Carl is the most photogenic snake I've ever met. He poses like a model, holds perfectly still while I snap photos, and will even sometimes let me adjust him slightly.
Total himbo.
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Instructions unclear, sent a bowl of chocolate cereal.
Bucky Barnes x reader
You get your grumpy old man a smartphone. Chaos ensues.
.
.
.
Bucky suspiciously inspected the black rectangle between his fingers. “That’s not the phone I had in mind.” Of course, he had probably been thinking of a damn rotary phone when you suggested he needed something to keep in touch with people. You knew he had this weird relationship with modern technology, he was very wary of everything electronic and if he didn’t get the hang of it immediately he would just get frustrated. On the other hand, if he was able to figure it out himself he was openly proud of it, telling you how easy it was. You always had to walk the fine line between something enhanced enough that it was actually useful these days and simple enough that he wouldn’t become grumpy and pout about it while talking your ear off at how ‘the simpler times’ were called that for a reason.
A Smartphone was very very risky. Sure, you could’ve found an old flip phone or a Nokia brick but those things just hadn’t survived the test of time and according to your very professional opinion as his partner and self-proclaimed emotional support nuisance, this man desperately needed to stay in contact with the few people he would call his friends.
Despite your worry you put on your most supportive smile and turned the phone in his hand so he held it right side up. “Try it at least, okay? It’s cool.” You tried to assure him. He didn’t have to do a lot, you already set it up for him and downloaded all the apps you deemed necessary, helpful or fun, you even turned on the accessibility option so he could navigate his phone with one hand since the metal one wouldn’t work on a screen and would probably also leave scratches, so all that was left for him was to explore his new toy. You guided his pointer finger to the side of the phone and let him press the little button which made the screen turn on. Bucky gave you an unsure glance before turning his attention back to the phone in his hand and just kinda…stared at it until the screen turned off again. For a moment you didn’t know what was going on until you realized that with Bucky, specificity was key. You shook your head to shoo away the previous confusion his behavior caused and shuffled closer to him. “Do it again.” You encouraged him. Bucky’s brows furrowed slightly.
Oh no.
You held your breath, waiting for him to potentially hand the phone right back to you and suggesting that writing letters would be enough. After what felt like a minute he finally pressed the button again and you quietly released your breath. “Great! Now you just need to drag your thumb gently over the screen and you’re good to go.” Bucky slowly followed your instructions and you could practically feel the pride radiating off him, his eyes lighting up. Still, he tried to play it cool. “Huh. That was easy.”
Not specific enough.
You looked at your phone and tried to make out what exactly Bucky had sent you. It must’ve been a picture of his face, right? You thought you could see the brown of his hair in this blurry mess but on the other hand it could also be…maybe a bowl of chocolate cereal? Some Chili, maybe? No, there was definitely too little red for it to be Chili.
The man recently learned how to text like a normal person, more or less, but you didn’t know he also kind of figured out how to send pictures. His picture moved upwards when another blurry mess appeared in your chat. You squinted your eyes at the new picture, it was mostly white with some grey stripe in the middle. You gave up, no way you could figure out what the hell that one was.
Bucky…what is that? You typed out. The next message he sent you gave you move questions than answers.
I need a new phone. That was impossible, his smartphone was less than three days old. Sure, it could’ve cracked but you were sure he would’ve told you about that.
What’s wrong with your phone? Maybe I can help? You suggested. You didn’t have to wait for an answer too long.
Yes, please. You quietly chuckled to yourself, half amused by his struggles, half compassionate of them. You decided it would be best to talk to him face to face so you raked your fingers through your hair a few times to hide the fact that you’ve been hanging around in your bed for the last few hours and clicked the video call option on your screen. It rang and rang and…rang…until finally your screen lit up, or dulled down because all you could see was darkness with a touch of a chestnut color. You should’ve known that this would happen.
“Bucky, it’s a video call.” You informed him and watched as he pulled the phone away from his ear and instead looked at his screen, his brows furrowed like he always did when he lost a fight against technology. “Oh…” He grumbled.
“So, what’s wrong with your phone?” Bucky pressed his lips together, his eyes looking anywhere but at his phone.
“Bucky?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Bucky let out a sigh and wiped his face with his right hand but you could see the slight blush forming on the apples of his cheeks.
“Was anyone going to tell me that there are two cameras? Why the hell would anyone need two?” You saw him lean against the headrest and turn his head to the side with an annoyed expression. Your heart melted a little bit, you couldn’t help but find it endearing at how clueless he was when it came to things that were common knowledge to you.
“James, stop pouting.” There was a tone of amusement in your voice even though you tried to feign sternness. Bucky’s head shot back towards where he could see you on the screen in his hand and blinked a few times as if he was trying to comprehend what you just said. You never really called him by his first name and his reaction made you clench your jaw and hold your breath so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” You asked innocently and batted your lashes towards your camera. Bucky narrowed his eyes but couldn’t suppress the little smile that was tugging on the corners of his mouth. You grinned triumphantly, happy that you could at least lighten his mood a little bit. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” You finally said and playfully scrunched your nose. “So was that it? Did you have a problem taking pictures because you tried to take them with the outer camera?” Buckys smile slightly faltered but he chuckled nonetheless.
“Yeah, I guess. Sorry to be a bother with all the…you know, modern stuff, I-“ You cut him off immediately. “Don’t you dare apologize for that, you’re still learning and I’m happy to help. Hey, I’m very proud of you for making it work with the phone.” Bucky rolled his eyes good-naturedly but you could see his eyes soften. “I try.”
You continued talking to him for a while about nothing in particular until you decided that you both needed some rest and hung up. It was merely twenty minutes later, you just settled down and closed your eyes when your phone vibrated. A message from Bucky. You curiously opened the message to see if he had any more problems but instead your lips curled into a big, bright smile.
He sent you a picture, this time you could fully make out what it was, a photo of a shirtless Bucky laying on his couch, his eyes crinkled as he wore a proud grin with the caption I figured it out!
__________
Tag list: @lunaroserites
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Mind Games.
summary: while Wanda maximoff messes with everyone else's mind and their fears, you seem to have a different taste of her abilities.
pairings: Wanda Maximoff x reader
warnings: smut, fingering, semi-public s/x, mommy kink, mindfuck, mind manipulation, mind control, top!wanda, bottom!reader, unspecified abilities in reader.
“we have an enhanced individual, do not engage.”
When you heard the warning from your captain, of course you obeyed. He was your captain, he was never wrong.
And yet, curiosity killed the cat.
You weren't always apart of the team, everyone on there seemed so close with each other. You always felt out of place. There was Natasha Romanoff, she was nice to you, the others …. You didn't speak to them that much.
Mr. Stark's first comment to you was “not very social, this one” as he had apparently made a joke and you didn't get it or laughed at it.
It probably wasn't that funny.
You were good at many things, people weren't one of them.
Being away from the others, you got to breathe for a bit. Bruce had turned into a big green dude, Natasha was off, and here you were, at an entrance, to something, somewhere.
You knew wandering away from the team would only get yourself hurt, it wasn't even like you wanted to, something was pulling you.
That's when you saw her.
There was a woman, with brunette hair, stunning, you were captivated by her. She was absolutely gorgeous. You've never felt this way before, this attraction.
You didn't think for a second it was the enhanced individual captain who warned you about.
You really thought this was the wrong person at the wrong time type of situation.
That seemed to be more you.
“Hey, you shouldn't be here-”
There was a flicker of red, from where? It was dark. Was it Stark? No. It wasn't that red.
Fear overcame you, it wasn't that easy to scare you, whatever was happening to you was out of your control. You couldn't really understand.
You continued to walk towards what was calling to you, the room that once was filled with darkness, you felt a hand touch your face, making you gasp.
“good girl, I've got you.”
A voice.
It sent a shiver down your spine.
In front of you was the woman you saw before, the same red, her touch was electric, the fear was gone.
Replaced by something much bigger.
“You will obey me” she whispered, her voice honeyed, all you could do was listen and stare.
You nod.
She moved closer, it was as if she was floating, you could feel her warm breath on your skin, her hand caressing your cheek.
She hummed, leaning in closer, her lips brushing against yours.
“I know what you want” she said, her other hand moved up your chest, then to your neck, you moaned, she raised an eyebrow and placed a finger onto your mouth. “Before I give what you want, you have to obey, you’ll do anything I say.”
You nodded again.
“Yes…..”
“Mommy.”
“- yes mommy.”
She smiled, sickly sweet. You were so entranced by her you didn’t notice the everything was falling apart around you.
“I’m gonna take it all away, your worries, fears… You only need to think of me” she whispered, you whimpered, your eyes dropping to her lips.
She grinned, gripping you by the chin as she pulled you in for a kiss. Her tongue dancing with yours, everything felt sloppy and wet, you couldn’t help but groan, wanting more and more. Intimacy was always too much for you, but with her, you’ll give her everything she wants.
When you opened your eyes again, you were in a different setting than before, it was quiet, no noise of chaos, you were lying on something, soft.
“You’re awake” a sweet sound called out to you, causing you to sit back up as you smiled at the woman before you.
She moved with the speed of light, somehow being far away from you to being in front of your face. She grasped hold of you, kissing you, moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but arch your back into her, she knows you need more, she does too. You feel her hair tickling your face, every sensation was overwhelming. But you needed it.
She pulled away, you whined, her eyes shined red and you shut up. She kissed up your neck, sucking on it, you moaned, leaning into her.
And then you looked down, your clothes gone, well, your mission gear, her hand moved down your body, your heart felt like it could rip out of your chest at any moment. She kept her gaze on you, the red never disappeared, you spread your legs wide for her, not even meaning to, it just happened, she smiled, whispering something as she kissed you again, her fingers slipping inside you.
You gasped loudly, gabbing onto her, she hushed you gently, your eyes widened with slight fear.
“Just take it” she demanded, your whole body shook, you whined.
“So fucking wet” she groaned, her mouth close to your ear. “You’re going to be okay, now that I’m here.”
You whimpered, pressing your head into her neck as she held you close, pumping her fingers in and out of you, you were seeing stars.
You felt something strong take over your entire body, it was her, and something else, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it was like no other you’ve experienced. You craved more. Your mouth opened as you let out a cry, it wasn’t out of pain this time.
Then when you gained whatever control came back to you, there was light, no more darkness, or red.
She was gone.
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“you could live a hundred lifetimes, and never deserve that boy”
pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader
summary: he's always there when you need him, but he's nowhere to be found at the Yule Ball. while searching for him, you come across something heartbreaking.
word count: 1.5k
pt. 1 | pt. 2
Everyone around you knew. Even the teachers, but you. Enzo would just smile when you nudged him and called him the “best friend you could ever have.”
Even after all these years, it amazed you that whenever you were craving something sweet or were moody, he could pull out candies - your favorite ones, specifically. He'd just shrug off your questions, “Y/N, you're not that special. I have a sweet tooth too, you know? Could've carried ones with you as well so that we can switch roles for once,” he playfully rolled his eyes.
Enzo was one of Hermione's close friends. Maybe that's why he cared so much about school. Or vice versa. But the thing is, he was the top student, and you were just above average. You often forgot to do homework, which played against you, but hey, you had Enzo who would give you a copy of his homework and whisper the right answers to you. But if it were others... “Hey, mate, can I copy that too?” Mattheo looked pleadingly. “Sorry, gotta maintain academic honesty,” he got his notebook back and winked at Mattheo.
“Guys, wanna go to Hogsmeade this Saturday?” you asked cheerfully. Everyone exchanged awkward looks, and it was silent for a while. “We were planning to go out as couples, and some of us got homework to do,” Blaise explained softly. “Yeah, don't hold a grudge against your amazing friends, cara mia; Blaise is only telling the truth,” Theo grinned at you.
“I can, I have nothing to do anyway,” Enzo didn't lift his eyes from books. “Wasn't it you who just complained about Numerology class's workload-“ Draco was confused, but Enzo immediately looked up, staring at him intensely. “Really? Don't think so.” And so, you found someone to go with.
As you two went out, he noticed that you didn't have a scarf on. Your nose and cheeks were red, and you tried to hide your face in your jacket. He just furrowed, but then took off his scarf and wrapped it around you. “Why'd you go out like that? You'll get sick,” he asked coldly. It was unusual. You felt uncomfortable as you tried to return the scarf to him. “Ah... owl tore mine apart; I was planning to buy new. Sorry, let me give it back to you.” He stopped you. “It's okay.”
Your primary goal for today was to buy a dress for the Yule Ball. As you two went into every shop to see if they had something decent, never once did Enzo complain. After two hours, you finally found the perfect one. It was a beautiful shade of orange, which turned to pink towards the end. It was long and had a sweetheart neckline. It just enhanced the beauty of your clavicle, shoulders, and waist. Probably the most beautiful detail was an artificial flower on one shoulder. You were blushing hard as you saw his mouth was agape.
“You look beautiful.” You blushed harder, turning away to face the mirror. The dress was bought successfully, and you two headed to Three Broomsticks. Having placed your order, you just sighed.
“Something wrong?”
“No. Thanks for sparing your time to help me today,” you smiled softly.
“Uh, it's really nothing. I enjoyed spending time with you.” It was strange. You were alone with Enzo so many times, but it never felt so awkward, or rather nervous. He seemed to be braver with compliments today.
“Have you invited someone to the ball yet?” “Nah. Mustering up courage to ask someone special. And you? I mean, has someone asked you yet?” He smirked.
“No... I don't really know why I bought that dress if no one asked me...” To tell the truth, you were utterly embarrassed. You thought he'd start laughing at you, but his smile widened.
“Maybe there'll be someone special in the end. Don't lose hope.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Easy to say when you're so handsome and popular that everyone sends you love letters. He nearly choked from the sudden outburst of laughter. And with that, the conversation topic changed.
The ball was tomorrow, and you still had no pair. Maybe it wasn't meant to be? You groaned as you threw the pillow across the room. “Do you want me to die or?” Pansy was amused at this sight. “Pans, just leave me alone,” you mumbled into the bed.
“Are you still upset because of that ball? C'mon, it's a silly thing, just go with me, you don't need any pair!”
“Easy to say when Draco asked you the first day.”
“Maybe you're right. But you're still going to have fun.” she winked. “Now, let's go to breakfast.”
You two walked into the Great Hall, observing everyone worrying and exchanging shy looks. You could feel someone's gaze on yourself. You turned your head and saw Enzo. He was smiling. A big box of chocolate and a note with flowers lay in front of him.
“You look so sour... Don't tell me no one asked you yet?” He laughed.
“Shut up. And who's that for?' You mentioned things laying on the table.
“Uh, these. They're for-“
He didn't get to finish his sentence as someone tapped your shoulder. It was a tall boy from Ravenclaw. You saw him on quidditch team. He was handsome and smart, given that he's from a blue house. He smiled nervously. “Hey... you're Y/N, right? Would you mind going to the Yule Ball with me?” So straightforward. Yet you were dumbfounded as blush slowly creeped up your face. You just nodded, and he happily went back to his table, giving you a bouquet of chrysanthemums.
You were beyond happy as you shoved the invitation in your friends' faces to brag. However, everyone was throwing worried looks towards Enzo who had his jaws clenched. “Is everything okay? Why is everyone so quiet?” “Nothing. I'm happy for you.” Enzo smiled for a second before standing up and leaving the Great Hall with his belongings. “I have to go; Numerology's starting soon.” Everyone tried to ease up the atmosphere, but you still felt weird.
Yule Ball. Oh, everyone and everything was so amazing. You put every effort into makeup and outfit today. That Ravenclaw boy, or Henry, which turned out to be his name, accompanied you from your common room to the Great Hall. Everyone was having a great time, and you enjoyed the evening. You made your way to your friend group and noticed how beautiful everyone was. There were couples everywhere, but you couldn't see one person. Lorenzo Berkshire. Slowly pulling Pansy aside, you tried to speak loudly enough for her to hear you over the music. “Hey, where's Enzo?”
She looked at you weirdly. “Oh, he just got somewhat sick. He decided to stay in the dorm.”
“He WHAT? Maybe I should check up on him..." You didn't let Pansy finish as you made your way out of the Great Hall.
A million thoughts rushed through your head, making it harder to concentrate on one. Enzo didn't like to be ill. He was rarely ill, but every time, he'd get so scared of being left alone in the dorm. No one could joke about it since it had a stinging backstory. But you stopped in your tracks as you overheard loud talking and laughing. No one was supposed to be in the halls of Hogwarts now.
"She agreed so easily; one could think she'd have many suitors, given that she's such a bitch." It was such a familiar voice.
"Mhm, but now you have to sleep with her. Isn't it a bit hard, Henry?"
"Nah, she'd fold after the right amount of firewhisky."
“I doubt it. But if you win the bet, 100 galleons are yours." You could only stare into space in disbelief. Someone betting on you? It felt so wrong, so disgusting. So your worth was 100 galleons. Tears started rolling down your cheeks as you tried to be as quiet as possible. But you were hurt, you didn't even care anymore. You just ran in the opposite direction, wherever the feet would carry you, until you bumped into someone. Books fell from their hand.
"Hey, what the hell-" He stopped abruptly. It was a familiar voice. Not Henry, but Enzo.
"Y/N, what's wrong?" He seemed perfectly healthy.
"Enzo?" You blinked in confusion. Your face was puffy with tears, and his heart clenched at the sight. "Weren't you ill..."
As he picked up his books, he just sighed. "No... I just. I didn't want to, that's all." Indeed, he wasn't dressed in a fancy suit. He was in his favorite sweater and jeans. "But it isn't about me. Why were you crying?" He asked sternly. "It's nothing... I just..." time passed, and you couldn't think of a single excuse.
You just sighed and sat on a nearby staircase. "What the hell is wrong with me, Lorenzo?" He wasn't used to you saying his full name. "Huh? Who told you that?" He tilted his head curiously. "No one. I was wondering why no one could love me? And why did the only boy who invited me to the Yule ball turn out to be a dickhead who bet that he could sleep with me?" He nearly choked as his face turned dark with anger. "Huh. So he did that?" He got absorbed in his thoughts. You could see his features becoming more sharp as he did so, so you tried to switch the topic.
"So? Why didn't you want to go? Don't tell me you got rejected by that girl?" You teased him. "That girl is you." He just blurted it out.
After seconds of silence, you started laughing. "Nice one, Berkshire. Bet you drooled over me all those years."
"I'm being serious." He averted his eyes. "Ever since I met you the first year, I've always wanted to be your friend. But this changed during the fifth year. I started wanting more than friendship. I am lost in your eyes; in this dark world, they're the only light that keeps me going. I can listen to you ramble all day long. I love all your habits; I want to be there when you cry and when you laugh. I find myself wondering how does your hand or lips feel like. I wanted to be with you, I wanted you to notice me. But all my efforts seemed to be futile." He blushed, hiding his face in his palms. "Is confessing always that embarrassing?”
“Is being confessed to always feels that amazing?" You asked quietly. You've had a crush on Enzo for a long time, but you settled for unrequited feelings. Every sign he gave was shut down by you. After all, he’s kind to everyone, right? Turns out, no. His eyes locked with yours, and he tilted his head, getting closer to your face. He seemed to be asking for permission, and when you didn't push him away, he finally leaned in.
a/n: planning 2nd part with hcs (lorenzo as a boyfriend), yes I’m THAT obsessed with him. anyway, english isn’t my first language so sorry for any any mistakes! you can drop other requests with other characters in my ask box
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⋆。 °⛧ Willy Wonka headcanons ! 🖇️✩ ₊˚
gif is by @thisgameissonintendo <3
do lmk if you’d like more posts like this!! I’m planning to write a wonka fic soon so stay tuned ;)
requests are open ! mlist. wonka nsfw hcs.
he’s good at lockpicking & pickpocketing, so he’d make a very good thief but he doesn’t do it because he knows he was taught better by his mother and he doesn’t want to disappoint her
he is only a workaholic when it comes to his chocolate. This man would find the easiest and fastest possible way to do most other tasks
one of the only tasks that are an exemption of the above are clothing. He’s particular in what he wears, not that he has high standards but he wants to dress unapologetically like himself, and that includes deep shades of purple, red and pink for his overcoats, and more mute colors for anything below that
LOVES to read now that he can. He often visits the library and even started a mini book club with Noodle and the rest of the gang (Piper, Larry, Abacus and Lottie) but they assign themselves more than one book per month sometimes because the rest are not as fast to read books as the two of them
He is IN LOVE with Alice in Wonderland, especially the Mad Hatter.
He loves poetry too, and learned how to write his own pretty quickly and always reads it out to Noodle when he writes new poems
his guilty pleasure for books is definitely romance. He likes the thought of devoting yourself to one person, because he knows how it feels like to devote himself to chocolate, and imagining a whole other person to share everything with just fills him with so much hope and light.
this man smells just like vanilla and chocolate, and he wants to keep it that way so he learned to make his own perfume that has the unique smell of his own chocolate (this headcanon partially inspired by this fic! I love the writer sm)
definitely looks up and says ‘sorry mama,’ if he does something questionable, even if he has good intentions
unaware of ‘gender norms’ because he lived by a river with his mother as a child then stayed on sea for seven years with roughly the same group of people, so those things weren’t imposed on him especially since he was mostly raised by only his mother.
following the headcanon above, he knows both the female and male parts of the waltz and other ballroom dances and has no problem wearing skirts or dresses (though prefers pants because he’s used to wearing them and it’s easier to move around in)
and because he was raised with only a small group of people around him almost his whole life, he lives life ‘unfiltered’ which is why he is seen as eccentric and wild, because his mother found it endearing and the boat crew saw how brilliant he was and never told him to ‘tone it down.’
loves shopping with Noodle, and they have an especially good time trying out clothes together
if the Barbie movie came out around the same area and time period, him and Noodle would have definitely dressed in all pink and only Wonka would have bawled his eyes out while Noodle begrudgingly consoles him
definitely goes back out to sea for a whole month once a year, and with the same crew he was first seen with in the beginning of the film. He misses them dearly, and always shares his chocolate with them free of charge
this man has chocolates for everything—chocolates to sleep better, chocolates to enhance focus and even chocolates to calm down (either from panic attacks or intense emotions like anger)
he probably even sells chocolates with vitamins inside, mostly also for children who don’t remember or don’t want to take their vitamins, but he was careful not to make it too good so they won’t take more than the necessary daily amount
he learned to cook after the events of the movie, finding that knowledge in that area would help enhance his skill in chocolate-making. He’s good, but of course he’s not a sous chef
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𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗙𝗶𝗿𝗲
pairing: bodyguard!ari levinson x mafia!princess reader
concept: You intrigue me, moving on top of me, touching my lips here and there, and I am enveloped by more desire.
word count: 3.5k
warnings: bratty reader, desire, lust, p— in-v, edging, dirty talk, degradation, rough sex, unprotected sex, praise, mature themes, small gun violence at the night club, teasing, nickname ──(Princess, Sweetheart)
a/n: Thank you @sunshinebuckybarnes and @lookiamtrying for always being the finest menaces, and I know this is a few months late, but here it is.
lovely beta: Thank you so much @writing-for-marvel for listening to all the ideas I had for this story and for always lifting my spirits. @lunarbuck Thanks for always telling me it wasn't a silly dream and for always encouraging me. lots of love for you both.
the cute gif and moodboard/line divider made by me
masterlist
The sky burns higher and higher, love, is fire too scary for you
Stepping into the house, the sound of your designer red heels striking the marble floor blasts through the foyer like a raging fire storm. Your unyielding determination and boiling-hot rage shines through every step you take.
His eyes are dominated by a blue hue that seems to numb your energy.
He glares at you as if you are nothing more than air; as if he didn't intend to acknowledge your presence.
You want to reach out and rip that icy gaze off his face. No one ever ignores you in such a manner in this state, or anywhere else for that matter.
“You’re destroying my life!" Your voice reverberates through the walls as you throw anything within reach to express your seething hatred for him.
Ari can’t help but take a deep breath, feeling your shouts stab at his head like spears.
"Why don't you just leave me alone?" You snarl through gritted teeth as you tear off your heels, aiming them at his face. “You know, I could hire someone to get rid of you."
For the one single night when all you want is freedom, he’s here trying to drag you out of the car. You tried escaping by hiding in the backseat of your friend's car, but you never got to the gate. You didn't have time to enjoy your freedom before Ari Levinson dragged you away.
Your humiliation reached its peak when he laughed, mocking your position as a mafia princess who has to beg her own bodyguard to stay away from her. The laughter sent ripples of anger and shame shooting through your veins.
"Do it, Princess." He smirks mockingly. “I would love to see them try."
Your nails dig deep into the flesh of your palms as you clench them tightly together. You scream at the top of your lungs as you ascend the stairs to your room.
Ari can still hear faint echoes of your cries drifting through the hallway until they slowly die away completely. His thoughts drift as he picks up your heels and walks up to your room, murmuring to himself, "This spoiled princess wants to be a brat."
Having no escape, no freedom, I will shake the world to get what I want.
There is something magical about dancing as rainbow-like colors illuminate the room around you, every move creating a small firework. As the music plays, the room fills with a sweet smell of sweat and perfume that only enhances the experience. Your arms move through the air and your feet bounce in step with the beat. Closing your eyes, you let go of everything else as you reach for the sky with wide eyes and a contagious smile in your heart.
The music plays, and you laugh to yourself, knowing he will probably kill you because of what you did.
“There she is!” You turn to see your best friend, Irnia. Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she hands you a glass filled to the brim with sparkling golden liquid. "How did you escape that beefy dreamy bodyguard of yours?"
A smirk appears on your lips as you sip the drink. “He’s wet and trapped in a bathroom with a broken door knob."
Through careful planning, you managed to lock Ari in the bathroom and break his doorknob. You collected your phone, along with other items he had hidden to keep track of you, and escaped. Your only desire was to hear him grunt in anger when he realized you had outsmarted him. But his blue eyes had lost their intensity long ago; they could never keep up with his work.
The music pulses through the club's veins, coursing through the air and pushing people to dance and laugh. With joy, drinks are thrown back and mouths are wide open.
There is a flicker before the lights go out, plunging everyone into darkness. Screams of surprise echo off the walls. As panic grips the crowd, hands grasp each other desperately in search of an escape.
You suddenly realize, as you feel yourself being pushed by the crowd, that your exit plan is stuck at home because you had locked him in.
Chaos in your mind leaves you speechless, and words cannot describe how fear engulfs you and flushes out the light.
Your finger trembles at the trigger of your gun, and your heart races in anticipation. A cold bead of sweat rolls down your forehead and mingles with the night's warmth, washing away what remains of your sense of security.
You take a deep breath and lunge forward, gripping your gun tightly as if it’s a lifeline.
A frantic noise outside causes a chill to grip your body, so you raise your weapon and cry as tears slowly trail down your cheeks. A burning white light weighs down on you, making breathing even more difficult.
The burning white lights mock you with what they can't provide.
Safety.
If you close your eyes, all you can see are a pair of familiar ocean blue eyes.
Ari had insisted you carry a handgun strapped to your leg and taught you how to use it, although he kept a distance from you. “It’s either your life or theirs. These men will not hesitate to shoot. Are you prepared?" You suddenly feel as if he was protecting you with his advice.
Your gun is aimed at the door, ready to face whatever danger may arrive. It feels heavy, but you know it is worth the effort for the sake of your life.
You feel an icy chill run down your spine as the door of the club's restroom slams against the wall. Across the concrete floor, heavy boots stumble, their footsteps echoing like thunder in the darkness. One by one, the stall doors open, closing in around you and filling the room with the smell of sweat and fear.
You hear Ari's voice and you know you are safe, but still too far away from him. Gun in hand, you hold it tightly. It's just a matter of holding on so he can find you. An agonizing scream follows Ari's grunt and the thud of his fist hitting flesh.
Your heart races as terror washes over you and your throat dried up. You muster every ounce of courage to cry out for help, “Ari, I am in here, please! I'm sorr-y.”
I only know where I am, and anger is outside.
Rage coursed through Ari's veins when he heard you had disappeared on his watch. In his quest to protect you, he called every contact to trace your movements. In the club, he saw your ex-boyfriend marching toward you and felt a flood of desperation wash over him.
As instinct kicked in, he punched anyone who stood in his way with animalistic skill and ferocity. A body flew across the room with each blow, leaving the walls trembling. He heard your voice calling for help at that moment.
Ari surges through the crowd and slams the door of the stall. You stand there, trembling in fear, your gun shaking.
He immediately runs towards you, ready to take on any foe if need be. The gun falls from your hand and into his arms.
When Ari touches you, your knees weaken, and you feel at peace just seeing his crystal blue eyes. You embrace one another and time seems to stop as relief washes over you both. Tears of guilt roll down your cheeks as you apologize profusely for everything that happened.
While the stormy sky pours, I search for your caring touch.
A slow pounding of your heart fills the air as you tiptoe into Ari's bedroom. A gentle thunderstorm rages outside the window; the room smells like rain; the steady rhythm of the drops is loud in the background, providing some comfort.
When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can see Ari's figure in bed. His long, dark beard frames his lips, adding a relaxed aura to his facial features. Moonlight and lightning flashes create an ethereal effect on Ari's face and body; his sculpted muscles move beneath the blankets, with a few chest hairs peeking out.
The protective wrap around his arm from when he saved you at the club catches your eye. He never spoke a word about it or blamed you. The contours of his body ache beneath your fingertips, but you remember what happened the last time you tried to get so close to him.
A lump forms in your throat as you slowly lay the blanket across Ari's chest. It had been a long night for both of you, and this man in front of you saved you without a hesitation.
You reluctantly turn around, ready to leave, when suddenly Ari grabs your wrist and pulls you onto the bed on top of him. His muscular arms wrap around your waist and hold you against his solid chest.
Your body relaxes in his embrace as you breathe in Ari's breath.
The sound of his voice rumbles as he searches for your eyes. "Where do you think you're going, Princess?" he asks in a husky voice as his fingers caress your skin.
There is a throbbing sensation in the pit of your stomach, as well as warmth spreading throughout your body. You are feeling the effects of his presence. Your heart races with tension and nervousness as you try to pull away, but there is an undeniable magnetism between you that won't let go.
You don’t want to show it, but a part of you wants to stay with Ari forever.
Looking for an excuse, you murmur "Away from you. Let me go." But it is too late, he knows you’re concerned for his health and doesn’t let go.
A smirk appears on Ari's face and he responds calmly. "Oh no, now you want to tell me what to do in my room? You were here for a reason, so why do you want to leave now? When I opened my eyes I saw you on top of me. Princess, I can touch whatever is in my room - care to tell me what brought you here?"
You reply firmly, your voice low. "Ari, you're injured and out of it. I just wanted to see if you needed anything. Now let me go, you idiot."
His smirk slowly fades away and is replaced by sadness. "Princess, there's only one thing that can heal my wounds.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Kisses from that bratty mouth of yours."
In one swift movement, he flips you over and hoveres his body above yours, one hand pinning your wrists above your head and the other brushing and grabbing your throat.
A smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he replies, "Kisses, Princess." With your face inches from his, you open your mouth to protest, only to have him shush you with a stern look in his eyes.
A mischievous gleam adorned his eyes as he whispered in your ear, "Let me taste those lips and a few other things I've been thinking about for months." He places his lips on your neck.
A part of him has always intrigued you which was why you couldn't leave him. You whisper softly, "Ari, you're insane," inviting him to stop you, but that is the last thing you want and he knows it.
Ari looks at you with lustful eyes. Teasingly, he asks, "Are you sure?". He glances downward to where your fingers are digging into his shoulders and groans. "The way you're touching me makes me think that you're not."
You bite your lower lip and throw caution to the wind as you push his shoulders, securing yourself back on top of Ari again. Your legs straddle his waist; you don’t want him to let go.
In a frenzy, you whimper yes, and his hands begin to lace their way up your body, unbuttoning your night top. Soon, you feel the cold air on your breasts and his thumbs touch your nipples. "You feel this, sweetheart?” Ari’s voice is a low whisper. “I’m going to make you mine."
For months, you've wanted to see him like this, to feel him. Now, after tonight, you’ll never see him again. Because of what happened at the club your parents deemed Ari unsuitable to be your bodyguard. It is your fault, and they said they would talk to him in the morning, but you had to see him now.
"I'm going to scream and you–," you whisper, trying to tease him.
The two of you lock eyes, and your lips part slightly. As his hands reach out for your face, he pulls you in for a kiss. Taking a deep breath, he breathes you in. When you feel his breath on your skin, it makes you shiver with need.
You feel like an invisible fire has been burning your bodies since the moment you touched him, a fire which has been burning for months without a way to slake its thirst. Moans and sighs of desire fill each other's mouths as your mouths collide desperately. When he touches your breasts, your heart skips a beat; every spot craving to be touched more. Ari tears your clothes off your body and you feel the sensation of him bare against yours.
“The screams will be my name and you moaning for me to keep fucking you, sweetheart.” He adjusts himself between your legs.
Euphoria erupting in your body and a pounding heart.
“You’re already wet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?"
He can also see how close you are to surrendering completely to his dominance. The teasing look in his eyes gets under your skin, so you lift your legs up and arch your back towards him.
You feel his cock against you again, teasing your needy pussy for him.
Your lips whisper, "Please, Ari." As he watches you squirm, Ari raises his hips as if he is considering whether or not to enter you. A coy smile spreads across his face as he teases you around the edges of your pussy. He seems to enjoy it too much.
The more he teases you, the more irritated you become. You bite your lip and moan, the excitement of danger heightening your lust. You watch as he looks into your eyes to see how much you crave him. “Fuck you, Ari," you beg, despite yourself.
You feel as if your bones have melted under pressure, and your legs shake with pleasure and anticipation.
"My princess really wants it." The words spin in your mind intoxicatingly and put a clenching pressure on your core.
Just outside of where you need him most, his cock strokes up against you. Is this teasing? It's driving you crazy, but with pleasure instead of anger. Your skin tingles just thinking about him, as if his touch has already molded itself over your soul.
You squint, begging him to stop teasing you without words. Before now, you have never asked anyone for anything.
His hard thick length felt foreign and hot as it slowly eases its way into your entrance. With an animalistic growl, Ari thrusts inside all the way in one motion, sending thrills through your body. His slow, precise movements inside you have you clutching desperately onto his neck, digging your fingertips into his skin.
You intrigue me, moving on top of me, touching my lips here and there, and I am enveloped by more desire.
Each time he rotates his hips, a different nerve ending is stimulated, causing you to moan uncontrollably. He pulls back slightly before pushing into you again. Dropping down on his forearms, he leans over you with his lips never leaving yours.
“You can’t control yourself,” he murmurs into your mouth. “I think I can already feel you coming.”
He smirks and pulls out almost completely before slamming back inside of you. Every muscle in your body tenses up in anticipation as he teases you with all the sensations he has been denying you for months. “Do you want more? Are you ready to come for me?”
Ari slams hard into you and pulls away, taunting you. In an effort to keep him inside, you grasp onto him desperately. The more you plead, the more he retreats, only to push harder the next time.
"My naughty princess," he whispers, "you love this so much." Take a deep breath! His rhythm is slow and shallow, fucking his cock in and out of you before speeding up. With each impact, he slides an arm under your waist and lifts you up slightly as he drives his body faster and deeper than ever before. "Look at you," Ari growls deeply as he pumps into you ferociously. The only thing stopping him is your legs holding him tightly around the hips while smacking your ass as the bed posts shake. The sight of you panting through gritted teeth thrills Ari.
"Let go," Ari whispers hoarsely as he seals a kiss of desperate longing on your lips, giving the command that calms all drives your body.
A fire of passion ignites beneath the moon's gaze, as he steals kisses from my body in a husk of passion.
The air in the room is hot and heavy, and Ari's sweat-slicked forehead glows in the low light. His lips find your forehead first in a gentle kiss that feels like a long-awaited release. As you lift his hair from his face, he grabs your hand and kisses it. His hand slips lightly through your hand before lingering on your face. “Did I still destroy your life, but now with my cock?” he asks with a hint of a smirk.
You couldn’t help but giggle, and you playfully slapped his shoulder in response. “Shut up,” you whisper back. “I still want to kill you.”
Ari chucks as he kisses your protest away and flips you so that you straddle him. He cups his hands around your waist, gently guiding you onto him until you both gasp at the sensation of being connected as one. “How about you ride me to death, Princess?” he murmurs.
It was black outside and thunder rumbled, but inside the room was hot, red, and heavy with lust.
When a thunderclap resounds this night, your hands grip his chest tightly. Whatever may happen now, he will always be by your side to protect your heart.
A hungry, filthy eye watches it as lustful desire ignites around every corner
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Jokes aside Jonathan must have felt so very vulnerable after that night. Getting both scared and horny for the first time in his life aside, now he realized that the Count 1. Has claimed him as his own 2. Has moved from touching/grabbing/pulling him to taking the liberty to undressing him 3. Yet is the least dreadful thing here and the one he can go to seek protection and safety from
Points 1 through 3 have already been picked to death so I won't beat them any further into the ground. But the 'Mark me down as scared and horny!' of it all is something that legit has me going back and forth, so I'll hop on that.
Jonathan does state outright that he finds the Brides attractive, or, specifically, that he wants them to kiss him.
"All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips."
The most straightforward read on this and his ensuing ~dreadful anticipation~ is that Jonathan is A) Naturally attracted to the hot vampire ladies and/or B) Having natural attraction being enhanced on a supernatural-hypnosis level. I can see either being in play. But I don't think it's the most interesting--or terrifying--read.
The first thing I want to nitpick here is that this almost definitely is not him feeling lustful for the first time in his life (we'll learn more on that point later in the novel ala his relationship with Mina being A Lot 👀). Jonathan knows what attraction is, emotionally and sexually, from being a staunch Minasexual. Which is a not-quite-exaggerated way of saying I personally see Jonathan skewing more towards the demisexual and biromantic side of the scale. In that lens, he has the potential to be attracted to anyone regardless of gender, but first they have to win his interest/heart before he even starts connecting any sexy dots.
Minor spoilers, but through the whole novel, Jonathan does not refer to Mina with any physical descriptors when he gushes about her. It's always a reference to her character, to her actions, to Mina being Mina. Which I think is interesting when put in context with his fixation on describing Dracula and the Brides' appearances, be that in attracted, repulsed, or frightened terms. Because the vampires are the only ones who get that reaction out of him. And I think the former, the automatic physical attraction, is its own unique red flag to him; though he may not have the language for it. It's not just him being ashamed to feel attraction or to write it down when Mina might see it someday.
It's because that attraction is probably not even his.
He doesn't know these women. All beautiful, certainly. But strangers. They haven't spoken with him, haven't endeared themselves to him, haven't done one (1) single thing to provide an excuse for his highly reserved libido to pay attention. And I doubt he's gone his whole life blind to any pretty people in his vicinity. Hot people have happened to him before and he has not cared because for Jonathan, care has to precede lust.
What the Brides have done is introduce a wholly alien sensation to him--an instant arousal that was injected rather than awoken from some natural place in him. It makes me think of Toxoplasma gondii, that fun little parasite that switches off rodents' natural predator response to cats and makes them docile when the pretty kitty creeps up with their mouth open. And while the Brides' and Dracula's trance effect does get the basic job done of Keeping the Victim Still and Compliant, having the side effect of forcing a bodily reaction on that intimate of a level is a violation in itself.
Though it does have a purpose too. Because the very first thought Jonathan has upon seeing them turns out to be the most dangerous one: He wants them to kiss him.
The One Thing that will see him bled to death, then undeath. Which has its own super fun parallel in things like, say, the fucking Cordyceps fungus that turns ants into zombies forced to aid in their own and others' slavery/destruction.
And while Stoker wasn't in on all the scientific lookalikes in the animal kingdom, I doubt that Jonathan's mesmerized fixation on wanting to be kissed first and foremost, running on in a written stupor about lips and teeth and breath, was an accident.
Just like a mouse holding still as the cat scoops it into their maw.
Just like an ant crawling up to the sun so it can burst with spores and share its half-life demise with its fellows.
Hold still, dear. You want to hold still for us, don't you? Of course you do. Good boy. Here. Have a kiss.
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Hey so, what the fuck is up with Shilo and Emizel?
Like yeah, they're brothers. Confirmed twins by Condi. How???
It's been made pretty clear that Shilo is half human, or at least in those kinds of vibes. There is never once a mention of his turning, he seems pretty clueless on humans, he has aged to his current age. But then he can also somewhat digest food, and his aura looks like a human aura. Yeah, that's all good, checks out.
What about Emizel? It is very hinted at, if not stated that Jeffrey is not his real father, but that he found or adopted him when he was still a baby. If Emizel is half vampire like Shilo, wouldn't he show that? He would, yeah, at least a bit. But he hasn't.
Even if takes more human traits, like Shilo takes more vampires traits. But he hasn't. There are no vampire traits. He's not faster, not stronger, doesn't have enhanced senses. I'm sure he would've noticed by now if he could do some mind shit or thought that blood looked particularily yummy. Even appearance wise, while we don't know exactly what he looked like, it is said that he is going through the vampire transition, becoming paler, getting fangs, pointy ears, red eyes. That is changing, he did not have that before. He looked like a human, he acted like a human.
The only time when he's human that he acts vampiric is when they say that "in the streetlight, it's almost like your eyes glow red" (not a direct quote, AT ALL, pulled from my ass and memore) but that is in reference to the all of the Demons. The whole gang have symbolism in their eyes.
The other time is when Emizel has been bitten and has the urge to bite his soon-to-be-sire back. There is something urging him to bite the guy. But that isn't necessarily a vampire thing. Vampires don't really bite other vampires. And for all we know, maybe there's some dying instinct that recognizes that vampire blood could save your life if you've been bitten. Or hell, Emizel just seems like he's kinda just like that. It does not seem out of character for his last dying action to be to bite someone.
So like, wtf? Why is Shilo half vampire and Emizel not?
I still think that the queen is their mom. I don't think she'd give a shit about Shilo if he weren't her son. And Emizel seems like the one she's keeping tabs on.
So here's my Lil theory. It was mentioned that vampires could briefly turn humans to eat shit. Now I don't know the vampire masquerade mechanics or shit, but it seems to me like maybe that could aply to more than just eating food. So like, maybe miss Queen Vampire wanted a night on the town, or hell, maybe she wanted a kid. So she got it on with some human, maybe Jeffrey, maybe not.
Gurl gets pregnant, but oops, it's twins. And when they're born, after a bit it's achingly clear one of them is more human than the other. Turns out, maybe doing the do while human fucked shit up a bit, so while the kids could carry vampire genes, they also could not at all. In fact it was probably more likely for the kid to not be a vampire at all.
So now her Majesty has two sons. One who looks like a vampire, one who doesn't. She's worried about both of them because they are at the very least half human and humans tend to die easily. She says "Hey, I'll give it time, maybe Emizel will just take time to be more vampire like, it's possible it's not an instantaneous thing"
She waits. Shilo is clearly a vampire. He drinks blood, he has little fangs, his eyes are red. Emizel, decidedly does and is not. After a few months, it becomes clear that Emizel is not a vampire. Fuck. What do they do?
Her council (or whatever the fuck they are) suggest to just kill Emizel, he's human, besides she already has one son, why need another? Miss Her Majesty is like "I dealt with too much morning sickness to get kill this kid". So maybe out of suggestion of the council, maybe out of fear for his life, she decides to ship baby Emizel off the LA without telling anyone. There he can grow up with humans and live a human life and not be as in danger as in the castle. Besides, she can just keep tabs on him so that if he does end up being half vampire she can scoop him up and plop him with his brother.
At least that's what I think. It's possible that Emizel is just built different.
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[Headcanons] Buggy reacting to you getting piercings
Description: How Buggy reacts to you getting pierced in general and how he reacts to specific types of piercings.
Warnings: Probably NSFW? Mention of genital piercings, but nothing explicit. GN!reader. (Edit: Replaced language that wasn't gender neutral that I missed when first posting - so sorry!!)
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
The guy has a few piercings of his own, so he’s supportive of any that you want to get!
Buggy would accompany you to the appointment. He’ll act like it was a last minute decision and he’s only going because you seem too nervous to go alone.
“Look at you, you’re shaking in fear.” “I’m not shaking…and I’m not afraid!” “You’re delirious, I should probably go with you.”
Disconnects his hand so you can squeeze it. Buggy’s not squeamish by any means, but knows better than to get in the way.
He’ll talk the whole time, wanting to keep you distracted. He’ll be quiet if you asked, but not for long.
Tongue piercing(s)
Buggy is pleasantly surprised that you’re getting a tongue piercing. Something about a sorta-hidden piercing really suits you.
Stands behind the piercer so he can make faces at you. He’ll wink and waggle his eyebrows when you stick out your tongue. He’ll also make fun of the face you're making by sticking out his own tongue in an obscene way. You’re glad the piercer can’t see and end up having to look away so you don’t laugh.
Since kissing is off-limits for a few weeks (along with other kinds of oral fun), Buggy decides to get his tongue pierced also. He startles the piercer by popping out his tongue after it’s pierced and acting like the piercer did something wrong.
Nipple piercing(s)
Gives you one of his billowy button down pirate shirts to wear to the appointment.
He adores how the piercings look and how they enhance your chest (which he already loved enormously).
You picked barbells with spiked ends which kind of remind Buggy of his throwing knives. Which is exactly why you picked that jewelry to start with.
Since these have a pretty long healing period, Buggy also lets you raid his personal closet and the costume closet for loose clothing to wear during the healing period. If you don’t find anything suitable or run out of options, he will bend over backwards to get* you more clothes or find a personal seamstress for you.
*Whether he’ll buy or steal the clothing is unknown.
Genital piercing(s)
Buggy is extra comforting because he also has a genital piercing (maybe more than one…)
Also goes out of his way to make sure you have access to comfortable clothes - baggy pants, skirts, dresses, etc. He even offers you his favorite red and white striped boxers. Definitely not because he loves seeing you wear those, no matter what.
Is extra scrutinizing of the piercing studio and the piercer even though you did all the research already.
If you get woozy after it happens, Buggy will comfort you and tell you that you’re so strong. He’ll wait patiently until you feel better.
If you pass out, Buggy would yell at the piercer at first. Thankfully Buggy’s reputation precedes him and the piercer doesn’t take any shit, so he lets Buggy express his misdirected fear before telling him to knock it off.
Ear piercing(s)
Maybe it’s because you’re getting an ear piercing, but this guy could not stop talking the entire time.
He tells you stories about how the crew on the ship he grew up on would pierce their ears with fishing hooks and thread. Buggy offers to take over and pierce you himself. Even though it was a joke, the piercer feels compelled to remind you both about how unhygienic that would be. The response takes Buggy down a notch and he grumbles for a few minutes before moving on to another anecdote.
Since these piercings can have a long healing period, he says you can sleep on him and rest your head on his shoulder. It’s a kind but empty gesture because Buggy moves too much in his sleep for that to work. Still, you won’t turn away a chance to fall asleep while cuddling.
Nose piercing(s)
Buggy is supportive but is in a weird mood until you get the piercing, which you expected. He doesn’t understand why you would do something that would draw attention to your nose.
Afterwards, he’s in awe of how the jewelry enhances your natural looks. Even though it draws attention, it looks great.
When you use the mirror to see how things look, you notice your nose is turning red from the irritation. You make an off-hand comment about how you two match. Behind the scowl on his face, Buggy absolutely melts. He wishes he could have some of the confidence you have.
Other piercings (facial, oral, belly button, dermal, etc)
Buggy is your number one cheerleader no matter what piercing you get. He’ll talk you up beforehand, telling you what a great idea it is and how flashy you’ll look.
He’ll tell you how the oral / facial piercing(s) suit your smile, especially when the jewelry catches the light and shines.
He finds the belly button piercing so enchanting. The way he looks at it before raking his eyes over your whole body got you blushing hard.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
A/N: If you want to get a piercing, please go to a certified piercer and research the location beforehand. Don't use fishing line or whatever. Be safe! ♡
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People who are feeling thirsty often or water isn't quenching your thirst with no determinable medical cause:
Get electrolyte drinks.
"Water is the best for hydration" is not always true. "Electrolytes are only for athletes" is not always true. There are a variety of reasons someone might need a boost of electrolytes, like being on a dehydrating medication (i.e. stimulants for ADHD), having a diet lacking in them, or having a condition like POTS or IST.
"but electrolyte drinks are so gross" I'm very aware of that. I refused to drink Gatorade on a missions trip once to the point where I got very ill. I am a committed non-drinker of sports drinks. One I've found that uses sugar as its sweetener, doesn't taste like salt, and also fits my need to not have red dye is the brand Body Armour. A lot of fancy bottled water will also say something like "enhanced with electrolytes", those work too. There's a huge variety of sport drink options so I recommend just finding some with ingredients that sound good and trying them. Your body needs it and you'll probably feel better too.
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Mourning Dove notes, batch #1
So since I am a very visual thinker, whenever I post my ideas (that aren't in-the-moment rants, that is) I like to draw something for it. It's the closest thing I can get to transferring something directly from my brain to yours. Unfortunately, I have a lot of thoughts, which means I have a lot of drawings I want to make to help get my points across. And since it's easier to write my ideas down as they come to me anyway, I'll be posting Mourning Dove stuff in batches, drawing + notes = a batch :)
Speaking of the drawing part, this is actually a redraw of fanart I did for Wayne's Haunted Mansion I drew a while ago, so you can actually use the bear as a size reference! He's bigger than Bearwing now, but to be fair the bears not that big. Danny, at 14, is 5”2 at most, probably closer to 5’0. He's still a small king.
I decided to have him be 14 when he becomes a vigilante because 1. That seems like a reasonable amount of time for him to have recovered mentally and physically enough for him to be able to handle unfamiliar environments and have the training necessary to be cautious and know when and how to step in (at least 4 years of training + his powers make him a tiny terror).
2. Yo Danny Phantom he was just 14
This batch is going to be dedicated to why Danny is this au has autism and ADHD, and how that affects him. The why will come from the original fanfic this au is based on, Wayne’s Haunted Mansion by @tathartiel (which you should definitely read if you enjoy dp x dc!). How it affects him will mostly be part of the au. Ok? Ok. I tend to ramble a bit but I tried to make it easy to follow.
First of all, Danny enjoys knitting! He's already sewing, it's only the natural progression for him to find out about knitting, and the family would definitely try to encourage the hobby with less sharp tools. It gives him something to do with his hands, and at the end of the day he has something he made all by himself, something he can be proud of. He loves making stuff for people he cares about, he likes knowing he can do something to keep his loved ones warm, whether by making a blanket, scarf, sweater- you name it. He's definitely not great at first, but he does practice a lot. Whenever he's nervous or fidgety, it's nice to do something with his hands.
One of his favorite parts of knitting is the yarn itself. Specifically the texture and feel of certain yarns. The Waynes are rich so they have no problem supplying him with extremely soft yarns to make the softest sweaters and blankets. And you know how he loves pillows? Well I'd imagine that he’d also love the extremely thick, pillowy yarn. He uses it to make a huge blanket that enhances his pillow nest 10 fold. The day he got a giant roll of thick fluffy yarn he spent all day making a giant fluffy blanket out of it, and the following night shoving it in the birds and bats faces so they can experience the bliss that is the feeling of his new soft, pillowy creation.
Speaking of textures, Danny loves hoodies, especially his Batman hoodie(s). Not only so that he can physically show his appreciation for his family, but that they are warm and soft on the inside, and make him feel secure. His siblings have all gotten him their merch at one point or another, but it wasn't until Jason got him Red Hood merch in the form of a leather jacket did they realize that texture could be a problem. The inside was just not working for Danny, but he was happy to have merch so he tried to ignore it to make Jason happy. It lasted until dinner that night, Danny had a breakdown because the uncomfortable feel of the jacket was agitating him and suddenly the klinks of silverware on plates was to loud, the scrapes and stabs of forks hitting the plates felt like he was physically being hit on the head, and the vibration of the table when someone moved felt like pins and needles going through his arms that were resting on the table. It all became too much for him and he excused himself from the table with a wobbly chirp before promptly disappearing.
It wasn't until later that night, before Jason left, that he reappeared in front of him, tears in his eyes, and handed back the jacket with a guilty chirp. It took Jason some prodding to get Danny to explain why he was handing it back, and then when he finally understood it took a lot more convincing to get Danny to understand it's ok to not like the jacket, no i'm not mad at you, its ok. After he got Danny to calm down he left the manor and informed the rest of the group chat of the new development… and then got Danny another, comfier Red Hood jacket. Bruce, having autism himself (i'm not even sure if that's a headcanon or canon at this point), helps Danny in making sure he knows its ok to feel that way about certain textures and asks what textures he likes and doesn't like, even writes them down so when buying something online or getting something tailored, they can make sure it won't be uncomfortable. His siblings 100% take advantage of this list and start a sort of unspoken competition of who can buy Danny his favorite piece of merch.
Speaking of merch, he has a hoodie of every single Gotham vigilante and wears one almost 24/7. The media was given the vague explanation that Batman saved him from a physically abusive household at 10 (or whatever his age ends up actually being, they don't reveal his existence to the world until he's 12, where by that point he can change back into his human form comfortably. I'm making the assumption he eventually can for the au cus I don’t know everything) so they just assume it's hero worship from that. His siblings however know that it's because he loves them and thinks they're the coolest people ever. Everyone thinks he's adorable anyway. When he first saw Mourning Dove merch he was super excited, until he realized it would be too uncomfortable to wear. Later that week when Bruce gives him a tailor made Dove hoodie, he cried. (Bruce totally won the competition for it, the kids are just a little bitter about it)
Merch was made for him because Gotham does know Mourning Dove exists, mostly from eye witness accounts of the baddies he took down, but also from the literal one blurry video of him that exists. It shows Dove holding onto Batman's cape as Red Robin talks. This was taken on his first official patrol, so he was a little nervous. At first Gotham was mad at Batman for bringing yet another child into the fold, until all the criminals Dove brought in came back terrified. They realized they really should have learned their lesson from the latest Robin, and now just respect their funky shadow child.
However Dove doesn't actually come out all that often. He started his vigilante career because he got wrapped up in the supernatural side of Gotham, at first it was just helping the occasional stray ghost find their haunt, but you know how dangerous magic and the supernatural world can get in just the blink of an eye. Think Jujutsu Kaisen, he was able to see Gotham spirits causing and feeding off of citizens misery, and he just can't not help. When the Batfam realizes what he's doing, he's fully committed to helping the spirit of Gotham deal with her curse. They know there's nothing they can do to stop him, so they do the next best thing and give him armor, a mask and a weapon. They also up his training, which they had been doing before because… it's Gotham. So Mourning Dove doesn't actually come out as often as the others, just either when they're down on members, there's an emergency and need his powers, they want to teach him something, or when he just asks.
… Anyway, back on topic. Another way his autism affects him is making him mostly nonverbal/selectively mute. I'm making the assumption that they eventually do get his voice back, but at that point he can adequately communicate without his voice, using chirps and gestures. He knows now that if he needs to talk (talking to a stranger, needing to explain something more complicated, etc) he usually can. Usually. If he's stressed or uncomfortable in any way, he often finds that he can't talk. Thankfully he's been learning sign language for a few years now and can get across simple ideas and feelings just fine in a pinch. And sometimes, he doesn't even feel bad. And yet still, he can't find it in himself to speak. In those cases, if he needs to explain something complicated, he can write it down. He's gotten a lot better! And if he ever trips up, he can always look it up or use autocorrect if it's over text.
Another thing his trama definitely made a lot worse is that he has episodes of hypersensitivity. An analogy I once heard is that most minds are like doors, and most people can choose to shut the door on small pieces of information that are deemed unnecessary. Like the ticking of a clock, or the scratching of pencils around a classroom. But people with adhd can’t choose to closes those doors, and the flood of information can easily overstimulate us. With his super hearing this definitely becomes a problem, and I can only imagine it gets worse when in crowds. I actually already talked about this, with bad textures. Often we can ignore the extra sensory input and go on with our day, but when faced with something that agitates us, it opens the floodgates to make everything agitate us. The sounds of dinner don't usually annoy Danny, but with the extra bad sensory input that he just couldn't ignore, it made it so he couldn't ignore other pieces of input like usual, and it became too much for him. I usually counteract overstimulation by wearing headphones or earbuds, and while I know Danny definitely has noise canceling devices made for the supers with him 24/7 just in case, I think he deals with it, again, by controlling the texture of the cloths he’s wearing and using it to fidget. He counteracts the negative input by surrounding himself with positive input. If he's not in public or that doesnt work, he’ll curl up into himself and rock back and forth, countering the input with a soothing motion and clenching onto his skin like a stress ball. Of course, that's if Cujo, his service dog, isn't there to help him through it.
One thing that carries over into the future is his short attention span. curse you ADHD! He has trouble sitting still and concentrating on a task that doesn't interest him. However he still LOVES space, and often hyperfixates on it. He’ll sit in front of the tv or a tablet and watch documentaries for hours without moving an inch. The first time this happened the batfam where scared something was wrong, maybe he's having an episode and can't move? But when they approached him to see if he was alright he started wildly flapping his arms and letting out excited chirps, till he noticed the look on their face and got out his phone. An hour later he sent them a poorly written, excited and long text about his favorite star in the galaxy to the family group chat. Suffice it to say, space is his special interest. Since then they started using it as a way to get him to sit still or to distract him. Often it helps to play a documentary in the background while he does a task that doesn't interest him so he won't get so bored he up and leaves.
Last but not least, he has trouble understanding social cues. This is absolutely not helped by how sheltered he is in the social department. Danny's part ghost, and ghosts don’t really lie. It's just not a thing they do. They are loud and honest with their intentions, no beating around the bush. Danny just doesn't understand why people aren't straightforward as well. Danny is very honest and says exactly what he means. I always find this ironic when reading the actual story, that the one person in the family (minus Alfred) that's good at communicating can't talk. This is something that becomes an issue with Bruce and his habit of not using his words to talk. I'd like to imagine that, in trying to set a good example for his youngest son yet, he’d realize the importance of communication, and how he communicates.
You could argue that a lot of these traits come from his trauma, and you're absolutely right. It definitely contributes to making some of these traits a lot stronger than before in this au as well. However, I don't want to just make it all a trauma response because then it sort of implies something is… wrong with him. That there's something to fix. And I don't want him to be treated like that. There's nothing wrong with him liking hoodies. There's nothing wrong with him not wanting to talk. There's nothing wrong with him loving space so much. Those are just a part of who he is. Everyone has quirks, and those are his. I don't want the batfamily to obsess with fixing him, or try to make him “normal.” I want them to accommodate his needs like they do for everyone else in the family. I want them to accept him, and his flaws, like a normal person. Not look at him like he's broken. After everything, he deserves a family who accepts him, chirps and all.
Tldr of the last paragraph: making everything a trama thing makes people sad and want to help “fix” him instead of treating him like a normal person. I aint having that in my au so even if he wasn't hurt the way he was, he would still act like this. There's nothing wrong with Danny, he just needs to be accommodated for and treated like a normal person.
Bonus: close up and flat colors (idk if you can even see them but I am way more proud of those eyelashes than I have any right to be)
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How to Use Herbs: Basil (Sweet Basil)
Hwello again! This time we shall be talking about how to use basil in different forms. If you want more information about basil, please click this link to get to my basil post: Basil Let's get started.
Alchemist Formulas:
*Remember always try to see one part as a teaspoon before going into other measurements. Doing a smaller amount first and then trial and error is better than making too much and a mess.
Mars:
two parts red sandalwood
one part honeysuckle flowers
one part basil
one part ginger oil
one part juniper oil
Health
one part frankincense (Sun; vitality)
one part basil (Mars; energy)
one part cinnamon (Mercury; nervous system)
one part bay oil (Sun; health)
one part sandalwood oil (Moon; Inner Self)
Oils
Basil Essential Oil:
Ingredients
12 ounces olive oil
2 ounces basil, 1 packed cup
Remove basil leaves from stems.
Place olive oil in a pint sized mason jar.
Carefully stuff basil into mason jar and close the lid.
Store on a sunny windowsill for 1 day.
Use a funnel to strain oil and a spoon to smash last bits of oil out of leaves and discard the leaves.
Transfer oil to a decorative jar and refrigerate for up to 1 week.
Prosperity Oil:
1 part mint
1 part basil
1 part cinnamon
1 part pine
Carrier oil of your choice (olive oil, jojoba oil and etc)
Simply take a small mason jar and fill it a 1/4 of the way up with your chosen oil.
Add in your herbs while thinking of your intentions of prosperity and abundance and swirl the jar around clockwise.
Then add a little bit more of the oil before closing the lid.
Awakening Oil:
*This needs to crafted on a full moon
1/4 cup carrier oil
Mason jar
2 drops of basil oil
2 drops of thyme oil
Pour your carrier oil into the mason jar and then added the drops of thyme and basil
Swirl it gently in a clockwise direction so it will mix thoroughly. Say, "I awaken, I listen, I see. Enlightenment come to me. Awareness, mindfulness, clarity. Illumination come to me."
Anoint your temples on your head and pulse points with your oil before doing divination work.
Spells
Basil Growth Spell
Chop fresh basil into fine threads.
Warm honey gently over the stove. (A double boiler or bain-marie is recommended, as honey scorches easily.)
Add the basil to the honey and simmer.
Remove the basil-enhanced honey from the source of heat and murmur over it something like this: "Flies flocks to honey, Customers flock to me, Bears flock to honey, Business flocks to me, Ants flock to honey, Contracts flock to me."
Run a warm bath for yourself.
Rub the honey over your body, and then enter the bath.
Soak in the water for a while. When you emerge, before you drain the water, reserve some of the used bathwater.
Toss this on the grounds of your business.
Sex Worker’s Better Business Spell
Dress a lodestone , a magnetite rock, with essential oils of basil, bergamot, and lavender. (In theory, the lodestones' gender may be coordinated with the gender of the clientele you wish to draw.)
Sprinkle with magnetic sand and a pinch of ground cinnamon.
Carry or wear to charm up added business.
Exorcism Powder
Blend the following ingredients together and grind into a fine powder:
Dried basil
Frankincense
Rosemary
Rue
Yarrow
2. Blend this powder with arrowroot powder.
3. Sprinkle as needed.
Basil Cleansing Bath
Pour approximately one cup of boiling water over one heaped teaspoon of dried basil.
Allow this to stand until the water cools, creating a strong infusion.
Add this to your bath.
Financial Dreams (For Solutions)
Sprinkle either infused basil oil or essential oil of basil onto a lodestone, just before going to sleep.
Get into bed, turn out the lights and gently rub the scented lodestone in a sunwise direction on your forehead. (When you awake, your forehead will probably be dirty. Don’t panic; lodestone dust is lucky.)
Keep the lodestone near the bed, so that you can inhale the basil
Since two of these spells ask for lodestone, here is where you can get some and arrowroot powder. Lodestone , Arrowroot Powder
Kitchen Witch Recipe:
Wisdom Soup
Serves: 4
Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cooking Time: 30 minutes, plus a little bit until it’s just right
1 cup red lentils
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 can coconut milk
1 lime, sliced into thin wheels
Oil Options: Olive oil, toasted sesame oil
Sour Options: lemon juice, lime juice, rice vinegar
1 onion, diced
Sweet Options: Sugar, honey, agave
2 sprigs basil, de-stemmed and chopped
Salt Options: Soy sauce, sea salt, sweet miso (make a paste with miso and water before adding)
2 inches fresh ginger, minced
2 cups water
2 sprigs cilantro, de-stemmed and chopped
2 sprigs mint, de-stemmed and chopped
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
In a pot, place the lentils, coconut milk, and water, and bring to a boil.
Reduce heat and simmer.
Add the onion, garlic, ginger, cayenne.Stir. Do not cover.
Once the lentils are cooked and not firm (about 15–20 minutes), add one thing from the sour category, one from the sweet category, one from the salty, and some oil (add about a teaspoon of oil at a time). Taste. Repeat with a different item from each category.
Garnish with sliced wheels of lime and minced-up basil, mint, and cilantro.
I hope you enjoy these spells, recipes, and formulas and put them to good use. Use them wisely and bye byes~
Sources
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Hi can I request “Let me do this, please.” for geraskier please and thanks 💛
I'm sorry this took so long! I am a slow writer on a good day, and I was planning on doing like a 300 word drabble but Geralt said NO. 2500 words or I feed you to Roach
Read on AO3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Geralt, help me, please,” Jaskier screams.
Not Jaskier.
It is not Jaskier, but that doesn’t keep the blood from rushing in Geralt’s ears as he hunts the thing that has his voice.
Jaskier is safe, back at the inn - probably sleeping by now, or else terrorizing the pretty barmaid Geralt had left him flirting with. He’s safe, far away from this barren, gore-filled clearing, unless-
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have followed you.”
The voice is thick with tears, wobbling pitifully. The cries continue, ricocheting mercilessly through the forest.
“I’m afraid.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“Geralt, Geralt. I’m here.”
He is not here. The only trace of Jaskier comes from the strip of thick linen blocking Geralt’s vision, the barest memory of lemongrass and cinnamon hitting the air when he tugs the fabric more securely over his eyes. Beneath it, only rot.
Geralt turns in a slow circle, blade raised and ready to strike. He’s spent all day tracking the location of a nightwraith that has been calling young men to their deaths in the forest, and now the moon is high. Geralt is not a young man, so he is relieved to find - in a stroke of his peculiar sort of luck - that the nightwraith isn’t overly particular about which hearts it rips out and leaves at the edge of town.
“There you are,” it coos, the tone familiar and melodic. “I tried so hard to find you.”
It’s a perfect mockery of relief and exhaustion, the same sigh that greets him after a long day riding or a long night performing, and it’s close. Its feet fall just like Jaskier’s, a little heavier on his right side where his hip is starting to give him trouble - Geralt can almost see the unevenly worn soles of his boots crunching toward him through the blanket of leaves on the ground.
It's late enough in autumn that Jaskier would be grousing about the cold, and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, the creature's teeth begin to chatter.
“There’s something out here. I’m frightened. Why won’t you help me?”
Closer, now. Close enough for Geralt to lunge at it, and the gasp that falls into the quiet air when his sword finds the creature’s flesh belongs to Jaskier, too.
The strike falls short of a killing blow, thrust out blindly as it is, and does little more than confuse and enrage it. Soon the voices are overlapping, shrieking above him, losing their soft edge. Vicious wind tears around him and he’s caught in a squall of Jaskier weeping, Jaskier laughing, Jaskier howling in pain. It is behind him and before him, above him and around him, oppressive, inescapable. He has no choice but to rip the fabric from his eyes and-
And there is Jaskier, where Geralt knew he would be, kneeling in the dirt with trembling hands pressed into his side. A gruesome stain slips out from beneath his fingers, so similar to the red of his doublet that it only makes the fabric darker, and a matching ribbon of it falls from his mouth.
It’s a nightmare Geralt has woken from a thousand times, Jaskier all blue and pink and red, too red at the end of his own sword.
"Why?" the thing mouths, but it's lost, crackling out somewhere in the air instead of falling from his lips. The creature wields his voice like a weapon as it loses control, twisting that sweet tenor into something that stings his ears.
The taste of blood coats Geralt’s mouth and fills his nose, real and hot and nauseating. It's a strong illusion, built from grief and malice, and it has to end, now, before he cracks beneath the weight of it. He has no choice but to sprint past Jaskier to reach the corpse on the other side of the clearing, but even his enhanced speed is no match for a wraith this powerful. Fingers colder than ice wrap around his ankle and he is flung like a doll to the ground, knees singing with pain as they crash into the earth.
“Let me do this,” he shouts over the roaring wind, twisting back to face the wraith. He’s foolish for it, maybe, but it’s easier to argue with a monster when it wears a face he squabbles with a hundred times before breakfast most days. “Please. Let me help you!”
For a moment, the frigid hand on him only tightens. It’s enough to make his bones creak, but then Jaskier’s face softens, rippling out from the center. That familiar mop of messy hair turns golden, tumbling easily over a set of round, narrow shoulders. Finally, blue eyes turn maple brown - upturned and mournful, a perfect match to the farmer who had begged Geralt to find his missing daughter.
They had looked just like hers, watery and wide, when the man chased him down outside the alderman's hut. Find my girl, he had pleaded, pressing a stack of old coins into Geralt’s palm. Bring her home, however you can.
The flickery image of the girl nods once, just the barest dip of her chin as she releases his ankle. It’s enough for Geralt to lurch away, extending his hand to cast Igni over the too-small body decaying in the dry grass beside them. For a moment, above the rot and char and heat, the air is washed out with a breeze of sweet hay and lilies, and then she is gone.
What’s left behind is a maelstrom of untamed rage and malice, once more with Jaskier’s face, flickering now as the illusion struggles to hold itself together. Something sick and sharp blooms in Geralt’s throat, but he raises his sword anyway. He wavers, and the wraith smiles with his friend’s mouth. It’s all wrong - all sharp, dripping teeth jutting out from endless black, and that is just enough to snap Geralt back to focus.
The wraith shrieks, the witcher springs. It still has Jaskier’s tears and Jaskier’s hands and Jaskier’s sweet, wide eyes when it dies on Geralt’s sword.
**
The pleasant hum coming from the warmly lit hall of the Merry Magpie rises when Geralt stalks in the front door, its patrons ruffling like rattled hens at the sight of him. He forgoes the bar entirely - he’ll collect his coin from the alderman and deliver it along with a box of ashes to the farmer in the morning. Tonight, he’ll tend to the cold spike of grief and guilt settled in his own chest.
He can’t shake his unease as he climbs the stairs to the shadowy upper floor of the inn - it rolls around in his gut, sends his shoulders bunched halfway to his ears. It’s irrational, he knows, but the feeling only winds itself more tightly around his spine when he shoves open the door to their shared room and finds it empty.
Geralt swallows around the sharp thing creeping higher into his throat. The bard isn’t far, not with his lute and songsheets strewn about the bed. He’s just as likely to be in a room around the corner with that freckled barmaid, or out behind the inn with the stableman he’d been making eyes at all day, or-
“In here, Geralt!”
In his panic, he’d missed the thick humidity of the room and the scent of Jaskier’s soap, missed the familiar tick of his heart beating quarter-time against Geralt’s own.
“That is you, Geralt?” he continues, calling from behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. “You’d better be Geralt, or you’ll have some explaining to do to my outrageously large and occasionally violent very best friend in the whole wide world-”
His voice swings up an octave when he turns to find the witcher only a few paces from him.
“Merciful gods, witcher, you really have to stop doing that. It’s…unnerving. I am unnerved. Has anyone ever told you you’re unnerving?”
Jaskier has. Frequently, but Geralt is so caught up in staring at his throat working, whole and unhurt, that he doesn’t answer.
“Fuck. Are you alright?” Jaskier asks as he rounds the steaming basin in the center of the room to close the space between them. His tone is tempered now, low and even, the way it is when he soothes Roach while Geralt picks pebbles out of her shoes. Geralt wets his lips but only nods, and careful hands rise up to pet him over anyway.
There’s a peculiar crease in his brow, a dimple beside his frowning mouth that, surely, no creature could ever mimic. It only deepens as he works away the armor to uncover Geralt piece by piece, unable to find any visible injury. The help only slows him down, really, but Jaskier is warm and real and his waist fits neatly into Geralt’s palm where his hand has drifted, so he lets himself be fussed over.
The bard is chirping away as he always is when the thorns start to prick at Geralt’s stomach again.
“Jaskier,” he tries to command, but it comes out strangled, “I need you to stop talking.”
The bard squawks indignantly, swatting at his shoulder where he’s masterfully knocking loose a pauldron that needs its latch replaced.
“You are so rude, do you know? You’re terrible to me.”
“Jask. Stop.”
Either Jaskier hears the plea he’s trying to swallow, or Geralt is bleeding out on the forest floor and hallucinating, because he snaps his mouth shut obediently and steps back. That’s wrong, that’s worse, so Geralt tightens the hand on his waist to draw him back into the circle of his arms.
He presses his face into the space beneath Jaskier’s jaw, because he wants to, and because he can’t help himself. His other hand drifts into the gently curling hair at the nape of Jaskier’s neck, damp with sweat and steam from the bath slowly cooling beside them. He startles slightly at the touch, but Geralt only noses in further.
After what has been only a moment for Geralt but certainly a small eternity for the bard, he speaks softly into the top of Geralt’s head.
“Just tell me what’s wrong, dear. Please.”
“It had your voice,” he whispers. Jaskier scoffs indignantly, but it’s missing some of his usual bluster.
“I can assure you, nothing and no one on this Continent has my-”
He cuts himself off, tensing in Geralt’s hold as the words hang above them.
Luring our men into the forest, the innkeeper's wife had said. They all heard it - their wives, lovers, calling to them in the night. It drove them mad, ripped their hearts out.
“It had my voice.”
He understands, and the meaning is cutting through the air like an arrow let loose too soon, flying outside Geralt's control.
“And you had to…?” Jaskier grimaces, all blunt teeth, and leans back to drag a thumb across his throat. Geralt nods tightly, follows the motion with his eyes and then with the tips of his own fingers. That familiar sparrow-heart pulse jumps up to meet his touch in the same soft and perfect spot where Geralt had plunged his sword.
“Oh, love,” he breathes, and it twists in Geralt's stomach like a fist. He slides his eyes away to track a bead of sweat falling from Jaskier's temple, and he can smell it - lemongrass and cinnamon, salt-sweet skin. No copper, no decay.
Though his blood moves too slowly for it to show, Geralt feels the flush high in his cheeks anyway, where it might blossom on a human's face - where it does begin to blossom on Jaskier's. It pricks strangely beneath his eyes, makes his tongue slow and clumsy.
“Did you know?”
A startled noise bubbles out of Jaskier as he meets Geralt’s gaze, but his eyes are fond and soft, wide with something that looks like wonder. Geralt leans into the tender brush of knuckles across his cheek, forgetting for a moment why he ever stopped himself before.
“That you love me?” He laughs, high and soft and musical. It's unbearable. “I suspected. Did you?”
The answer sits on his tongue like the last bite of an apple tart, lives in his throat like a shared skin of good wine, scratches at his chest like an ancient shirt stitched together by a musician's cautious hands.
“I must have. I-” he shakes his head as if the right words might tumble out of him. Jaskier only sighs, an easy smile stuck on his face as he raises his palm to Geralt's cheek. It's the same look he has when they meet each other on the road after a season apart.
He can’t reconcile the smile and the screaming, the image of the wraith still exploding like a bomb behind his eyelids.
"I'm sorry," he says, nonsensically. His thumb is back at the hollow of Jaskier's throat.
"For what?"
"I hurt you."
I cut you down as you begged me not to. As you cried out for me to help you. What does that make me?
"Show me," he whispers, just loud enough to hear over the peculiar tangle of their heartbeats. There is an unfamiliar look on his face, something curious and patient, something that makes him sweat even as the room is cooling.
Geralt swallows hard, presses his thumb into the top of Jaskier's throat, dragging it down until it meets the loosely gathered laces of his chemise. Jaskier's hands fly up to untie them, slowly exposing each precious inch of skin that had been rent and torn by the blade. Instead of steel, Geralt pulls gooseflesh along in his wake. It blooms along with the sweetly creeping flush that spreads across Jaskier's collarbones - blood brought to surface by his hand, again, so different this time.
Geralt continues his path over Jaskier's breastbone, across the dip between his ribs, until he reaches the spot above Jaskier's navel where his sword had struck its final blow. He follows the path again with the flat of his hand, up over a rabbiting heart until his palm rests in its place against Jaskier's neck. His breaths have gone thin and quick, the way they did when he was dying.
He's not dying, now - no, Jaskier is very much alive when he closes the meager space between them. He's alive when he tips their foreheads together, and Geralt wonders how he could ever have been fooled, seeing this face without the crinkles near his eyes and the easy flush in his cheeks. He’s so alive when their lips brush and it’s all sweet and hot, no ash left in the breath they share.
Geralt knows what Jaskier sounds like with steel in his throat, now, what he sounds like drowning in his own blood. He’ll never unlearn it. It's only fair, he decides, that he should know what Jaskier sounds like when his lips find that same place, when his tongue follows.
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Imagine:
You, Great Creator of Teyvat, in the life before returning to your loving creations, contract lycanthropy. Beneath the moon, your body breaks and reforms as a great beast of the hunt.
Upon returning to the world you made, that power is now within your grasp, instead of the other way around. You don't need to lock yourself in a secure place every month or desperately resist the allure of raw animal meat - you can just toggle the Mighty Awoo Form whenever you please.
The people of Teyvat don't really understand what it is about a child raised by literal wolves that has their Creator so enamored, but it's kind of something they envy.
All the money in the world means nothing, flying is a vague passing fancy, walking on water or making bonfires from nothing or summoning lightning are just kind of given a pat on the back for.
But this dog boy who isn't even fully literate is constantly being given little favors, like randomly getting steaks or a bunch of animals coming into the area his pack lives in so they don't go hungry.
Speaking of dog boys, Gorou is more than a little flustered by the fact that the Architect of Eternity favors him.
(It's the one thing he can hold over Yae Miko when she's terrorizing him, and he's all the more grateful to you for that protection.)
At some point, one of your very envious and flustered acolytes come to you and ask just what it is about the pair that has given them such favor in your eyes.
Your response is an invitation to all of your acolytes to a special room of the palace on the night of the full moon.
They're all very excited to see this room, which up until now has been off limits.
Upon entering, that excitement becomes concern because of the massive claw marks in every wall and also the heavy scent of blood and the fainter scent of rot.
Once they've gathered, and the moon has reached its apex in the sky, you reach back in your soul for the Wolf Within.
It reaches back, tail wagging a thousand miles an hour, eager and happy to be free to roam.
And you undergo the change.
They watch in something like horrified reverence as your mortal form is warped and ravaged by something from within, something making their Divine Creator into a beast.
And you stand again, the shift over, now completely towering over every other being in the room.
(Because I love Okami, I'm gonna say your holy werewolf form has the cool swirls and red outlines that Ammy does
but with a twist- instead of red, glimmering blue starlight adorns your fur, and the massive disc hovering behind you is made of perfect moonstone, connected stars softly drifting up from it, briefly forming constellations, and then vanishing.)
Razor BEAMS. The All-Maker was Lupical before, but now you're like Ultra Lupical! You are a wolf-person too, but, like, up to 11! You even have your own moon!
Gorou's smiling, his tail wagging rapidly. You know what it's like to have instincts like his, no wonder you were so considerate of his sensitivity to sound and smell, to his urges to chase- you had them all too.
Others range from 'absolutely flabbergasted' to 'weeping with jealousy' to 'a little worried why they're attracted to you being A Magical Wolf Person'.
You howl, and every other canine thing on the continent howls with you (including Razor, who is a wolf in spirit at the very least).
Andrius is having a big puppyish field day over the fact that the Celestial Packmaster is so close to his own form.
(He brags constantly to the other spirit animals of the world about how You definitely made him in Your image and gave him Razor to pass on the way of the wolf to, even if you didn't directly or indirectly do this.)
(The Adepti, for the first in probably millennia, feel their heart rates pick up in animal fear because if you so desired, they would be Back On The Menu, and no amount of running or flying would save them from the stamina of an enhanced human body mixed with the strength and speed of a divine wolf.)
You make sure your other hybrid or supernatural followers are well aware that you have nothing against them and that if you decide to go on a hunt, there's always space for them in your pack.
It becomes common for shrines to you to have guardian animals, dogs or wolves especially, and for hunters to bring your shrines the first kill they make under the light of the full moon every month.
(Maybe thanks to you 'accidentally' saying things out loud when you think you're alone, rumors start spreading that those with nonhuman traits (horns, animal ears and tails, nonhuman limbs) were descended from your favored servants or perhaps even your children.
And maybe that action means that those who've been ostracized for their nonhuman traits can live safer, happier lives, without the fear of rejection or the enmity of their neighbors.
But that's your little secret. They don't need to know.)
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Volo’s boss fight theme being a remixed version of Cynthia theme implies the idea that THAT song was passed down to her which creates two hilarious scenarios
A. When volo finally goes all out. Boss fight mode, pulling out all the stops, reverting to hisui boss fight
In like. The battle station with emmet’s employees/ hired-menaces-to-his-love-life off to the side to see how good of a battler volo and fires him up to the point he decides to bring out the big guns
and then.
spirittomb comes out of the pokeball, the piano starts playing. It starts with shadow ball. Volo has an arm on his hip.
Someone pulls up a picture of Cynthia and waves it next to volo
Mass panic ensues as the workers realizes that emmet is in EMINENT DANGER OF BEING SWEPT
bonus points if all of the workers had fought Cynthia before and got ptsd from her and there was a joke bet that volo is Cynthia in deguise/is related to her
Extra bonus points if emmet never heard of Cynthia’s theme and is wondering why they’re yelling at him to surrender before it’s too late
B. Cynthia, posting a picture of volo, full on red, hiding his face into a pillow to the regional champion group chat: my great great great great great grandfather is responsible for my battle theme which traumatized dozens of children and he looks like this after emmet texts “I love you”
Iris: im sorry yoUR GRANDFATHER???! HE LOOKS LIKE THAT? AND HES DATING THE SUBWAY MASTER
cynthia: I know right? Can’t believe he nearly took over the world 2,000 years ago lol- oh, gotta feed his garchomp
Iris: HE HAS A GARCHOMP???
2/2
I always think that boss battle themes are actually something less inherent to the world of Pokémon and more like a more modern development to enhance gym battles. The music will play over speakers to add tension to the battle, and even some trainers will play battle music from their phones. So at the subway, the Battle Subway theme would play over the speakers! Volo did make his battle theme as that started to become popular and Cynthia revamped it for her own battles and eventually implemented it in her champion fight. It probably wouldn’t be until Volo volunteers to play his battle theme would people be like: ._. Hey wait a minute
And tbf
Cynthia probably sends a lot of texts like these to people:
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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Two
Paul and Ringo cabaret duo au NOW!
Their collective bitter humor about the fan mag. I think George probably appreciates Paul getting into this sort of shit with him. Even if it is only on a surface-level. A reminder that the Beatles fame journey (something that's been hellish at times for George, enough to give him PTSD and other issues for the rest of his life) has not left Paul unscathed. That Paul actually does have feelings, however buried they may be.
Could even be that the appreciation comes out in the form of "I think your beard suits you. Man." Does the tacked-on 'man' mean a sort of "no homo" type qualifier? Or is it just an added endearment. I know we don't think of George as particularly inhibited, but it was the sixties. And of course Paul loves the compliment and has no idea what to do with it.
Can you all please thank Mal as he hands you your tea next time? Not that hard, guys.
Ringo's voice is so sexy. And I love how supportive Paul and George are of this very stupid song. If either of them had written it, they'd tear it to shreds, but it's Ringo, so we laugh along and enthuse about the sentiments behind the lyrics.
The communal bitching about EMI's treatment of them. As they should.
Oh goodness, it's the "Paul has an embarrassing crush" moment from that iconic post of @jeremy-hillary-boob He totally does and you should say it. "I never used to know what it meant". It's giving "girl pretends not to know how to hold her golf club so the hot guy will touch her".
I have a theory that some of their covers ~matter~ and "What do you want to make those eyes at me for?" Is the first one for me.
Okay this look right here that John is giving Paul? Not to, like, out myself as never having experienced pure love except from my own child or anything, but the only other place I've ever seen that look is on my one-year-old's face when I come get him from his nap. So ... "A lovely little baby, John was"
"If this boy dies, you're gonna cop it." Peak older brother behavior. He's joking, but he's also deadly serious.
In love with John trying to sing out of his range. He's trying so hard, you guys.
"Everybody had a hard year. 'well, I'm not sure, actually. Put [good year]." Same, John. Isn't it always that way? Hard. And good. He's such a genius lyricist. He just captures the human condition with such specificity.
Lol at Paul correcting John on the key of his own song (yeah, yeah, gimme some truth is secretly a colab but it's still a John song)
When they put a piano in front of Paul and John's instantly like "uh-oh, red-alert my beautiful boyfriend might not get captured perfectly from every angle" vs a year and a half later when he's bitching about Paul having too much screen-time in Let it Be. Well, you were part of the problem, babe.
I love George's way of teaching his songs. Whereas Paul was shouting key changes and counts between phrases, and John doesn't even bother to give any of that information, George is just softly singing "E, to F sharp minor. E to A." Beautiful. John and Paul, take notes.
Wonder if I'll get through a day without calling Paul a whore. Probably not.
John being instantly self-effacing after suggesting that genius little let's enhancement. "My mind can blow those clouds away" is actually much more original and thought-provoking, but John just makes fun of himself. Like. Just own it. You're John fucking Lennon!
The George/Paul convo (George talking, Paul hardly flinching) is so painful actually. Because from the outside, Paul's avoidance looks so condescending and unfeeling, but avoidance feels much more like 'Shit fuck shit dodge the fight, go around, don't react, don't engage, don't start something' and i really feel for both of them.
Let John do Help for gosh sakes!
"Not bad though. Good try, that. Johnny."
The part where Paul is looking just so exhausted, and he's actually letting it show, and then he sees the camera on him and hurries and tries to do a cheeky little Beatles head-shake and smile. But then he's really just too tired (and high) and he looks away and rubs his eyes. It was like watching an old circus bear. Those poor things.
And of course John's head snapping up like a little gopher when Paul says his name
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