both the German and Japanese text to create this translation. Its German title means “The Peacock Moth” and the Japanese title means “Memories from the Days of Boyhood”. Although this story is very famous in Japan, as it features in a middle school textbook, it is little known elsewhere.

Translation is under the cut.

My guest, having returned from the evening walk, sat down close to me in my study. Daylight had begun to fade away. Outside the window, a faded lake stretched far into the distance, fringed sharply by a hilly shore. My youngest son had just bode me goodnight, and so we began to speak of our childhood memories. 

“Ever since I had my children, my childhood habits and interests have come back to me. In fact, for a year now I’ve been collecting butterflies again. Shall I show you?” I said. 

And my guest asked to see, so I went to fetch my light cardboard box that held my collection. Opening the first box, I finally noticed how completely dark it was. I took my lamp and struck a match. The outside scenery became shrouded in darkness, the entire window closed off into the opaque blue of the night. 

My butterflies glittered brightly in the box, illuminated by the bright light of the lamp. We sat hunched over it, gazing at the beautiful shapes and brilliant dark colours, naming the butterflies. 

“This is the Yellow Bands Underwing, Fulminea in Latin. It’s quite rare around here.” I said. 

My friend carefully took out one of the butterflies from the box, without removing its pin, and looked at the back of its wings. 

“How odd. Nothing arouses memories of my childhood quite as strongly as the sight of butterflies. When I was a young boy, I was a passionate collector.” He said. 

And he pinned the butterfly back to where it was, and said, “I’ve seen enough.” 

He spoke quickly, as if the memory was unpleasant for him. After I had swiftly put back the box and returned, he gave me a faint smile and requested a cigarette from me. 

“Take no offense,” he then said, “although did not give your collection a proper look. When I was a child, I also collected butterflies, but unfortunately I have tarnished those memories through my own fault. Really, it’s almost too embarrassing to speak of, but let me tell you this story.” 

***

When I was around eight or nine years of age, I began collecting butterflies. At first, I was not particularly passionate, but simply did it because it was popular. However, on the second summer when I was around ten years old, I had become completely captivated by this game. 

I poured all my heart into this game, putting off everything else around me. It had gotten to a point where everyone often thought to make me stop. When going out to catch butterflies, I was deaf to the clock in the tower chiming, be it schooltime or lunchtime. During vacations, I often trotted around from early morning till night without coming home to eat, bringing with me only a slice of bread in my botanical specimen bag. 

Even now, when I look at beautiful butterflies, I feel that same passion deeply within me. When this happens, for a split second I am gripped by that indescribable, ravenous, enthralling feeling that only a child can experience. It’s that feeling I had as a boy, when I first snuck up to a yellow swallowtail. 

And during those times, I immediately recall the numerous moments in my youth. The scorching afternoons in the strong-scented, dry wilderness. The cool mornings in the garden, the mystical evenings on the edge of the forest. I would lie in wait with my net, like a man searching for treasure. 

And when I found a beautiful butterfly⁠—it didn’t matter if it wasn’t particularly rare⁠—perched on a flower in the sunshine, its wings rising and falling with its breaths, the joy of capturing it would almost suffocate me. As I crept up to it gradually, making out each shining speck of colour, each crystal-clear feather veins, each fine auburn hairs on its antennae, I could barely contain my nervousness and delight. I did not often feel such mixture of subtle joy and intense desire. 

As my parents did not give me sophisticated equipment, I had to keep my collection in an old, crumpled cardboard box. I would cut out a piece of cork from a wine stopper, and paste it to the bottom of it. There, I would stick my pins into it. Between the crushed edges of this box, I kept my treasures. 

At first, I would often happily show my collections to my friends. But the others would have wooden boxes with glass lids, cages with green gauze pasted onto them, and other such luxurious items. And so I was unable to boast about my childish equipment. On the contrary, even if I had a significant and reputable finding or catch, I would keep it a secret and only show it to my younger sisters. 

One time, I caught a Freyer’s Purple Emperor, which was rare around where we lived. I spread its wings to display it, and once it dried, I was so pleased with myself that I decided to show it only to the boy next door. 

This boy was a teacher’s son, who lived across the courtyard. He possessed the vice of faultlessness, which was twice as off-putting for a child. Although his collection was small and meager, its neatness and precise care made each one appear to be a single gem. What’s more, he was familiar with the extremely difficult and rare technique of using animal glue to patch together damaged or broken wings. 

In any case, he was a model boy by all counts. And due to this, I envied, admired and despised him. 

I showed this boy my Freyer’s Purple Emperor. He expertly appraised it, acknowledged its rarity, and priced it at about 20 Pfennig. However, he then began to find fault, complaining about the way I had spread its wings, how its right antenna was bent, how its left antenna was stretched out. And on top of that, he correctly discovered the glaring flaw of two missing legs. 

Although I did not think much of these shortcomings, the merciless critique greatly wounded the joy I had for my catch. And so I never again showed him my catches. 

Two years had passed, and we had become older boys, but my passion was still at its climax. Around then, rumors spread that Emil next door had hatched a Peacock Moth from its chrysalis. Right now, if I were to hear that an acquaintance had inherited a million marks, or if a lost book from Livy had been found, I would not be as excited as I was then. 

Not one of my friends had caught a Peacock Moth as of yet. I had only seen it once, in an old book of butterflies I owned. Out of the ones I had known the name of but didn’t have in my box, there was nothing else I had wanted as fervently as the Peacock Moth. Over and over again, I gazed at its illustration in my book. 

One friend told me this: When the amber butterfly is perched on a tree bark or a rock, and a bird or another threat attempts to attack it, the butterfly would unfold its blackish front feathers and show off its beautiful back feathers. But because those large shining splotches present a very strange and unexpected appearance, the bird is struck by fear and ceases to engage with it. 

Hearing that Emil was in possession of this mysterious butterfly, I became overwhelmed with excitement and could not wait until I could see it. After lunch, when I was allowed out, I immediately hopped the courtyard and headed into the neighbor’s house. I went up to the fourth storey, and the teacher’s son had his own room, albeit small. There’s no telling how jealous I was. 

While making my journey, I did not meet anyone. I arrived upstairs and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Emil was not home. I pulled the door handle, and noticed the entrance was unlocked. 

I entered, wanting to at least see that butterfly. And I immediately picked up the two large boxes that Emil kept his collection in. I couldn’t find it in either box, but I was thinking perhaps it was still on the setting block. 

And there it was. Its velvet amber wings spread out with thin paper, the Peacock Moth was pinned onto the setting block. I leaned over it, poring closely over the reddish-brown hairy antennae, the elegant edges of its wings with an indescribable color, the wool-like hairs on the inside edges of its back wings. Unfortunately, I could not see its famous splotches. It was hidden underneath the thin piece of paper. 

Heart thrumming in my chest, I lost to the temptation of wanting to remove the piece of paper and pulled out the pin. And the four splotches, large and mysterious, much more beautiful and brilliant than the one in my book, stared at me. 

Looking at it, I was overcome with an irresistible desire to obtain this treasure. And for the first time in my life, I committed an act of theft. 

I pulled the clip gently. The butterfly was already dry, and so it did not lose its shape. I placed it in my palm and took it out of Emil’s room. At that moment, I felt nothing but great satisfaction. 

Hiding the butterfly in my right hand, I went down the stairs. Immediately after, I heard someone heading up towards me. At that moment, my conscience awakened. I suddenly realized that I was a thief, a despicable sort. 

At the same time, I was struck with a horrific anxiety that someone may discover me. I instinctively hid my hand into my shirt pocket, with the catch still inside. I continued to walk, but my body shook with a cold feeling that I had done something most appalling and shameful. 

I crossed paths with the maid heading upstairs, frightened out of my skin. My heart pounded. Sweat gathered at my forehead. I completely lost my composure. Terrified of myself, I stood by the house’s entrance. 

Immediately, I understood that I could not, and should not keep holding onto this butterfly. I must return it to where it was, and if I could, pretend that nothing had ever happened. 

Though I intensely feared bumping into someone and being discovered, I hurriedly retraced my steps and ran back upstairs. A minute later, I was standing in Emil’s room again. I removed my hand from my pocket, placing the butterfly on the table. 

Without even taking a closer look, I already understood what misfortune had taken place. I was pushed to the verge of tears. The Peacock Moth had been crushed. One forewing and one antenna was missing, and when I cautiously pulled the broken wing out of my pocket, I found it torn to pieces, beyond mending. 

The sight of the beautiful, rare butterfly I had destroyed tormented my heart more than the feeling of theft. I saw the delicate amber wing dust sticking to my fingers, and the torn wing lying close by. I would have happily given up any possession or passion, if it meant I could make it whole once more. 

I went home sad, and sat in our small garden until evening, until at last I gathered up the courage to tell my mother everything. My mother reacted with shock and sadness, but seemed to feel that making this confession caused me to suffer more than any punishment. 

“You must go over to Emil’s,” she said firmly, “and tell him so yourself. You may offer him to pick something out from your possessions, to make up for it. And you must ask for his forgiveness.” 

If it had been anyone but that model boy, I would have immediately felt inclined to do so. I had a definitive feeling in advance that he would not understand me, nor attempt to believe me. It eventually became night, but I did not feel like going over. My mother found me in the courtyard and whispered to me, “It has to be today. Now, go.” 

And so, I went over, and asked for Emil. He came out and told me that someone had ruined his Peacock Moth, and that he didn’t know whether a bad guy or a cat had done it. I asked him to show me the butterfly. We went up, he lit the candle, and I saw the ruined butterfly on the setting block. I saw the marks of the efforts Emil had made to restore it, but there was no mending that. The antenna was indeed still missing. 

Now, I said it was me who did it, and attempted to elaborate and explain. Emil did not rail or yell at me, but instead clicked his tongue lowly and looked at me silently for a while. And then, he said: “I see, I see. So that’s how you are.” 

I told him I’d give him all my toys, but he still held his icy posture and looked at me in contempt. And so I told him he could have all the butterflies in my collection. However, he said: “No, thank you. I already know all of your collection. And today I got to see how you handle butterflies.”  

At that moment, I came very close to leaping at his throat. There was nothing that could be done anymore. It was already decided that I was a scoundrel, and Emil stood in front of me coldly, as if to represent the very laws of the world, shielded by justice, disparaging me. He did not even insult me. He only gazed at me in contempt. 

That’s when I realized for the first time, once something had happened, it could no longer be atoned for. I left, and was glad that my mother did not pry but left me alone after a kiss. “Go to bed,” she told me. It was quite late for me. But before I did so, I quietly went to the dining room and fetched my large amber cardboard box. I put it on my bed, opening it up in the darkness. And then I took out the butterflies one by one, and crushed them to dust with my fingers. 

#hermann hesse #literature #translation

[bittersweetserenity]

SAFETY NET !

Chapter 2

Hello! Finally was able to get some work done on this. Apologies that there’s no actual smut yet!! Please don’t hate me, I’m doing my best, haha.

Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this, even though it’s pretty short.

“Eren?” Mikasa says as she knocks gently on the door. She lets herself in a moment later, finding Eren sprawled across his mattress, sound asleep.

She smiles to herself, gently shutting the door behind her and making her way to his bedside.

“Eren,” she whispers, kneeling on the ground. Just as she’s about to brush his hair out of his face, his eyes slide open.

Mikasa’s hand stops mid-reach, hovering above Eren’s head. There’s a pause where they just stare at each other, not daring to move. She goes to pull back, but Eren grabs her wrist and slowly draws it towards his mouth, kissing the top of her hand, all while keeping his gaze glued to hers.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” As he speaks, he takes her hand and rests her palm on his cheek, his own hand covering hers, holding her there.

Stunned by his actions and words, Mikasa merely looks at him slack-jawed. Why would she ever ditch him? How could he ever think she would do such a thing?

Mikasa says the only words that form amidst the haze in her mind. “I’m sorry.”

Eren’s eyes slide shut. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, Mika,” he sighs, and Mikasa has to swallow the gasp that wants to escape her at the nickname — the one he hasn’t used in who knows how long. “I’m glad you did come, though,” he removes their hands from his face and rolls onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow, resting his chin on his palm. “We need to talk about,” he gestures between them with his other hand, “this.”

“Okay,” Mikasa remains kneeling on the floor, fingers fiddling in her lap. “So, are you my boyfriend now?”

A low chuckle rumbles in Eren’s throat, “If that’s what you want me to be.”

A smile pulls at her lips, “I’d like that.”

Eren smiles back at her, the first genuine one he’s given her in years. “Come up here, Mika.”

Mikasa ducks her head to hide the way her face is growing hot, but she obeys Eren’s request and climbs up and sits beside him, her eyes still avoiding his. Her gaze snaps to her hands when she feels Eren’s enveloping hers and the contact causes butterflies to swarm wildly in her stomach.

“Hey,” Eren says softly. “Look at me.” When she does, he asks, “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes,” she breathes, eager to feel his lips on hers again. And then her eyes slide shut and she’s enveloped in a warmth that only he can bring about.

This kiss is longer than the first, and there’s something that makes Mikasa think that this won’t just be a one-kiss situation. And she’s right because as soon as she breaks away to catch her breath, Eren’s mouth is right back on hers, as if it never left. His tongue slides across her bottom lip and Mikasa gasps. Eren tenses and is about to retreat, but Mikasa pulls her hands from his and grabs his head, unwilling to stop the contact. She copies his movement, hoping to convey that she liked what he did and thankfully he gets the message. He relaxes and continues to slowly work his tongue into her mouth, and when his meets hers, Mikasa hums.

Eren moves his unoccupied hands to her waist, gently coaxing her into his lap so as not to be in such an awkward position. She takes the hint and adjusts herself, throwing one leg over both of his to straddle him. When she settles down, she jolts at the hardness pressing against the apex of her thighs. Mikasa pulls her mouth from his with an audible smack and looks at Eren with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Eren tilts his head slightly, his face creasing with concern.

“Nothing,” Mikasa replies way too quickly. Eren cocks a brow at her, imploring her to tell him what’s going on. She groans internally.

‘Why’d you have to react? Of course he’s hard. You’re not the only one affected by this.’

“I just—just wasn’t expecting you to be, uh, you know, enjoying this as much,” she stutters, and immediately regrets her choice of words because the way Eren’s face falls tells her that she clearly wasn’t getting her message across. “I mean, like, I wasn’t expecting you to get hard!”

‘Well, that’ll do it, genius.’

The sadness Eren wears gives way to shock at the blunt admission and quickly morphs back to the hazy expression he wore earlier.

“Of course I’d get hard, Mika,” he grins. “It would be concerning if I didn’t, considering the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen is on top of me and kissing me.”

“Eren,” she whispers, a smile creeping across her puffy lips.

“And, why are you surprised that I’m turned on?” He asks. “Aren’t you?”

Mikasa chokes. Once she can breathe properly, she meekly mumbles, “Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” And with that, his mouth is on hers yet again. Eren’s emboldened by her shy admission and slowly moves his hands to her rib cage, right beneath her chest. But he doesn’t dare move them higher. Not quite yet.

They continue to make out for a few more minutes and Eren decides he’s had enough time to stall. He wants her so bad — has wanted her for years — and he’s not about to let her slip through his fingers.

“Mikasa,” he murmurs, pulling away from her lips. “Do you want to go further?”

Mikasa pauses. Of course she wants to, but she’s also extremely nervous. She’s never felt this aroused before, she’s never gotten to the point where she needed to get herself off. She’s always been able to push those thoughts aside before they became too much and distracted her from what really mattered. But who knows when she’ll get to be alone with Eren again? This very well could be her only chance to be with him.

“Yes, I do, Eren.”

He smiles softly at her, places a gentle kiss on her lips, and glides his fingers down to the hem of her shirt. “Can we start by getting our clothes outta’ the way, then?”

Fighting the urge to hide her face from him, Mikasa responds with a quiet ‘yes,’ and crawls off Eren’s lap to stand before him. She unbuttons her shirt whilst Eren whisks his own off and hastily unfastens his pants. With trembling fingers, she unclasps her bra, dropping it and her shirt to the floor, followed quickly by her skirt, stockings, and underwear. When she’s done, her eyes grow comically wide at the sight of Eren, also completely rid of his clothes and watching her with the most intense focus she’s ever seen from him.

Of course she’s seen him shirtless many times, but it just isn’t the same. And now that she’s seeing all of him, she wishes that they’d had the guts to do this sooner. Her gaze falls to his dick, rock-hard and oozing precum right at his navel.

Eren doesn’t know where to look, wanting to admire every facet of her immaculate body. His eyes jump from her full tits with hardened dusky nipples, to her abs that he will never admit that he’s jealous of, to the well-kept patch of hair between those muscular thighs. Many scars litter her pale flesh and Eren wonders when each one was obtained. Was he there? Did he cause any of them, aside from the one adorning her cheek?

Eren groans, pulling her into his lap once again. “You’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

“So are you, Eren,” she whispers, tucking errant strands of his hair behind his ear.

“Can…” Eren starts, pausing briefly to wet his lips. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” is Mikasa’s breathy reply. “Please touch me, Eren.”

And with that, his large calloused hands are exploring her soft skin, caressing her with great care. He squeezes her ass, just to see how she’d react, and when her hips jut forward on instinct, Eren can’t help but groan at the friction against his dick.

“S-sorry,” Mikasa stumbles. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Was it okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, dragging her short nails from his shoulders to his chest. “I liked it.”

Eren grins at that, and squeezes again, pulling her along the length of him. She shudders at the new sensation, the wetness seeping from her cunt allowing her to glide easily on him. Her head is impossibly heavy and she leans to rest her forehead on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the new feelings in the best way possible.

When his hands leave her ass, she wants to protest but stops short when his hands wrap around her middle, thumbs just beneath her tits and the remaining fingers splayed along her back, waiting for her consent to touch more. Instead of just telling him to, she leans back to lock eyes with him as she pushes his hands up to cup each breast.

Eren’s enthralled by the weighty softness in his palms. His thumb creeps up to her left nipple, gently rolling across it and the soft squeak she stifles as she dives back into his neck urges him to do it again. So he does, and her muffled sounds make him smile fondly.

Mikasa pulls her head up a bit and starts littering open-mouthed kisses along his clavicle, up the expanse of his neck, up behind his ear. And when she tugs the lobe into her mouth with gentle teeth, his hold on her tits abruptly becomes harsh and his hips buck up against her against his will. She winces, but just because she wasn’t expecting the sudden vice on the tender area.

“F-fuck,” he whines.

When she goes to retreat to check in with him, she suppresses the shudder that creeps down her spine at the way he pulls her flush against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her torso. “Please, do that again. It felt so good.” One hand cradles her head and the other molds to her hipbone.

Hoping to draw even more of a reaction from him, Mikasa does as he so kindly asked, opting to roll her tongue along the bitten skin after and slightly grinding against him. His hold on her tightens, and she hears him suck in a breath through his teeth to repress the whimper that tries to escape.

“Eren,” she whispers. “Let me hear you. I wanna know how good I’m making you feel.”

Eren is dumbfounded. “Since when are you such a seductress?”

She shrugs, unsure of how to answer that. In all seriousness, she doesn’t think what she said was all that ‘seductive’ because she was just being honest - all she really wants is to hear him moan.

When Mikasa resumes her ministrations on his lobe and neck, Eren continues to fondle her tits.

He pauses when she urges him to look up at her, curious. “Can I touch you now? It’s only fair…”

“I-uh, yeah, of course.” He grabs her hands and guides them to his pecs. “What?” He asks when she giggles at his actions.

“I meant lower, Eren, but if you don’t want me to—”

“No! No, I do, I just misunderstood, evidently…”

Mikasa shakes her head, her smile unwavering as she presses her lips to his. “Show me what to do, then,” she whispers. “Show me how to touch you the way you like.”

Previous chapter

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eremika #eren x mikasa #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman

[lovesickletters]

𝒪𝒽 𝒮ℴ ℒℴ𝓋ℯ𝓁𝓎~💕

Angela (OC) x Fem!Reader | （𝒩𝒮ℱ𝒲， 𝒹𝓊𝒷𝒸ℴ𝓃，𝒹𝓇𝓊ℊℊ𝒾𝓃ℊ，ℯ𝒹ℊ𝒾𝓃ℊ，𝒷ℯℊℊ𝒾𝓃ℊ, 𝓇ℴ𝓊ℊ𝒽， 𝓉ℴ𝓅!𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉ℯ𝓇, 𝒷ℴ𝓉𝓉ℴ𝓂!𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇）

Part 1 💜

The sweet scent of lavender fogged your mind as you took a sip of the cloudy tea. It was delicate, but strong. Leaving a subtle taste you couldn’t quite name lingering on your tastebuds. Angela hummed approvingly, crossing her legs as she leaned forward, resting her elbow on the coffee table and drumming her nails against her cheek while looking at you in expectant curiosity.

“Well? How does it taste, sweetness?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but found it difficult to talk around the suddenly leaden weight of your tongue in your mouth. You felt biting panic arise in your chest, fluttering like an anxious butterfly fighting to be free of a net, but it was quickly subdued by a creeping blanket of calm falling over you, dulling your senses. The cup once shakily clutched in your hands fell out of your grasp and to the floor with a dull *thud*, that was just as easily dismissed by Angela as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling a teasing chuckle.

“Tongue-tied are we? Not to worry dearest, I’ll take good care of you~” Carefully rising from her seat, she stepped around the table, picking her way over the tea-stained carpet before tenderly placing two pale hands against your cheeks, pulling your dizzy expression into a gentle, unyielding embrace. “Tsk tsk, it seems you’ve gone a bit dumbstruck. What am I supposed to do with you now?” Fingers glided their way across your cheeks, down your neck, and stopped to rest at the top buttons of your shirt. You attempted to move away out of reflex, only to find it was a struggle even staying upright. Your movements were sluggish and unbalanced, much to your newfound horror. Pulling you closer by your shirt collar Angela held your face still with one hand, smushing your cheeks uncomfortably in the process as her other hand moved deftly to undo your shirt buttons.

“You won’t mind if I make myself more comfortable, hm~?” She looked at you for an answer, almost mockingly. It was a struggle to move your lips in any way that made sense to your short-circuiting brain;

“mmm… d-don’t- don’t…” “You don’t mind then~? How considerate of you, sweetness.” Without waiting for your thoughts to catch up with your words she pushed you back against the backing of the plush chair, straddling herself on the newly arranged room on your lap. “Isn’t this better, sweetness? So much more comfortable.” Without hesitation she resumed her task of unbuttoning your shirt, quickly tugging it off halfway once she reached the bottom as your arms lay helplessly by your sides.

“Oh, my…” Seemingly lost for words, she reached forward to trace her fingers over your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine as she slipped her hand beneath your bra to play with the plush softness beneath. Unable to hold herself back, she pounced forward, pressing kisses on every inch of exposed skin that evolved into nips and nibbles as time went on. Her hands explored your torso, pressing her nails into your skin and causing scratches that were sure to leave a mark. A gasp exited your lips as she sucked on one of these particularly nasty bites, staining it blue and purple to match the black splotches left by her lipstick across your upper body. Moving up to your jaw, you couldn’t help the further fluttering breaths and mewls you gasped as she peppered kisses and hickeys across your neck. Letting out a loud yelp as she smirked up at you, hand still poised in a pinching motion over your nipple. “God, I could listen to those fucking noises all day, darling. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Subconsciously, you could hear a small voice in the back of your head trying to puzzle together how that could be so when you had just met recently, but it was quickly silenced by your own growing moans as she suckled on your lower lip, only doing so much in the way of shutting you up when she pulled you in for a breathless kiss.

It was only when you started to feel yourself slipping that she pulled away, allowing the colour to drain back into your vision as you gasped for air. Intoxicated lust clouded her gaze, finally allowing you a glimpse of the lovesick adoration she held in her gaze. A sharp yank on your scalp distracted you from your thoughts, her delicate fingers entangled in your hair unnoticeable until this moment.

“Don’t black out on me now dear, the fun is just beginning.” You followed her gaze down, where you finally noticed a flash of hot pink peeking out from beneath her skirt.

“Wait- please… W-Won’t fit-“ Your voice came out as a pleading whine, the begging look in your eyes doing nothing to deter the lustfully determined look in hers.

“If that’s the case then we’ll make it fit, dearest.” Angela hushed you, petting you comfortingly. She sounded so dismissive of your pleas, so focused on the way the tip of the strap-on pushed apart the lips of your cunt, already slick with your own wetness. Giving you a few moments to catch your breath before she pushed in without warning, tearing a strangled, high-pitched mewl from your lips as she filled you to the brim in one smooth thrust. You could feel your walls hugging to the sides of her cock so snugly, it felt you had no room to spare, and yet the smooth surface of the strap-on was only shoved into your stretched pussy halfway. Pathetic babbling was all your brain could hammer together in the moment, doing nothing to mitigate the way Angela continued to inch herself in bit-by-bit. Sharpened nails sunk into your skin, pinning you down from scampering away, not like you could if you tried, given the weakened state of your body and the growing heat in your nethers that begged you to stay.

Eventually you found yourselves closer than ever before as the base of her cock pressed flush to your clit. When you glanced down you could see a bulge in your stomach from how deep her tip was buried into you, which she immediately noticed, cooing humiliatingly. You were unbearably full, moulded to her will and shape as she began to thrust, the obscene noises made as a result only outdone by the groggy moans and whimpers torn from your mouth, complimented occasionally by her utterly unbothered hums of pleasure. “You’re doing so well sweetness, being such a good little slut for mistress~”

Your simpering, whining responses only drew a disapproving tut from her as she gave a painful, sharp snap of her hips before pausing, buried three quarters of the way into your quaking pussy. “Use your words, beloved. I want to *hear* you tell everyone who you belong to. Who these marks belong to, who this body belongs to, who this pussy belongs to.”

It took all your powers of comprehension to puzzle out what was being asked of you in these moments drifting in and out of blackness, but eventually your strap-drunk brain put two and two together as pleas began to rush from your lips like running water. “It’s yours, all yours! All of it belongs to you mistress! Please!”

She gave you a saccharine smile, eyes lidded and lovesick as she pressed a kiss to your navel. “Good girl~”

The screams that echoed through the room could be described as both torturous and blissful, but when they finally ceased your pants audibly slowed as your body finally gave out to the exhaustion and sleeping medication. “Sweet dreams dearest~ I’ll be right here when you awake.” Scooping you up and throwing you over her shoulder with little trouble as if she had rehearsed it a million times before, Angela quickly left without a trace. It would be a few weeks before anyone even declared you missing, after she finished with your close friends.

#🖤𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀🖤 #🩸𝓎𝒶𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇ℯ🩸 #🥀𝓃𝓈𝒻𝓌🥀 #angela x reader #oc x reader #yandere oc

[k00295122]

https://tusmm-my.sharepoint.com/:p:/r/personal/k00295122_student_tus_ie/Documents/Sing%20a%20Song%20Sixpence.pptx?d=w64e02238e6134eab8c580e79b1691bc3&csf=1&web=1&e=EegDPI

Script:

At the edge of a forest. The Queen and Servant are standing together, clearly scheming 

Q: sing a song of sixpence… 

Q presses a golden torc/money into S’s hands. S stares at the torc and then at Q. 

Q: Pocket full of rye… 

Q ties a satchel of rye to S’s belt. She moves her hands up to S’s shoulders. S looks nervous. 

Q: 4 and 20 blackbirds… 

S puts a hand on the fabric net on their belt. Q twists S to face the forest 

Q: Baked into a pie 

Q lightly pushes S forward and begins to walk away. S stumbles forward and walks to the beat of the song. Instrumental. 

S places the necklace around their neck and takes a deep breath. As theyre walking they take the net off their belt and the fabric flows behind them. S starts repeating the instructions to themselves  

S (quietly singing/whispering): sing my song of sixpence.. 

S stops as they hear the sound of chirping and scraping. They dip their hand into the pocket of rye on their hip. 

S: pocket full of rye… 

S scatters the rye onto the ground in front of them. They bend their knees and get into a fighting stance. 

S: four and twenty blackbirds… 

S reaches for the net and unfolds it. They hold it with two hands spread wide, readying to catch something. 

Instrumental bit. Several Big Birds start creeping out from the shadows and grazing at the rye. The Birds are so close together that they form a massive blob of shadows. 

S (nervously): four and twenty blackbirds… 

S begins creeping closer to the birds, arms still spread out and ready to catch them. 

The birds notice and 1 bird shrieks loudly. The other birds follow suit and start to aggressively flap their feathers. The birds form a giant massive bird. B sees the necklace and lunges at the shiny object  

S (surprised and scared): wait- 

S jumps out of the way and holds the net protectively in front of themselves. B recovers from its lunging attack and strains its neck to look behind it at S. The neck angle is unnatural and the body follows the pose a couple seconds late.  

Instrumental. The Bird keeps lunging at the Servant with its wings flared out behind it. S mimics these shapes with the net as they jump and shuffle back. It’s mostly poses and arm movements (Madame butterfly as a reference) 

B lunges again. S side jumps, plants their hands on the head of the Bird and ‘leap-frogs’ onto its back. S covers its head with the fabric net and the bird thrashes until it’s calmed down.  

The Bird begins to separate again into smaller birds. S scoops up the formless shadows into the net. 

S heaves true net over their shoulder and begins tiredly walking back. 

S: song of sixpence? I should’ve sung a ballad. Ahahahahahaha laugh track 

Now in the ‘kitchen’ 

S opens the door covered in feathers and grumpy. The bag is still slung over their shoulder. 

S (trying to sing, heaving with effort): 

four - and TWENTY. BLACKBIRDS.. 

S heaves the bag onto the table. It begins wriggling. S throws themselves onto the bag until the wriggling stops 

S (talking, contemplative): Baked into a pie. 

The music swells. There’s a montage. 

S grabs ingredients, mills some flour, kneads the dough, etc. setting an open fire and making a fulacht fidagh.  

S approaches the bag again, armed with a PERIOD TYPICAL WEAPON OR COOKING UTENSIL. S couches down, furrows their brow and leaps at the bag, tearing it open. The shadows flow out of the bag slowly. low viscosity. The shadows begin to split into smaller forms.  

S grabs the pie base and sprinkles rye into it. The shadows start lurching towards the pie base. S scraps the extras into the base and drapes the pastry on top, sealing the pie. It’s still moving. 

S drops the pie into the fullacht fiadgh. The water turns black and starts bubbling. S takes a couple steps back, clutching the torc on their neck. The birds cry out, and S turns away. 

S: Sing my song of sixpence 

Thought the shadows crow  

She’s promised me a luxury  

I through I’d never hold  

Swap my tattered tunic for  

A collar made of gold  

In gleaming light the guilt begins to dull 

New scene,  

The king is counting his jewellery pieces and humming a tune to himself. He’s carefully assessing each piece and putting them back in their places. He looks over his jewellery and notices some of its missing. He stops humming and looks puzzled.  

In the same room, the Queen continues humming her own tune. She’s dipping some bread into honey, looking very pleased with herself. She’s crumbling some bread to feed the weird ass birds next to her. 

The puzzled expression turns to a long stare. Q looks behind her and glares. 

Q: You look confused. Trouble counting all your gold? 

K: There’s fewer than before. 

Q: You’ve miscounted. 

K: I’ve double checked- 

Q: You call me a thief, then? 

K: Not at all. 

Q: then why ask me?  

(We either need a dialogue or music transition to get to this bit. Or just cut this out entirely) 

K (playfully) :Must you feed those wretched things? 

Q: soon enough you’ll hear them sing. 

Q (cooing at them): -a dainty dish fit for the king… (ahaha evil giggling to herself she’s crazay) 

  

K (happily): You and all your mutterings🥰 

He keeps looking at her with little hearts around his head. Q looks incredulously at him - is he that naive? 

Scene ends 

New scene 

Festival or ritual 

S watches through a crowd of dancers as they dress the other staff nearby. They’re still wearing the torc under their tunic. 

S starts mumbling under their breath. 

WIPPP 

S: sing my song of six pence. 

A waning enthral.  (Haha lunalae joke) 

Did the lustre of this gold 

Rust into a bronze? 

Watch desire turn to  

An indented call 

Something something 

1234 alll 

S watches on and makes eye contact with K. S panics and ducks behind someone. K looks suspiciously at S’s torc. Q notices and taps him on the shoulder. K looks away. 

Q: gaslighting there is no servant  

K: okay 

Someone placed a pie in front of K. K looks expectantly at the waiter. The waiter hands him the knife to cut the pie.  

birds. He cuts the pie open and shadows pour out.  

bird theme 

The shadows begin to form a dozen small shadows, but quickly form back into a large bird. B begins creeping towards K, cawing aggressively. K looks scared but concentrated.  

K takes several steps back and the light shines on his jewellery. B’s eyes sparkle and lung for the jewellery. K realises and steps back.  

K takes off his jewellery and tosses it to the crowd. S scrambles out from the crowd and makes a grab for the jewellery. 

B sees the torc from before and gets angry and vengeful. B attacks and mauls S. 

K watches in horror. K looks at Q and points a finger at her. Q makes a run for it. 

Q runs into the woods with gold in her hands. B sees the gold and follows her. Q is cornered. 

Q (nervous): S - Sing your song of sixpence- 

B: CAWWWWW (is a bird) 

Q throws gold at the bird. B is unaffected and creeps further forward. 

B kills Q. K watches from the outskirts, turns away and walks back home.  

K walks towards the crumpled form of S. S has their face cradled in their hands 

K looks at the torc and the bloody hands of S. He extends a hand to S and they look up. S reaches forward to grab the hand. 

✨🌸🌸✨🌸✨The End 🌸✨💅🌸🌸 

Musical Motifs for Q and S

[lovejustforaday]

2023 Year End List - #3

Desire, I Want to Turn Into You - Caroline Polachek

Main genres: Art Pop, Electronic

A decent sampling of: Downtempo, Alternative R&B, Dance Pop, UK Garage

Seizing the essence of life itself. The search for the meaning of everything. The sheer sense of adventure and danger that is going it alone for the first time.

Caroline Polachek has more artistic vision than just about any other pop artist out there right now. She takes a concept and runs marathons with it, working to achieve its platonic ideal.

This ethos is reflected in her intricate songs, laden with layers of meticulous, hyperreal production courtesy of her long-time co-producer Danny L. Harle, her commitment to weaving rich lyrical webs of different aesthetics, ideals, and mindsets that all fall into place like a great jigsaw puzzle, and her equally impressive, high-concept music videos that harkens back to the likes of other cinematically ambitious female artists such as Lady Gaga, Björk, and M.I.A.

Her voice has often been compared to the function of auto-tune itself, mostly thanks to how masterfully and seamlessly she modulates across complex melodies that jump notes seemingly almost at random, but actually follow an elaborated structure. Meanwhile, the timbral qualities of her voice are crystal clear and hyper-articulate, almost to the point of crossing the uncanny valley and into the supernatural.

So yeah, suffice to say, this was my #1 anticipated release of 2023. It certainly helped that she kept on teasing it, dropping the lead single all the way back in summer of 2021, and then another one in the first few weeks of 2022. It also obviously helped that her first album was simply one of the best art pop records in recent memory (eclipsed only in it's own release year by Twigs' Magdalene).

Polachek's solo pop debut Pang was a headfirst dive into painful love, and the act of relieving oneself from the shackles of self-doubt. The album played out like a series of short stories in a greater narrative storybook anthology, each song its own cerebral headspace, dissecting and sometimes psychoanalyzing the artist's own emotions. To put it concisely, my own interpretation was that of an album about learning to listen to what the self feels, needs, and wants.

This record then, broadly speaking, is about the restless pursuit of those wants.

Desire, I Want to Turn Into You is like the flickering light from the torch's flame that illuminates the ancient wall glyphs inside of an old cave of ruins. It is the feeling of catching your breath, and quenching yourself with that vital taste of water after you’ve just ran a marathon. It’s a thrilling and euphoric experience from start to finish. Art pop with adrenaline and passion.

The prominent Alternative R&B elements that made her previous record more rhythmically complex and sonically contemplative take a bit of a step back on this project, peeking through every now and then on tracks like "Billions" and "Pretty In Possible".

But by and large, Polachek leans more towards sugary pop and dance-oriented songs with high art ambitions, with many tracks influenced by the hop-and-skip beats of the UK Garage EDM scene. There's also a fair bit of more atmospheric downtempo moments in similar fashion to tracks like "Go As A Dream" on Pang, but even they have a little more pulse on this record. A more extroverted sound altogether this time around.

There are also frequent references to Greek mythology, as well as a myriad of melodic motifs that are revisited and re-imagined between different tracks, like the opening melody of "Crude Drawing of An Angel" appearing in the second verse of "Butterfly Net", or the chorus of "Fly To You" being interpreted by a bag pipe solo in "Blood and Butter". Never underestimate Caroline Polachek's ability to tie an album's concepts together into a beautifully interwoven and interconnected symbiosis.

The album takes off with its central thesis, "Welcome To My Island", a declaration to defy all expectations and become desire itself. It opens with a single rapturous siren cry, soaring into the stratosphere and heralding the beginning of a new era. Suddenly, the song's aircraft comes to meet its landing strip. Bright, beady, bubbly little synths make pops and flares over the verses, before the unleashing of a total power chorus that showcases the very best of Polachek's ability to carry zephyrous long notes, meanwhile with her irresistibly cute and sassy "hey, hey ,hey, HEY!" chants forming the backing vocals. Every last ounce of her unapologetically bold artistic personality is lavishly painted over this ridiculously catchy and charming pop song.

"Sunset" pays homage to Spanish flamenco and appears to be taking some cheeky inspiration from the Gerudo Valley theme in Zelda: Ocarina of Time according to a TikTok that Polachek herself posted. This song tastes of the juiciest citrus fruits and the richest olive oil, pouring out of a marble chalice like a waterfall. An excellent demonstration of her artistic versatility.

"I Believe" immediately gets my heart racing with its crisp piano stabs and exhilarating 2-step shuffle. Makes me feel like some kind of JRPG mage, hopping through the air by casting levitation spells and gazing upon the cloudswept Earth below. Totally dreamy and life-affirming.

I find myself deeply immersed in the humid forests of "Blood and Butter". This downtempo track incorporates some very SNES era sound fonts, hand drums, kalimba, and acoustic guitars into a euphoric and ritualistic performance, with the atmosphere of swirling magic mists and even a left-field instrumental bridge featuring some very festive bagpipes. Simply impeccable sound design; listening to this one with headphones is like discovering a sixth sense I didn't know I had.

"Butterfly Net" is the sublime sunrise that turns the entire sky a goldenrod yellow. It's an auditory gateway to beautiful plains of crested wheatgrass, with psychedelic folk undertones and echoing vocals and digital landscapes that stretch off into the horizon for dozens of miles. One of her greatest songs yet, and one I couldn't get enough of for basically all of spring last year.

"Billions" would be my song of the year, had it not already been released in 2022. I cannot overstate, nor begin to describe with all due credit it deserves, just how fucking brilliant the production on this track is. If "Blood and Butter" was the sixth sense, then this is the seventh. Tantalizing, mystifying, erotic, bountiful, reaching towards enlightenment. Everything that must be and will be, maybe truth itself is contained somewhere hidden under the plentiful layers of beats and microbeats in this stunning art pop pedestal. Musically, it sounds ancient, medieval, renaissance, modern, and post-modern all at once. Also - maybe the best incorporation of a children's choir in all of music history? What a bold move to put this as the album closer. If this is the page she chooses to close this chapter on, I can only imagine what magnificence is to come next.

I thought for sure this was going to be my AOTY when it was announced. The fact it didn't end up being so and landed at number 3 instead is just a testimony to how brutally stacked this year's competition was.

I could still nit-pick this quite a bit if I really wanted to. "Hopedrunk Everlasting" and "Bunny Is A Rider" are not only both easily weaker than any of the other material here, but both of them seem to disrupt the respective flow of their placements on this record. But barring that, this is damn close to a masterpiece.

Naturally, this has landed on loads of other 2023 year end lists besides my own, and its definitely not hard to see why. Caroline Polachek is a staunch perfectionist and over-achiever, and shows no signs of stopping any time soon, and Desire, I Want to Turn Into You is an uplifting work of creative genius that only she could have made.

9/10

Highlights: "Billions", "Butterfly Net", "Welcome To My Island", "Blood and Butter", "I Believe", "Sunset", "Pretty In Possible", "Crude Drawing of an Angel"

#album review #music review #list #aoty #year end list #2023 #aoty2023 #desire i want to turn into you #caroline polachek #danny l harle #art pop #electronic

[broke-art]

Red son x Abused reader

You tugged the hoodie over your head wincing as it constricted painfully over your bruises. It was hot out today, but you doubted you'd overheat. You had worn baggy clothes to hide your scars and bruises since the second grade.

You grabbed your bag and headed out towards your school. You were already late from cleaning up after a recent beating. But you were ecstatic to escape even just for a few hours.

You walked to school hurriedly but paused near an alleyway to catch your breath. That's when you heard someone speak from the alleyway.

"You! peasant girl!"

The shout made you flinch but you looked into the alleyway to see a redhead wearing a red overcoat and blue pants all tangled up in a net hanging from a fire escape.

"What are you doing up there?" You asked wandering slightly closer.

"What does it look like?!" The man shouted struggling in the net.

You bit your bottom lip but still some giggles slipped through.

The man shot you a scathing glare so you swallowed your giggles and climbed up the fire escape.

"I-I'm not very good with knots, but I'll try. Try to hold still please."

"Hmph." The man huffed folding his arms.

As you untied the knots holding him up, you studied his features. This was when you learned how handsome he was.

You slowed your work staring at him a little more.

"What are you looking at?!" He snapped his hair setting ablaze.

You yelped, and at that moment the knot you'd been working on came entirely undone. He fell and the startling motion caused you to loose your balance.

He hit the ground landing on his feet and began dusting himself off when he heard a scream. The man looked up.

Your feet slipped out from under you and your form plummeted to the ground. You landed right on top of the stranger. He barely caught you against his chest before your weight could crush him.

You landed with your noses nearly touching. Your cheeks burned red. At that moment, you could have swore his cheeks twinged pink before he set you down hurriedly.

"You should be more careful, peasant girl."

"Sorry, I didn't expect the knot to come undone." You mumbled tugging on your hoodie. "But- But my name isn't peasant girl." You whispered to yourself.

"Oh? Then what is it?" The man asked impatiently leaning closer."

You whispered your name feeling butterflies in your stomach.

"Speak up, peasant girl! I can't hear you." He near shouted.

"Y-Y/n." You responded flinching away.

He paused once he saw your reaction and sighed.

"Well...thank you, Y/n. For he-helping me." He ground out almost unwillingly.

You giggled a bit at the resistance.

"What's your name?"

The man stood proudly touching a hand to his chest.

"I am Red Son! The son of the powerful Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan."

You clapped quietly at his introduction with a small smile.

"That's so cool. They must be very proud."

Red son smirked at the compliment.

"Well of course."

That's when you heard the school bell toll in the distance and your heart dropped.

"Oh no! Dad's gonna kill me!" You yelped before grabbing your bag and running towards the school.

Red son watched you go about to ask a question but you scampered away too quickly.

Few hours later.

You walked home quietly as blood dribbled from your right cheek. A few bullies had caught you just as you were leaving and you simply weren't a pretty sight.

Your gut sank as you wondered internally about what your father would do when you got home. The school had called him to inform him that you had missed first period.

The punishment would be severe and you hoped you could take it silently. Cries and screams always made him even more angry.

You were so lost in thought that you walked right into someone and fell back. The force opened your backpack and your books fell out onto the sidewalk.

"O-Oh sorry." You mumbled picking up your things and refusing to look up.

"Perhaps," Red Son said kneeling next to you and picking up your belongings as well. "If you kept your eyes ahead instead of on your feet, you would avoid running into people." His tone sounded irritated but you smiled at how he returned your belongings.

"Th-Thank you." You stammered shyly.

"It was only f-...What happened to your face?" Red Son asked raising an eyebrow.

"Oh!" You touched a hand to the cut on your cheek. "I was clumsy and fell."

Red Son looked entirely disbelieving but he offered you a hand.

You took it and he pulled you to your feet.

"Since you helped me down I thought I would atleast walk you home."

You smiled shyly.

"Thank you, Red Son."

He stared at your shy smile for a moment before looking away.

"Yes well I have duties to attend to so if you wouldn't mind."

You nodded and led the way. You cheerfully talked to him about everything you could think of. He told you a bit about his powers and even showed off for you.

You gasped and stared at his tricks with amazement giving little shy claps for him after each trick.

This seemed to please him as he would grin and stand straighter.

Eventually though, the walk came to an end and you had to go inside.

Your father was livid.

"How dare you miss a class!" He yelled while you shrank back a bit. "Do you know how much I pay to keep you in school?!"

You kept your eyes on the floor as he screamed and took the beating as silently as you could.

That night you fell asleep crying silently to yourself.

The next day.

You awoke two hours early and did all the chores you could before getting ready for school. You did your best to keep quiet as your father slept then worked on your homework until it was time for you to leave.

When it came time for you to leave you rushed out the door and speed walked towards the school.

"In a hurry are we?" Red Son asked matching your stride as you walked.

"Red Son?! What are you doing here?" You asked excitedly.

He chuckled to himself and pressed up his glasses.

"I was on my morning walk when I saw you. Since I was bored anyway, I figured we might as well chat."

You grinned happily to yourself as you walked.

Weeks passed and you two spent every walk to school and every walk home together. You loved every moment. That was until your father picked up a knife one night.

He'd cut up your cheek with a large X shaped gash.

You'd tried everything you could think of, but you knew hiding it wasn't going to happen.

So, the next day you tried to avoid your regular route to escape Red Son. It worked and the entire day you felt ready to cry. When the day finally came to a close you had only walked out of the school when you saw Red Son leaning against the building.

"Would you care to explain the new route you took on the way here today?" He asked with a frown. He looked angry, but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You kept your head down and tugged on your hood.

"Sorry, took a shortcut. Was late." Your words were clipped as you tried to walk past him.

"Y/n don't you dare lie to-" Red Son grabbed your wrist and you screamed involuntarily. Red Son released immediately, but froze when he saw your face.

You held your wrist as the pain throbbed and tears gathered in your eyes. You didn't dare look at him. You didn't want to see the annoyance.

Red Son stepped closer and gently removed your hood. You looked up ready to run depending on how he reacted.

Red Son's eyes were glued to your cut and his frown turned to a scowl.

"Who did this to you?"

You looked away and rubbed at your wrist.

"No one."

"Y/n, don't lie to me." Red Son growled.

You flinched away from him. Red Son seemed to note your fright and took a deep breath.

"Alright. You don't have to tell me. But may I atleast walk you home?"

You nodded and allowed him to lead the way. This walk was silent and you could see the tips of his hair turning to flames as you walked. He was attempting to keep his temper down. It was an admirable effort.

Once you got home you had barely shut the door before your father burst into the room yelling at you for leaving chores undone.

"You ungrateful, little brat!" He shouted reaching for you.

You tensed, but a wall of flame erupted infront of you before he could touch you.

"So, you hurt her." Red Son growled walking from the flames. "Let me show you what happens to people who hurt her." Red Son's eyes turned to flame as he grew a malevolent grin.

You couldn't hear or see much as the roar of the flames blocked out any noise and they blurred the room beyond them. You kept as far from them as possible expecting them to burn you.

Yet the flames nearest to you burned luke warm and kept a good distance from you as well. After a few minutes Red Son walked from the flames and offered you his hand.

"Wha-What did you do?" You asked timidly.

Red Son sighed.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

Slowly, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

"Now what am I going to do?" You sighed.

"You can stay with my parents and I." Red Son stated matter of factly. "Now let's go. I wouldn't want you to get burned." Red Son led you from the burning building almost gently. "You've suffered enough for tonight."

Weeks later you had stayed with the DBK family for a while. The Demon Bull King didn't seem to mind your presence and Princess Iron Fan shot Red Son smirks each time you were present.

Your scar on your cheek healed but you were awfully self conscious of it. That was, until Red Son pointed out that now you two matched. And each time you grew worried of it, he would kiss your scar.

#lego monkie kid #jttw #lego red son #jttw wukong #jttw sun wukong #lego nezha #lego #lmk #lego monkie king #redson #lmk red son x mei #lmk red son x reader #lmk red boy #lmk red son

[lizhly-writes]

So in your knw orv reader au, how does he survive kdj?

Haha, well, this is probably a kind of basic answer, but I imagine that it’s actually pretty easy.  It’s true my memory is canon is kind of hazy, but to me, it rather seems that he needed some kind of rationalization for attacking Kim Namwoon.  Like, yeah, he really doesn’t like Kim Namwoon, but at that point, I think he needed an excuse other than ‘I don’t like him’ – which, yeah, was the actual reason, but not really good enough to kill a random teenager.  Now, if the teenager was 1) attacking him first 2) attempting to kill an old lady… well, that’s just justified, isn’t it.  Clearly, this nineteen year old is a terrible person, and it would be a crime to let him live on, huh?

Now.  If our Kim Namwoon wasn’t doing any of that?  I imagine Kim Dokja would have a significantly harder time trying to rationalize it.

So. Have something taking pretty immediately after this snippet.

A thin, white-haired young man in a school uniform stands at the end of the carriage with a tight smile and a body at his feet.  “Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “Was I really supposed to wait to die?”

Kim Dokja doesn’t even need to read the nametag to know that this is Kim Namwoon.

[ Congratulations!  Due to your willingness to act, the remaining time has been extended by five more minutes.  Everyone, shouldn’t you be grateful for this young man’s actions?  You should follow his example! ]

“Haha,” says Kim Namwoon, tilting his head to the side.  “Hear that?  I saved your asses.  Look, now you have five more minutes to think about if you’re really going to kill someone before you explode.  Congratulations.  Have fun!” 

“Have fun?” Han Myungoh, of all people, says incredulously.  “You just murdered–”

“Shit, I just killed a guy, and you still want me to sit through a lecture?” Kim Namwoon says.  “You think I’m in the mood for that?  What lesson are you going to try to teach me, huh?  Don’t kill anyone?  You’re kind of late for that, aren’t you?  Also, isn’t that kind of hypocritical?  Aren’t you going to need to do the same thing in, like, fifteen minutes?  But hey, I could be wrong!  Maybe you’re the kind of person who wants to lie down and die, is that it?”

Silence.  Kim Dokja can practically hear everyone thinking: ah, this high school student hadn’t said anything wrong, exactly, had he?  He was only restating the reality of the scenario clock ticking down before them.  Did you really care more about a stranger’s life than your own?

The passengers back away from each other, eying each other suspiciously, assessingly.  Was it really that hard, just to kill the person next to you?

“Now,” Kim Namwoon continues.  “I’m going to sit in a corner and think about what I’ve done.  Carry on with whatever you’re doing, you don’t need my input.  You’ve got a good fifteen minutes, have a nice long think about it.”  He bows, his military knife catching the light and sending off a small arc of blood like a message: I have a weapon, find an easier target.

Next to Kim Dokja, Yoo Sangah presses her lips together.  “Is this really what we have to do?” she says, almost under her breath.  “We really need to kill another person?”

“...No,” Kim Dokja says.  “There’s another way.”

…

“Hey, what’s up, Ahjussi?” Kim Namwoon says, voice manic as Kim Dokja approaches him.  “You look like you want to kill me.  Are you going to try?  It’s just, I might fight back if you do?  I want to live, after all.”

“...You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?  You mean, kill that guy?” Kim Namwoon jerks his chin in the direction of the corpse he left only a meter or so away.  “Didn’t I, though?  Tell me, how many grasshoppers were in that butterfly net?  Was there one per passenger?”

“...”

Kim Namwoon laughs raggedly.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.  You’re really giving a lot of people false hope, aren’t you, Ahjussi?  You think that’s fun to watch?  Wow, isn’t that kind of messed up of you?”

He’s smiling broadly, manically, but his body language is defensive, eyes narrowed and wary.  It’s as if he really thinks Kim Dokja is a threat – like he thinks Kim Dokja’s the one who’s going to snap and kill him at any second.  

Kim Dokja thought of the Kim Namwoon from the novel.  When Yoo Joonghyuk had found Kim Namwoon, it hadn’t been until the end of the scenario.  This part of the plot, then, was undocumented.  Had it always played out like this?

Kim Dokja always thought he would sound a little more… insane.  Was that a later development?

#omniscient reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #kim namwoon #knw #kdj #normal orv fan knw #my writing #mine #everything

[brightspite]

something i think that’s really important to know about me is that age like at 7-8 i was catching bees off of the butterfly bush in my backyard only using tuperware containers+lids bc i didn’t own a bug catching net. i’d poke thin holes in the lids so they could breathe then quietly watch them for like 10 minutes then let them go. i didn’t have a very effective system for freeeing them tho id just knock off the lid then quickly run inside and wait a few minutes. i did this more times than i can count and never got stung

[inquisimer]

happy friday dear mer!! would you like a leetle angst this lovely dadwc friday? how about for tamlen x mahariel:

“I swear, I’ll try harder not to miss as much: the tree, or how your fingers under still sleep-stunned sheets coaxed all my colors back.” ― Ada Limon, Bright Dead Things: Poems

hnnnnnnn GOD i'm not even sure if this fill fits the prompt adfsjkl but it's angsty and it's tamlen and mahariel and i tore my own heart out so HERE YOU GO

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

They didn’t often stop here in the warmer months. It was one of their winter sites, because the snow didn’t collect and the ice didn’t cover the nearby pond. But for now it was convenient and for a few days Sari and Tamlen could enjoy the soft grass alongside the lakebed.

“What do you think is coming for us?” Tamlen asked, voice barely a breath over the hum of mosquitos and crickets. “Do you think we’ll be here in a year’s time?”

Sari rolled onto her side, eyes catching on the light of fireflies. It was muggy and warm and she could feel the perspiration out of every pore.

“No,” she said, an impish grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I think we’ll be closer to Kirkwall, as we usually are when the winter comes.”

Her partner—brother, really—reached out and flicked her ear, drawing a shriek and a swat from the young rogue. She kicked out and made contact with his firm legs, though he succeeded in trapping her between them and flung his arms around her waist to draw her close. The were sharing a breath and Sari’s caught, looking up into Tamlen’s eyes, soft and brown, like melted toffee. They were her safe space, the place she could go and scream or cry or shout for joy and never be let down; the net that would always catch her when she fell.

She could never imagine a life without him.

He traced her cheekbones, still bare in contrast to his, which were marred with tribute to Dirthamen. Her day was coming, and her heart beat anxiously to have the ink that would place her as an equal in his eyes.

“Always the smart one.” But Tamlen sounded sad. She wondered if it was one of his odd premonitions that colored his words with sorrow.

“The keeper says there’s rumors of a Warden in the area.” Tamlen eased himself up into a sitting position, pulling Sari with him so she was sitting crossways in his lap. “And talk of a Blight coming.”

“Worried, lethallen?”

“Nah.” He gave her that impish smile, the one that warmed her heart and set the butterflies in her stomach to fluttering. In an effort to ground herself, she pulled her arms from around his neck and threaded her fingers in the long grass, digging them into the soft soil underneath.

“Between your daggers and my bow, we could conquer any darkspawn. Why should I be worried?”

She couldn’t argue with that logic. A gentle breeze flickered off the water, as if the Creators had summoned it just for them. It rustled her braids and rippled his too-long curls and Sari closed her eyes, to capture the moment with her other senses. The grass was slightly damp under her fingers and Tamlen’s skin was warm against her legs; she could smell the faintest trace of roast from their nearby camp and the residual sweat from their earlier hunt. His heart beat against her shoulder in a comforting thump thump thump and she felt that nothing could be as secure and peaceful as this moment right now.

Her fingers trailed up his arm and traced his ear, snorting when his shoulders seized because he was just a bit too ticklish there. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and inhaled against the leather. There was something she needed to tell him, right? Something important, something that couldn’t wait—something that she would regret not telling him sooner.

She pulled away and tilted her head upward so they were eye to eye. Her lifelong brother, her friend and partner in all things smiled down at her, as sad as she’d ever seen.

“Wake up, Sari,” he said.

Wake up Sari.

“Sari. Sari. Wake up.”

She jolted upright in the chill of their tent. Alistair was shaking her shoulder with one hand, pushing her daggers into her palms with the other. She felt the tug of the Taint in her gut and knew that the darkspawn just outside wouldn’t wait for her to contain the emotions in her throat. She blinked away the residual sleep in her eyes and tugged on her boots, because she’d learned there was little less pleasant than walking across Ferelden with mud and water between her toes.

Her fingers brushed across the amulet twined around her wrist and she swallowed the fresh lump that rose in her throat.

“Mi’nas’sal’inan, lethallen,” she murmured.

And she went to face the destiny they never imagined.

#my writing #dadwc #someday i'll write fluff for Them #but not today #mahariel x tamlen #oc: sari mahariel #angst #dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #dragon age fanfic