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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months

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shrine of your lights

🍯 honey flavour: edibles and a church wedding to attend. what could go wrong with Eddie as your plus one?

🐝 the bees: FWB!Eddie x reader

wc: 4.8k

content warnings: a smidge of Catholic blasphemy, weed usage, friends w/ benefits Eddie, R is a bit of a love (and relationship) skeptic and Eddie is lovesick, R+E are in their 20’s, pining, public sex (no one but them observes tho), R has hair long enough to tuck behind ears, R gets a hickey but skin tone/color is not described, R has breasts and a V, softdom Eddie, marking kink (?)

foreword: I listened to Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac for this. LOL. kind of AU bc it’s a few years after ssn 4 and everyone is alive and just fine (lovesick but oh well can’t b helped) based on this anon thank u for inspiring me!!!!

The stained glass window in front of you looms tall, afternoon light streaming through and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wood flooring. You stretch out a hand into the warm beam of sun, admiring the way the colors catch and bounce off your dainty star-chain bracelet.

When Eddie had suggested you two eat some weed brownies as a precursor to your (very distant, very Catholic) cousin’s wedding, you hadn’t quite expected to get as stoned as you are now. Since Eddie hasn’t attended any major life functions sober since 1981, and seeing as how you refuse to step foot inside a church space without some sort of social lubricant, the weed wasn’t a hard sell at all.

To be fair, Eddie had warned you of their potency, and you had snuck another quarter of a brownie when his back was turned: but christ, your tolerance must be crazy low or something, ‘cuz a window has no right to be this mesmerizing.

You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes, in your own little world while a steady stream of wedding guests file in through the big oak doors and mill about before the ceremony. The warm, still air of the church is heady with the smell of fresh florals and incense, and a line of votive candles flicker and wink against the windowsill.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s still speaking in gentle tones with an elderly woman (whom you’re likely related to, hard to say) near the foyer, all charming smile and sincere hand pressed to the slip of bare chest his button-down displays. You’ve got to hand it to the guy, he’s really great at endearing himself to total strangers; he’s been a natural shoe-in for any plus-one you’ve needed over the past few years.

While Eddie is perfectly in his element, holding what looks to be an engaging conversation while stoned to all hell, your focus is drawn back to the window. You should probably be on the arm of your guest, seeing as how it’s your family wedding after all, but the swirling lights and colors are too alluring to pull yourself away from.

“Beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?”

The voice behind you is unfamiliar, and proper social graces here would call for an introduction, perhaps a firm handshake, but your limbs and tongue feel so loose and the reply is out of your mouth before you can think twice- “God, yeah. S’fucking gorgeous. I want one for my house.”

There’s a light cough, and when you turn on your low-heeled Mary Janes it’s under the amused eye of a priest- in full priest-garb. Green velvet robes and little hat and everything.

You realize your error- swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain- but the brief stint in Catholic school from when you were 6 is unfortunately not recalled in time to stop the scramble of swears mixed with apologies that come tumbling out.

“Oh shit- I mean- fuck. Oh god. Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean-”

The priest- old as hell but thankfully with sense of humor still intact- smiles kindly at you and takes your hand in both of his, patting graciously. “No apologies are necessary, my dear. The beauty of God can be overwhelming and awe-inducing.”

You nod jerkily, grabbing on to his excuse- “Yes, yep. That’s exactly what happened. Struck down by the awe.”

The priest nods to you, and then to Eddie (who’s appeared at your side like a guard dog that sensed trouble), then wanders off down a row of pews to greet other guests.

You’re nearly doubled over with the effort it takes to conceal your laughter, Eddie stroking a calming hand down your back and chuckling with you under his breath.

“Struck down by the awe, huh?” he echoes as you straighten back up and dab at the tears gathering against your lashline. “You really are somethin’.”

“That was so embarrassing but guess what-” here you lean in, voice a conspiratorial whisper as Eddie raises his eyebrows to look down his nose at you- “I don’t give a fuck ‘cuz I’m hi-igh.”

This last word is sung with a two-note lilt, and you turn back to the comfort of the sunny window as Eddie steps in beside you, shaking his head. “I told you to start with a lower dose, ya goose. Did you take more when I wasn’t looking?”

You shrug a shoulder, the soft linen of your cardigan brushing up against the hard leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Maybe. Couldn’t say. You gonna steal this window for me or what?”

He blows out a breath, pretending to appraise the size and heft, rapping his ringed knuckles against the sill- “Well normally I’d say ‘anything for my girl’, but we’d need a shrink ray for this type’a heist.”

“Maybe Dustin has one we can borrow.”

He sucks his front teeth, playing along, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. “Nah, little shit’s only got a ham radio. Useless when it comes to religious robbery.”

Eddie looks overly pleased when you giggle, but some of the humor in his face falls to concern as he reaches out to squeeze your upper arms. “Hey. You doin’ okay? If you’re too stoned to sit through the ceremony, I can find us a little spot to hole up in. I’m good at finding those.”

“I know you are,” you reply, waving away his worry. “I’m fine, honest. Do I look high?”

He holds you at arm’s length, giving you a contemplative once-over. “Nope. You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately, then smooth your palms over the front of your black slip dress and pull the scalloped sleeves of your cardigan into place. “Well, of that I am aware.”

Eddie winks, and you really wish you were sober enough that the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne would have less of an effect but high as you are, you want nothing more than to burrow into his neck and taste the salt of his skin.

“Do I look high?” he asks, pulling away to do a little spin so you can appraise his appearance.

Eddie Munson, as it turns out, cleans up very well for family functions: smart black boots, maroon button-down tucked into a pair of flare-legged trousers, worn but well-kept leather jacket to top the outfit off. And in signature Eddie fashion, little glints of silver highlight the ensemble- his usual chunky rings, stacked layers of thin chain necklaces, metal buckles on his coat and at his waist, even a set of tiny hoops (courtesy of your jewelry drawer) in his ears.

The dryness in your mouth has nothing to do with your intoxication as you blink back to the present and give Eddie a once-over. “Uhm. Nope. You look sober. And very hot.”

He grins at you, wolfish, but then a bright chord of organ music signals the start of the ceremony. With a steady hand on your back, he leads you to a pew near the last row; when you’re both seated, his hand runs smoothly down to rest on your thigh, drumming a lazy beat with his thumb against you as the processional starts.

Your cousin Marion looks lovely swathed in white tulle, contrasted with her groom in a black tux. Her mother, your aunt- Karen? Karina? can’t recall- dabs at her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief in the front pew as the couple exchanges vows, promising eternal and ineffable love until their ultimate demise, etcetera.

You’re not someone who’s ever fallen prone to the gushy emotions that love seems to create in so many of your peers. While Nancy and Robin will dole out tissues to each other during some cheesy romcom, you’ll get ribbed for being so stoic. None of your breakups have ever ended in giant blowouts or dramatics from your side- hard to fight for something when you hadn’t really cared about it in the first place.

That’s why you consider yourself so lucky, when it comes to Eddie. After the two of you ended your high school fling due to graduation, you’d come back to Hawkins after a few years of college and found yourself sneaking out like a teenager again to hang out with Eddie Munson.

He told you he doesn’t want anything serious, either, and that he’s just fine being friends who sleep around and go to all of each other’s parties.

You almost believe him.

He’s been to every one of your nephew’s hockey games this past season, and you’ve spent two cozy Christmases so far at the trailer with him and Wayne; every party in between has ended with Eddie driving you home, or (more frequently) back to his place. Your collective relatives and friends haven’t asked about your relationship status in years, and it’s all thanks to Eddie’s presence in your life: if the two of you aren’t technically dating, it’s really no one’s business.

The old priest from earlier is droning on about some bible verse; uncomfortable on the hard bench and feeling restless, you shift your hips, and Eddie digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh.

“Quit. Squirming,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. When you shiver and still, he pats your leg and straightens again, eyes fixed to the front altar.

You and Eddie make it through the ceremony with minimal damage, only getting one dirty look from an older man in the pew ahead when you’d snickered at a dirty joke (courtesy of your benchmate). Marion and her new husband greet their guests one by one as everyone filters outside, and you coast easily through the interaction, kissing your cousin on both cheeks and fawning over her dress and giving just the right amount of congrats before Eddie plucks at your elbow to subtly redirect your attention.

“Let’s get some food in you,” he says, linking your arms together as you follow the receiving line outdoors.

The reception is held just next to the church building in a surprisingly lovely courtyard. Sunlight filters through the willow trees at the edge of a grass yard, where a picnic basket awaits on each spread quilt. People are kicking off their dress shoes, unwinding with the lure of nature, kids chasing each other through the paths between blankets as adults wiggle their toes into the grass and dig into the luncheon.

Possibly, you’re high and over-romanticizing, but you can tell by the look on Eddie’s face he’s there with you, taking it all in from your blanket in a quiet corner of the yard.

There are finger sandwiches in the basket, along with some fresh fruit and plastic utensils and plates to eat off of; Eddie fixes you a plate and you dig in happily, sock feet tucked under yourself, yours and Eddie’s shoes in a jumble nearby.

“Could eat anything when I’m high,” you muse, then bite into a sandwich that has the perfect cream-cheese-to-cucumber ratio with a contented sigh. “Food is so good.”

Eddie snaps a baby carrot with his back teeth, then snorts at you before reaching out to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before it gets eaten along with your food. “I know you can eat anything when you’re high. I once saw you scooping up apple pie with potato chips.”

You give him a sidelong frown, mouth full of bread and veg as you defend yourself- “Yeah, and it was great. Dee-licious. Would do it again if-”

Your name is being called, and you swivel to see a young man about your age weaving along the spaces between blankets towards yours and Eddie’s spot.

“Tony!” In a neat bit of multitasking, you manage to swallow your food and rise to your feet (albeit unsteadily, with Eddie’s hand snapping out to support your efforts), then hold your arms out to envelop the boy in a hug. “Oh my god, it’s been ages.”

Anthony Townsend has grown up in the time you’ve spent away- the last recollection you have of your former childhood neighbor is his mop of red hair bouncing with the trampoline his parents bought him in 6th grade. He grew into his looks, for sure- the awkwardness of pre-teen ears and too-big front teeth have settled into a very kind and handsome face.

He looks genuinely pleased to see you, returning your hug with a squeeze, pulling back to hold both your hands and ask about where you’ve been. You breeze through a highlighted version of the last few years, leaving out all the interdimensional monster bullshit and focusing the questions back on him.

Tony’s telling you about his father’s veterinary practice that’s still running smoothly when you feel Eddie at your back, and Tony falters, dropping your hands.

Social cues come a tad slow to you, under the influence, and you think Tony’s stumbling because you haven’t introduced him yet (how were you supposed to know Eddie’s been glaring daggers at the poor kid ever since you’d hugged him?), and you attempt to remedy your mistake with a casual remark- “You know, Eddie here has been feeding the stray cats at our place every night, a whole colony of them- there’s gotta be, what, ten of ‘em now?”

You turn to Eddie for confirmation, reeling a little at the dark scowl he’s still sporting as he nods. “Yup. Somethin’ like.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck, freckled cheeks pink as he begins to back away- “Um, yeah. Cool. Well it was great to see you! I gotta…”

With a vague gesture, he turns and tails it back to his blanket on the other side of the yard. You whirl on Eddie, his face smoothing back into relaxed indifference, even as you hiss, “What the hell was that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean, princess.”

“That,” you repeat, waving an arm in the air for emphasis. “I know I’m not sober but you were being weird, even by my standards.”

There’s this look that Eddie gets, sometimes, when one of you bumps against the walls of your loosely-defined relationship- a brief flash of pain and sadness before it gets hidden away behind his comfortable mask of bravado.

He’s got it now- a small pinch in his eyebrows, doey eyes swimming with emotion, and you put a hand on his leather-clad arm as the pieces fall into place. “Were you… are you jealous?”

In the span of a blink, the mask is back up, and with a dry laugh that’s so unlike him, Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? ‘S not like we belong to each other.”

Maybe on a different day, with half the weed in your system, you’d be able to let this comment slide. But there’s something deeply hurtful about it, sinking and twisting in your stomach like a stone. Your grip tightens on Eddie’s arm, tears stinging hot at your eyes, voice a watery, desperate thing- “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Eddie is quick to comfort you, once he realizes you’re close to crying- “Shit, sweetheart. Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think…” Your voice is still shaky with emotion as Eddie lets you hold on to him, gently shushing you even though there’s no one near enough to hear. “You’re important to me, Eddie. I never wanna make you mad, or upset, or-”

“I’m not.” Eddie cuts smoothly into your rambling, placing his hands on either side of your neck as you cling to him, cool rings kissing into your skin. “I’m not mad, promise. I was just being an asshole for no reason, okay? Could never be mad at you.”

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat, your breath and heart rate lulled to normal under his touch, his expression returning to the gentle fondness you’re used to seeing.

“Let’s finish up lunch, hm?” Eddie says, and with a final soft squeeze he pulls away from you, taking with him the warmth of his palms.

It’s always like this, with him, at least in front of your respective families- any PDA is kept to a strict minimum, nothing too intimate or drawn out so as not to attract attention. You’d implemented this rule from the beginning, and Eddie has been nothing but respectful of it, your peace of mind over not wanting a label pacified.

But right now? The lack of Eddie’s arms around you or his lips on yours was starting to make you ache.

You both settle into the blanket again, conversation flowing around mouthfuls of food as you catch Eddie up with the latest family gossip, laughing when he bats your pointer finger out of the air (as if anyone is really paying attention to you two giggling loons).

Someone’s brought a radio and has it dialed to a soft rock station; you gasp and shove at Eddie (sprawled out like a house cat after a full meal in the sun), exclaiming “It’s Fleetwood Mac and you love Fleetwood Mac!”

“I so don’t,” he grumbles, but rises easily when you tug at him to stand sock-to-sock feet with you in the grass.

You both fall into a smooth rhythm, Eddie’s hands staying (respectably) on your hips, yours looped around his neck, doing a slow little rotation. He gazes at you as you sway back and forth in each other’s arms, the scrutiny making you titter and fidget.

“What?”

“Thought I told you to quit squirmin’,' ' comes his answer, hands tightening into the meat of your waist. “Let me look at you a minute.”

So you let him look.

While his chocolate eyes roam your face, you trail a hand up to curl a lock of his hair around your finger. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, giving you room to do some staring of your own at those long, dark lashes.

After another slow circle, Eddie inhales and draws himself back, clearing his throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, sweetheart, but we’re gonna start getting looks if you don’t quit using me as your personal stress toy.”

You snort. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“All good,” he replies, dimples springing into his cheeks, teasing again- “When we get home later you can pet me like a dog, if you want. Just gotta tone you down ‘cuz you get touchy when you’re high.”

Eddie’s being a perfect gentleman. He’s sticking to your rules and looking out for you.

So why is it making you so sad?

You realize, with a stunning clarity, that you don’t want to wait until you’re back at the trailer to touch Eddie. That you’re starting to crave him when he leaves, whether it’s for a day or an hour or just out of bed to get a snack.

Fuck it, you think, and bend to scoop up your shoes.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tell Eddie, slipping on your shoes then starting towards the building. When you realize he’s not following, you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder- “Aren’t you coming?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if you’re insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating or if he’s just really, really high. “Um. Uh…”

You don’t leave room for the shock to sink in, turning on your heel and smirking when you hear him swear under his breath and scramble to catch up.

In a narrow hallway lined with portraits of long-dead saints, you push Eddie against the wall, mouth sealing over his and hands roaming hungrily over his body.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, in between kisses, your fingers tugging at the root of his hair, near the nape of his neck where it stings the best- “what’s got you so worked up, princess?”

“You.” The answer is an honest one. You slip your tongue between Eddie’s teeth and the boy moans, melting into you.

Peppering kisses down Eddie’s face, your lips settle into the hollow just under his jaw, then part to give room to your teeth. Eddie stiffens as you bite down, sensitive skin pierced by your mouth; it’s his turn to be the squirmy one as you suck a bruise into that soft spot.

His cock is filling out, as proved by the steadily-growing bulge behind his zipper. You give a mean little wiggle of your hips and Eddie jolts so hard you lose your spot on his neck, popping off him with a wet smack.

“Angel, you have to stop.” Eddie sounds absolutely wrecked as he tries to maintain some distance, head tipped back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that. Let me take you home, we can-”

“Shhh.” You quiet him with a pointer finger smooshed against his lips, your other hand tilted to your ear. “You hear that?”

Eddie strains to hear distant cheers and hip hip hoorays from the festivities a few corridors away; when he nods, you whisper, “That’s the cake cutting. We have a good ten minutes before anyone thinks to come back here.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s off the hook when you release him completely, walking swiftly towards the main sanctuary. But then, because you’re a temptress, you beckon him with an impatient wave.

And because he’s so easy for you, he follows.

It’s like that window has a magnetic pull- you’re back under the prismatic glow of the stained glass, brushing a hand across the wide sill to dust it before hopping up to perch there. You fit neatly between the split row of votive candles (all snuffed out by now), enough room for your knees to part and for Eddie to fill the space.

You cross your arms around his neck, drawing him in with another deep kiss as his hands find your waist.

“Want you to mark me up,” you murmur, and when Eddie draws back, wary, you let your chin tip up. The crown of your head knocks into the window, exposing your throat. “Show them I’m yours, Eds.”

Only have to tell him twice, apparently, ‘cuz his teeth sink into your stretch of soft skin without further qualms. The feeling of his tongue soothing over the sore spot makes you jump, hips bucking forward into his hand that you didn’t even notice had trailed up the inside of your dress.

His long fingers pet at the wet patch that’s seeping through your underwear, catching at your clit on an upstroke, your gasp a harsh noise in the otherwise silent sanctuary.

Eddie begins to rub at you through the fabric in earnest now, tight circles with his thumb even as he pulls his mouth from your neck to assess his handiwork. “Yeah, fuck, sweetheart, that’s gonna leave a mark. You want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?”

Your bundle of nerves throbs under Eddie’s touch and you curse, hands weaving tight into his hair again. “Shit, Eddie, yeah- just like that…”

He dips back into the well of your neck with his teeth, keeps just the right amount of pressure on your clit, and that tension coiling in your lower stomach is just about to snap before you stop him with a hand around his wrist.

“Sorry,” you pant through the apology, forehead crushed to Eddie’s collarbone as you try and catch your breath. “Was about to come and I want you inside of me for that.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckles as you giggle, chastising- “Hush and mind your manners, Munson. That’s blaspheming and we’re about to fuck in a church.”

“I’ll show you manners.” Eddie has his pants and briefs shoved to mid-thigh before you can draw breath to tell him off; one hand smears precum down the shaft of his ruddy cock as the other pushes your dress up and hooks your panties to the side.

You’re wet and worked up enough that he slides into the heat of you with ease, breath punching out with the way his cock completely fills you. When Eddie pulls out and sinks back in, you let out a keening whine and scrabble for purchase on his leather jacket.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it-” his voice is a dark rumble, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips, the squelch of your slick walls responding. “So wet for me. That’s my good girl. You like gettin’ off to being mine, huh, angel?”

You nod, head lolling against the window, and Eddie grins wicked even though you can’t see it. “Come on. Show me whose pussy this is.”

When his hand snakes between your bodies to press against your clit with his thumb, you come with a long, strained whimper, ankles crossing at the small of Eddie’s back to draw him closer while the velvet walls of your cunt spasm.

Eddie’s free hand shoots out to the supporting wood arch of the window for stability as he angles his hips up, longing for that glossy honey-eyed look you get sometimes: and there it is, your eyes half-lidded and brow pinched in pleasure as his cock hits against that gummy spot, the tremble of your thighs locked around his waist as your orgasm peaks.

Once he’s fucked you through the height of it, Eddie dips to bite at the taut muscle where your neck and shoulder meet, clamping down on the words threatening to flood out as his hips stutter. He comes hard, deep groan muffled into your neck, curses and praises spilling out in mindless babbling: “Fuck fuck, angel, that’s it, honey, shit, you’re so wet. All for me, huh, baby? Doin’ so good…”

He sags into your arms, pinning you to the window, chests heaving in tandem as you both catch your breath. You stroke a hand down his back, towards his ass, and then to the edge of his pants.

When he realizes that you’re trying to tuck him back into his clothes he whines at you, but you’re quick to shush him. “We’re cuttin’ it close with timing already, Eds. Help me out?”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away from the wet warmth of you to re-dress. Once his belt is in place he attends to you, helping shift the hem of your dress back down, rubbing his finger lightly under the skin of your eye where some mascara had smudged.

“I’ll double back for the keys and we’ll go home, ‘kay?” Eddie says, nose nudging into your cheek. “Wait here. You got some wicked marks and everyone will know we just fucked.”

“Pfft. No they won’t. Who would actually fuck in a church?” You push Eddie back playfully, hopping down from the sill with a wink. “You’ve gotta be sick to do that. Good thing my family believes you to be a perfect goody-two-shoes.”

Eddie stares as you make for the doors back to the courtyard, shrugging off his incredulity- “Eddie. It’s fine. So they’ll think we made out a bit. Who cares? Not me. And plus…” here you trail off and point, mischievous, Eddie’s eye’s following the line to his sock feet- “...you kinda have a no-shoes situation goin’ on. Gotta fix that.”

When you disappear through the doors, Eddie slams a palm to his chest, in awe- then feels the outline of the lighter in his inner pocket. With a practiced twist, he has it out and lit in a second, holding the flame to the wick of a votive candle.

“I don’t know how these candles work, exactly, or if atheists are allowed to…” Eddie clears his throat, glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re still out of earshot, then whispers above the flickering light: “Please let this be real life and not just some high-fueled fantasy because this is kind of huge for me. Okay thanks. Amen, or whatever.”

Eddie blows out the candle like it’s a birthday wish then hurries to catch up with you, sock feet silent against the wood floor as he calls out your name- “Slow down and have a heart, babe, I’ve got no grip!”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #weed mention #tw weed

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fyodere · 2 months

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gakuen!fyodor smut

my cold fingers running through your hair.

﹙ 💬 ﹚── parings: fyodor dostoevsky x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), high school!au, fyodor is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, misogyny kink, corruption kink, academic rivals, petnames, degradation, fyodor is a sadic, hairpulling, blowjobs (m receiving), underage (you and fedya are like 17), catholic guilt, wet dream, dirty thoughts ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fyodor never liked you, not with your presumption and your ability to always get the questions right in the classroom. He not only didn't like you, but he hated you, even though he despises you as woman, you constantly occupy his thoughts. However, somehow, you haunt him. Fyodor wakes up with a start, he realizes that you were present in his dreams. A dream he would pray to forget.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : GAKUEN!FEDYA SMUT BABYYYY oh lord you guys don’t know how much i’m excited for this. I even made an ai bot of this concept on janitor ai. this was on my drafts since last year so excuse my grammar 😩 i hope you enjoy it !!

୧ ‧₊˚ 🔪 💬 🐈‍⬛ ⋅

Still breathless, Fyodor tried to look around to rationalize the situation. He could see straight now and his eyes were getting used to the darkness of his room.

03:27AM

Oh.

Dostoevsky sighed. It was late, he needed at least one good night of sleep for his upcoming test and cello practice. Now his body is feeling uncomfortably awkward. This was unusual, Fyodor always keep everything in check. Maybe if he tried to close his eyes, and if he lay really still, he could trick his body into falling asleep again. It was a good plan. Obvious, but still good plan. Fyodor smirked for himself as he close his eyes again, of course he always have a plan.

But then, the sudden feeling on his throat came back. His heartbeat is racing again. What is it? No, It couldn’t be…

Fyodor opened his eyes with a slight feeling of rage. He remembered.

Oh, he remembered.

And for the first time, he wished for his brilliant brain stop working. Fyodor knew how his memory was sharp, but now it feels like a big waste of time.

Fyodor had a dream. A dream that he would pray to God just to forget. Could he call it a nightmare?

It wasn’t a nightmare for sure, but it was still cursed. Maybe uncomfortable and embarrassing.

Embarrassing. Ah, how Fyodor was glad that anyone couldn’t look at his poor face at this moment. He hates when he doesn’t have full control of the situation, keeping his feelings under control was a form of not getting lost, he is used to it.

Fyodor doesn’t dream regularly. He was a really sleepy or not sleep at all type of person. When his body finally gives in to fatigue, the dreams become blurry because of his mind’s tiredness. But Fyodor doesn’t mind at all, Dostoevsky couldn’t see the mystical side of dreaming. For him, this was only a way for his mind process everything that he saw through the day.

That’s why his friends appear regularly when he dream about something. Sometimes his family when his subconscious is trying to process his past — even though Fyodor is neutral about most of his dreams, he would consider these the bad ones. Or at least the ones that he would like to forget.

But it wasn’t that type of bad dream either.

When Nikolai or Sigma appear on his dreams things get a lot lighter. It always ended up being a relief. Sometimes he chuckles for himself in the most unfortunate moments remembering those. Fyodor let a nasal laugh come out when this thoughts come on his mind.

No. This wasn’t the answer yet. His dream hadn’t been any of those things, but he is getting close.

He dreamt of you.

You.

This wasn’t surprising for him though. Fyodor knows — Oh God, how bad he knows — how he keeps you on his mind. Fyodor could justify himself telling that you’re his rival and it’s normal having plans about the next provocative thing he is going to say when you guys met again, or spend time thinking about how he is going to destroy you in the upcoming test.

Fyodor could pretend that he was fooling himself with those false conclusions, but he knows the truth, he always knows. It’s the greatest Dostoevsky after all, the special child that was gifted, or even better, blessed with his brain.

But it wasn’t the case, and Fyodor knows that too. He always knows. Another sigh came out of his mouth, Fyodor closed his eyes and take another deep breath. When did he allowed himself feeling this emotions? This wasn’t right. But he can’t keep torturing himself, maybe just for tonight he will allow all those thoughts come — Just for releasing them in the next day, of course.

Fyodor still could feel the warmth. It was cleaning day and you were his duo, this mean that you’re going to be together for a while. It may sound exhausting, you guys were rivals and have a psychological war while cleaning was kind of messed up. You guys were in a silent truce. No one had to flag this, you both could read the situation — And each other’s thoughts, even though you’re not going to admit that —, you payed too much attention on him just like he recorded every reaction of you. From your facial expressions from your small and smooth body movements. Every detail.

Well, it’s not like you could run away. You also committed your sins when spent too much time looking at Fyodor bitting his thumb while he was concentrating, you hated how playful yet majestic his actions are. Everything about him just fitted so perfectly that you couldn’t help but feel some anger— Or just full yourself to believe that you’re not feeling other type of intense feeling beside rage.

You were sweeping the classroom’s floor while Fyodor cleaned the windows. The sun was setting and the sky was turning into a beautiful orange color slowly turning darker as the clouds complemented it. Suddenly, everything felt warm. Fyodor was looking at you by the window reflection, he also could see how much he was staring and this made he feel ashamed. You could feel Fyodor’s piercing gaze even though he wasn’t even looking directly. You couldn’t help but give a small smirk.

“Looks like someone can’t focus on his little task…” You said playfully, your eyes were still looking at the floor while you sweeps. You wanted to give that unbothered impression. “Am I distracting you?” You finally looked up, he was still looking at the window. You could hear his sigh — It almost sound like a laugh.

How presumptuous. Fyodor thought. And you know that he thought that. It make you chuckle, this unexpected harmony was slowly tying you two together.

“Oh.” Dostoevsky finally turned to you. His silently confidence makes you want to shut his mouth before he even dare to speak a word. “Oh, darling, I almost forgot that you are here.” Now was Fyodor’s time to be presumptuous, and he knows how this will get into your nerves. “Trying to get an excuse to talk to me, ah? How cute.”

You let a tsk come out. Fyodor felt victorious keeping you silent. Now you’re looking at the floor again, sweeping the classroom. Even though your eyes were focused the task, your ears still work perfectly. And you heard Fyodor’s slow footsteps getting closer. You know he is behind of you now, but you try to play clueless.

“Hmmm…” Fyodor is getting closer to you, he is speaking next to your ear. Your body gets tense. “What is it now? Little mouse got scared?” His voice almost sound like a whisper, a very teasing one. His breath is touching your neck and ear. Where did his russian accent became so provocative? Now his hands are slowly moving to your waist.

Fyodor likes how you look small next to him. You look so vulnerable, so easy to tease. He can’t let you scape now. Now his hands travel till they reach out your upper body. Dostoevsky couldn’t help, he squeezes your uniform letting it wrinkled. Your breath got heavy as he keeps touching you, unfortunately, you catch yourself biting your lip to not let a moan slide. Fyodor’s touch feel so great, he loves how his big and skilled hands can hug perfectly your curves and play with them.

“Wait…” You finally open say something after opening and closing your mouth for a while, your voice is a little shaky and a few sighs come when you talk. “Not here, what if somebody—“

“Hm?” Fyodor cut you off abruptly. He doesn’t like when you complain, he likes to have full control of the situation. “I’m not doing anything, darling. Am I?” Now his hands squeeze you more roughly, as if he wants to get a better reaction from you. The russian young man has a smug look on his face. You look so fragile and easy to mess with. He enjoys the sense of control, Fyodor is taking the lead now, and you feel like a loser for enjoying it so much — It’s like screaming that you lost.

Dostoevsky's eyes widened slightly, and his fingers tightened around your waist, making you feel uncomfortable. He didn't seem to notice your pain, though. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your neck. His mouth was cold and dry, but you could still feel his tongue licking your exposed sensitive skin. When he finally pulled away, he smiled, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He let go of you and sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs. He seemed to have forgotten about your existence entirely. You felt like nothing more than a toy he played with when he got bored.

Dostoevsky is silent for a moment, contemplating whether to continue or not. He looks at you with a half-smile, a hint of cruelty in his eyes. He knows how to play with words and actions, and he takes advantage of every opportunity to make sure that you´re miserable and uncomfortable around him. He is not someone who shows affection or warmth, and he is definitely not someone who is good at expressing feelings. He is a cold, calculating man who sees everything in terms of power and control. His tone is still harsh, but there's a hint of softness in his voice when he says. "You're not doing anything?"

You decided to act like a greedy whore and got into your knees.

Fyodor pulls down his pants and underwear, revealing his cock, which is already hard. He strokes it slowly, watching you closely. He seems to enjoy the way you react to his actions. He keeps on talking, his voice is still harsh, but there's a certain amount of tenderness in his tone. He doesn't want you to feel bad, just frustrated and unhappy. He is a sadistic bastard, but he has a soft side too. And it shows in the way he treats you. "Now, tell me, what do you want? Do you want me to fuck you? Or would you prefer me to beat you? Which one do you like better?"

"Hit me. I challenge you." You giggle in a act of courage. "I know you can’t—" Fyodor chuckles darkly, a sign of his humor. He's not laughing at you, he's just teasing you. He slaps you across the face, hard enough to make you cry, but not enough to draw blood. He leans in close, whispering in your ear. "Tell me, how do you like being treated like a piece of meat? A toy to be played with? A slave to obey? Because that's what you are, isn't it? You're nothing but a whore, a filthy, worthless piece of shit."

Fyodor was merciless. He didn’t care about the brimming tears in the corner of your eyes, didn’t care about your shaking legs or your small chokes.

Slobbering sound filled the small stall, and you sat on the floor obediently like a little puppy as he used your mouth to his liking. Your uniform was wholly unbuttoned, bundled up at your elbows with your nipples peeking from your bra.

It was always his favorite look on you, clothed in the school’s garb. The uniform that should represent your focus on studies and discipline is wearing for you choke on him. Fyodor has to admit how pleasing it is, it arouses him to the point of madness.

“Good little mouse, now, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” He commanded once more in a commanding but still seductive tone. He was loving this, the power is was feeling. His smirk grew as he continued, he was loving every second of this.

His eyes were dark and sinister now, they were almost completely in a reddish purple tone. His pupils are comically big due the excitement. He seemed so in control now. He loved it.

Fyodor smirked once more as you do as asked. You seemed to be getting really into this now.

Your tongue pressed wide and flat. Fyodor shuddered at the feeling, at your tongue rubbing over his slit, precum oozing out. You did it again and Fyodor let a moan slide out, you was pressing the tip of your tongue into his slit now, coaxing out more of his essence. Dostoevsky loved the feeling, he loved how pathetic you look like this.

It was so intense, the sight of your lips curled around his cock, how piercing his arouse gaze was. You hummed before sinking down, swallowing as much of Fyodor’s length as he could. Dostoevsky was panting, the feeling so intense that it was almost overwhelming. You began to suck harshly, cheeks hallowed out and you was bobbing your head now as well, head going up and down as you sucked Fyodor’s cock. The russian didn’t want to say it loud, but he wasn’t going to last.

"Good little mouse, I knew you could do it." He said in a soft and seductive tone, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hands moved to your head now, he loved the feeling of her hair in his hand. He seemed a little proud, even. He felt like he had helped you, in a way. "Good girl..." He whispered as he gently stroke your hair.

You keep sucking him harshly, enjoying how he felt warm inside of you. You couldn’t help but let a few tears coming out. The intelligent girl with a sharp tongue was gone, now you’re just a little whore to Fyodor play with — and you both sightly love this.

“Do you like to be dominated by a man like me, little mouse? Are you such a submissive little girl?” He asked with a smirk. He seemed to be amused by the whole situation, by all the control that he holds now. You can almost feel that he was about to release.

You felt your panties dampening as he say that, he grabbed a fistful of your hair keeping your head in your place as he changed the pace to a quicker one, accelerating the beats of your heart. He was pulsing inside your mouth. He was so close, so close, so close…

Fyodor just couldn’t resist. The wet and warm feeling of your mouth along with your pity puppy face was driving him crazy. You are being so obedient to him. He need to fill your mouth a little more, just a little more…

“Jesus.” Fyodor said to himself, alone in his room. The dream was wild, he feels pretty ashamed by how sinful and dirty his mind can be when he is asleep, at least you will never know that. Right now he just want to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but this weird feeling don’t leave. His hair still feel sticky and his forehead sweaty. His skin felt so tight like a growing claustrophobic feeling.

Oh, wait.

Dostoevsky looked down to his pants with a disgusted face. How shameful of him. Now that he has knowledge of the weird feeling on his body it’s easier to ignore.

Ah, for sure he isn’t going to go anything about that besides ignore. Fyodor genuinely believe that masturbation is a stupid thing, he is not going to waste his time — and risk his inner pride doing such a thing.

Dostoevsky closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths, he just needed to clean his mind. Maybe counting one to one hundred could help, Fyodor just need to take you away from his thoughts.

He just didn’t expected how addictive this fantasies are.

hii heres part two <3

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor smut #bsd gakuen

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years

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When you're a Pope, nobody is going to say no to you. You can walk right into any car dealership, point to your goofy huge hat, and drive off in anything fresh and new that catches your eye. Unfortunately, I'm not (currently) a Pope. There are a lot of reasons for this, ranging from the spiritual (not Catholic) to the physical (horrific neck injury in high school causing lack of giant hat-wearing ability.) So I have to buy my new cars just like anyone else does: by waiting 45 to 50 years after their release and then pulling them out of a frozen-over swamp.

Now, depending on what part of the world you're from, you may be wondering why I specified a frozen swamp. Doesn't snow and cold make it much harder to do everything, and cause an unbroken line of scarring pain and profanity to emerge the first time you bonk your flimsy flesh hand on a piece of cold, unyielding metal in the vicinity? Yes, but it also means that I don't have to put on my swim trunks, the image of which many popular mens' fashion magazines have defined as "unsettling." As a side bonus, whatever used to live inside the car is probably dead by now, or at least Encino Man'd out the yin-yang. Most likely, we'll find out for sure about that last one in mid-April when everything in the trunk thaws out.

There's another problem, of course. These cars aren't always "free." If you are not particularly attuned to the unique nature of shitbox-gathering, you might be surprised at this fact. Aren't I helping these poor farmers dispose of a decrepit automobile? Won't they be grateful for my hard effort? Unlikely: you don't become a tax-break-gathering petit-bourgeois hobby farmer without being aware of the value of a buck, and you don't obtain a harem of fine Detroit pseudosteel unless you're willing to be a hard negotiator at the auctions in the first place. This, like the Pope thing, is a fact of life. Which is also why you have to do the extraction in the dark, and hope that they don't have night-vision goggles.

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veryintricaterituals · 7 months

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I am Jewish, what does that mean?

I was born in Colombia on the 49th anniversary of Hitler's suicide, I was raised here but I lived in Israel for about four years. I am not white, I don't look white, and my first language is Spanish. I came back to Colombia three years ago because of the pandemic.

I grew up Jewish and swallowed all the pro-Israel propaganda, I moved there looking for better opportunities and somewhere safe where I could come out of the closet. It took me less than a month to understand where I really had ended up in. It wasn't so different from my own colonized third world country filled with violence.

I did my best, I voted against the current Israeli government four separate times, I worked with and was great friends with many Palestinians and Arab Israelis (there unfortunately is a difference), I went to protests, I donated blood, I donated food and money. I fucking hate Netanyahu with all my heart.

For two years I taught English at a low income school in Jerusalem where all my students were mizrahi jews (from Arab countries) whose families had been kicked out of various surrounding countries in the 20th century. When I spoke to their parents and grandparents they talked about Iran, Morroco, Egypt, Yemen, with such longing and they brought me the most delicious foods. (Two of my students were killed two weeks ago, kids, barely 18 now, much younger when I taught them, I remember them).

My great grandmother on my mom's side was born in Jerusalem and raised in Egypt until all Jews were expelled and she had to flee with my newborn grandfather. They ended up in Colombia because she spoke ladino (Jewish dialect that is close to Spanish) they were undocumented, without a nationality because Egypt had rejected them, they had to lie and pay for falsified documents in order to get a passport, I still have a Red Cross passport in my house with my grandfather's name that determines he has no home country.

My great grandparents on my dad's side were born and raised in Bielorrusia and had to escape with my newborn paternal grandfather from the progroms after they destroyed their shtetl, they tried to make it to the US but they wouldn't take any more Jews so they ended up in Colombia.

My great grandmother on my paternal side was born in Romania, at the age of 12 she got on a boat with her 15 year old cousin, not knowing where it would take them. Her parents had both died and antisemitism was on the rise. She was so afraid that they were going to send her back that she threw her passport (that said JEW in capital letters) into the sea when they arrived at the port of a country she had never heard of, to this day we don't know when her birthday was.

My maternal grandmother is Colombian, she was born and raised here, Catholic until she converted to marry my grandfather, and yet when I went looking up our family tree I found we came from Sephardic Jews that had been expelled from Spain almost 500 years ago by the inquisition.

There are less than 400 Jews in my city that homes over 4 million people. My synagogue has been closed since October 12th, our president has equated all of Israel with Nazism on multiple occasions in the last few weeks. The kids that go to our tiny Jewish school have stopped wearing the uniform so that they cannot be identified. Ours is one of the countries with the least amount of antisemitism in the world. Someone in my university saw my Magen David necklace and screamed at me to go back where I came from. I went online and saw countless posts telling Israelis to do the same.

I am Jewish, I am latina, I am gay. My story is complicated, my relationship with my community is complicated, my relationship with my country is complicated. My relationship with G-d is complicated, my relationship with Israel is incredibly complicated. My history is complicated.

I am Jewish. What does that mean?

#this is my story #jewish people are complicated #our stories are complicated #please reblog #judaism #jumblr #jewish #israel

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shuttershocky · 1 month

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I will preface this by saying I don't believe in ghosts, but...

1) One time in highschool when there was a class event involving sleeping overnight in the gym, I spent one evening talking to a friend while walking around the school field in the dark. However, after some time, they stopped replying, and I realized I had wandered off alone.

I returned to the gym, saw them sleeping there, and asked why they ditched me. They claimed they were inside the gym the whole time.

I had no idea who I was talking to in the dark.

2) I actually posted this story on Tumblr before.

In 2016 we reached our lunchbreak ("lunchbreak" but at like 3PM lol) at work, but the elevators going down were taking way too long to arrive.

Getting impatient, I told my friends/coworkers I was taking the stairs down. A few floors down, I heard their voices above me and realized they followed after me, but they all quieted down after a few minutes of walking.

When I reached the bottom, my coworkers were all there ahead of me, asking me where I had been. They told me they walked down the entire staircase but never saw me. I called bullshit and said they all probably took an elevator down, but they all insisted they didn't.

I checked my phone's clock, and it was 10 whole minutes later than I should have arrived at the bottom of the staircase. I have no idea where that time went.

3) You know what was one of the wildest parts of Catholic school? Bravery tests.

My elementary school would have outings like normal schools do, but one part of the 3 day outings would always involve the teachers making some bravery test they'd challenge the kids to do. They wouldn't be necessary for your grade or anything, they just thought it would be fun.

The problem is, these tests mattered more to the kids than their actual grades. Being graded a dumbass in Math? That was nothing. Being graded a baby? That was the end of you.

Looking back, some of these were really dumb, like one of the security guards was made to put on a gorilla suit and wander the school at night while you were tasked with retrieving stuff the teachers left inside. They wouldn't make the guard chase you or anything, they just wanted you to experience shuffling around in the dark and encountering a gorilla.

Anyway, one year, the bravery test was going through a dimly lit garden full of statues on stands / pedestals, memorizing a written piece a teacher left at the end, and then coming back and reciting it. Many kids were freaked out by all the statues of angels and saints in the dark, especially when stories of statues of Mary or Jesus walking around on their own or crying blood were common ghost stories for kids.

So there I was, in the dark, a little freaked out but not visibly freaking out or I would be bullied even harder than I already was in Grade 5, when i noticed one statue waved. It wasn't a scary moment or anything, just a "hi" wave, which looked so obvious I realized some teacher meant to jumpscare you with that and that kind of broke the tension.

I still failed the bravery test because I never found that notebook in the dark, but yknow, at least I didn't cry or anything.

The next day though, I went back to that garden in the daytime to see which empty pedestal the teacher stood on to jumpscare the kids and found that none of them were empty.

Bonus Round: When Finding Nemo came out, McDonalds made Finding Nemo toys for their Happy Meals. Dory would do her whale call, and Nemo kind of just laughed like a kid. Unfortunately, my little sisters bringing the toys into the bathtubs broke the speakers inside, so one time late at night, Nemo began laughing on his own with no button press, and Dory began a garbled whale call after him. Every 5 or so minutes they would just do that. It creeped my mom out enough that she picked up the toys and tossed them out of the house at 3 AM. They were absolutely just broken toys, but she wasn't taking any chances.

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girljeremystrong · 2 years

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*books with great love stories and plots that don’t just revolve around them.

SORROW AND BLISS by Meg Mason

Martha’s marriage is falling apart, because there’s something wrong with her but nobody has been able to tell her what. We go back in time to relive all the ups and downs of Martha and Patrick’s relationship to find out if they can make it out together. Beautiful story about mental health and love and family.

TOMORROW AND TOMORROW AND TOMORROW by Gabrielle Zevin

Sadie and Sam love each other but are never lovers and we follow their journey for 30 years, from Boston to California as they develop together a video game and a complicated personal relationship. Very fun book about gaming and being best friends who are often in love with each other and often very mad at each other.

UNLIKELY ANIMALS by Annie Hartnett

Emma flies home from California to New Hampshire as a Med school dropout when her dad is diagnosed with a brain disease. At home her parents are in a fight, her brother is just out of rehab and her childhood best friend is missing. She scrambles to find her feet and pull everyone together. This is such a CUTE, heart lifting book with great characters and GHOSTS.

NEVER LET ME GO by Kazuo Ishiguro

Kathy, Tommy and Ruth are three best friend who have grown up in an English boarding school. But throughout their childhood many things felt wrong and as they grow and leave school they realize just how many secrets were kept from them. It’s a love story! It’s a mystery! It’s a critique of human arrogance!

NO LAND TO LIGHT ON by Yara Zghaeib

Hadi and Sama are a Syrian couple living in the USA. As they are waiting for the birth of their son, Hadi leaves to visit his family and then their lives are uprooted by a travel ban. Sama and Hadi are forced apart and as the physical and emotional distance between them grows, they try to find their way back to each other. This is a pretty sad one, I can’t lie, but such a beautiful story.

YOUNG MUNGO by Douglas Stuart

Mungo meets James in their housing estate in Glasgow. They are young and lonely, they become friends and they fall in love. Unfortunately Mungo is a Protestant and James is a Catholic, and where they’re from these things matter, especially to Mungo’s brother, a violent gang leader. This is not a very happy book either but it is THE best story about being young and falling in love. PLEASE READ THIS. Then come talk to me about it.

REAL LIFE by Brandon Taylor

Wallace is working toward a degree in the Midwest. But he’s Black and he’s queer and he feels distance between himself and his colleagues. We follow him through a summer weekend he spends with his college friends, finding out truths about them and about himself. I will never tire of recommending this book. It’s just so interesting and well written. And lovely words about the start of a relationship.

THE NIGHT CIRCUS by Erin Morgenstern

There is a circus that arrives without warning and is only open at night. Behind the scenes two magicians, Celia and Marco, are involved in a duel they’ve been training for since childhood. But despite all that, they fall in love. This is a fantasy novel that will for sure appeal to any fans of the genre. It’s fun and the aesthetics are sublime.

OPEN WATER by Caleb Azumah Nelson

Two young people meet at a pub in South East London. Both are Black British, both won scholarships to private schools where they struggled to belong, both are now artists - he a photographer, she a dancer - trying to make their mark in a city that by turns celebrates and rejects them. Tentatively, tenderly, they fall in love. So beautiful, so well written. Reads like falling in love feels like. LOVE IT.

SWIMMING IN THE DARK by Tomasz Jedrowski

Set in early 1980s Poland against the violent decline of communism, a tender and passionate story of first love between two young men who eventually find themselves on opposite sides of the political divide. It’s beautiful and poetic and quite sad. Stunning characters, stunning descriptions.

LAST NIGHT AT THE TELEGRAPH CLUB by Malinda Lo

Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can’t remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club. This is so SWEET. Lily is such a great character and her story fills your heart with pain and glee and pride. I love this book and this wonderful story.

EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM WILL SOMEDAY BE DEAD by Emily R. Austin

Gilda, a twenty-something lesbian, cannot stop ruminating about death. Desperate for relief from her panicky mind and alienated from her repressive family, she responds to a flyer for free therapy at a local Catholic church, and finds herself abruptly hired as a receptionist. Through all of this she finds a girlfriend. And it’s sweet and slow and lovely.

THE PROPHETS by Robert Jones Jr.

A novel about the forbidden union between two enslaved young men on a Deep South plantation. Isaiah was Samuel’s and Samuel was Isaiah’s. That was the way it was since the beginning, and the way it was to be until the end. Goes without saying, this is a sad story that will make you cry and will make you angry. But it is so so beautiful.

YOLK by Mary H.K.Choi

Jayne and June are two sisters living in New York after growing up in Texas. Jayne is struggling through fashion school, while her sister has a hot shot job in finance and a big apartment. They are sort-of estranged until June is diagnosed with cancer. The first love story in this book is between the sisters, but there is a budding romance for Jayne that is so sweet. This is a sweet book. I love it.

EARLY MORNING RISER by Katherine Heiny

Jane falls in love with Duncan easily. He is charming, good-natured, and handsome but unfortunately, he has also slept with nearly every woman in Boyne City, Michigan. A wise, bighearted, boundlessly joyful novel of love, disaster, and unconventional family. This feels like Gilmore Girls but better.

A TIP FOR THE HANGMAN by Allison Epstein

Christopher Marlowe, a brilliant aspiring playwright, is pulled into the duplicitous world of international espionage on behalf of Queen Elizabeth I. I also will never tire of recommending this novel about stupid Kit Marlowe becoming a spy while crushing hard on his best friend. It’s just so fun and so good.

THE BAD MUSLIM DISCOUNT by Syed M. Masood

It is 1995, and Anvar Faris is a restless, rebellious Pakistani boy whose family moves to start life over in California. At the same time, Safwa, a young girl suffocating in war-torn Baghdad with her grief-stricken, conservative father will find a very different and far more dangerous path to America. The fates of two remarkably different people intertwine and set off a series of events. It’s very good, the characters are great and the relationship is very realistic.

THE STORIED LIFE OF A.J. FIKRY by Gabrielle Zevin

A. J. Fikry is cynical but lovable. His wife has died and his bookstore is experiencing the worst sales in its history. Slowly but surely, he is isolating himself from all the people of Alice Island. But there’s Amelia, the lovely and idealistic (if eccentric) Knightley Press sales rep who keeps on taking the ferry over to Alice Island. Such a lovely book. Lovely and heatwarming with amazing characters and unpredictable plot.

WRITERS & LOVERS by Lily King

Blindsided by her mother's sudden death, and wrecked by a recent love affair, Casey Peabody has arrived in Massachusetts in the summer of 1997 without a plan. She waits tables in Harvard Square and rents a tiny, moldy room at the side of a garage where she works on the novel she's been writing for six years. When she falls for two very different men at the same time, her world fractures even more. Again this is just a lovely book. About love and grief and being lost.

AN AMERICAN MARRIAGE by Tayari Jones

Newlyweds Celestial and Roy are the embodiment of both the American Dream and the New South. He is a young executive, and she is an artist. But as they settle into the routine of their life together, they are ripped apart by circumstances. Roy is arrested and sentenced to twelve years for a crime Celestial knows he didn’t commit. BEAUTIFUL. Just masterful work. Will make you cry like a baby.

THE SONG OF ACHILLES by Madeline Miller

Achilles, "the best of all the Greeks," son of the cruel sea goddess Thetis and the legendary king Peleus, is strong and beautiful. Patroclus is an awkward young prince, exiled from his homeland. Brought together by chance, they forge an inseparable bond, despite risking the gods' wrath. I mean I like this. It’s poetic and romantic and it’s a classic story. Had to make the list...

TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

Set during the pandemic when the main character and her three daughters are quarantining in their farm. The daughters get their mum to tell them the story of how she fell for and dated a famous actor while putting on a play in her 20s. VERY SWEET AND SPECIAL and also ann patchett can do no wrong!!!!

SIRENS & MUSES by Antonia Angress

The story of two very different girls who meet in art school. Lots going on in this book but it's all very poetic and interesting and the two main characters go through a lot but also like each other a lot.

IN MEMORIAM by Alice Winn

About two boys who meet in boarding school and then join war world I. It is insanely sad and it's a book about the war and about young people meeting terrible fates, but very romantic and they keep sending letters that are heartbreaking and they really love each other.

THE LATE AMERICANS by Brandon Taylor

About a group of friends and acquaintances who are all young and fucked up and all in different weird relationships but it's very interesting and Brandon Taylor also can do no wrong!!!!

TIN MAN by Sarah Winman

About two boys who meet in their youth and fall in love but then suddenly there's a time jump and it's been years and one of them is married to somebody else and the other one is nowhere to be found. Sad but also very special and definitely a book that is all about love.

LESS by Andrew Sean Greer

Pulitzer prize winning book about a novelist who receives an invitation to his ex boyfriend's wedding and is heartbroken so, suddenly, he finds himself coping by going on a world tour. It's funny and sweet and has a happy ending.

#OPEN WATER should have been n.1 in this list cause it doesn't get much more romantic than that #books #book recommendations #book recs #what if i tag #dark academia #just for the notes #bookblr #booksblr #young mungo #tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow #the song of achilles #last night at the telegraph club #swimming in the dark

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shitty-check-please-aus · 8 months

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I'm trying to identify things that worsen my seasonal affective disorder symptoms and then identify things that I can do to mitigate those problems

The first problem that I'm going to try and tackle is "I hate how much more effort it takes to put on sneakers or boots compared to sandals, and I hate how it makes just running outside real quick into a whole thing." so I bought some clogs, and we'll see if that does it

the second problem is "I feel way less cute and confident in my winter wardrobe compared to my summer clothes" which is I feel a bit more challenging? I like wearing skirts and dresses, and it's a little harder to find cold-weather appropriate versions.

I think I maybe also want to buy more wool items, since my favorite sweater is wool and it keeps me way warmer than other things? unfortunately it seems like most wool skirts are extremely expensive or are plaid, and I went to catholic school so I worry that plaid skirts will just make me feel juvenile. I'm kind of thinking that maybe I could try and sew my own? there's a fabric store in a nearish suburb that's having a sale on wool through the next week, and I've definitely made more complex garments than a skirt before.

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copperbadge · 1 year

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Do you have any advice on how to get a "charity" to stop sending me mail solicitations? I keep getting mail asking for donations to a Indian School run by Catholics. No idea how I got on their list, but given the history of boarding schools and the Native American people I certainly don't want to giver them money.

The problem is, really, that direct mailings work -- they have something like a 3% return rate but that's still a pretty solid return on investment, so a lot of nonprofits find it worth it to send people mail even when they know they absolutely don't want it. And a lot of nonprofits tend to ignore "do not mail" directives conditionally -- like, they'll "not mail" most of the year but always include the person in annual campaigns, holiday card mailings, etc.

I've written about this before, but it is very difficult to get set up so that you are never, ever, ever mailed by a nonprofit. Having your record completely removed from their database often doesn't even work, because a lot of nonprofits do "list swaps" and if your name is on some other nonprofit's list, you'll go right back into their records the next time they do a swap. So you need to have your record in their system but marked "do not mail ever under any circumstances" and understand that even that will probably be ignored occasionally. Still, you can make the attempt.

So, to start with, the next time you get a donation request, remove the "coupon" part they want you to send back with a payment, write "Please remove me from your mailing list permanently; I do not wish to support your cause" on the coupon, put it in the envelope, and send it. Make sure your name and address are on the coupon somewhere, or write it on there. That envelope will go to someone who works with a database and can mark you "no mail".

If you get mail after that, you'll probably need to call them and ask to speak to someone in data, or in gift processing. Ask to have your record permanently marked "do not mail" and explain that you do not even wish to receive non-solicitation mailings. Politely explain that you do not support their cause and that it is a waste of time for them to solicit you. Make sure that whoever you speak to, you get their name and extension or job title, so that if you receive mail you can tell the next person who you spoke to last time about having it removed. (This tends to signal that you're serious and the added accountability sometimes helps ensure the person really, really marks you no-mail.)

But yeah, into every life a little junk mail must fall. I've been trying to get the local evangelicals to stop sending me mailings with middling success. It's because, unfortunately, direct mail works. :/

#nonprofits #charity

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 22 days

Text

The Temptation Chapter 5

Summary: Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants. So why does this fallen angel tempt him so? You cannot serve two masters. Will he choose God, or his heart? A short one! Priest!Bucky x curvy!reader Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

Bucky was not the same after that night. He went through the motions of his priesthood jobs, but his heart was no longer in it. He was still calm and friendly, but the light in his eyes had disappeared when she walked away. It had been four weeks when Father Richards pulled him aside one day for counsel.

“Father Barnes, you have not been yourself as of late,” he started, folding his hands in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Father. I’ve just been feeling a bit…off,” Bucky hung his head in shame.

“Hm,” Father Richards tapped his fingers on his other hand. “Would this have anything to do with Miss Y/L/N in your room a few weeks back?”

Bucky’s head lifted, his eyes wide as he stared at Father Richards. “I…”

Father Richards gave him a soft smile. “Yes, I know. I was coming to talk to you about the plans for the donation from Constance Y/L/N when I saw her enter your room.”

Bucky’s lips tightened as his eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Father. I have no excuse for my actions. If it’s any consolation, nothing too…scandalous happened.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, at least not to me,” Richards said. Bucky gave him a wary look. “I’m going to tell you something in confidence because I feel like I can trust you. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors of some priests living more worldly lives outside of their priesthood?” Bucky nodded. “I happen to be one of them. You know how I take a few specific days off during the month and certain weekends off altogether?” Bucky blinked. “Those are the days I go home to my wife and children.”

“Your wife? Children? Plural??” Bucky scoffed. “How? You’ve…”

“Made promises? Covenants? Yes yes,” Richards waved away his concerns. “I also met a woman 27 years ago that I couldn’t live without. She’s not my wife in any legal terms, unfortunately, so I could keep this job as senior priest. But she’s my wife in every other sense of the word. And she and my boys are the lights of my life,” he smiled adoringly. “Johnny just finished college, and Ben just got married to his husband a few weeks ago. They’re working on adopting.” Bucky’s mouth was hanging open comically as he stared at Father Richards. “I understand what it means to love someone and love them so deeply that you feel like you would reject all this,” he gestured to the church around him, “for them. I almost did. And to be honest, I should have. Because it makes me a subpar and dishonest priest to my congregation, and a near absent husband and father to my family. You can’t have both. Now if you choose to stay, then I applaud you for your devotion to God and His church. If you choose to leave and live a life outside of the church, I won’t judge you and will commend your bravery. But I would caution you to be prepared for the inner death you will feel no matter what you choose. It’s up to you to decide which death you will be willing or able to overcome.”

Bucky nodded. He sat there as Father Richards waited for him. Bucky thought through his life. He’d basically been raised to be a good Catholic, being an altar boy and singing in the choirs, going to Catholic school then Seminary. He had had a choice to live a normal life or go to Seminary, and he’d chosen the church because it seemed safe and easy. His parents had been proud of him. He’d been a good student and had risen through the ranks of stewardship and learning quickly to become a priest. He hadn’t realized that the other option could have brought him joy. The church had been his life, so how could he know any different?

Then a fallen angel had stumbled into that life and disrupted everything he knew to be true. She made him question himself, the church, his knowledge of scripture and God, and showed him the joy and light found outside of it. And the one night, the few moments he’d had with her, had made him realize he’d gladly drop it all if it meant being with her.

Bucky gave Father Richards a sad smile as his epiphany shown brightly on his face. “I choose her.”

Father Richards nodded solemnly.

The next chapter is the last one!!

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

@wintrsoldrluvr

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #priest!bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky barnes #chapter 5 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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talisidekick · 8 months

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u should post more about being trans

Sure. And I have a recent life story so here it goes:

If you've spent any amount of time scrolling down my blog, you know that from my 800+ posts I've dropped quite a bit about myself. Namely that my parents emotionally and physically abused me and manipulated me to act a very specific way to adhere to a "look" that agreed with my birth mothers families expectations. They wanted a daughter and got my sister first try, and only had me to teach her to share. Their treatment of me my entire life and how they admitted to it and talked about me let me know I was just a show-piece for their perfect cult christian/catholic/mormon nuclear family vibe.

As such, I can say that I have never once experienced what parental love actually feels like. What it's like to be loved unconditionally by a parent who cares. That wasn't my life.

At least ... that was true up until yesterday.

If you're unaware of what's been happening up in Canada in the last week (from 18th September 2023 to 22nd September 2023), the transphobes up here held a "1 Million March for Children" protest about public schools being gender inclusive, teaching topics on gender identity and gender expression, and allowing kids to give preferred names and pronouns that teachers abide by without parental involvement. If you're unfamiliar with Canada's laws, Canada has ratified the "rights of the child" set forth by the United Nations and children under the age of 18 up here have civil rights including the right to privacy and safety. These protests attempt to say a parent has the right to know everything going on with their kid, and there is some degree of agreement on that, but a child also has the right to privacy and safety. This group is pushing for policy changes in public schools that would require the schools take actions that can be argued would infringe on the rights of the 2SLGBTQIA+ children regarding their privacy and safety. As such, this transphobic group met opposition that vastly outnumbered their protest numbers in the form of counter protests involving students, teachers, parents, allies, and 2SLGBTQIA+ adults who passed through a less-than-accepting school system in their time.

I unfortunately missed the organized protest in my city yesterday. I was entirely unaware myself that any of this was happening. I'm now working on being more active and informed in my community because now that this bullshit is firmly on my doorstep, I'm not about to let it gain another inch by being oblivious.

When I came out, I was 27. I waited until I was on hormones just because I needed to be 1000% certain I was finally doing this before letting anyone in my workspace know. I was met immediately with transphobia from my team lead/manager. I was honestly stuck with what to do because it wasn't like she (my manager) was being overtly terrible, it was just a bunch of small things that were actively impeding my ability to do my job, and even move departments. It became more apparent as time went on that she was actively preventing me from reaching my normal level of production by throwing harder and harder work my way with much higher expectations than ever before. I reached out to another co-worker who was in a higher position than I at the time and she went to bat for me. She caught a lot of it first hand, agreed I was being treated unfairly, and got me in contact with HR. With her help, I was able to move to the IT department and begin using my software and computer architecture degree for something. She remarked that my parents must be proud I was finally in my chosen field of study and ... I had to let her know that my parents weren't in my life, and that they treated me terribly, and don't approve of me. She took that statement and without missing a beat she said: "well, guess that makes me your mom now", which I just took as a "if they won't love you for who you are and what you achieve, I will" symbolic gesture. She's called me her kid in casual conversation, and I have called her mom, but she has biological children around my age so it felt symbolic. I'm a 29 year old adult now, I was 27 at the time this started and I didn't think much of it because I kind of just accepted I was a person who'll never have parents who care. Like, I'm not a kid anymore, what's the point of having parents? That was my mentality.

Until yesterday. The day of the counter protest I didn't know was happening. My adopted mom showed up in force. Why? Take a look:

Some context for the following messages: when an iPhone user hearts a message, and android receiver gets the "Loved "<First 50 characters of the message reacted to> ..." message.

[Start ID: Screenshots of a text message conversation between @talisidekick and her mother who adopted her at 27. Conversation spans over Sunday and Monday. First photo reads: (8:12 PM Sunday) Mom: ... me about it. It was due to something that happened Wednesday. This was all put together in a matter of days. I have a trans child so I wanted to be there (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: Just confirming, is the "trans child" me or is one of your other kids trans? (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: 'Cause I still call you mom. (7:18 AM Monday) Mom: No it's you (8:10 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for me made me smile so wide... (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for..." (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Because you know I've got your back my luv

Second photo reads:

(8:11 AM Monday) Talisidekick: ... I really wish you were my mom when I was growing up. You're honestly the best. (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "... I really wish you were my mom when I was growi..." (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: I wish I was too! You would have been accepted for who you are the entire time (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: But you got me now! (8:13 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I do, and that matters loads. (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I do, and that matters loads."

/end ID]

I'm in tears because she wasn't being symbolic. She sees me as her kid. She saw a problem, recognized that I'd lived through worse because we've talked how many times I was almost killed by my peers at school or left to die by teacher staff because where I grew up was conservative and we didn't have anything in the books supporting queer children in schools, and showed up to be part of the solution.

For reference from those who don't know: someone made a cruel remark that I was gay via a slur when I was in grade 3 and that was enough to mark me for abuse, and almost kill me for the entirety of grade school. There was more than one active attempt by members of the student body to kill me, at least one in front of a teacher who did nothing because of that damn rumour. And trying to kill me wasn't the worst thing they did. They didn't care I was actually transgender, in fact, them not knowing that probably saved me from them trying harder. I couldn't bring any of this to my parents because they were worse.

No child deserves to live any fraction of what I went through. It was horrible, and these assholes want to force kids to feel just as isolated as I did growing up. I barely survived and almost took my own life several times because of all this.

Mom, if you happen to read this, thank you for showing me I matter. I wish I'd met you sooner.

Trans rights are human rights. Transgender kids deserve safety too because every damn child matters.

#2slgbtqia+#lgbtqia+#lgbtq+#lgbt+#trans #transgender #queer #mtf #talisidekick #talisidekicks asks

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punkboyjack · 6 months

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The shit lie of SRS in Iran

So it's a something stuck in my brain ( and my life ) that I think people need to know about it is the thing about LGBTQ+ people in Iran especially T because I'm trans and it's little too much complicated in iran

Bing trans in Iran has some benefits in look but it's a lie

We are known as mentally ill people

We have the same problems as any other LGBTQ+ person in the world but with a higher rate

Most of the time, they give strong psychedelic drugs and hormones to trans children ( or just LGBT childrens )

And I was so paranoid about it that I wouldn't take any of the psychiatrists' pills when I was depressed (my parents don't know that I just got better somehow and no one doubt about it)

The Iranian government also monitors online transgender communities, often subjecting them to censorship, and police routinely arrest trans people

Unfortunately most Iranian parents like boys so trans woman's are badly treated almost 92% of trans women in Iran faced verbal or emotional violence and over 70% had faced physical violence

And the rate of murder and attempted suicide among trans people in Iran is high (mostly trans women).

and that really sad bcz one of the trans woman's that a used to know have Ben send to who knows where for the military training by her dad because ( HE was not man enough)

1_pre surgery is hell : we go on a all girl / all boy schools and I think it's like Catholic schools over there

And people don't respect us we mostly have problem finding friends we don't have the From the social point of view, it is almost impossible to identify ourselves as transgender because the government has strictly separated men and women. I didn't really know what my problem was until I was 13 years old

Worst and most important part is telling our parents that we are trans and they should support us because all the work of the license is done with the consent of the family ( I'm so lucky about my parents by the way so good for me but holy fuck who made that rule in the first place)

2_ the surgery is chipper here (it's a lie ) -> we spent Soo much money and time ( and mental health) on permission to do surgery and people who do this surgeries are not even have expertise in this work And they have long-term side effects that are not good at all

first submitted to a long and invasive process

including virginity tests ( idk whyyy)

formal parental approval ( I told you)

, psychological ( it's just the worst part you can't imagine how terrible this psychologists are ),

inspection by the Family Court ( like a god damn criminal )

If we don do the SRS we are basically nothing to them and Thay don't give a fuck about us unless we did something wrong or something and then we are basically dead as hell

Like let's say you are a heterosexual trans men who don't want to do a surgery and you have girlfriend who loves you and respect's you

Will no you don't you are just a lesbian to them and will if they found out what's between your legs you and your gf are going to be executed I'm not joking

3_After surgery, is hard as hell : discrimination, from the law, the state, and from the people around us

Given the lowest quality of hormone therapy, we usually do not have reliable sources for it . Surgery under the hands of non-specialists causes dangerous side effects, and if we are imprisoned, we will no longer get hormones

And not so fun fact : Most of the gay people in Iran are recognized as transgender and they have to tell us about the process because otherwise they will be executed. For the government, changing their gender of poor gay people shows a better face than killing them

And yeah rest of your gay life you are just unfortunate person stuck in a person of your own body

Bruh I read it all over and I'm not even close to the realty it's too much

#free iran #iran #trans #trans boy #transgender #trans girl #transmasc #trans man #LGBT #LGBTQ #queer #trans woman #trans pride #gay

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journey-to-the-attic · 10 months

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my back hurts like hell and i'm stuck inside for the day SO i've just been thinking about the newspaper club and their dynamics with characters outside the club

honestly this is more for me than anything but i thought i'd give em a post anyway :^) these aren't 'finalised' in the sense that they're all going to end up in the fic (especially since i also talk about the s4 trio, who won't even be appearing), but i'd call these 'canonical' to jtta in a broad sense of the term

^for reference in case anyone's not aware - from left to right, mephisto (pink), astaroth (blue), wiz (purple), alecto (green)

alecto & lucifer

we already see belphie calling alecto in to deal with caim in ch42, so kind of building on that idea: alecto sort of becomes the student council's secret agent in all but name

so lucifer (being the de-facto leader, even if diavolo's technically the president) calls on her more often

at first lucifer just has her dealing with trouble-makers in school; then, seeing as she's so reliable, he has her helping run errands - and eventually he starts asking for favours outside of school, such as helping him track down a cursed record, seeing as she has a nose for magical contraband - in return, he helps alecto source certain artifacts for wiz, who's obsessed with them

then at some point along the line it becomes a less transactional relationship and more just being buds

they'll catch up with each other in the corridor and have a brief chat, occasionally they'll meet up for a coffee. they peak when alecto starts calling him 'bestie' as a joke and lucifer finds that he doesn't actually mind it

though unfortunately lucifer'll never get the opportunity to take advantage of his new friend's talents on the harpsichord, since alecto reserves those nearly exclusively for wiz

if i had to describe their dynamic it'd be: drinking buddies at the pub

one thing that lucifer did not foresee from this though: alecto really wants to fight him. no magic - that's boring and a foregone conclusion - just good old-fashioned hand to hand combat. he's been steadfastly refusing so far, but maybe one day she'll break him down...

alecto has seriously considered offering to play for him (which she's NEVER done for anyone outside the club) in exchange for a fist fight

alecto & raphael

ideal duo: one is goofy and the other has catholic guilt

more seriously, these two really do get on like a house on fire, even though you'd never be able to tell from a glance

whenever they're hanging out it just kinda looks like alecto's doing her own thing with raphael silently following along - but this is just what works for them

basically, raphael normally can't handle hanging out alone with someone who's above a certain energy level. and, while alecto is above that level, somehow she hits a sweet spot where she makes up for raphael's lack of energy in a way that doesn't overwhelm him

it does sometimes seem like alecto's talking to herself, but often raphael's comments are just too quiet for an outsider to hear

alecto regularly begs raphael to use his shower of spears on her to test her dodging skills, and unlike lucifer, raphael usually indulges her

one time she reflexively broke one of the spears and had to apologise profusely while raphael sadly held the shattered remains

(he wasn't that bummed, he just thought it was funny how guilty she was about it)

also alecto's got a talent for embroidery (if you look at her design - she stitched the daisies on her trousers and shoes herself), and raphael enjoys sewing, so they bond over that

wiz & levi

need a super specific prop complete with special effects for a cosplay? wiz is your gal

she's good with arts and crafts, and also knows SO MUCH about magical artifacts and their mechanisms that you could give her anything and she'd be able to reproduce it

and i need to make this clear: levi absolutely does NOT approach wiz first. he's terrified of her! why would he do that!!!!!

ik is the one who first asks wiz for help when levi's in a prop dilemma - he needs a specific wand

wiz makes it, PLUS adds in a feature where it makes colourful sparks when waved that correlate to the actual magic system of the show it's from

and levi's so blown away that he overcomes his fear to thank her in person, and after realising that overly friendly people aren't the scourges he views them as, slowly gets brave enough to ask her for help on his own

generally he just views wiz as, like, the super cool seasoned warrior that occasionally swoops in to save the main character from danger and deliver a life lesson

meanwhile wiz adopts him a little bit. not in the same way you adopt, like, a little sibling - more the way an older student adopts someone lower down in the school

she'll barter with fabric vendors in his stead to make sure he doesn't get ripped off buying materials and tell the cashier that he doesn't want pickles on his burger for him

wiz & om mephistopheles

i've sort of mentioned these in the s4 post, but i'll re-iterate (and explain) my point a bit here

wiz is really good at adjusting her own mannerisms and lingo to set whoever she's talking to at ease - so she's good at the sort of noble formal-speak that mephistopheles is used to

which is how they initially become sort-of friends; mephistopheles finds it easy to talk to her, and is subsequently a lot less standoffish and haughty than he usually comes off as - so wiz isn't immediately put off by his rich bitch attitude like most are

though mephistopheles does NOT like that wiz is so blase about breaking rules when it comes to magical artifacts, because she's usually disregarding direct reprimands from diavolo to do so

but (because he's got a good first impression of her), he has to begrudgingly respect the audacity

and since diavolo has sort of given up on getting her to listen, mephistopheles has decided he might as well look the other way as well

he enjoys consulting on the various puzzles wiz puts together for the newspaper, though it does sting whenever she gives him one that he genuinely can't solve

alecto cannot STAND him at first, but wiz keeps inviting him around to their house for tea (she feels bad for him because everyone seems to hate him), and she starts finding it really funny how much sugar he gets through

though whenever mephistopheles gets a little bit too royalist, wiz is quick to move the conversation somewhere else

astaroth & belphie

ohoho these guys...... (listen i promise the stargazing boyfriends will be a reality in-fic eventually)

they'll have been dating for months before either will admit it (it pisses asmo off because how is his baby brother going to start dating BEFORE him and not even acknowledge it?!!?!!?!?)

astaroth doesn't like talking about them and belphie's solution to just about everything is to sleep on it, but somehow they've both developed a radar for the other's problems

often belphie will just show up at his house without warning, and it's usually there that they spend time together - because tbh belphie would rather go without his brothers constantly butting in on his quality time

of the two of them, belphie gets the most nervous early on in the relationship - he's used to being able to read those he's close to easily (his twin connection with beel, ik's complete inability to keep her emotions from showing on her face), but astaroth's got a habit of just. forgetting to emote

belphie will be completely overthinking whether or not he's completely messed up this date and astaroth will just be staring blankly into the distance thinking "this is the happiest i've ever been"

he gets better at understanding him over time, though - to the point where he can somehow tell how astaroth's feeling based on the vibe of his silences whenever they're on call with each other

on that topic, they spend quite a lot of nights on the phone to each other when belphie's not over at his, since astaroth feels awkward staying the night at the hol - though most of the time belphie will fall asleep halfway through a conversation

astaroth & thirteen

these two don't seem like they'd get along at all, because astaroth seems way too normal to be interesting to thirteen

but here's the thing. he is not at all. and thirteen realises this as soon as they meet

get him talking and this guy has stories about having done the stupidest things, and somehow he thinks that it's normal behaviour - this is the only reason he can project that image

thirteen can never bring herself to explain to him that, no, astaroth, it isn't normal that your one solution for accidentally burning food is to rip out the entire cooker from the wall to shut off the fire. how are you even strong enough to do that????

astaroth isn't really one to get involved with the making of her traps (though he'll offer suggestions if she needs them) - thirteen doesn't go to him for that sort of thing, she goes to him for vibes

astaroth's visited her cave enough times that she's just installed a secret ramp corridor so that he doesn't have to deal with the security spells every time

they're very in-sync when it comes to making fun of other people - essentially they're that "true friends judge other people.... together" post

they're not super close emotionally, but with astaroth being so into the stars and ~the endless universe~ and thirteen being in close proximity with death, occasionally their conversations take a turn for the intensely philosophical

mephisto & solomon

*slaps head of boys* these bitches have a relationship SO complicated

they're in a weird place after the whole sonno thing, where solomon's finally gotten some closure on having been abandoned, but he really doesn't like it

meanwhile mephisto doesn't think it's a good idea to try to bridge the gap after all this time, so he just kinda withdraws emotionally

which solomon hates even more, because he's just perceiving this as a second abandonment

whether in a romantic way or not, back in that time where they were each other's only company during his studies - solomon might have loved him then. and to be honest he's never really let it go

there's this whole cocktail of resentment, grief, guilt, relief, hope and devotion going on, and neither of them know how to handle it

it gets weirder because eventually they settle in with a new dynamic - of good-natured banter while carefully ignoring what they both know the other is thinking

and it's comfortable, but the thing about these two is their relationship has never been static like this

the one constant has always just been each other; even back then, feelings were mixing and flipping on a dime, which is probably why neither's ever used a label for whatever the hell they were

figuring it out was always going to messy, but mephisto left before they could, and now they're at this motionless stage where both are avoiding moving forward - for fear that the other isn't willing to take the plunge

mephisto & diavolo/barbatos

diavolo and mephisto SEEM like they really don't like each other - which would have been true pre-jtta, but after the whole ordeal with sonno, they've both silently agreed to let bygones be bygones

but they still tend to avoid each other's company, though not necessarily deliberately - it's just that they share a lot of bad memories from that old time, and seeing the other tends to remind them of it

however, they've also both developed an odd, subconscious sense of duty to the other; essentially, they'll go out of their way to assist/defend each other, but only if they don't have to be alone together to do so

neither feels they have much to say in terms of reconciling their pasts, so they don't

meanwhile, mephisto and barbatos don't tend to hold much stock in their shared past - but, unlike with diavolo, they do share some fond memories, so there's still a certain degree of affection to their relationship

similarly, they feel an obligation to each other - if anything, theirs is stronger, since as chronodae they share a sort of mutual connection that's beyond ordinary comprehension

and, while they'd describe each other as 'an old friend', they're not close in the same way that friends are; rather, they're close in the same way that two moths seeking the same light have an instinctive mutual understanding of what drives the other - though neither would be able to put it into words

some more misc ones that i don't have a lot to say about, but i like

astaroth and raphael are pretty chill - they like hanging out together bc neither likes talking a bunch, but enjoys passive company, so their hangouts mostly entail being in the same general area but doing completely different things

lucifer and astaroth share a lot of their tastes in music, so occasionally lucifer will ask astaroth for recommendations. sometimes when belphie's feeling nice and he knows lucifer's been overworking lately, he'll call astaroth over to perform a little concert in the music room

mephisto and levi don't tend to talk, since their history makes it kind of awkward (even though levi's mostly forgiven him at this point), but when they do mephisto's always weirdly nice to him. no ridiculous jokes, no antics - tbh it's kind of unnerving how pleasant he is

wiz and satan don't talk a lot, but when they get started they'll go on for FOREVER, because they're both magic nerds with special interests in curses (wiz used to be a curse-breaker herself) and magical artifacts. a similar thing happens with solomon, except that tend to engage in more scholarly debates rather than just gushing or throwing fun facts back and forth

lucifer respects wiz as a mage, but finds it difficult to talk to her because she has a disconcerting habit of looking very hard at whoever she's talking to, and he doesn't do well with perceived scrutiny

alecto and belphie have a mutual understanding going on where, if one needs assistance from the other, it's given without question - but they don't hang out a lot, since alecto's the type of demon that belphie can't really handle without a buffer

lucifer finds mephisto insufferable but he also thinks he's really funny, so he's constantly having an internal struggle whenever he's around

mammon has wanted to ask astaroth how fast he can go on his wheelchair for a really long time but he's never worked up the nerve to (astaroth's whole monotone stoic deal intimidates him)

simeon gets along super well with the girls and will usually ask them first if he needs someone to babysit luke for whatever reason

astaroth doesn't like sugar, but one time luke offered him a cookie and he felt too awkward to refuse. but now luke KEEPS offering him sweets, and now he's trapped himself

mephisto and thirteen are thick as thieves - but, don't get me wrong, they'd NEVER emotionally confide in each other. what they've got going on is some kind of troublemaking goblin solidarity

wiz's expertise also makes her a perfect consultant when it comes to thirteen's traps, so you'll often see them poring over blueprints together

#long post #anyway so re: my back #this happens so often i fall asleep at a weird angle for ONE NIGHT and then i gotta suffer for a goddamn week for it #me 🤝 lucifer: back hurt so bad but being brave about it #oh the woes of being old. (i'm not even 30 yet)#all you youngsters out there.... please cherish your spines while they last #because one day. and one day soon. that motherfucker will TURN on you #now that i've got that out the way. tag time #newspaper club #obey me #can i be bothered tagging all the characters....to make it easier i'll just leave out the ones only mentioned in the misc section #jtta alecto #jtta wiz #jtta mephisto #jtta astaroth #obey me lucifer #obey me raphael #obey me mephistopheles #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me leviathan #belpheroth #also i'll tag em since there's some elements of their bit that could be read that way:#solphisto #i will say though that once they DID figure it out these two would be the most insufferable couple #it'd be all messy and stuff during the process but once established they are free to get Goofy #among other things. ahem

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